Out of the Box: FYPK

Today our youngest child graduates from preschool. Obviously this is a big deal to us - watching our baby become a big kid. But it also is very difficult for another reason. This is the last day that we will have a child enrolled at First Years Preschool and Kindergarten of Oviedo. For the last nine years, we have had a child attending FYPK every year except the two we were living in Tallahassee, and we would have had Gabe enrolled those two years. I will say without a doubt that First Years is the finest preschool I have ever interacted with. And it has had an immeasurable and eternal impact on all three of our kids.

I have been taught many times that everything rises and falls with leadership. If that is true, that explains why First Years is such an amazing place. Shannon Chambley has been the director for as long as I can remember. She is an incredibly gifted educator, speaker, and encourager.  She knows every child's name.  I mean, like literally knows every name.  By the second week of school she is standing at the door welcoming each child by name.  Today at graduation, she introduced each child as they came up on stage.  There was no list, no teleprompter.  The kids weren't holding little cards.  She just knew them all.  She has a heart for every one of those little guys and girls.  She wants to see them learn and grow up to be good godly men and women.  She is compassionate and loving, but also firm and just.  I've been around educational facilities a lot in my life, between being an education major, a parent, and working with schools for my ministry.  But I would be hard pressed to find too many school administrators that are half as good as Shannon.  It was fitting that the last person we saw on the way out the door of the church was Shannon.  I teared up when she hugged us goodbye.  She has been an unfair standard for every subsequent principal our children have had.  And it makes me expect more from my schools.  So, Shannon, thank you for your years of leadership, prayers, and love for us.

But Shannon is not just a figurehead without a support network.  The teachers at First Years are all incredible.  There have been times that we started a year off with a teacher and wondered if this was going to work out.  They seemed to be the opposite of the kind of person our kid needed.  But by the end of the school year, we were sad to have our child move up to the next grade.  They loved our kids. They were tough of them when they needed it (Gabe, looking at you). And they cuddled them when they needed it.  They would recognize areas where my kids were gifted and encouraged them. I remember one of Josiah's teachers identifying his obsession and bizarre comprehension of space.  So she started to use space in her illustrations of other things.  Natalie has always had an aptitude for language.  Gabe has intense creativity and beautiful handwriting.  Each time, the teacher would grab hold of that and use it as an anchor to improve other things.

There have been times my kids were challenging.  (Shut up.)  I am aware of this.  Well, not Natalie.  Apparently Natalie never did anything wrong.  One year, her teacher would move their names from green apples to yellow apples to red apples for behavior warnings.  She got moved to yellow twice all year.  The teachers loved her.  They snuggled her and told her how beautiful she was.  They praised her artwork and encouraged her to explore her music and gymnastics.  She still remembers most of her teachers there and special things they said to her.

My boys were not nearly so easy.  Josiah set the standard.  He got into minor trouble frequently - but nothing major.  He loved to touch people's arms and hair.  Especially Emily's hair.  She had very curly black hair and Josiah LOVED to pat it, stroke it, play with it.  She did not enjoy this.  We would pick him up and hear, "Josiah had a hard time keeping his hands to himself today."  Emily was also the source of another Josiah problem.  One day we heard that he had said that Emily looked like a potato.  I thought this was a strange insult, so I asked what he meant by that.  He said plainly that he had said her SKIN looked like the same color as a potato because she had a little bit darker skin.  Josiah was misunderstood from time to time, apparently.  There also was the time when we went through carline and Josiah's teacher was waiting to put him in the car.  She didn't seem happy.  When she got to the van, she said, "I need to talk to you. Josiah today told some boy he was going to blow his brains out."  We were a bit stunned, since that was not something he should have heard before.  On the way home, we talked to him about it and realized that he had said that something was going to blow the kid's brain, but he meant "blow his mind."  BIG difference.

