Pictures of the Kids

Wasn't I supposed to have all this time?

  An interesting thing happened on the way to Columbus, Ohio.

  On the bright side, Caleb now knows how to spell Ohio, which will serve most useful this fall.  (We have football tickets!!)

 
  So I'm no longer an installed pastor.  I'm still a pastor--that's part of who I am, and I don't know that you can remove that any more than you can take away any other part of my identity.  I won't stop being a pastor.

  But it's going to look differently than it does now.  I won't be in an office serving as pastor for a particular group of people.  I don't know whose pastor I'll be... and it's hard to be a pastor without people to pastor, just like it's hard to be a shepherd without any sheep.  (Fortunately, my sheep didn't all flee from my presence!  It was my decision to move forward into a new stage, and it was not an easy one, but I believe that ultimately it will prove to be the right now.  Again, as a disclaimer, I also believe that navy blue and black are the same color.  I'm not always right.)

  Ministry is evolving in this country, and I think more churches are going to be forced to look at part time ministry and bi-vocational ministry as necessary options.  Church attendance and church budgets are shrinking, and the churches that were built upon and sustained by an older generation will have to evolve as we face challenges with new generations.  I do not for a moment believe the church is in trouble--Christ assures us of that.  I even am bold enough to believe that the church will thrive in this country, as it is already thriving in others.  But there may be a challenging time of adaptation as mainline churches struggle to find their footing.  I hope to be a figure able to help with the process of stabilization with a business degree and theological training.  I believe God will use it all for his glory.

  The kids, well, they're doing great.  It's been wonderful to have so much time to play with them lately, although it can be exhausting and trying.  More good than bad, though, as we've run through the aquarium and climbed through the children's museum and slid down the slip-n-slide.  We've discovered that Caleb has seemingly endless energy reserves, except when he doesn't, and even then there is always an hour of energy he holds back for when it's time to nap or go to bed at night.  On the days when he seems the most tired, those are the days when he's still singing 'Happy Birthday' to himself an hour after we've put him to bed.

  Kids... what an adventure.

  We've talked to the kids about moving, and Caleb knows the big concept of it... but I think the actual change is going to be hard.  New place to call home, new school, new church, new friends--it's a lot to take in.  Rachel and I struggle with it, so I expect he will, too.  But kids are also tougher than I tend to give them credit for, and so I have a hunch he'll fall right in line, moving ever forward, as Rachel and I watch in wonder as he and Danielle grow and change before our every eyes, and we drink in the gift that God has poured out upon us.

To Play

It occurred to me this morning that there is nothing Caleb has to do.

  There are plenty of things he can do, most of them playing with various toys that litter our every room and hallway. He has a seemingly infinite number of choices of toys he can play with, but he doesn't have to play. If he does choose to do so, he can do so unencumbered by the thought that there is something else he needs to be doing. His every need is met by Rachel and me, so there is no anxiousness for food or clothing or shelter. He can simply play.

  Now, there are times when he chooses not to play. There are times when he wants to do something he is not allowed to do. There are times he throws tantrums because he is tired or simply frustrated. But it's never because there is some outside force pressuring him to do things a certain way. It's only when he presses up against the boundaries that he opts to fuss rather than play. It was amazing to me this morning, watching him play. He plays all day, every day. His energy is wholly devoted to play. How freeing that must be.

  Can you imagine?

  I'm sure that I was the same way at some point, carefree and playful. The weight of the world feels heavy at times, especially since I am one of those individuals who chooses to carry more than my fair share. It's not easy holding the world up. What it must be like to recapture that vision of youth, that sense of freedom, the delight in play.

  I think this must be what heaven is like--the freedom to roam and play, to bask in the light of God's love, to rejoice in freedom and let those weights bound away, back to where they belong, in far better hands than mine. For a moment, for a brief moment this morning, I was overwhelmed by the freedom of the child.

  As my therapist said, "Let Caleb teach you. He hasn't been messed up yet."

This weekend

Things learned this weekend:

1)  Don't be in a hurry.  You'll miss something.

2)  Never do something for a toddler once that you're not prepared to do 1,000 times.

Rawr!!!!!!

  Do you know what's better than spending your morning being chased around the house by a toddler growling at you like a lion?

