Father's Day reflecting...

With Father’s Day approaching this weekend, I thought it would be a good time to take stock of my role as a Dad…and reflect a bit on the other Dads that have touched my life.

On September 3^rd a long, long time ago I made a father out of my Dad, with a little help from my Momma of course.  I was his first in a series of sons.  I remember wrestling with him on the floor and running with him in the grass, I remember watching him play tennis, I remember him working hand in hand with his Dad on building our home.  We moved in before I started kindergarten and it is still “home” today, built by the hands of two loving Dads.  My Dad was a strong figure in my life, and still is today.  He was a coach, teacher, builder and fixer as I grew up and today is a grandfather, teacher, fixer and friend.  It amazes me how wise my Dad became once I had 3 sons of my own.  I know now why Dad spent so much time in the garage and also why he didn’t mind National Guard summer camp  coming along for 2 weeks every summer, and also why he was always ready to come back home and give us huge hugs when the camp was over.  I have a wonderful father, and my boys have a fantastic grandfather.

A year or so after I turned my father into a Dad, my father-in-law became the Dad of a daughter, and a beautiful one at that.  He was also a strong figure in my wife’s childhood and taught her much about loyalty, being a person who stands by their word and about having real Faith.   As Tanya and I started dating, he became a strong influence in my life as well.  He taught me a lot about Faith, about forgiveness and about seeing God’s opportunity amidst adversity.  He is a strong and loving father and is a great “Timpa” to my boys.

When I found out that Tanya and I were going to be parents, and especially once I found out we were having a son, my world changed forever.  Since my boys have come along I realize that the change from man to father isn’t a one-time thing.  Being a father is much more a gradual evolution than a sudden transformation.  Life as a parent tends to be hectic and glorious and demanding and wonderful and exhausting and inspiring all at the same time.  It is a lot like boot camp, you get broken down and rebuilt, sometimes on a weekly basis…but it all works together to make a man better equipped to raise healthy, happy and somewhat normal kids.  I wouldn't trade our wrestlemania, dart gun wars or snuggle times for any amount of fame or riches, my role as a father is the most demanding and rewarding one I will ever play.

My role as a Dad is ever-changing, but my goal as a father remains the same.  I want my boys to grow into men that love unconditionally, give without expectation of reward, laugh from deep within, forgive those who hurt them, understand the importance of hard work and fear no one but God.   

And when their time comes to enter into the ranks of fatherhood and turn me into a grandfather…I hope that they can look back and realize that at least once in a great while, I got things right as a Dad.

Happy Fathers Day!

Snow snowy snow snow snow...

It's been one of the snowiest winters I can remember in recent history.  We have had light snow, heavy snow, snow mixed with rain, rain mixed with snow, snow in the middle of the day, snow late at night, sunny days with snow, grey snowy days…you get the picture.  Northeast Ohio has been a snow-lover’s paradise this year.

It’s the kind of winter that is great for body shops, orthopedic surgeons and ski wear / outerwear retailers.  Hardware stores have been out of salt more than they have had it in stock and small engine shops have rebuilt more snowblowers than ever.  People have made a killing and gone days without sleep keeping parking lots cleared.  City and County Governments have destroyed already stretched budgets buying mountains of salt and keeping fleets of trucks on the roads to keep traffic crawling along safely.  Kids have had snow day upon snow day until many schools now are looking at skipping spring breaks or delaying graduations because they have exceeded their allotted calamity days.

And yet with all of that snow, we hit 60 degrees in mid February…for one brief and wonderful day it was spring!  The birds chirped, the snow and ice melted and the sun felt SO good.  People shed their layers of flannel and fleece and stepped out into the daylight in shirts…short sleeved shirts for goodness sake!

I took the kids to the park to get some exercise and they had a blast swimming in the snow melt and mulch puddles, literally.  Our washing machine will never be the same. 

It was a beautiful thing.