At a conference with that teacher, we finally addressed some of Josiah's behavior stuff.  For most of his time at First Years, Josiah had done the green/yellow/red apple/frog system.  And he would come home almost every day with yellow apple or sometimes red apple.  But never green apple.  I had grown tired fo hearing this, so I asked just what went into this process.  Did the kid get into trouble and immediately get yellow apple?  The teacher calmly explained that, no, the child got two warnings and then a mark on the board, then two more warnings and then another mark, then two more and then the yellow apple, and then another couple before the red.  I suddenly realized that Josiah was getting corrected eight times a day for the same thing.  I also suddenly had a great deal of sympathy for those teachers.  Know what the funny thing is?  By the middle of first grade, Josiah never got into trouble at school.  He actually has gotten straight A's in behavior (until a couple of questionable choices at the end of this year that will appear in a much later post when I think it is funny - not yet, obviously).

Gabe also was a challenge.  He is a bundle of energy and never seems to tire.  I remember one of Gabe's teachers last year used to greet the parents with, "We had a busy day!  They're going to be tired when they get home."  Then she looked over at me and said, "Well except Gabe.  He never gets tired." I wearily nodded.  This year, it got to be a daily occurrence that he would lose both of his stickers due to behavior issues.  Sometimes they were minor (to me) like not sitting or paying attention to instructions.  These were punctuated, though, with stuff like "Gabe hit Asher in the face with a truck" or "Gabe threw mulch at Kort" or "Gabe threw his lunch today."  I even got to the point where I was convinced the teacher hated Gabe for his many shortcomings.  Here was another chance for Shannon to step in, as she met with me and the teacher separately to make sure things were all fine.  She reassured me and told me that the teacher loved Gabe for his energy and creativity.  I found this out personally through his conferences, where the teacher raved about his journal and his mastery of benchmarks without ever even mentioning behavior issues.  By the end of year, I sat there crying as I watched him in the front row of his graduation ceremony singing with the class and doing every single hand motion perfectly.  No stupid faces.  No swinging his arms around.  No staring into space.  He desperately wanted to do the right thing and couldn't wait to show us the music.  My heart was so full, watching just how much those teachers had helped my baby become a big boy.

So, thank you to all of the teachers and aides we have had through the years.  I am going to do my best to remember them all.  If list of names bore you, just skip to the next paragraph.  Thank you Geina Creviston, Suzy Bortles (twice), Alicia Gyger, Nancy Oxendine (thrice), Mrs Plitt, Carmen Felix (twice), Mrs Nieves (twice), Rachael Hall, Mrs Mattan, Melissa Mayse (twice), Lois Dearolf, Miss Roxie, Mrs Pike, Lu Stasak, Heather Graves, and - of course - Miss Blanca.  Thank you for investing in our babies and for helping them become great kids.

Beyond even the teachers, the office staff was top notch.  They cared about our whole family.  They loved our kids.  But they also followed Heather's journey through medical school and asked her how she was doing every time she came.  They gave us extensions on tuition when they knew things were tight.  They bend over backwards to help us meet deadlines when we weren't sure about where school would take us.  And they also were willing to spend a few minutes chatting with me when I dropped off the kids or picked them up - even though they probably had better things to do.  When we started at First Years, I was working at the church there.  So they knew me as a co-worker.  I would help them run off copies, make powerpoints, and scan drawings.  Later, after I left the church to work for Defender Ministries, they kept up with me.  They asked how the ministry was doing and encouraged me through the ups and downs.  Finally, the knew me as the stay-at-home dad.  It wasn't always easy to be one of just a few guys doing the preschool runs.  I felt like an outsider.  But the staff never made me feel that way.  In fact, it seemed they offered me a special measure of grace.  They probably didn't even realize just how much it meant to me.  So thank you to Sharon Hill, Donnalea Hutchinson, and Melissa Mayse for all you did to make First Years a wonderful place and community.

Academically, First Years gave my kids an advantage.  They already were familiar with most kindergarten benchmarks by the time they finished preschool.  They knew shapes and colors and numbers and letters and were far ahead of reading requirements.  They had gained social skills and behavioral skills.  They had a positive outlook about school and teachers.  But, the biggest thing, is that all three of my kids learned about Jesus while at First Years.  He was a part of their curriculum.  He was talked about during chapel and at Christmas and at Easter and at end-of-the-year assemblies.  They learned songs about God and heard Bible stories.  They learned WHY it was important to make good choices.  And all three of my kids gained a personal relationship with Jesus while at First Years.  That is an eternal impact that I will never be able to put a price on.