Nothing.

Caleb's Christmas

  Christmas is only 14 short days away!  And the days are getting shorter and shorter!  (Well, not really.  They're still the same length.  But they feel shorter, and the sun isn't up for as long.  So there.)

  Rachel and I have talked quite a bit about Caleb and Christmas.  Christmas, you may have noticed, has become a bit secularized over the years.  Some might even say that the real meaning of Christmas has become lost under and avalanche of wrapping paper and ribbons and advertising.  So how do we, as a family trying to focus on Christ, navigate these waters?

  Tough question.

  I'm not going to pretend we've come up with the perfect answer.  I'm aware that my idealism and reality will probably not match up well.  But Rachel & I feel the need to set big expectations.

  We want Christmas to be a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ.  We want this to be a joyful time in which we give thanks for the tremendous blessing of a Savior.  Rachel and I both come from families that gave gifts freely and generously to celebrate this occasion, and we have no intention of not giving any gifts to Caleb (or any other future children) as a stark reaction to a secular Christmas.

  But we're also very aware that Caleb has a lot of stuff.  He has a lot of toys and clothes and other things.  He doesn't have a lot of material needs.  Rachel and I are very blessed and able to meet most of his needs, except for the ones that he cries out for so desperately at 3 A.M., but we can't meet those because we can't figure out what they are.

  So we were thinking about how we might encourage people who want to give gifts to Caleb to consider giving a gift to World Vision in his name.  In this way, we can celebrate the gift of Caleb and give thanks for God's tremendous love, expressing that by reaching out to others in need, just as God reaches out and gives us a Savior to meet our need.  To make this easier, we have set up a World Vision My Gift Catalog Page, found here:  Caleb's Gift Catalog Page

  Now, I know that people want to buy Caleb gifts.  And that's fine.  Gifts aren't bad.  We will probably get him a gift.  We know that family and friends will get him gifts, and I think that's great.  May this be a season of joyous expectation and expressions of love!

  We hope that we can make his birthday the primary occasion for gift-giving, letting Christmas be a time when we focus on giving to others, but I'm not going to be legalistic.  Having children requires a certain degree of flexibility, and Rachel and I are going to try and do the best job we can.  We just want to manage Caleb's expectations, and try to help him see that it's not about us, but it's about our taking part in a bigger story.

  I don't pretend that this is perfect.  I also don't know what the future holds and how this will work as he grows up.  Maybe it's not going to work when he's 5 or 8 or 14.

  But it will work now.  And hopefully, it will help him see Christmas as a celebration of generous love that is made manifest in Jesus Christ, a love that should inspire us to reach out and help where and how we can.


Here's that link again:  Caleb's Gift Catalog Page

Cheerios

  I've entered a new stage of parenting, one previously witnessed but never completely grasped.  I have entered the stage of life that will be primarily defined by finding Cheerios in every possible place.

They will be underfoot, trod into crumbs in the kitchen.
They will nestle into every crack and crevice of the house and car.
They will be found in creases in clothes, tucked under dirty bibs, and somehow adhered to the backs of hands and the underside of the chin.
They shall navigate perilous journeys to scale furniture and tunnel beneath furniture.
The cats will discover them in their food bowls and water dishes.
They will be consumed by the metric ton, and yet for every one that is eaten by Caleb, four more will escape his clutches and disappear, to be discovered years later in yet-to-be-discovered locales.  They shall multiple and grow, their power and presence in my life growing exponentially as I drive myself batty in search of these outliers.
There shall be no more peace in this house, for the Cheerios shall rule us all.

The big day

  The big day is almost upon us!  At 2:01 this morning, Rachel and I will clink wine glasses in commemoration of that moment when her water broke...
  Hopefully, we'll both be asleep at that hour.  Caleb, too.  He's not been the happiest of babies this evening.  I think he's getting all his fussing out so that he's ready to be happy for tomorrow night at church.  That, or he's upset that the shower leak is fixed, thereby damaging the chances of us turning the basement into a pool for him to use when he's older.  (at least until something else starts leaking)

