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Sticky Situation

The one thing that I’ve noticed about having kids is that everything is constantly sticky! Everything. I’m not sure where all this kid goo comes from, but somehow it magically appears on every surface in my house, car and yard.

While reaching for the bathroom door knob the other day I was greeted, at first, with something that felt slick and then halfway into the turn…boom – stuck. I hit some sort of honey substance that glued my hand directly to the knob. Once I pried my digits off, I gave it the ol’ sniff test, open and closed my fist a few times, then vigorously washed my hands twice trying to get it all off. I have no idea what this mystery substance was, but just thinking about it kinda gives me the dry heaves. YUCK!

The surface of my kitchen table is a total science experiment. At the right angle and with the correct lighting you can see a beautiful ecosystem of leftover chicken nugget finger prints complete with a peanut butter valley and the small town of Old Ranch Dressingville. Not even the strongest Lysol wipe can take on the Rorschach test that is my table. I fear we may have to burn the table when we’re finished with it.

A place that gives me great pain to see dirty is my truck. I’m a bit of a gear-head and for the years before kids, my Zen place was to retreat to the garage and detail our vehicles. They were always spotless and they smelled great! The carpets were always shampooed and the inside gleamed with Armor All. Well, as you can probably guess…not anymore. There is every substance known to man smeared all over my floor mats and seats. It took me 20 minutes to get out of my car on New Year’s Eve because I was glued to my seat. On hot days a special odor emits from somewhere deep under the back seat – remnants of spilled milk is my guess, a pungent reminder that kids now rule the roost. Luckily though, there is one positive aspect to my messy vehicle. I can rest easy knowing that if I were to ever be stranded in my vehicle during a Colorado snow storm I could survive for easily a week on half -eaten granola bars and spilled Cheerios.

I’ve had to bury many of my OCD tendencies during the transition into family life which has been a real challenge for me. Lots of deep breaths and multiple bottles of hand sanitizer are now a regular part of my world. As I write this post I just spotted my dog running by with a ham sandwich stuck to his side, and I’m not sure what’s on my keyboard but my pinky is stuck to the ppppppp pp ppppppppp pppppppppppppppppppppp.

Featured in Colorado Parent Magazine Jan 2016

Spoiled Infant

I like to think of myself as the Mack Daddy of merriment when it comes to Christmas – the Super Bowl of all holidays. I don’t wanna brag, but I know my way around the bottom of a tree. However, this year my wife is challenging my gift-giving abilities with a disagreement over the amount of gifts that are appropriate for an infant.

Nicole and I made our way down to the basement the other night to sort our way through the bags and bags of holiday gifts that we had been gathering over the past couple of months. We were elf-deep in presents that would soon be wrapped and slid under the tree just waiting to bring a little materialistic holiday joy to our family members.

As we started sorting through the gifts for our two kiddos, my wife noticed that we had way more presents for our 4-year-old son Reid than we did for our new little candy cane, Lyla, who, let me remind you, is only 7 months old. Nicole pulled out her little gingerbread man-covered notepad that she’s been keeping track of gifts on and made a little scribble that said we needed to go shopping for additional items for Lyla.

Then came the lecture that we needed to keep things equal. We didn’t want to show favoritism and we needed to make sure Reid observed Lyla getting the same avalanche of gifts that he was getting.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa baby, I exclaimed. Pump those breaks honey child – do we really need to make things equal this year?” I personally don’t think we need to go out and heat up those credit cards any more than we already have. Our adorable little blob (and I mean that in the most sincere way) doesn’t really know what’s going on. Lyla would be just as happy with a shoe box filled with tissue paper this year. Or here’s a great idea, let’s just wrap up some of the toys she already has and give them to her! She’ll never know the diff. Let’s be honest, we’ll probably be spending more time pulling wrapping paper out of her mouth this Christmas than playing with new baby toys.