So, as I promised, I am not going to bemoan what I will miss about First Years.  Instead, I will just say how thankful and blessed I am that we had the opportunity to have our children there.  Today, Dr Mercer, the pastor of FBC Oviedo, said that First Years is the best preschool in Orlando.  I would agree.  It has been an incredible place for our family.  It put our kids on the right path.  And it ministered to us in so many ways.  All I can really say is thank you.

Terrible Twos?

I have three kids, so this makes me an expert.  I firmly believe three kids means you can make general statements about kids and it has validity.  Like Bill Cosby said, you aren't a real parent if you only have one kid.  I would go a step further and say that having two kids still isn't a real parent.  Yes, you have sibling rivalry and all that.  But you are not outnumbered.  When the third little person shows up, you are now outnumbered every single day.  They can double up on you.  They can play a zone.  It isn't a fair fight.  That is when you really become a parent.  And you look like one too - you develop that slumped over look.  Bags under the eyes.  Looks like you haven't slept in a week because you stay up late to get "time to yourself" and then get dragged out of bed at ridiculously early hours.  You have that same world-weary look that every over the hill cop on tv or in the movies has.  Basically you have the same face as Bruce Willis in Die Hard.  He wasn't so grizzled because he had to constantly save the world - it was because he was a parent.

Anyway, once you have three kids you can make wild statements and generalizations and no one can really argue with you.  One kid can be an anomaly.  Two kids is a good start, but it still could be a freak happenstance (or something happening with your freaks).  Three kids is a pattern.  If anyone tries to argue with you, you can just hide behind things like "Well you're just a better parent than me" or "Well your kids are freaks - just look at them."  That's another thing about being a parent of three or more - you don't have a lot of patience for back talk.

This is my wild statement about kids.  You hear a lot about the Terrible Twos.  This is a crock.  The Terrible Twos is NOWHERE near as bad as Age Three.  Whoever did the marketing for this is amazing.  Age Two has been presented as this bad-butt terror of a year.  It's the TERRIBLE TWOS!!!  What else has earned the nickname "Terrible"?  Ivan the Terrible.  Terrible Terry Tate.  It is TERRIFYING!!!  RUN!!!  Age Three just sits there all quiet, snickering.  It doesn't want to be feared.  It was to sneak up on you, punch you in the groin and step on your neck.  You're sitting there wondering what the heck happened.  "I thought the Terrible Twos were over.  Why is my kids becoming Jack Jack from The Incredibles?"

Some of you new parents may not believe that.  Or, you have a two year old and are reading this - the blood running out of your face.  "He can't be serious, right?  Please tell me he's joking."  No, my friend.  I am not kidding.  Abandon all hope ye who enter this post.  Age Three is worse than Age Two.

When a kid is two, they are learning all the truly stupid and annoying things they can do.  They stop wanting to sleep, so they fight naps and pitch fits at nighttime.  They race around the house.  They are not coordinated enough, so this running usually leads to tripping and falling and busting lips and knees and foreheads.  They learn lots of new ridiculous noises and like to make them all the time.  They stop eating right and scream unless you maintain their strict regimen of McNuggets, Fries, and hot dogs.  They make some of the most horrendous screeching sounds - ones that feel like they actually are splitting your soul in two.  And everything becomes theirs.  Every toy, crayon, piece of furniture is subject to the "MINE MINE MINE" chant.  That is age two.  Age three is all of that, except with their newfound understanding that all of those things really bug their parents.

Somewhere near the end of Year Two, the child realizes that these things are very effective.  They have noticed the vein bulging out in our forehead when they scream.  So they do it more.  They see how frustrated we get when they don't go to sleep, so they stay up later.  They have picked up on how frazzled we get when they race everywhere, so they run faster.  Age Two is amplified, and enhanced with a extra infusion of nastiness.