  Everyone keeps telling me they can't believe it's been a year already.  My reaction is always the same--it feels like it's been a year.  I don't think the year has flown by.  I don't think it's dragged on.  It's been the best year of my life--it's been wondrous, amazing, eye-opening, exhausting, stressful, joyous, difficult, transformative--all that I thought it would be and so much more.  The best moment of my day is still the time when I go in to wake him up (although I don't wake him up anymore... he's always awake, sitting up, ready to greet me with a smile--or a cry to demand breakfast), although the moment when I pick him up from daycare and he smiles at the sight of me is pretty great, too.  Actually, any time when Caleb looks at me, recognizes me and smiles is the greatest moment ever.  It's been an awesome year--I've tried to slow down and enjoy it, to sit on the floor and play with him, to wonder at the miracle of life, to be amazed as he grows--and as a result, it hasn't flown by.  I've savored each and every laugh, enjoyed watching him play with his grandparents and aunt, savored watching him grow and learn how to interact with people and toys, laughed as he lunged after the nearby cat.  This year has been one miracle after another, and I wouldn't want to give up a single day.  (Well, some of those moments where he was throwing up I could sacrifice if you twisted my arm.)

  He'll be a year old, and he no longer looks like an infant.  He looks like a toddler, like a little boy, ready to discover the world, to crawl and to run, to laugh and to play, to skin his knees and curl up in mom's arms.  He's growing up, and it's wonderful.  I loved him as an infant, when he fell asleep in my lap and all was right with the world, and I love him now, when he won't sit still and crawls away then turns to make sure I'm still watching, his face filled with delight.  Each day that passes I'll never get back, but I'm grateful for the gift--I don't need it back, because it's tucked away in my heart.  Tomorrow is a new day, filled with wonders to discover, with cries to be soothed and laughter to be enjoyed.  With tomorrow, there is growth and hope and joy, but each day leaves behind a treasured memory, a place to mark what once was and never shall be again.  But that's ok--because a world, a life, awaits, and I am so grateful to get to make that journey with this fascinating little boy, this little miracle of God's creation, who thinks Rachel and I are just wonderful.  God has given us a year of miracles, and it feels right.

  I don't know what's in store next, but I pray that it is even more wonderful than this, that my joy might overflow.  May the second year be even more delightful than the first, and may this little boy grow as a child of God, knowing that he is loved always and forever by those that have the pleasure of sharing this adventure with him.  Every day is filled with something new, and the gift of discovering the old as miraculous is the gift he gives us--he makes the world new again, and a part of me is made new again, as my eyes open wide in wonder to the gift of Caleb.  I shall love him no matter what, for he is a treasure, one year old, with many adventures still to come.

Laughter

  I don't know what the largest number is that they have a name for, other than infinity, but whatever it is, I think the definition is: the number of times a father will do something over and over again to make his child laugh.

Caleb Updates

  It's amazing to watch Caleb grow--one minute he's trying to figure out how to roll over, arm stuck beneath him and consternation written on every inch of his face, and the next he's trying to crawl, leg stuck beneath him, the same look upon his face.  (Well, at least until his face plants into the carpet and he starts rolling.  I'm not sure he's ever going to crawl--rolling is so much more effective for him.  The cats appreciate this, because a rolling baby is still easy to avoid, but it's only delaying the inevitable for them, and I don't have the heart to tell them this.  Also, I don't know how to talk to my cats.)

  If you look closely at the picture, you'll notice a U-shaped spot on the top of Caleb's shirt.  It's drool.  This kid drools like a St. Bernard.  It's amazing.  He's got three teeth in already, and more on the way--and if the drool increases with the number of teeth, I'm going to have to start dressing him in a Sham-Wow.

  Not only is he slowly discovering that his legs are meant for more than just decoration, he's also finding his voice.  As my mother would say, this is the part called payback.  As a kid, I was rather talkative.  Mom bribed me with M&M's in the hopes of a quiet car ride home.  As for the strangers I sat next to on a plane ride from Cincinnati to Los Angeles and talked the entire way there... they're probably still regretting not taking a later flight.

  Caleb is joining in the Jones family tradition of talking a lot.  Monday night, he talked from 4:30 until his bedtime at 8:30.  Some of it sounded happy, some of it not as happy, but he was overjoyed to have the chance to share what he thought.  I was pretty impressed by the kid, although I will admit to hoping for a moment of peace at some point during those four hours!