That evening as I listened to the sounds of the neighborhood kids coming back to life and finding treasures buried in the snow since November, I decided to sift through thousands of songs on Itunes and make a “First of Spring 2011 Mix”…it contains some Blues Traveler, some Bob Marley, Vampire Weekend and Dave Matthews Band…music that helps melt the winter blahs as the temperature creeps up.  The windows were all open in the house and the music spilled out onto the deck.  Great feeling.  I burnt a quick copy of the mix for the car.  Then for some reason looked over at my phone and saw the little green light flashing in the upper middle area alerting me to a missed call or text.

It was an e-alert from a local TV station.  Winter Storm Warning for Wayne County starting at blah blah blah blah blah….instant headache.  Good feelings gone.  The music suddenly sounded completely inappropriate and I looked down and felt ashamed that I had put on cargo shorts.  What was I thinking tempting the snowgods with this foolish frenzy of springtime activity in February.  I should be punished…we all should…and we all were, by another 10 inches of snow.

Just saw the light blinking again…Winter Storm Warining for Wayne from 9:00pm Thursday until 4:00pm Friday (EST)…maybe this weekend we can build an igloo.  I can make a new mix to play too...maybe some Edgar Winter and Snow Patrol...

Grandma will finally be at Christmas this year...

My grandmother passed away yesterday morning after many years of declining mental and physical health.  Unfortunately for all of us she was in Florida while the rest of the family was back "home" in Ohio.  She was a wonderful woman and I remember her bright smile and how empty it felt not to have that smile at holidays those first few years they decided not to make the trip back up to see us.  It hurt as a grandchild and it hurt us as a family.  I know she would have wanted to be here if she had the choice.  Now that she has passed I hope she will be able, finally, to see the smiles on her great grandchildrens' faces and feel the love that family brings.  I miss you Grandma.

I know you’re in a far better place but tears started welling up when I saw your face.

A picture taken long ago, at a more simple time in a happier place. 

The smile I remember and the time slows down.  I can smell your perfume I remember the sound of your voice.

I remember you letting me drive when we rode in your red car.  Not too fast and not too far.

I remember the pink candy always filling the dish on the hutch.  We could always take some, but not too much.

I remember the cherry delight always finishing family meals. I remember the first Christmas without you here and how empty that feels.

I remember and I miss you.  But we have all missed you for years now.  Talking on the phone was never enough anyhow.

I wish you could have been with us each Christmas.  You used to love Easter, too.

I wish you could have known your great grandsons; you would have loved fishing with them too.

You were so far away from all of our lives and the love we wanted to share.

There were so many times over so many years that I wish you could have been there.

Now that you are free from the sadness and pain I know you can smile again. 

I know you can be anywhere now.  It makes me feel better somehow.

I hope that you will look down and be a part of our lives, it will be so nice to finally have you there.

Where did all of the good conversation go?

As I walked through the grocery isle with my 18 month old son, discussing coffee and the finer points of its history and social importance in our culture it occurred to me that I need more adult conversation.

Not that I didn’t think that my son was worthy of this important bonding time, I just don’t think at his age he gives a hill of beans that even though darker roast coffee has a richer flavor it is in fact lower in the content of the all important caffeine component, as the caffeine is literally “burnt off” in the roasting process.

It occurred to me that perhaps this conversation, often interrupted by him throwing items out of the cart or randomly pulling them off of the nearest shelves and throwing them into the cart; “no thanks G…we don’t really need any orange marmalade today”, that I don’t have the chance…EVER…to just sit and chat aimlessly anymore about anything to any adult anywhere…

In college there were countless hours spent at coffee shops solving the world’s problems, amidst the occasional bout of studying.   There were the hours spent on a barstool chatting up with good friends about all of the things we would do once we had our degrees in hand.  There was the wonderful time my wife and I used to spend talking about all of the what-ifs ahead of us, before the kids and work zapped every last ounce of energy from us and left us with the ability to barely produce a half-hearted “G’night honey” before rolling over and passing out. 