I hope I’m not sounding like a big ol’ Scrooge here, but I’m not fully convinced that spending a ton of money on a 7-month-old for Christmas is very practical. We presented this topic on the morning show and a flood of listener calls came in and they fully agreed with me! Ha ha! Although yes, we do need to show our son Reid the joy of giving and that we love Lyla just as much as him, I see no reason why we can’t spend $10 on a box of Gerber baby food, wrap it up and slide it over to her Christmas morning. It would be a nice, practical gift from us that we’ll use anyway, and Ho Ho Ho she gets a nice new, state-of-the-art box to play with! We’ll score a couple of great Christmas morning photos of her enjoying her strained peas and sweet potatoes and we won’t be breaking the bank doing so.

Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like a couple of ounces of delicious prunes and a nice, full diaper.

Featured in Colorado Parent Magazine December 2015

Competitive Parenting

On your mark, get set…GO! Welcome to the exciting world of competitive parenting!

I’ve always heard that this was a thing, the whole “my kids better than you atmosphere” in schools, but I always figured that it would start later in my child’s life – like middle school or even high school. Oh no, no, no. I was surprised to find out that competitive parenting starts well before kindergarten even begins.

I was picking my son up the other day from preschool and I overheard a couple of the parents talking about whether they should be starting their child in kindergarten when they turned five or when they turned six. Surprised, I always assumed that you start your child in kindergarten at five years old. That’s when I started kindergarten. That’s when my wife started kindergarten and I just figured that’s the age that we would start my son in kindergarten. Five years old.

As I reluctantly dipped myself into these parents’ conversation, I posed the question “Why would you wait until six to start your kid in kindergarten?” They all looked surprised that I didn’t know the answer. One mother piped up and said, “Well for sports of course. You have to plan ahead for sports.” They must have been surprised by the blank look on my face, and lack of enthusiasm for sports when I replied, “Are you kidding me?”

Get this, parents are now holding their children back so they have a competitive advantage for sports in high school! What the WHAT?! I’m out of the loop. Upon further investigation apparently, this has been a “thing” for years now.

Silly me, I’ve been busy making sure that my son can write his first and last name, that he knows his phone number and address, and that he knows how to use buttons, zippers, and how to tie his shoes. I should have been busy planning his future 10 years down the road, in hopes that he’ll land some sort of glorious high school sports career – and fingers crossed – a big ol’ fat college scholarship! Cha Ching!

I’ll be honest with you, I’m having a hard time with this. My guy Reid is a pretty bright little dude, and I feel pretty confident that he could jump right into kindergarten life when he turns five, no problemo. Here’s the thing though – Reid’s bright, but he’s also not the biggest kid. Takes after me at that age, kinda short, skinny, and a bit of a bobblehead. He could potentially be fine academically, but if he’s on the young side and small physically, is he going to be picked on and have ZERO chance of succeeding in athletics?

Now the flip side. If we wait until he’s six so he’s a little bigger and can hold his own, maybe he’ll be bored in class because his bobblehead brain is more advanced. And, what if he’s not even interested in athletics?

Oye! What to do? If any other parents have advice for me on what we should be doing or if you’ve already had experience in this area, I’d love to read your feedback in the comments section below. Have you held your kids back just so they have a competitive advantage later in their academic/sports career? Was it worth it? Again, I’d love to hear what you have to say.

In the meantime, I’ll be in the backyard with Reid tossing the football, doing push-ups, and working on his sprints.

Featured in Colorado Parent Magazine November 2015

Doggie Dedication

I’d like to dedicate this month’s blog post to all the family dogs out there, with a very special shout-out to my Boston Terrier, Sully. You put up with a lot from these little humans that are constantly tugging, pulling, and riding you. You’ve become reluctant furry babysitters to our sons and daughters and for that we thank you!

We picked up Sully about 7 years ago as a little puppy and he quickly became the center of our universe. Perfectly pampered, he was always clean and spoiled with baskets of toys and treats. He was the perfect companion for a young couple experiencing their first taste of responsibility. The years have quickly moved on and Sully has come to know many transitions in his life – he’s been with my wife and me through dating, marriage, and now two kiddos. He’s gone from being the pampered pooch that used to sleep in bed with us to, “Ummm has anybody fed the dog today!?”

