There is No Place Like Home

March 12, 2013 by 3 Comments

Delaney and DaddyI’m scared.  And Frustrated.  Today is a Bad Day.

My Little Girl is on her way to the emergency room.

A Winter Storm has ripped thru my home town.  The Governor of Missouri has declared a State of Emergency.

My wife, a Southern California native, is driving on the snow/ice packed streets of suburban St Louis.

And, I’m in a Hotel room 700 miles away from my girls who need me.

This is how I define helpless.

I’m relegated to typing my thoughts on this piece of paper in between “Our Fathers and Hail Mary’s” as my 8-year old daughter suffers from severe stomach pain and a fever north of 100 degrees for 60plus hours at this point.  My wife has called our Pediatrician who instructed her to take Delaney to the ER.  The fear is appendicitis.

I’ve checked Mapquest.  I’m a 12 hour drive away…and, that’s with “light traffic” and “nice weather.”  I’ve called the airlines.  There are no flights into St Louis until tomorrow.  My scheduled flight doesn’t depart for another 12 hours.  That flight is to go through Cleveland which is supposed to receive the same winter storm right about the time I’m supposed to arrive for my layover.  I’m scrambling… I need to get home to my baby girl.

I’m her Daddy.  I’m supposed to be there…

I wrote the preceding story as it was happening  days ago.  Many tests were run on my little “Mini” as I call her.  Physician’s diagnosis was an intestinal virus that ran its course over the next 72 hours.  She was able to rise again on the 3rd day.  She was stuck, prodded, poked, x-rayed, and “messed around with” (her words) for over 3 hours.  And, I ended up being there the entire time… thanks to Face Time on my iPhone.  We watched cartoons together.  I told her jokes.  She didn’t laugh.  I know what you’re thinking, wow, she must have been sick.

Quick funny story:  Danielle placed me (her iPhone) on the top of Delaney’s Hospital Bed in the Emergency Room.  Mini needed an IV because she was severely dehydrated.  She just couldn’t keep anything in her little tummy for those few days.  A nurse entered the room to stick her vein.  She stuck and stuck with no success.  And, she stuck her right arm (her throwing arm).  I’m still mad at myself for allowing that.  That’s a future Olympian’s softball throwing arm… You just don’t stick that.  Anyway, Nurse #2 entered the room to try the left arm.  Thank you very much.  Danielle had forgotten to mention that I was present in the room, hovering above Delaney’s pounding head.  Nurse #2 was successful on her first stick in the left arm.  I said “thank God” and she looked to the heavens trying to figure out where that voice came from…Well, it came from the father of course, the father of the patient.

This story makes me thankful for many things.

I’m thankful to my daughter’s care givers of course.  I’m thankful that she ended up being okay.  I’m thankful that her right arm has no lingering negative effects from being stuck with a needle multiple times.  I’m thankful that she still has a rocket of an arm on the right side of her torso.  I’m thankful that Danielle made it safely to and from the hospital that evening then into the morning.  And, I’m really, really thankful that I was there with my little girl the entire time thanks to the technology of our world.

It’s just so cool to be alive in 2013.

I’m heading home tomorrow.  Now, if I could just get an App to make it 80 and sunny every day.  My wife tells me there is an App for that… It’s called SoCal.  I’ll have to run a search… only after I get some real life Face Time with my kiddos when they get home from school.  Today is a good day.

Sincerely,

A Thankful Daddy

Filed Under: Daddy Diary, Featured Content, Parenting, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , , , , ,

I Believe: Listening To Your Children Matters

October 8, 2012 by 4 Comments

St. Louis Cardinal Baseball is much like religion in my husband’s family. Before he was allowed to enter Busch Stadium when he was three years old, he was told he needed to recite the inscription on Stan Musial’s statue.

He did it.

My small people have done it too.

You are looking at the mantle…or shrine… in our family room.

This time last year, the Cardinals were making a run for the World Series. And then they were IN the World Series. My husband bought tickets to Game 6 (if you are a baseball fan, the now infamous GAME SIX – arguably the most-amazing-playoff-game-in-history) from Craigslist. He took our sweet girl downtown, perched on his shoulders, covered in Cardinal’s gear, only to be turned away at the gate. It turns out he was one of hundreds who had purchased counterfeit tickets.

To say he was crushed was an understatement. My two people sat side-by-side on the curb downtown, both of them holding in the tears, defeated, unable to join the crowds on the inside. My husband, unable to take his little girl to see and share the game he loves.

20121007-225917.jpgFast forward to this past weekend. The Cardinals are back in the race again. Game 1 of the NLDS was Sunday – the Cardinals facing off against the Nationals. We had tickets. And they weren’t counterfeit. But the small dude had a soccer game at the same time, and my husband is the coach. He is torn between his commitment to the small dude’s team and his desire to recreate last year’s moment with Delaney.

I almost convince him to have the assistant coach take the reigns with Cooper’s team so he can head downtown with his girl. I’m so afraid he will never have that opportunity with her again – he of course scoffs at me… these are the Cardinals, Danielle – of course they will be in the playoffs again!

But the small girl helps him to make the decision: she asks him if she can go with ME.

Me… the one who can’t catch a baseball. Me… who owns the Cardinal jersey, but can’t recite every Red Bird Playoff and World Series year like a real fan. Me… who didn’t make the counterfeit trek downtown last year.

I hardly feel worthy.

But, like the amazing Daddy he is…. he is listening to his little girl. She is telling him – not that she doesn’t want to spend time with him, but that she needs some extra one-on-one time with me. He coaches both of her teams. He’s been in the basement helping her to perfect her pitch. I was out of town last weekend.