Yes, life as a 30 something father of 3 just doesn’t include enough opportunity to talk about meaningless topics to adults in meaningful ways.  It’s something that will change, I know.  It is seasonal.  It too shall pass and there will come a time when I will have so much time to chat that I may actually run out of things to talk about…

Unlikely…but hey, so were all of the solutions to the world’s problems…until then, the kids will just have to put up with the occasional lecture about things not pertaining to them... and long drawn out stories about way back in the day, when their daddy was cool and the conversations were plenty.

When I married my wife I officially became a cat owner.

I didn’t mind Meka when we were dating and actually grew to love her once she was officially a member of my household. She was a playful and unique cat. Even at around 15 years old she looked like a kitten at times.

From the time I met Tanya, Meka has just always been part of the package. Most of the time a good part. Over the past 12 years she had put up with 7 moves, a rambunctious dog who thought she was half toy-half companion, 3 crazy kids and unfortunately, less and less attention from Tanya and I.

This morning, after a lot of discussion and tears, we had to say goodbye to her. It was her time.

Last night, after lying in bed for a few minutes it hit me that it was her last night with us. I went downstairs and found her sitting in the living room, staring at the wall. I brought her up and put her in bed with Tanya and I. She purred as Tanya sobbed and pet her. I pretended to be asleep.

When Meka sensed that Tanya was falling asleep she hopped off the bed and back down to the hardwood floor with a familiar thud.

I’m not sure why I felt the need to, but I grabbed a piece of paper off of my nightstand and crumpled it up. Paper balls have always been Meka’s favorite toy. When we pull out the couch to clean under it there are always a few small paper balls she has played with and then batted under, just out of her reach. I crumpled the paper up and she immediately was at my feet bouncing like a kitten. I threw the paper into the corner of the room and listened to the familiar sound of her talking to it and swatting at it. Usually I would get punched in the arm or at minimum chastised by Tanya for letting Meka have a ball before bed, knowing that the meowing would keep us awake for the next 4 hours as she played. This time, not a word. We both listened to Meka playing, talking to the ball, pouncing on it. I even got up at one point and threw it down the stairs for her, knowing the noise would continue as she played with the paper ball from step to step. Finally after an hour I picked the ball up and we got some sleep.

I will miss our cat. I am not a “cat person” and I can’t say that we will ever own another one. Maybe someday, but not soon. The boys want a dog, and we will get one at some point, but not for a while. I think the quiet house at night will be a good reminder of our friend Meka. It will be hard for Tanya for a little while. The boys will take a few days to notice. I’m pretty choked up when I think about it right now, but I know we did what was best for her.

The day will come when the last paper ball is found under a piece of furniture. It will be a month from now. Tears will be shed.

The worst part of being a pet owner is also the best part, you really grow to love the animals in your life, and the worst part of loving anyone is letting go.

Happy Campers

There is no better way to spend a brisk fall evening than sitting with friends and family around a crackling campfire.  There’s an intimacy and a certain magic to it.  The world outside of the fire’s orange glow seems to disappear. The smell of the smoke engages the part of an overworked brain that triggers an urge to tell embarrassing stories and laugh at people whom, in normal circumstances, are just not that funny.

I love this scenario.  I often paint the scene in my mind, sitting at my desk when office life gets too stressful.  I guess it’s my “happy place”.  I can’t pinpoint when the first time was that I experienced camping and the campfire, but whenever it was it made an impression on me.

I didn’t camp outdoors much as a kid.  Once in a blue moon my Dad would begrudgingly drag out the old canvas tent and set it up in the backyard for a birthday or summer weekend, most of the camping was of the “blanket over stacked couch cushions” kind.  I would imagine I was deep in the wilderness and able to survive with nothing but my keen survival skills and a small plastic bag of peanut butter crackers. 

I wasn’t a cub scout either.  I didn’t need to be.  I had seemingly endless woods to explore all around my house and parents who were brave enough to let me take Spike, the mutt and a backpack of full of army surplus out for hours at a time.  I learned to fish in the local farmer’s ponds.  I learned to hike on deer trails and learned to hunt with a Daisy single pump BB gun.  The only patches I earned were the ones sewn on the knees of my jeans or the old army ones I begged my Mom to sew everywhere else.