  He's a joy to be around.  Even in the rough moments, I am struck by what a blessing he is.  I thank God for the gift of Caleb, and I pray for the wisdom to be a great father for him.

Monday morning

Here's something to make the world a better place on this Monday morning!

Dads

  An exchange that took place in our house last night around midnight: 
Rachel: What was wrong with him? 
Me: He was awake.

  Lately, Rachel and I have been talking about how much Caleb loves me.  It's amazing--every time I walk into a room, he smiles from ear to ear and begins thrashing back and forth, kicking his legs wildly.  (We interpret that as happiness.  It may well be the exact same thing an antelope does every time it sees a lion and begins to run for its life, only less graceful.  I don't know.  Don't ruin this for me.)  It's hard to be upset when you see such a sight.  Caleb's a cute baby anyway, but when he's smiling like that, every problem in the world seems to fade away.  I truly believe that his mission on this earth is to bring joy to others.  Well, that and to power the world through leg energy.  If only we could figure out how to harness that, we could disconnect our house from the grid.  Even when he sleeps, those legs are still going.  But I digress...

  Since Rachel grew up without any brothers, I was explaining to her how boys think their dad is the coolest person ever for the first ten years of their lives.  I have every intention of living this up--it's so much fun to be a source of joy for Caleb.  I want to be there for all the big events of his life, so that he knows that I support him and to give him a positive role model.  Later on, when he hits his early teenage years, he'll discover that I don't know anything, and he'll probably remind me of this quite often.  I'm not looking forward to that as much--so I just want to enjoy this time of his youth, when merely walking into a room can fill his soul with such joy that it overflows.

  Dads have an amazing responsibility to their kids, to support and love them as well as model what faithful living looks like.  I'm sure I'll fail at many points along the way--but I hope to succeed enough to exceed his expectations of what a dad should be, and in all these things point to the love of God, his Father in heaven.  It's a humbling, daunting task, but I'm excited about the opportunity to fill this role.  Each smile serves as encouragement for me to continue to show my love to him, that he may grow up and think the world is a good place, filled with people who need to be shown love, that his voice may add to the heavenly chorus the church sings when we serve and love one another.

Go Reds!

Beef--it's what's for dinner

  Yup, he's the cutest kid ever.

  Just an update from this week--Caleb's test at the hospital went fine.  And by fine, I mean they didn't find any obstructions in his intestines.  He did not appreciate the test.  Not one little bit.  We'll scratch that off the list of options for his first birthday party.  They said he has some reflux, but they don't see any other problems.  As to what that means about him throwing up rice cereal, I have no idea.  I guess we'll just wait and see...

Caleb's big day

  Being a parent requires coming to terms with helplessness.  I don't like it, but I don't have much choice in the matter.  Every little cough is a reminder of the fact that I can do nothing to cure him physically.  Rachel and I usually look at each other with faces full of pity each time he coughs, wishing we could wipe away every illness from his body.  But we can't...

  This point is being driven home rather forcefully right now.  Caleb had a tough time with rice cereal when he first started with it, and at the time we simply assumed that he hated rice cereal.  The doctor wasn't concerned about it, and considering the way the stuff tastes, I couldn't really blame him for throwing it back up.

  But then the sweet potatoes started coming back up.  That could just be an allergy, right?

  He's continued to struggle with solid food.  We tried rice cereal again, because he needed the iron, but it came right back up.  As new parents, we had always held onto the dream that nothing would be wrong, that his infancy would have nothing more than a cold or a stomach virus here or there.

  But tomorrow morning he goes to Children's Hospital to have his intestines x-rayed to see if there isn't some bigger explanation for his problems with solid food.  It's probably nothing, they say... but just to be sure.  It's probably food allergies.  Probably.

  Again, we can do nothing.  Nothing but sit and wait, sit and hope.  I try not to worry... but helplessness lends itself well to worrying.

  How is Caleb doing, you ask?  Clearly, he's worried:

7 months!

  Today, Caleb is 7 months old.  To celebrate, he's going to eat sweet potatoes and sleep all night.  (clicking heels together three times...there's nothing like sleeping all night, there's nothing like sleeping all night, there's nothing like sleeping all night)  Well, he'll do at least one of those.  Isn't there some study on the power of positive thinking?