The other thing is that they realize that their parents are largely full of it.  For the first couple of years, there is a healthy level of fear between child and parent.  We are these big tall creatures.  They are tiny and helpless.  So when we threaten to swat them or flick them or take a toy, they are afraid of what that means.  So they give in to our wishes.   By Age Three, they realize that most of what we have is hot air. We can swat them, so what?  They know that sting will end at some point and they can go on their merry way - continuing to wreck havoc.  And they also know that most parents are hesitant to actually swat for each offending action.  So the kid will do things like twenty times.  Who is going to swat the kid twenty times?  After ten, you start to feel like a jerk.  Time OUT!!!  The kid has learned that this is also known as "Brainstorming Time."  Those quiet minutes allows the kid to recharge their batteries.  It is actually a mini-nap for them.  But it also is a chance for them to come up with new ways to annoy and irritate.  You could argue that time outs are actually more damaging to the parent than kid.  So the child has learned that much of the sway we held over them was based on fluff - which encourages them to, by all means, continue.

What we have is a toddler, who doesn't look much different than the little angel we remember.  But in their brain, they have become a devious child in a toddler body.  Kind of like Chucky in Child's Play - except a toddler instead of a doll.  We, as parents, are kind of at a loss as to what to do to handle the situation.  We used to be able to write off a great deal of behavior to "they are young" or "they are tired" or "they are two."  Now, however, we begin to realize we have underestimated them.  Our first thought is "Did they do that on PURPOSE?!?"

I remember with Josiah that we, of course, struggled with him as a two year old.  But we kept telling ourselves it would get better.  We had heard all about the Terrible Twos and assumed that it would change on his third birthday - like a big present to us.  Instead, he got WORSE.  It was so bad that we actually sent him up to Heather's mom's house for a few days so she could tell us "what was wrong with him."  This is what Year Three does to you.  You begin to worry there is something wrong with your child.  No normal child would do some of the flat out stupid things that your child is doing.  It happened with Josiah.  It happened with Natalie - except intensified by the fact she was a girl.  Now, Gabe is about to turn three.  What do you think is happening?  That's right . . . he's morphing as well.

He does ridiculous stuff like refusing to sleep when he's dead tired.  I don't get this at ALL.  If you're tired, go to bed.  Don't claw your face, smack yourself around, and scream like you're screen testing for a horror film.  GO TO SLEEP!!!  He wakes up in the middle of the night and refuses to go back to sleep.  He pinches people.  He takes his tools and toys and hits his siblings - all under the guise of "playing with them."  There is this new thing he does where he flails his arms up and flings whatever toy he is holding into the air: stuffed flamingos, rockets, toy food, drink cups.  "WHOOSH!!!"  Everyone is ducking to avoid the projectiles.  He runs all the time - even when I tell him not to.  Last night he woke up at 12:30 and didn't go back to sleep until 3:15.  He's been a big pain all day, naturally.  Earlier, he was running back and forth.  I told him to stop several times, finally forcefully.  He looked up at me and ran across the room - keeping eye contact the entire time.  He just smacked Natalie with his Wonder Pets Flyboat.  I think he was "giving it to her."  Despite his exhaustion, he managed to stay awake in the van while we were running errands in the rain.  I was having trouble staying awake because the rain made me so sleepy.  But he, through sheer strength of will, managed to keep his eyes open.  Now, if he holds to form, he will either fall asleep on his own at 4pm, which will ensure him staying up until 10:30 tonight OR he will zonk out for the night at 5:30pm, which means he'll wake up in the middle of the night OR he will hold off until 7:00pm and then pitch a fit when it is actually time for bed.

Such is the life of a Three Year Old.  My nephew does the same stuff - drives his mother and grammy nuts.  And when I tell experienced parents that I think Year Three is worse than Year Two, almost unanimously they agree.  "Oh yeah, you're right.  Year Three is the worst until the Teen Years begin."  If this is such common knowledge, it makes me wonder why I never knew that until I got blindsided by it.  It makes me wonder if parents have this big conspiracy against new parents.  "We won't tell them about Year Three.  Then we can laugh at them when it hits them unawares."  It's kind of like they feel that since they had to deal with it, than new parents should as well.  It's a right of passage.  Makes me think of Sinbad's character in Necessary Roughness when he tells the college students they had to take this one class.  "It doesn't make sense to me why you need to know this, but I had to learn it when I was in school, so you have to learn it to."