I was lucky enough to fall in with a cheerful band of outdoor pirates / mountain bikers in college and really fed my camping bug.  We often stayed out at the fire until the sun came up, the wood ran out or the bottles were all empty.  Being out in the woods was just what you did when classes were done for the week and the snow wasn’t flying.  The rest of the winter was spent anticipating the first trip of spring.  It was a great way to pick up chicks too.  Cool girls like dirt, that brings me to my next stage of camping.

My wife grew up camping with her family in a pop-up.  She has lots of memories of setting the camper up, playing around the campsite and of course time around the campfire with her family and church groups and friends.  When we started dating it was the dead of winter, so I had to wait until that spring to put her to the test.  That first camping trip with her was great, and really helped seal the deal.  She was beautiful, strong-willed AND loved the outdoors.  Definitely a keeper.  We spent most of our time off over the next few years camping either in Michigan, Northeast Ohio or around the Lake Erie Islands.  We even tried a spring trip to Colorado and found that camping in the mountains in March in Northern Colorado is not quite the experience we expected. 

Once our kids came along we continued to camp fairly often, but it did mean we had to make some changes.  First we invested in a bigger tent, then better equipment, then cots.  It started to feel like we were gypsies moving a caravan from town to town and less like we were escaping the stress of stuff to get out into nature.  We were just bogged down with baby baggage.  Suddenly now instead of a tent and sleeping bags with a few key tools we had to pack cots and cribs and toys and a heater and a fan and diapers and clothes and an extra cooler of the juice and the milk and the baby food.  We used to be able to pack everything in the trunk of my small convertible and head out for a week, now we were completely loading an SUV, including a car-top carrier for an overnight stay.  It was nuts.

The last few years we camped a total of 3 times.  It was sad.

Then we realized that perhaps it was time to consider that we didn’t have to “rough it” to get back out in the woods.  We started noticing pop-up campers.  We started getting online and researching pop-up campers.  Finally last spring we went out and bought our pop-up camper.

Our pop-up, set up for the first time at "Camp Grandpa"

It has all of the necessities that make camping with kids possible, without the luxuries that make you feel guilty about it.  There are comfortable beds, there is no bathroom.  There is storage for all of the stuff, but there is no furnace.  It has a small gas stove, but no air conditioning.  It is the perfect compromise.  Even with the unbearably hot summer we had this year and the ever increasing demands at work, we still managed to get out and camp 5 times so far, and fall has just begun.  I am excited again about getting out and camping.  I love that when I grab my hat and put it on it smells like a campfire again.  Granted, the bottles are full of baby formula now and not tequila and I usually get woken up at the crack of dawn by my little men instead of sleeping in, it’s still camping, and I am loving every minute of it!

Tis the season to be merry...

It may just be me...but the lights seem to be a little brighter this year, and no, it isn't because some of them are LED.  Maybe it's the economy; people are looking for a positive distraction from job loss and foreclosures.  Maybe it's the build up; retailers have been pushing Christmas since the 5th of July. Maybe it's that everyone saw "Christmas with the Kranks" or read "Skipping Christmas" last year and realize now that there is no use avoiding it...and if they have to do it they might as well throw an extra strand on.  I honestly don't know what it is.  I cannot deny though that when I drive around town there just seems to be more twinkle.  And that my friends, is a very good thing.

In my 3 and a half decades milling around and tripping over the bumps on this planet I have never experienced a time when the world could use a good Christmas as much as we all can now.  I'm not talking about a big Christmas.  We had plenty of those in the 80's.  I'm not talking about an extravagant Christmas.  We had those through the 90's.  I'm not talking (although the retailers would argue otherwise) about an expensive Christmas.  We have those every year.  The Christmas I am talking about is the magical... children singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, cut-out cookies and hot cocoa, red and green everywhere, send out some cards to distant relatives, plan a family dinner (and invite ALL the family), get your butt to church, find an advent wreath and learn which candle to light first, Twas the Night Before Christmas reading, celebrate the fact that this IS Jesus Christ's birthday party... good old fashioned Christmas.