  Caleb keeps growing up.  He now holds his own bottle when I feed him.  It's a far cry from the early days when he and I went to battle each morning!  Of course, he's fascinated and thrilled with being able to feed himself--he grips the bottle in each hand and jams it into his mouth.  (Well, it actually ends up in his eye more often than his mouth, so dad offers some directional guidance.)  He finds this so entertaining that he pulls it back out and laughs gleefully.  Which means, of course, that feeding him takes three times longer than it did before he could hold his own bottle.  But it's a lot of fun.  I will admit that I have to remind myself to stop worrying about leaving on time and just enjoy the laughter that erupts from him every time he pulls his bottle out of his mouth.

  They're also beginning to move him up in daycare.  The next class is only separated by a clear wall, but in my heart it feels like another world.  In there, children crawl and run and do the rambunctious things boys do.  (It's also a class of all boys, strangely enough.  I can picture him now, hands pressed against the glass, wondering why the girls in his class no longer respond when he talks to them.)  I've been pretty resistant to the idea of him moving up, but I realize it's just fear.  I can't control him growing up, getting bigger.  I want the daycare people to watch over him like a hawk every second of the day, lest he topple over or smash his finger in a toy.  God is trying to teach me to give up control, to let him grow.  He'll be crawling around the daycare (and our house!) soon enough, and I need to accept it, to enjoy it, to cherish it.  They'll still watch over him and take care of him in the next classroom.  It's not like they throw them in there and lock the door, like some toddler version of The Hunger Games, only letting the strongest emerge.  He'll be fine.  (Repeat:  He'll be fine.  He'll be fine.  He'll be fine...)  I'll be fine, too.  I just need to accept it.  Caleb's growing up.

  The delightful part of it is that all of this means that the laughter will be bigger, too.

Sweet Potatoes!

Let me begin by saying that rice cereal doesn't appear to be Caleb's favorite.  And by that, I mean that every time he eats it he is up all night throwing it back up.  So the doctor gave us permission to go straight to sweet potatoes, which seem to have gone much, much, much better.  (there was a pretty low bar.  Anything that stayed down was going to be progress.  I'll let the pictures tell the story.  Well, as much as I can!)


Wow--those look cool.  Orange food!  So exciting!

You guys are going to just pay attention to me, right!  So exciting!  I'll do anything for more attention!

Sure, it tastes great!  Whatever, mom!  I'll smile anyway!  It's what I do--smiles!!!

It's delicious!  No, really.  I'm going to spit it all over you rather than eat it, but since there's a camera around, I'll keep smiling!

Ok.  I've had enough.  Get this spoon out of my mouth.  I'm done with this whole sweet potatoes thing, dad.  Back to mom feeding me--I've got a good thing going, let's not mess it up with this orange stuff that tastes like... well, it doesn't taste like milk.  That's all I know.

Caleb's first game

  Once again, Caleb:

 You know there is something important going on when your parents start talking excitedly to you first thing in the morning.  They kept smiling at me and talking like they were asking me questions, obviously forgetting the fact that I don't yet speak or understand English.  I tried to tell them that, but all they did was smile bigger.  You have no idea how frustrating it is being misunderstood.  I consider myself a rather affable fellow, so I went along with their plan, whatever it was.  When I don't know what else to do, I smile.

  After a long day of very anxious anticipation on their part, they finally stuffed me in the black seat of punishment and tied me in.  I had been expecting this, and I tolerated it fairly well since they were clearly so excited about it.  They put me in a new onesie that I had never worn before, and I'd tell you what it said if I could read it.  But I can't read yet, so you're on your own.  They put me in the car and continued talking to me, clearly oblivious to the fact that I cannot yet understand them.

  When we arrived at our destination, there were hordes of people around.  Clearly it was a big deal--there must have been someone very important arriving.  I was eager with anticipation to see who it was, but I soon figured out it wasn't anyone important--just a bunch of men running around on a green field.  They played a loud song at the beginning when everyone stood up, but I soon realized that they weren't looking at me, which was disappointing.  They kept throwing a ball around, but some people got very angry after the ball was caught--if it was me, I wouldn't make a man with a large stick in his hand angry, but who am I to argue?  The field was pretty.  Well, for a little while.  There were tons of people there, but most of them weren't looking at me, so I wasn't too impressed.  What good is a huge crowd if they aren't going to stare at me?

