Hobbies Revisited

Well, having had some time to ponder, I've managed to whittle my hobby list down to a more reasonable size. I've dropped it down to four, with two main ones that I am going to emphasize (for the time being). The lucky winners are magic and writing. The other two are racquetball (which I still plan on playing weekly. It's my token exercise, after all!) and costuming (this one has been ongoing for several years), in that order.

It's nice to finally whittle things down to something possible. Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew, and end up doing nothing. Now for my next goal, code named "Get-to-bed-at-a-reasonable-hour."

Joy in the Simple Things

You can learn a lot from children. Take my youngest daughter Lizzie, for example. I can think of four times today where she took joy from the simplest things:

1. The Joy of Balloons. The kids dug up an old Brick Oven balloon from who knows where in the house. I'm surprised the thing still had any air in it at all, since we last went to Brick Oven about a month ago. Lizzie was dragging the tiny balloon all over the upstairs by the string, laughing hysterically the whole time. All of this from a pathetic looking balloon and a length of string. Alas, the balloon was popped when we got home from church. Fortunately, we were able to save the string.


2. The Joy of the Frog. Lizzie has a small stuffed frog. It's the kind with the sound chip inside. When you squeeze the frog's front and back, it croaks several times. After breakfast, I was playing with Lizzie by moving the frog back and forth in my hand in time to the croaking while she tried to grab it. She thought that was very funny. After the croaking stopped, she picked up the frog and threw it back into my lap so that I could play the game again. I also tried moving the frog up and down, but it apparently doesn't have the same humor value as back and forth.


3. The Joy of Pushing Daddy Over. I've started a new game with Lizzie, almost by accident. The other day, I was standing next to our Love Sac (think gigantic beanbag). Lizzie came running up to me and ran into my legs. I proceeded to "fall" back into the Love Sac. She laughed and thought that was a great game. She also thought that we should immediately play it several more times. I guess it is empowering for her, and payback for the times that I pick her up and put her into her crib for bed when she doesn't want to go to sleep.


4. The Joy of Jumping on Daddy's Back While He is Lying Down. I don't really need to explain this one, do I? I think the title says it all. :)

Of course these are just four examples I thought of quickly off the top of my head for one day. I could come up with others, such as the Joy of Playing Outside Without Shoes, or the Joy of Eating Watermelon in the Living Room Even Though She Knows Better and Has Been Asked to Take it to the Kitchen Several Times. But I think the examples I have already shared are enough to show my point; Little children take great joy in the little things.

Perhaps this is part of the reason that we have children. As I watch my young daughter explore and discover, I can remember to look for joy in the simple things of life too.

Too Many Hobbies?

That's the question I've been asking myself over the past month or so. I don't have a ton of spare time, and there are lots of things I would like to try. I dabble in a few hobbies currently. I am neither fabulous nor terrible at any of them. My current, past, and future interests include reading, racquetball, magic (performance), computer games, writing, sketching, doing home improvements, sewing, costuming...and the list goes on and on.

I've read in a couple of places that it is helpful to pick one or two things that bring enjoyment and focus on those. But which ones to pick? Which ones to pick up from the past, or leave there? Which ones to drop?

It's all quite muddled in my head. So if this post is muddled, I'm not a bit surprised.

Do You Want Your Palm Red - Part 2

I know what you're thinking, if you are a regular visitor to my blog. You're thinking, "Oh no, the kids got into the model paints downstairs again, and Mark is going for the duct tape." No, not this time. In fact, that shouldn't even be possible, because I tossed the model paints in the garbage can after the last incident. No, today was a little bit more disconcerting.

Esther likes to come out and sleep with me in the middle of the night. When I woke up this morning, Susie was feeding the younger two breakfast, and Esther was asleep on my lap, with her face turned away from me. My stomach eventually informed me that it would like breakfast, so I moved Esther to a different part of the chair and got up. This was enough to wake her, and she sat up and looked at me.