Don't worry about fancy, worry about family.  Don't worry about re-gifting, worry about giving.  Don't worry if you can't afford to give a lot of gifts, worry about giving the gift of time and a little of yourself.  Bake cookies and deliver them in person to some neighbors or relatives you might not see often enough.  Have some people over for coffee and cookies and enjoy their company without worrying if you have dishes in the sink or laundry that needs folded.  Call someone whom you love and share a Christmas memory you have of them from years ago.  Find an "angel tree" somewhere and buy a gift for a complete stranger...you get where I am going with this.  Do the things that make you sigh when you accidentally flip to a Holiday movie on the Hallmark Channel.

Remember...Santa is watching.

It just seems like the world is crying out for a good, wholesome, homegrown Christmas.  Where Christ is the center of attention and there is more joy in who you are with than what you will get.

There is a heightened sense of urgency this year...we are already 2 full rows down on the advent calender.  I have already watched Christmas Vacation...twice.  Jingle the Elf has already fallen off the wine rack atop the fridge and had to be placed ever-so-carefully to a safer place, on the Christmas tree with tongs... as not to touch him and spoil his Christmas magic...

...the game is afoot...the clock has started...time is running out...

But the lights... you must admit ...they are shining brighter this year.

Only 15 days left until Christmas.  And I plan to make the most of each one.

Autumn reflections...

I love the fall. Autumn. The smell of the leaves and of the fireplaces fired up for the first time…the apple cider and the crisp morning air. The football games and hay rides and sweaters and pumpkins. It’s one of my favorite things about Northeast Ohio.



Fall is a great reminder that change is a wonderful thing. Transition is a natural and necessary part of life. Summer was great with the hot days and poolside conversations. Margaritas and laughing kids running through the sprinkler on a Tuesday afternoon. But every good thing must end and there is wonder to be found in the time in between. Yes…it does mean that winter is on the way. Yes…it does mean that soon the grill will be packed away and the gas bill will reach triple digits…but not just yet. The fall is a golden yellow, orange and red reminder that we can’t be in such a big hurry to rush into the next chapter. There is an almost otherworldly beauty in this momentary redecoration of the landscape. Time seems to slow for just a moment and things just feel good.


Of course this whole peaceful warm fuzzy feeling is derailed when you are dealing with a house full of whiny, sneezy, snotty, fevery, coughing, wheezing sick kids…


But it is a great time nonetheless…

Happy fall…

Some things heard recently in the Blough house...

The flu hit us early this year...and hit us all.  This gave us a LOT of time to spend stuck in the house together, not that it's a bad thing...but it does tend to make one a bit slap-happy...

Here are a few memorable quotes from our time in quarantine...

After watching the movie Thomas & the Magic Railroad I was channel chasing and came across The Hunt for Red October.  After about 5 minutes of watching Sean Connery running around the sub Caedon turned to me and said, "The Submarine Conductor lost his sparkle didn't he Dad..."  He sure did Caedon...good observation...now let's see what's on Noggin?!?

"You don't look good honey" I said, "you don't have any color this morning."  Brody's response: "Well candy is has a lot of color...can I have some candy?"

"Let's have quiet time guys, daddy's head is really pounding"  The boys response: "Ok Dad...but can we play our drums for quiet time because we already watched a show today."  Sure boys...why not....

"Stop running your truck into your other toys!  If you don't have any respect for your stuff, maybe I should give your toys to some other kids who need them?!"  Response, very graciously:  "Well...you can give them these ones, they're broke."

"Brody, how do you feel this morning buddy?"  "I is still feeling sick....but not if we going to Grandma's...just if we going to school."

"Caedon, does your throat hurt?"  "No Dad...only when I cough...or talk..."

And my favorite...after being up all night with a feverish, kicking and coughing Brody beside me in bed...I asked him, "Did you sleep good last night?"...already knowing that he hadn't.  His response was:

"I think I did..but I don't know why you keep waking me up?  That is mean to wake me up Daddy..."  

Sorry Brody...my body was in the way of your feet, knees and an occasional elbow...how thoughtless of Daddy...