 I soon ran out of energy after smiling so much and trying to watch this thing that everyone calls 'baseball'.  So I figured out what's even cuter than smiling:

Guest Blogger

Hey folks--
  Having come back from my spiritual 'mountaintop experience' last weekend to a vomiting baby (that's the world's way of saying "welcome back from the mountain.  This is what real life is like, just in case you forgot.  Feel like cleaning up some vomit?  No?  Tough."), I haven't had many creative things to say.  Caleb is still cute, in case you were concerned.  In fact, he's trying to branch out--he was telling me this morning that he's tired of just being seen as another cute baby.  I think he feels somewhat pigeon-holed.  So I told him I'd let him take the reins once more and post a guest blog.  I will say that I'm not responsible for what he has to say.  There is a devious side to him--I see a spark in his eyes every time the cats pass by.  His little hands reach out without even thinking, and the cats keep a wary distance.  More to come later on this recent development.  Without further ado, here's Caleb.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  Goooooooooooooooooooooooo.  EEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.


Sorry for that, everyone.  I just wanted to get that out at the beginning.  That's all mom and dad hear.  Let me tell you what that really means:  Can I have a hamburger?

The real reason for wanting to blog is to give a progress report on this figure commonly referred to as 'Dad'.  You all see the preacher side of him, with the big, fancy words and the people all listening to him.  Let me give you a bit of a behind-the-scenes look.  I'm going to group this into easy areas.


Milk Feeding:  B+.  Earlier, this would have been an F.  I'm not kidding--this guy was terrible at it.  I'd wake up in the morning, and all I wanted was some breakfast.  Preferrably bacon and eggs, but milk seems to be the only thing in the fridge around here, and they only let me go to Waffle House from daycare.  Dad never takes me.  Is one trip to IHOP going to kill me?  Probably not.  (Dad's note:  Maybe.)  Anyway, he gave me these cold bottles after I've been in a cold crib in my cold room all night, and then he kept jamming the thing down my mouth.  I told him fifty times to warm the bottle up, but he never listened, until mom finally got his attention.  Where would this clown be without her?  So the feedings have vastly improved.  Still no bacon, but a warm bottle is almost as good.  Now if only he'd stop slamming me in the back every time I ate--when I get older I'm going to try that to him every time he has a glass of wine, see how he likes it.


Rice Cereal Feeding:  F-.  Mom does most of this, but I'd just like to point out that Dad seems to be encouraging it.  Have you ever tasted the stuff, dad?  Rice cereal?  You support giving this stuff to me?  Wait until you're in the nursing home and I'm giving you plain Jell-O as revenge.  Then we'll see how much you like flavorless food.  Oh, and as for making me sit and watch you enjoy Tuna steaks and hamburgers--not cool, dad.  Not cool.


Mornings:  C.  Just a pointer here, Dad.  When I make noise in the morning, that means I'm awake.  It doesn't mean that I'm just talking to myself in my sleep, chattering about my dreams.  It means I'm awake and ready to get out of this crib, and I'm hungry.  I don't care that you're in the shower, and whatever you're doing is less important than feeding me.  Especially if it's sleeping.  So why don't you just get up at four and be ready when I wake up.  Otherwise, I'm going to start exploring outside catering options.  And you're paying.


Daycare drop-off:  A-.  Yes, I notice all the potholes you hit when you're driving.  And yes, I'm well-aware of what we just passed.  Because I'm always facing backwards!  Other than that, this part goes pretty well--Dad's pretty efficient at dropping me off with the nice ladies and my cool friends.  Although he could stand to show me off a little less to everyone around.  I know I'm good looking, dad.  


Daycare pickup:  D.  Every darn time I fall asleep, there's day, waking me up, throwing me in the dark seat and chucking me in the car.  He's got this big goofy grin on his face, apparently not at all disturbed by the fact that I just fell asleep.  Care to wait a minute, big guy?  I've got important things to do--like sleep during the day so I have energy to keep you and mom awake at night.  These things aren't easy, dad.  A 5 minute nap just won't cut it.