His long freedom-filled walks to the park have now turned into wide-eyed, slightly panicked runs around the backyard, trying to escape a 4-year-old with a squirt gun. I’ve zipped home from work to find Sully hanging out in the living room wearing a paper Burger King crown and a blanket cape, looking up at me with disgusted eyes. I’ve seen him sitting patiently by his water bowl waiting for someone to remove multiple Hot Wheels cars from an impromptu car wash. And it’s not uncommon to find a bedroom door closed with a panting dog behind it playing “jail” with my son. Again, with those “why did you have kids” eyes looking up at me. Poor fella.

Sully has plumped up quite a bit too thanks to the trail of snacks and crumbs that always find their way to the floor. Is it normal to have a Boston that weighs 48 pounds? Although, I don’t think he minds being our second vacuum cleaner and he does a pretty darn good job on the kitchen floor. I think he’s developed quite a fondness for Triscuits and cheddar Goldfish.

Overweight, tired and now slightly dirty, our old boy is doing such a great job with my two kids. I couldn’t ask for a better dog. He’s a gentle companion who has rolled with the changing landscape in kid land.

In closing, I’m going to try my best to carve out some special one-on-one time over the next month with our family’s original baby. I hope you join me as well, especially if you have a dog that has morphed and transitioned with your lifestyle and growing family. Dogs are great companions for our kids and we need to make sure we thank them for it. Fill those toy baskets back up, rub those bellies, and treat them to a doggie spa day! Man’s (and kid’s) best friend deserves it.

From Colorado Parent September 2015

Limp, Heavy and Miserable

This summer my wife and I decided to dabble in the world of youth sports thinking that our 4-year-old son, Reid, would have the time of his life! Boy oh boy, were we wrong. I’m gonna tell you right here and right now I think that 4 years old is far too young to enroll your child in a group sporting activity. Trust me on this. If you’d like a quick and easy way to ruin every Saturday morning for the entire summer, just reach out to your local friendly neighborhood rec center and enroll your child in youth soccer.

For the past five weekends, we have cringed when pulling up to the soccer fields. Knowing that the next hour would involve an incredible amount of tears coming from every child being forced to participate in such brutal, physical activity. All these kids hugging the sidelines in their oversized T-shirts and ill-fitting cleats, clinging to their parents as if it were a life-and-death situation. No amount of bribing will get these children on to the field – the promise of an ice cream sundae if they did well, or maybe a trip to the zoo or even a new puppy…nope. Instead, they just fall to the ground limp, heavy and miserable like a fish out of water.

I had a hard time holding back the laughter when I saw three or four parents run out to the field and kick the soccer ball back and forth between them in an effort to show their children how fun soccer can be. One parent snagged the ball and broke away from the pack making a run for the tiny peewee goal. I could tell that in some way she was trying to re-live some sort of missed high school opportunity. Setting up the shot she threw her leg back and with fire in her eyes came forward with that leg only to miss the ball, kick up into the air, and fall flat on her back. Thump! Not quite the encouraging moves she was looking for. It was okay though, her son didn’t see her fall because he was preoccupied with chasing a butterfly in the opposite direction.

Finally, be prepared halfway through your season to have an overly enthusiastic photographer try to rally the troops for a team photo! An overly priced keepsake that will showcase all seven members of the team, three of which are turned around, two crying, one knuckles-deep picking his nose and one child missing (my son) because his shin guards were too tight, and yes, he was crying AGAIN.

Now don’t get me wrong here, youth sports are an important part of growing up and it’s important for our kids to build strong friendships and learn teamwork. I’m merely pointing out that at this young age, the kids are NOT into it. Please consider this a gentle warning – avoid the frustrating drive home and maybe give your kids an extra year or five to become a little more independent. I’ve witnessed the confused little looks on these kiddos’ faces when you try to explain that you can’t use your hands and “NOOOOO run THAT WAY….NO THAT WAY”!! I’ve lived the experience for you, shelled out the $200 in fees, and finally, I was that parent who, in no way, would acknowledge that yep, that’s my son out there with his hands down the front of his shorts.

From Colorado Parent August 2015