This toddler will self destruct in 9..8..7..6...

I never thought my little Boo Boo would scare me. Sure there were the peek-a-boo games when I pretended to be surprised. That was just an act. My middle son has the ability now to scare the snot out of me. The worst part is I think he knows it.

About the time he turned four he started having complete meltdowns. Not "terrible two" type of meltdowns, full on drop your drink and hang on to the counter tantrums. The Super Nanny kind. The kind of tantrum that you see in the middle of Walmart on an hourly basis, thrown by someone else's child. The kind that makes you want to peel your skin off and walk away from the whole ugly mess. Tantrums that melt whatever thoughts were in your troubled brain prior and make it impossible to think for an hour afterward. Bad, bad, bad.

I don't know what started the process. We moved this past fall, added a third boy to the family this spring...maybe one or both of those big events triggered the trouble. Maybe he realized that he is now the middle child. Maybe he figures this is a way to get to spend some one on one time with us...I have no idea what started it, my concern at this point in time is how the heck do I end them. I need to end this insanity before I start throwing my own tantrums right beside him. Before I track down that band of gypsies my parents used to threaten to sell my brothers and I to when we acted up as kids. Where are those gypsies anyway. Now that I'm a parent I would think that I'd be privy to the contact information. Where's the "Gypsy Hotline" to call when you have kids to sell, bad ones.

Now I know my son isn't a bad egg. I know he is still the sweet little man who follows me around the garage with his own little hammer just looking for the chance to help Daddy with a project. The one who used to tell me "I love you so much I going to pop you head off." Ohh...hmmm...maybe I should have read into that a little more...maybe that is precisely what he is attempting to do when he hangs on my shirt screaming at the top of his little lungs.

I know that this is a phase, like all the other parents tell me as they laugh to themselves, knowing that their kids are already long past it. Still, to live in fear of the pending eruption of a new tantrum is like building your dream house next to an active volcano and watching it all the time looking for signs of the next lava flow. Right now we are living in Pompeii. I've seen the documentary, I know how the story can end. I want more than anything for my son to just fight through this on his own and find a way to deal with his anger.

My boys are a passionate gang. "Spirited" is the way a nice old lady at a check out counter once put it. "Your boys sure are spirited aren't they?" I didn't take offense to it. I actually like to tell people when the boys are being boys that my wife and I are raising "free range children." Now for the most part we do have a pretty good discipline system in place and the boys know the rules and our expectations. They are, for the most part, respectful little gentlemen. I know from experience that they will have the next 15+ years to learn how to walk in a straight line and color the sky blue and the grass green. I want to encourage them to think outside the box and play and be as creative as possible now so they can remember how to later, when most others have forgotten. The creative minds are the ones who change the world. I'm not too humble to admit that I want my boys to be those kind of people.

For now though, I just hope I can find a way to get through to my precious little time bomb that these tantrums are not the way. Do they offer yoga for 4 year-olds? Can I get him into anger management classes after preschool? Does he need help finding or realigning his "chi?"

Many more of these explosions and I am going to have to create a rubber room somewhere in the house. Don't flip out...it won't be to lock him in...it will be for the rest of us to escape to.

Night of the Living Dad

Sleep. It's truly something you take for granted until you can't get it. Lack of it can turn you into a mumbling zombie. Braaaaiiiiins......brrrraaaiiinnss...where are my brains....

I can remember the last good night of sleep I got. It was almost 8 hours back in March of this year. It was a Tuesday night. What a glorious Wednesday that was. I really think my kids are working together to try to weaken me, like an inmate at Guantanamo, they coordinate efforts to wake my wife and I up every 2 to 3 hours so that we never really fall into a deep sleep.

I wonder if they have researched it. Maybe we should listen in when they are at the park playing with other kids. What if its a global conspiracy and they are all working together...