And he heard her loud and clear. He handed me the tickets, smiled and said, ‘bring home a winner’.

We didn’t and we did. The Cards lost Game 1 against the Nationals, but I won. I have a husband who sacrificed his love of the game for his love of his little girl. And I spent a full afternoon talking and laughing with my girl.

Oh….and for Game 2 – Dad took the small dude, and THEY brought home a real winner.

Filed Under: Featured Content, I Believe, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Why I’m Not Talking To My Kids About The Batman Premiere Shooting In Colorado

July 24, 2012 by Leave a Comment

It is fairly safe to say, I have thought about the victims of the tragic shooting in Aurora, Colorado hundreds of times in the last few days.  I, quite honestly, can’t get them out of my head.  I have read most articles published, watched the news ad nauseum and even sat teary-eyed through the Dateline special.

It could be the former journalist in me, but, as I discussed over on Babble, taking in the details and processing the situation as best I can is part of how I cope with a tragedy like this.  I feel heavy.  I hurt.  I often feel immobile.  But I still watch and read.

However, in this instance, the one thing that was different than in prior national and worldwide disasters – the eathquakes in Haiti, the Tsunami in Japan, the Tornados in Tuscaloosa and close by in Joplin – this time, I flat out REFUSE to allow my kids any access to this story.

What about you?  Share your thoughts below….

Filed Under: Can we talk?, Featured Videos, Video and Vlog-It! Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Are You a Good Parent?

July 8, 2010 by 14 Comments

I yelled at my kids today.  Loud.  Like gave-myself-a-headache-loud.

The small people often respond with ‘what???’ when I call their names.  It is like nails on a chalkboard.

And they don’t always say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’.  They ‘forget’ to clean their room, make their bed, pick their clothes up off the floor, let the dog out or eat their breakfasts.

I’ve let them eat McDonald’s.  Twice in one week.

I’ve made pancakes for dinner and let them skip the fruit and vegetables.

I often think they are spoiled.  Life is so easy for them – their rooms are too big, they have too many toys and they have someone who picks up after them ALL.THE.TIME. (me)

They say “I caaaaaannnnn’tttt” all the time, have actually rolled their eyes at me and have been known to throw a world-class tantrum complete with stomping up the stairs and screams of, “I KNEW you didn’t love me”.

But I do.  And their Daddy does.

And they know it.  And I know they know it.

Yesterday, my husband looked at me and said, “well….they are happy.  I guess that means we are doing something right”.

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I think he is on to something.

I spend a lot of time worrying about being a good parent, a fair parent, a guiding parent.  But the loving parent?  There is something to be said for being THAT parent.

Kids sense when they are loved.  It is because I love my children that I sometimes yell, that I stand over them to ‘remind’ them to clean their room, pick up their clothes and let the dog out.  It is because I love them that I try to teach please, thank you, and ‘yes, Mommy’ instead of ‘whaaaat?’. Love is what motivates the ‘stern’ parent in me – the one who enforces bed times, separates fights and holds them responsible for poor decisions – like coloring on the wall.  It is love that drives the need to teach lessons, give hugs and yes, even the desire to see the smile that comes with the occasional skipped vegetable or trip to McDonald’s.

It is the comfort of knowing they are loved that puts the sparkle in their eyes.

And even when I’m not feeling like a ‘good parent’, it is knowing that they know they are loved that makes being a Mommy simply extraordinary.

What reminds YOU that you are a good parent?

Filed Under: A little bit of Everyday, Featured Content, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , , ,

The Pain of Parenting Begins

April 21, 2010 by 20 Comments

A green smiley face.

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That is what marks my sweet girl’s behavior daily at kindergarten.  There is a calendar – and every day I know – green smiley face = good Delaney.  If she misbehaved a little, I’d see that warning ‘yellow’ and well, you can see where this is going, red = notsogoodatall.

One time.  That is how many times she has come home with a yellow this school year.

Until last Thursday.  But we didn’t know until Monday.

Why?  Because she was taking the calendar out of her folder and hiding it.

As for me, well, I forgot to ask.  Because she always came home with a green.

My husband figured it out.  As soon as he asked, the tears started.  The hyperventilating began.

She couldn’t speak.  She couldn’t stop crying.  We promised we wouldn’t be mad – we just needed to know what happened.

My heart fractured a little more with each tear, with each labored breathe – what in the world could have happened to cause this type of trauma?

I actually started to get scared.

Little by little, the story came out in spurts.

She had kicked a little boy.

He hadn’t done anything wrong.

She had been told to do it.

By an ‘older’ girl she adores.

Hence the devastation.  Even at ‘almost-six-going-on-sixteen’, she feels betrayed and embarrassed.

And I feel like the air has left the room.  I wasn’t ready for this.  I’m not ready for this.  I’m hugging her tightly, as if I can block the pain of growing up and realizing you can’t trust everybody with my embrace.  I quickly wipe the tear that seeps from the corner of right eye. It wouldn’t help her tears if she saw mine.

I think….I hope….we covered everything.

No, she can’t kick someone.  It is ok to make a mistake.  Trust your own little heart – even if someone tells you to do something – you do know right from wrong.  We aren’t mad at you.  You can ALWAYS talk to us. We WANT you to talk to us.  We trust you.  We love you. (Did I miss anything?)

My heart hurts as I write – just knowing we are the very beginning of the long and treacherous road of ‘growing up’.  I hope I am equipped.

If you have suggestions, well, honestly, I’d love them.

Filed Under: A little bit of Everyday, Breaking my heart, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , , , ,