The Afternoon I Kicked Johnny

It rained all day today. 

The rain makes it difficult to leave our 750 sq. ft. apartment for a more open place to play. That small square footage can get boring after a while. When we can't go outside, the Kicker gets cranky, and I have to be creative when finding things to do. 

To combat the effects of boredom, I set up the Johnny Jump Up. This contraption clamps to the top of a door frame and has a baby seat at the bottom. Above the baby seat is a spring. This allows the baby to jump up and down in the seat. 

What Johnny doesn't tell you is that it's next to impossible to get a baby in the seat without the help of four other people. I stood next to Johnny Jump Up holding my baby under his armpits trying to position his feet into the two leg holes. When I swung the Kicker left, Johnny went right, when I swung him right, Johnny went left. 

This showdown went on for a while. With every second that passed, my patience grew thinner. When Johnny wouldn't cooperate, I sat the baby down away from the scene. I turned back to Johnny, stepped and planted my left foot in the carpet, and with a long swooping motion that would have booted a Super Bowl winner, I kicked Johnny square in the seat. 

It wasn't a malicious move. There wasn't hate involved. It was more to prove a point that I wouldn't be bested by a child's toy. 

As it turns out, I regretted that kick the second I made contact with the Jumper. I'm not sure when Evenflo started making their products out of titanium carbide, but my right foot screamed for mercy immediately. 

I tried standing up and acting like everything was cool, but I dropped to the floor with my head grimacing in pain right next to my seated child. He can't talk yet, but his face seemed to say, "Hey Dad, look at us! We're both on the floor together now." 

We left his bedroom and went into the living room. I started immediate medical treatment. 

Witness this: the only time broccoli gets used in this household.

As I continue to nurse my wounds - more pride than foot - the lesson seems painfully obvious: You can't be aggressive toward inanimate objects in front of your child. The kid has to see a dad who's more in control I think. Not my brightest moment, but hopefully the last like that. 

13 Down, 27 Left

As is custom on select Monday evenings, some form of a Bachelor spin-off illuminates the living room and I seek the written word to escape. Even though I'd prefer to spend the next two hours distracted by writing instead of watching the glamorization of one-night stands, hook-ups, and shallow love, I have only a single picture to bring that summarizes the day:

That is our 8 month old looking at - and crinkling - the picture of his 13 week old sibling. It wasn't long ago when that 8 month old was only visible as a black & white image on photo paper too. It only took 14 months for things to come full circle. I think they're already making a connection. 

Breaking News

This will have to be a hasty post. I've got a 7 month old tearing into an 8-pack of paper towels like it's Christmas morning, and my wife is inviting me to the 2 hour season premier of Bachelor Pad after making me sit through a 3 hour season finale of the Bachelorette last night. Bliss.

Ever build a sandcastle at the beach? Invest enough time into the sand creation and you'll guard it from any potential threat that may knock it down. One thing you can't defend against is the incoming tide. The waves WILL have their way with the sandy fortress. It's frustrating. All the time put into building the castle now feels like a waste. 

But the next time you build a sand castle, it's always better than the last. That's because you learn from the last castle. The new castle will have stronger walls, better shaped windows, and sturdier bridges. 

That's what I've learned in the last year. 

We had our plan set about how things were going to be - when to buy a house, where to work, weekly routine, etc. - but then we got a shocking surprise with a baby on the way. Plans changed.

Then the baby arrived and we went into a prevent defense. Had to think on our toes and not give up any big plays. We gave up our pre-baby routine for a new one. Plans changed.

We're finally getting comfortable with the baby and how to raise a child. It's a trip. We have our routine set, made financial strategies, and are finally (yes it takes a while, esp. for me) coming to terms with the new baby lifestyle. But then...Plans changed again.

We visited the doctor today to confirm the positive result on that pregnancy test. And we've got a new baby on the way. The Kicker will show his kicking ways to a younger sibling!

The tide came in. The waves wrecked our old sandcastle. All that hard work just to have to build a new one. 

Our plans are like sandcastles. Both get broken down and have to be rebuilt. But that's the best part. They get rebuilt stronger every time they get made over. Here's to new sandcastles and new plans!

"Time To Sit Back And Unwind..."

It took 21 years, but I finally downloaded DJ Jazzy Jeff and Will Smith's 'Summertime' off Amazon to set the tone for the coming months. 


There have always been difficult decisions to make during the summer: Which trail would be the best to run? What day of the week looks best to kayak? How often should sunscreen be applied? And more. 


My favorite summer to-do: sitting on the balcony watching the sky change.

Just give me a call before you stop by. 

This summer, things look different. It's not a decision of which trail to run, but if I'll have time to run at all. Believe it or not, I can't find a life jacket for a 6 month old; let alone anyone to give me permission to take him out on the lake. And my sunscreen is an afterthought compared to making sure the baby has enough on all the time.


I spent a few months  - and still do sometimes - sulking about how I can't run, workout, swim, bike, and watch my TV shows the same anymore. In between my tantrums, I sought out some advice that could help me cope. A few good friends shared their thoughts. 


Sacrifice is what we do out of love. Sacrifice is not saying farewell to the things I enjoy because I was forced to; it's giving up what I used to do and exchanging them for the new experiences because love makes it worth it. And it absolutely does make it worth it. 

We're off to a good start.

The Night It Was Gonna Go Down

Falling asleep is sometimes difficult. After reading and turning off the light, I usually lay awake thinking about my job, workouts, running, projects, things to do, family/friends, etc. Since the baby though, my mind has often been enamored with "what to do" situations. I like to run situations through my head and think about how I would respond. Usually they involve how I would react if something threatening affected my family. I use those thoughts as practice.

On a night a few weeks ago, we didn't need to the baby monitor to know that something was wrong with the baby. As my body and mind both synced into a good rest, I was rattled awake by the most awful and loud cry from the baby room.

I had never heard this cry from him before. It was shrill. It was sudden. There was no build to it, only an immediate high pitched and loud cry. It instantly woke me and my wife. 

We are both constantly on edge when he's sleeping in his crib. We've heard stories of SIDS and of babies being hurt in the middle of their sleep. Sleeping 7 hours with a baby one room over and sleeping 7 hours with no baby are two different 7 hour sleeps. Our bodies physically learned that we have to be connected to the kid.

This alarming scream in the middle of the night put me into protector mode. Let me describe how my body reacted to it.

When the scream happened, my mind woke up before my eyes opened. My mind thought quick: my baby is in trouble and I got to fix this. I immediately envisioned someone lifting the kid out of his crib and either wanting to take off with him, or hurt him. Still before my eyes were open, I decided that someone will be hurt as a result. Either I'm going to be a bloody mess trying to save my child, or some stranger was going to spend the duration it took police to get here as my personal speed bag. Either result, I was OK with. 

Adrenaline surged. My eyes shot open, and I ripped the covers off my body at exactly the same time. I took only two steps from the bed to our door. I peered into the hallway expecting to see a stranger with my baby, but I kept my torso out of visibility and used my off hand to hold my now-track-star wife from sprinting into a potentially threatening situation. 

I used my left hand to feel along the dark hallway walls and approached the door to the baby room. With the same posture, I looked into the baby's room again holding back my frantic wife. I didn't see anyone. But I still wasn't satisfied. Wife tended to the crying child while I busted open closet doors looking for the crazy person who broke into my apartment. 

The whole first cry to being crib-side only took about 3 seconds. We've never moved so fast and smart. We looked like a two person SWAT team moving to take down a target. 

Turns out the Kicker does this in his sleep every so often. He simply breaks out into a horrifying cry and just needs a second to gather himself before he falls back asleep. 

I don't remember past events well. My memory is mostly foggy. The events I remember best in my past are the events when most of my senses were engaged. That cry lit up my 5 senses and then some I didn't know I had. 

This story has more worth than just exchanging at a family party. The moment I heard that cry and decided that I was both fine with being fatefully harmed or reigning down my 156 lbs. of fury on someone for the sake of protecting my family, I felt proud. Not look-at-me proud. But self-reflectively proud that all those times I sat awake thinking about what I should do for my family, I am willing to do for them.