Hugs:  B.  I get it.  You love me.  You think I'm the greatest thing ever.  But seriously, dad, we're out in public--can't you just play it cool?  You're hurting my image with the ladies with all this love stuff.


Diapers:  B-.  Know what's not cool?  My own poop.  Know what I can't do?  Anything about it.  So stop acting so disgusted by it and just do your job.  The only way it's going anywhere is if you fix it, dad.  And just so you know, maybe if you found me some waffles I'd hold one in until mom got home.


Sports Team Affiliations:  B.  So I've been talking with some of the guys at daycare... and it turns out that some of the sports teams you have chosen for my life are, what's the word, lousy.  I know, I know, you'll spout this stuff about recent playoff appearances and long-term contracts.  I have two words for you:  Mike Brown.  As for the Reds, I have to say I'm pleased with some recent developments, but I want to see them in a World Series in the next five years, or I'm seriously considering becoming a Braves fan.  This Jason Heyward kid can hit.  Joey Votto seems to be a good player--so that helps your standing here a lot, dad.  As for that glorious University of Kentucky championship, that was pretty cool.  I'd have to say that this particular affiliation greatly helps your standing in this category.  Bumps it up at least one letter grade.  It won't help during football season, but everyone knows that UK football is merely a distraction until basketball season starts.  Mom gets a lot of the credit here.


Exercise:  C.  So let me ask the readers this:  What purpose does it serve to go to a big room and pick up heavy things and set them down repeatedly?  Oh, and did I mention that dad pays for this?  And is probably going to want me to 'work out' in a similar manner?  What fun, dad.  Can we go mow the lawn later for kicks?  Oh, and soccer--glad to know you're planning on signing me up for this.  Because your bum right knee is a great testament to how wonderful that sport is.  So that leaves baseball--because what kid isn't excited about having a ball thrown at them?  I've already heard I'm not allowed to play football.  Laughter will probably be banned, too.  


Folks, I'm going to wrap this up before Tolstoy feels threatened.  Hope this gives some insight into dad, better known as 'Not-Mom'.  He seems to think that he knows what he is doing.  He's wrong.  Please remind him of this and tell him the proper way to raise a baby.  I'd be forever grateful.  Thanks.



Dad's note:  He's right.  I have no idea what I'm doing.  But how about those Wildcats?

Mom!

Caleb & Mom on Easter Sunday!

  Yes, he's a cute baby.

  But I'm not here to talk about Caleb.  I want to talk about Rachel and her (relatively) new identity as 'mom'.

  I was thinking the other day about how, when I grew up, my dad always referred to mom as 'mom', rather than by her name.  It never struck me as odd until we had a child and I started thinking about our own family and what title I would use when I told Caleb to go find his mother when I inevitably cut my finger off with my miter saw.  I realized I wouldn't tell him to go find Rachel--I'd tell him to get mom.  (I'll be honest and say Rachel spends a good deal of time taking care of me, too.)  It's not because I don't love Rachel for the wonderful and independent woman that she is--but she has become a mother, and the role has beautifully transformed her.

  It's hard to put it into words, but having a child has changed Rachel in an amazing way.  (It's changed me, too, but she handles change with far more grace than I do.)  She's completely focused on the role of being a mother, of caring for Caleb and expressing her love for him in so many different ways.  When she comes home from work, she instantly sheds the role of accountant and takes up Caleb into her arms and something incredible happens before my very eyes--the woman I love grabs hold of the chance to raise a child, to love him and care for him and help him grow.  Her focus is so intent on Caleb--she worries about him, cares for him, watches every little motion, all while encouraging him.

  It's not that she's forgotten about me.  She does all this while still being a great wife and offering me encouragement and love.  It's that she's added this new role, and she loves it in a way that neither of us could have expected.  When she was pregnant, we knew we were excited to have this new little man to focus upon, but I don't think we realized how incredible parenting was.  It's been such a blessing to have him in our lives, and we see our lives differently now--it's not about us.

  I'm probably not expressing this very well, but it's fun to watch Rachel and Caleb.  She loves being a mom, and she handles the difficult and exhausting parts of it so well because she sees the bigger picture.  It's changed her in ways I can't describe, and it's been a treat to be a part of it all, to see Caleb change our lives and to watch him grow into the man God has called him to be.