Wikipedia says its a very effective form of torture and interrogation:

Sleep deprivation can be used as a means of interrogation that some believe will constitute torture when used to excess. Under one interrogation technique, a subject might be kept awake for several days and when finally allowed to fall asleep, suddenly awakened and questioned. M. Begin, the Prime Minister of Israel from 1977-83, described his experience of sleep deprivation when a prisoner of the KGB in Russia as follows:

"In the head of the interrogated prisoner, a haze begins to form. His spirit is wearied to death, his legs are unsteady, and he has one sole desire: to sleep...Anyone who has experienced this desire knows that not even hunger and thirst are comparable with it."

Maybe they want to know something...is there really a Santa Claus...is the Easter Bunny real...will the water in the pool really turn purple if we pee in it????

For crying out loud at this point I wish they would just ask...I would spill the beans about it all. Every silly parental half-truth and outright lie would be gladly revealed if only they would let us sleep for a solid 8 hours. "is there a boogie man?"..."YES...he lives on the other side of the tracks and has to update law enforcement when he moves.." "Was that really chicken we ate last night?" "No...it was fish...oh for the love of God it was fish...now let me sleep!" Whatever you want to know just ask you cruel little captors. Just let us sleep...

Just in case you happen to be a parent suffering from this torture, know that you are not alone. Stay strong. They will someday be teens and they will sleep in until noon. Of course then they will be driving and we'll stay up all night worrying about them wrapping the car around a telephone pole...

If you think you might be suffering from from sleep deprivation here's an excerpt from an E-zine article that will make you cry...

One of the most common and easily identifiable sleep deprivation symptoms is that of drowsiness or daytime fatigue. We all intuitively understand that if we don't get enough sleep we're not recharged and therefore are tired the next day. The more we get little to no sleep the worse that fatigue is for us.

Another of the signs of sleep deprivation is a reduction in memory and mental performance. When we are low on sleep the brain suffers. The ability to process mental tasks as well as access and form memory is hindered. If we go without sleep for long enough then it can become serious to the point where tasks can be dangerous. Studies on sleep have shown that driving while suffering from a lack of sleep is similar to driving while under the influence. It is estimated that tens of thousands of car accidents happen each year due to sleepiness. Also like being under the influence we sometimes give ourselves credit for more control and awareness then we really have when we are tired.

There are behavioral effects of sleep deprivation as well. Sleepiness can affect the levels of brain chemicals at work which in turn can alter our mood and mental state. People who are suffering from a lack of sleep can often develop forms of anxiety and other adverse mental states. It also lowers your ability to deal with stress.

The behavioral effects of sleep deprivation can extend into a negative outlook on life and even sink into full fledged depression. This becomes a vicious cycle as depression often creates insomnia which produces more sleep deprivation that increases the depression. Getting out of this cycle once it starts is hard.

Sleep deprivation symptoms can also include increased illness. Sleep helps recharge the immune system. When we don't get enough sleep our immune system loses effectiveness and has a harder time fighting off illness. Our bodies are more easily overrun. This results not only in more frequent illnesses but longer recovery time as well. If you are noticing that you are sick more often or that you take longer to get over an illness than you used to then it may be that you aren't getting enough sleep.

One website on sleep deprivation quoted a 1999 study that showed glucose metabolism is reduced when we lack sleep. This produces symptoms similar to the beginning stages of diabetes. Improper processing of glucose drastically impacts a host of bodily functions from immune system to brain function to energy levels and a whole lot in between.

Yep...they are trying to kill us. Stay strong. It's not to early to pull out the "Santa Claus is watching" card when you need it...unless you've already spilled the beans...then you are pretty much screwed.

Worth its weight in chocolate milk

Most kids go through a bedtime rebellion phase at some point in the post toddler years. I have read about it. I have heard other parents talk about it in hushed, frail voices. As if you were talking about a heinous crime that was committed by someone standing just a few feet away. I even thought I had experienced a bit of it myself when our oldest son, at around 3 years, wanted my wife or I to sit outside the door to his bedroom until he fell asleep. Recently I came to find that this was not at all the terror of which those other poor parents had whimpered about. Not even close.