So, new parents, don't hate me for being so brutal.  Instead, realize that I have broken the Parent Code and shared a secret with you.  Brace yourself.  Year Three is coming . . . and bad things are coming with it.  Be prepared and aware - and make sure you duck those flying fire engines.  It will all be over soon.  Just try not to think about the fact that Year Four can be even worse.  (Oh, wait, I wasn't supposed to say anything about that either.)

A Toy Story

After my last couple trouble making posts, I am back to my bright and cheery posts.  I'm sure all three of you still reading this will be delighted.  This past Friday, the Staples Family Five went to enjoy Pixar's latest masterpiece, Toy Story 3.  As you probably expect, it was phenomenal.  I am continually baffled as to how one movie production company can be so consistently on the top of their game.  Eleven movies.  Eleven home runs.  And I'm not talking eleven home runs that barely squeaked over the short wall in the right field corner.  Or even an inside the ball park home run that only happened because the center fielder misplayed it.  I am talking about eleven booming shots.  Two of them went to dead center, about twenty rows up.  Four of them were upper deckers that hit some drunk guy in the face.  Two of them landed out in the street.  And three smashed the lights, causing a shower of sparks and an awesome chill-inducing ending.  (If you want to read what my ranking is, here's a post I wrote around Oscar time.)

Where does Toy Story 3 rank?  I will have to watch it again to decide for sure.  But it is certainly one of those three light cluster destroyers.  It is up there with Up and WALL-E as the best Pixar movies ever.  And it had better get one of those ten Best Pictures slots.  I am still constantly amazed at the geniuses at that establishment.  The work they put into these things.  Even when they are putting out sequels, they still give each of them the same treatment as the originals.  Think about most third movies in a trilogy.  How many times can you say the third movie was the BEST movie?  (Honestly, I don't know if I can even think of one instance of that.)  Some would say Lord of the Rings, since the third one won all the Oscars.  But the second movie was the best one.  The Academy was rewarding the series with all those wins.

I'm not going to lie - I cried like a little girl.  It wasn't even just one scene, either.  These characters have so much emotional depth.  Their friendship and love is so intense.  I found myself hurting for them.  They were toys, for Pete's sake.  But I ached for them as they tried to deal with the fact that they just were not wanted (or appeared to be).  I actually thought about the toybox that I toted around for years as I moved.  It was filled with stuffed Garfields and vinyl California Raisins figurines and action figures.  And tons of rabbit toys from when I was Natalie's age.  I held on to them for years - not wanting to say goodbye to that part of my life.  I also held onto them thinking my kids would want them for some reason.  (Although, knowing my kids now, they would hardly be interested in most of that junk.)  So eventually most of that found its way into a garbage can or a donation box.  I could imagine the Dallas Cowboys action figure wondering what he did wrong.  Then I jerked myself to reality by saying, "Stupid.  They are just toys.  They can't feel anything."

But that was where the scenes between Andy and his mom got me.  That was where the tears started and didn't stop.  Because that is real.  Kids grow up.  They stop playing with their little toys and start using computers and iPods.  As I watched Andy using his laptop and Mollie listening to her iPod, I could see my kids in that.  I can already hardly believe Josiah is turning nine in less that three months.  Natalie starts FIRST GRADE.  My little baby girl is in FIRST GRADE?!?  Gabe is so tiny that it seems his babyhood has lasted longer.  But then we go through Publix and he is counting and saying the letters.  And I know his turn is just around the corner.  Before long, I'll be the parent getting my kid ready to go to college.  And that thought just kills me.  It is too soon.  I'm not ready for that.  Josiah will be driving in six years.  Gabe is old enough to go to preschool.  Natalie is doing cartwheels and handstands like a big girl.

So many times in my mind, I still see myself as a younger person.  It is like my brain got stuck at 25.  Since I have worked with students for so long, it is easy to still think young.  But when the reality really sets in, it is scary.  I'm 36.  The kids I taught last year at ICS were born after I graduated from high school.  They literally are young enough to be my kids.  And my kids are growing up - even if I don't want them to.  We already have seen Josiah outgrow Planet Heroes and Larry Boy.  Natalie thinks Strawberry Shortcake is for babies.  And Gabe has moved past Max and Ruby to Wow Wow Wubzy and Diego.  He actually sat through Toy Story 3 and points out the characters now.