As I looked at Esther, I noticed that there were red streaks all over her face, and up into her hair. And this time it wasn't paint! But she didn't appear to be in pain. In particular, there was no weeping, wailing, or screaming at the top of her lungs, as would be typical of an Esther-in-pain situation. So the Spirit helped me to keep my head, and I asked Esther how she was feeling. Her answer: "Hungry." As she approached me, I noticed larger portions of dried blood around her nose and the top of her head where her hair parts. So I gently led her to the bathroom to get cleaned up and to see if there were any injuries that turned up during the night.

Fortunately, there was no major harm done. Turns out that Esther had a nosebleed in the middle of the night (I understand that those can be common in small children from time to time). She confirmed this by describing that "blood came out of the holes in my nose" :)

I presume she must have fallen asleep in such a position that the nosebleed went from her nose to the top of her head, hence the large amount of dried blood up there. I gently cleaned off her face with a washcloth, and then tossed her (not literally) into the tub to clean up her hair. Although the amount of blood was small, it takes a surprising amount of time to clean it out of hair!

I had to clear the water out of the tub and re-run it a couple of times. This resulted in Lizzie banging on the door and saying something in her toddler speak, as if to ask why I was running water in the bathtub without inviting her.

In any case, I am grateful that no harm came to my daughter. It was definitely not the way I would have chosen to start my day, but I am grateful that she wasn't seriously injured.

Happy Father's Day

This will be a short post because it's late, and I'm trying to overcome a cold.

I'm grateful for the opportunity to be a father. I'm thankful for the three small children that call me "Daddy," and delight my eyes with their antics. I thankful for the things that they teach me, as well as the things that I teach them. I'm thankful for my loving wife Susie, without whom I would not be a father, and who underwent three C-sections to bring our children into the world.

I'm grateful for my own father. Although I don't remember him (he died when I was 18 months old), I would not be here if it were not for him and my mother. I'm grateful for my Grandpa Bair, who was like a father to me while I was growing up, and taught me some very important life lessons that I still cherish today.

Above all, I am thankful for my Heavenly Father and my Savior Jesus Christ, who represent the epitomy and perfect example of Fatherhood. I am striving to be like them in my own fatherhood, and while I fall pitifully short (as my children would likely tell you ;-), I know that Jesus can make up for where I lack.

And a big Happy Father's Day to all of the other great dads out there!

Do You Want Your Palm Red?

Or pajamas, in this case. But I get ahead of myself.

Tuesday morning had a very interesting start. The kids were up bright and early, and I was getting some extra sleep in the living room. I could hear them playing downstairs. They have a playroom downstairs, opposite from a storage room that they are not supposed to play in. They have been very good to keep out of there, execpt for the day before, when they had been chased out. I assumed that they were playing nicely in their playroom.

You can already see where this is going, can't you?

I start to make the journey back from nap time to coherence. I see Lizzie come into the room. She has a spot of something by her lips. I squint at her with my glasses-less vision in the pre-dawn darkness of the room and say, "Have you been eating blueberries or something?" She toddles off.

A minute later, I hear Jayson coming up the stairs, whining about something that Esther has done. Not screaming bloody murder, but not happy either. As he comes in the room, the first thing I see is big red spots on his pajamas. Instantly, I am awake, thinking he has blood all over him. But he's not screaming. I take a close look, and realize that it is not blood, but paint. Model paint. The only model paint in the house that I am aware of is in the downstairs storage room. The room where the children are not supposed to play. The room they got caught in and evicted from the previous day.

Instantly, I know a little girl that is in big trouble. I call Esther upstairs, and as I come to the top of the stairs, I see her come out of the forbidden room, paint on both hands. I haven't been this angry since she was little and was whacking her baby brother with her hands. I yell loudly and send her, crying, to her room. I go downstairs to check out the damages.

It looks worse than it is. Several things have paint on them, including a photo frame that we have never used (it is covered in yellow model paint) and a number of papers destined for the filing cabinet (fortunately nothing critical). The carpet has paint in a number of spots. Fortunately, this carpet was probably old in the 70's, so if there's a spot they have to paint, that is the one.