Roughly 3 weeks ago my middle son, who had just turned 4, got out of bed and made his way to the stairs. Listening for my wife and I he followed the sound of a Tivo'd sitcom and slinked down the stairs to the first floor. Once in the living room he crawled like a Navy Seal on a stealth mission around the back of the sectional to the corner. At this point my wife pointed this chain of events out to me because I was engrossed in the previous week's episode of Rule's of Engagement. Funny stuff. I paused the show and got up to see what the intrusion into Mommy & Daddy's time, or as I like to call it, happy hour, was all about. Brody had positioned himself beside the couch, under a blanket and beside a stool. It was a pretty good vantage point. When I asked him what was up he said it...the statement we would come to loathe...."I want you to lay in my bed."


The next 30 minutes was spent negotiating, arguing and pleading for our son to get back in bed. The entire time he kept on with his new mantra, progressively increasing the volume and raising the tone until it cut into my skull and turned me into nothing more than a sweaty mess of my former self. "I want you to lay in my bed." "I WANT YOU TO LAY IN MY BED" Now the baby was awake in the next room, my oldest was awake in the bunk above and the neighbors I am sure had their fingers on the dial to call children's services to stop whatever atrocities must be causing this riot. Finally, exhausted, defeated and still wondering how the sitcom ended, I gave up. I caved. I crawled into the disheveled lower bunk with my sweaty little master and passed out.


This was the routine for the next week. Sure, we got better at caving in and a few nights just walked in and laid down with him or let him crawl up in beside us without a fight. If he were a sound sleeper this might not have been so bad but Brody is a kicker, an elbower...a violent sleeper. We were sacrificing hours of much needed sleep for the sake of avoiding Armageddon. Then came the realization that if we didn't put our foot down, if we didn't draw a line in the sand, if we didn't fight to take back the night, we were going to be stuck with this arrangement for the next 14 years. We were never going to be able to have happy hour again. This was not acceptable. This was war.


My wife and I discussed the options, strengthened our resolve and decided it was now or never.


This was two weeks ago. The first night was an hour of me literally holding my son in his bed while he screamed, hit, kicked and I'm pretty sure spoke in tongues about halfway through it. At the point at which I was at the end of my rope and ready to cave, my wife came in to my rescue. She says that she was only able to swoop in and save me because I had worn him out. I think she has a gift. She's like the possessed child whisperer. She changed his PJs, as they were drenched in sweat and tears and I did the same. This was to be repeated in various forms and durations every night for the next two weeks, until last night.


With school fast approaching my wife resurrected the award board. Stars for good deeds accomplished throughout the day. Things like picking up toys, brushing teeth, being polite and yes, going to bed. My oldest completed his goal of 3 rows of stars Tuesday and chose to pick from the "prize bag". Brody had just 3 stars left at that point and we asked him what he wanted as his prize when he reached the goal. "I want a big jug of chocolate milk." Really? This was his brass ring, this was his chosen prize. We explained to him that all he had to do was go to bed IN HIS OWN BED and the stars would be his and he and my wife would take off first thing in the morning to the local grocery store and pick up his prize. I laughed it off as yet another ploy that would be forgotten once the screaming started. I thought it was a cute side note to a sad story of unwatched shows and long, exhausting nights.


Last night, with the thought of an entire gallon jug of chocolate milk fresh on his mind and a single tear running down his cheek, Brody tightened the grip on his stuffed puppy as we pulled the sheet up, said our good nights and stepped out of the room. There were muffled sounds of whimpers, like a puppy put out in his doghouse for the first time and then after around 10 minutes, silence. After 3 weeks of nightly hell in my home there was silence. We quietly tiptoed down the stairs and turned on the TV. After a few long minutes to see if the silence would stick we brought up our list of mental junk food and exhaled as the show started. Ahhhhh.


This morning Brody got up, walked into the bathroom as I was shaving and with a smile from ear to ear stated boldly and proudly, "I get my chocolate milk when Mommy gets up!" and he did. As his brother and I were finishing up our cereal this morning he burst through the backdoor lugging in a jug that weighed about half as much as he does. He will drink most of it today if he has his way. He might share a little, maybe. But it worked. He did it.


Now to see what tonight brings.