That is what left me in tears at the end of the movie.  The thought of my kids one day packing up boxes and moving off to school.  Josiah one day will put the Puppy World dogs into a box and stuff them in the attic - or send them to Goodwill.  Natalie won't want her Build a Bear unicorn or her Love Bear or mermaid.  Gabe won't build trains of cars around the room.  They won't run across the room to give me a hug.  They won't bring me books and say, "Wead it!"  They won't squeal and race to the door when Heather gets home yelling, "MOMMA! MOMMA! MOMMA!"  People will think they are silly to hold onto those special toys.  And, I guess, as a parent we worry they will outgrow us too.  They won't cry at the thought that I am going out of town to teach at a seminar.  They won't think we are cool to hang around.  They won't grab my hand in a store, just because they love me.

The Toy Story franchise has never been just about toys.  The first movie presented such an interesting concept.  What do toys do when we aren't around?  But it blossomed into much more than that.  It was about loyalty and friendship and accepting change.  The second movie delved into the concepts of realizing our purpose.  We need to do what we were put here to do - even if it means sacrifice.  The third movie dealt with so much - friendship, loyalty, love, death, power, vengeance, rejection.  But most of all it was about letting go  - even when we desperately want to hold on.  We so badly want to fight the passage of time.  We are dragged kicking and screaming into the future.  People have developed so many efforts to delay it - plastic surgery, mid life crises, immaturity.  But our kids won't stop growing.  And, as parents, we should want our kids to reach their potential and change their world - something they can't do unless they go out on their own.  But, man it is hard.

The fact that an animated movie about toys is able to teach that is amazing.  As a life lesson, Toy Story 3 was great.  As a film, it was incredible.  It wrapped up both the toy story line AND the Andy story line perfectly.  It was gorgeously made.  It had real emotion - both happiness and sadness.  It really was a masterpiece.  And it was something that I was able to share with my kids.  We all were excited about the movie, enjoyed it, and had a great memory because of it.  They just couldn't understand my tears.  Not yet.

A Decade in Review

Well, I certainly have not been a very faithful blogger over the Christmas holidays. Ever since Heather entered her break from school, I have not had the itch to write on ye olde blogge as much. I'm not sure why. I pretty much put all my planned topics on hold for the month of December and just enjoyed hanging out with the family. We spent a couple of weeks in Jacksonville, which encompassed Heather's birthday and Natalie's birthday and Christmas. Then we went to South Carolina for New Year's to be with Heather's brothers and their families. It was a nice holiday season.

So what have I been doing lately? Well, aside from those holiday and birthday celebrations, I have been reading a lot. And I certainly mean A LOT! I counted it up the other day and realized that in the last two months, I have read well over 5,000 pages worth of books. That doesn't count blogs or magazines or newspapers. (A free Chocolate Orange candy to the first person who can name 10 of the books that helped make up the 5,000 figure.) It is pretty funny that someone earlier this year told me they thought I wasn't reading as much. That was when I read half of the John Grisham collection in two weeks. In the month of December, I read at least 3500 pages. I guess it all goes in spurts.

I also have been freezing my rear end off. This has been a weird winter thus far. I have spent winters in south Florida, central Florida, west Florida, northeast Florida, and now northwest Florida. Each of them were very different. This one is the coldest, but I am not sure that is fair, since this is a record cold snap. My friend Greg up here told me this is the coldest it has been in his twelve years here. There even was a brief bit where the Weather Channel was predicting snow here on Friday. Then they all had a good laugh and changed it. The low for that night still is supposed to be 19. Wha? We just experienced insane cold up in South Carolina with a record low of 14. It is weird when temperatures could be football scores. (South Carolina 19, Florida 24) I'm used to them being basketball scores. (Orlando 85, Charlotte 79)

I'm not complaining - I like the cooler weather. It is a nice break from being cooked to medium rare going to check the mail. There are two things I'm not too fond of with the colder weather. The first is the asthma. Our kids all battle asthma to varying degrees. Josiah had a full attack the other night in SC - turning blue and everything. The dry heat in the house triggered it. All three kids have been coughing more since we have to run the heat so much. Now I know why people are told to move to Florida and Arizona when they have respiratory issues. The other thing I don't like is the bundling up process. You get the kids all dressed. They have long shirts and pants - sometimes two shirts. Then you have to put on the jackets and such - to walk fifty feet to the car. Then they want to take it all off. Then you put it on to walk from the parking lot to Publix. Then you take the jackets off. Then back on . . . and off . . . . and on . . . and off. I think that alone would drive me crazy if I lived up north. The cold I can handle. It is what to do with my jacket that pushes me over the edge.

So to the true point of my post. Apparently we have entered a new decade and a new year. At least that is what I figured from all the weight loss ads and promotions I have seen lately. I decided to forgo my yearly recap, where I use my limited exposure to the world at large to make ridiculous rankings. Instead, I will use that limited exposure to my benefit, and recap the decade that just waved adios. It was a big decade for me - the Aughts. I was thinking about that the other day. What a huge difference ten years makes. I honestly don't know if I could top this decade. So, here's my self indulgent recap of 2000-2009. You may think it is stupid. But, honestly, would that be a first for this blog? If you aren't happy, send your comments and insults to my new secretary: Myrtle McIntosh, 2506 Lilly Pond Way, Sharkfart, TX, 76067.

2000: What a crazy year! I got engaged in February to Heather. In June, I had the awesome experience of going to Sydney, Australia for three weeks to help run sports camps at a church there. August 12 it rained. It also was our wedding day. We went to Vermont for our honeymoon and got to see where my dad was born and grew up (and is buried). I quit my job at FBC Temple Terrace in December; and we found out we were expecting Josiah two days later. All of that collided with Christmas in Georgia, Heather's brother getting married (which was my first wedding ceremony to officiate), and the first time I saw snow. Wow.

2001: I started off the year unemployed and expecting a child. YAY! Heather withdrew from USF. We moved to Orange Park. I worked as a substitute teacher for a few months. Then I became a furniture salesman at Rhodes Furniture. In September, we welcomed our first child into the world on the day the world officially went crazy. We all tried to understand what to do with the fall of the Twin Towers, the anthrax attacks, the new war in Afghanistan. I personally withdrew as far away from God as I ever have been. And I got a Palm Handspring for Christmas.

2002: After seventeen months of seeking more gainful employment, I was hired in May by First Baptist Church of Oviedo. That meant a move down to Orlando for my little family. It was a very challenging job, but very rewarding - and it has led to so much more than I could imagine for all of us. Heather returned to school in the Fall, this time getting her priorities straight and becoming a UCF Knight. And in a wacky turn of events, my mom moved up to Orlando late in 2002 - something I never would have expected.

2003: Another year of surprises. The Tampa Bay Bucs won the Super Bowl. I was thrilled. We went up to South Carolina for Spring Break. While there, we found out Heather was pregnant as she was going through a miscarriage. Less than a month later, we were stunned again as we found out that Heather was pregnant again, which led to another break in school for Heather. I got begin a friendship with Charles Wise at the church - which played a very important role in our lives. I started working as the layout person and editor for a Christian newspaper. Natalie showed up at Christmas - just as her name (which we had chosen back in 1999) indicates. [Natalie means "Christmas child."] We moved out of our scary apartment into a rental home, and we hosted Christmas at our house.

2004: We now became the Staples Family 4. Things went along pretty normally for a while. I began to hate the Bucs, due to their shady dealings. My mom moved to Tampa to be closer to my sister, Holly. I turned 30 and finally got a watch that fit my needs - never needing a battery (still running perfectly). Heather went back to school in the Fall. Josiah also went to school for the first time as he went to the 2 year old class at our church's preschool. My last grandparent passed away in September. She had lived long enough to see her first great-granddaughter, though. Heather turned 25 in December. I threw her an awesome party with London Broil and a big strawberry shaped cake. (You can tell it was a slow year.)