I go back upstairs and retrieve Esther from her room. As I sit her down in my lap, I only want to know one thing. Why did she go into the room and play with things she knows she's not supposed to play with? She answers with her typical "I don't know." I inform her that that is not an acceptable answer this time and repeat the question. She says that she just wanted to paint a picture.

I take the opportunity to explain that there are differences between Daddy's model paints and the paints that she uses. I also remind her that there are other things in the storage room that could hurt her or her siblings (fortunately, the model paint I have is non-toxic). I remind her that as the oldest, the other two will follow her example.

And finally and most importantly, I reminder her that I love her and always will, no matter what her choices are. I may not always agree with, accept, or love her choices, but nothing will ever change my love for her (or for her siblings or mother, for that matter).

As I reflect back now several days later, things could have been a lot worse. Next to the model paint jars was a jar of plastic welder (which is most definitely NOT non-toxic). That stuff is bad news. Fortunately, it was untouched by the kids. The carpet is the oldest in the house. Jayson's pajamas were a bit small anyway, and were due to go in the trash before they got painted. And most of the non-toxic model paint came off that same day, either with rubbing alcohol, or in a good, hot bath later that night. The only remnants of the children's experiments are a little bit of paint on fingernails, on the carpet downstairs, and on a handful of non-cricial papers.

This was one of my first experiences of the sort that every parent goes through. Sometimes children have to make mistakes in order to learn and grow. And it helps the parents to grow as well.

Survival of the Fattest

Yes, I've put on some weight. At the moment, it's the main "vice" I allow myself. I've been on again-off again with computer games for several years now. I don't need to play computer games. However, I do need to eat. Just not as much as I have been. I've been tipping the scales further and further over the past two years. I'm ready to lose weight. For that matter, so are my knees. They don't seem to appreciate the extra weight. Something that helped me to put it into perspective was when I carried my son up the stairs the other night. It was much easier to go up the stairs without him, obviously. If I got down to a healthier weight, it would be the equivalent of walking up the stairs without my son. It really gets me to thinking. Sometimes.

The main exercise I am doing is racquetball once a week. Not a lot, I know, but it beats racquetball zero times a week. I'm looking into a new racquet, as I damaged the frame three months ago, and a string finally went on it last week. Fortunately, there is a place online that sells them (got my current one from them, as a matter of a fact). And some new racquetball gloves too, as I tore through both of mine in one week a while back.

More changes coming up. My oldest is finally going to make the switch to underwear. She's been doing the pullup thing for awhile, and just can't be bothered to use the potty, especially with so many other things going on. But the time is right. It will be nice to have the pullups out of the monthly budget. It will also be good for Esther, as it would really be good for her to be fully trained before going to Kindergarten this fall. My memories of elementary school are not pleasant ones. Kids can be brutal if they find something to pick on.

Well, enough of the negatives. Let's find some funny stories to tell as well. We were looking at pictures and videos from our digital camera this evening. We pulled up one of my youngest wearing a sombrero. When she saw the picture, she smiled and said, "Hat!" She is a sweetie, and very angelic (especially when she is sleeping).

My son is funny to listen to as well. He likes to repeat things he's heard in some of the videos and shows that he watches. His current favorites are, "Oh, my cabbages! You're going to pay for this!" and "Can't...hold...on...much...longer!" If I start saying the second one, he gets a small smile on his face (it reminds me a lot of his great-grandpa Bear) and then joins in with me.

Esther is reading more and more. It's sure exciting and rewarding for me to see.

Oh yes, I had another opportunity to perform my magic act this past week. On Memorial Day, we went up to a friend's house. Several family members were there, and a lot of kids! The younger kids really enjoyed it, as did many of the adults. There was one teenager in the group that was a bit of a cynic. She couldn't figure out how the last trick was done, and challenged and questioned me on it. I claimed that it was magic. She said that she didn't believe in magic, which I found a bit sad. Magic is everywhere, if you know where to look for it.

The true magic in life doesn't come from simple tricks and sleight-of-hand. It comes from the joys, pleasures, goodness, and beauty that God has created for us to enjoy. The mountains, the trees, the plants and animals, and most importantly, us, His greatest creations. That is where the true magic comes from. It is a gift from Jesus.