2005: In March, my prayer for a ministry to work in was answered as Charles Wise, Jonathan Pearson, and myself founded Defender Ministries. I was able to design all sorts of products and basically create the look of the ministry. By the end of the year, I had written several rounds of curriculum. Heather ramped up her school work to prepare for Med School - which we had decided was what she would aim for. (Well, I finally agreed that it was the right thing. Heather had known for years and was patiently waiting for me to get my head out of my rear end.) I got to experience the spectacle that is Las Vegas in July at a design conference - which came with the important lesson that if you are broke, alone, and not prone to drinking or carousing, Vegas is very boring place. We moved to a different rental house that Fall, even farther away from anywhere we needed to be.

2006: Lots of movement in StaplesLand. I saw my first real blizzard in February as I went up to Montreal to plan a mission trip for the church. It was 9 degrees! That's a baseball score! Defender was picking up steam - as we were able to teach sessions at various conferences. I quit my job at the church in July to go full time with Defender (although I still did all the graphics for the church for another four months). We got a new Honda Odyssey. Natalie started preschool. Heather finally was able to graduate in December from UCF. All was right with the world. Our kids were potty trained and weaned. We decided that our family was complete. So Heather and I booked a cruise for January 2007.

2007: Heather and I went on our first cruise ever. We got to see Key West and Mexico. It was awesome. And our little cruise souvenir was discovered - as Gabe decided to crash the Staples party. We began to attend Waypoint Church in Orlando - where we made some wonderful deep friendships. I took over the college ministry in early summer. Defender continued to do its thing - speaking engagements, lesson writing, looking for supporters to help hit the next level. Heather began studying in earnest for the MCAT (Med School Entrance Exam). My sister had her son, Toby - making me an uncle for the first time. Josiah started Kindergarten. We moved yet again to a home closer to our circle of friends. Gabe arrived in September.

2008: Heather took her MCAT in March and nailed a 30 on it - exactly where she needed to be (while having a newborn seemingly permanently attached to her). I had to find some other jobs to help cover costs. I began to work at the Apple store in August. (YAY!) I also began teaching at International Community School (DOUBLE YAY!) Josiah entered public school in August, but it was a huge disaster. We ended up pulling him out and enrolling him at ICS - which was a huge success. We really seemed to be hitting our stride. The kids were doing well in school. I had four great jobs that I loved. Heather was applying to Med Schools, but we really wanted to get into UCF's new school. We moved again (common theme, I know) to an apartment. And the year ended with all of us pretty happy and excited about the new year.

2009: Heather got accepted at FSU's Med School, which meant all of us were moving to Tallahassee. Gabe got to see snow in February and was not impressed. The other two kids got ticked at this, since they were trapped in Orlando with me. Heather's brother Andy and his wife Michelle had their first child, Beulah, in April. She was a miracle baby - I am fully convinced. We moved in May, which is when Heather started classes. In July, Heather's grandfather passed away, which was very hard on all of us. Natalie started Kindergarten, and we decided to homeschool the kids. It was a huge disaster. So we ended up enrolling them at Apalachee Elementary, which has been a huge success. Heather, of course, did an amazing job in Med School. And I settled into my new role as stay-at-home dad. Heather turned 30 in December. And we got iPhones.

It was an eventful decade to say the least. I started it single, 25, living in Tampa, running a college ministry, and going to seminary. I ended it married, 35, with three kids, living in Tallahassee, running my own ministry, staying at home with a wife becoming a doctor. 2000 found me rooting for the Bucs and the Yankees, hating the NBA. UCF was, of course, number one. 2010 finds me having ditched the disloyal Bucs for the Jags, given up on baseball, and rediscovered the NBA and the Magic. UCF is, as always, the most important sports entity to me - but now they have their own stadium. In 2000, I hated Macs. In 2010, I own nothing but Macs and Apple stuff. A lot happens in ten years. It is important to look back sometimes at how far you have come. It helps to remind you of what was really important. It shows me how minor events end up being big deals down the road. And I see how God is with me all the way. I hope that you had some time between the presents and getting back to work to think about those things in your life. And I hope I didn't bore you too much with my reminiscing. If I did, Myrtle is waiting for your letters. Make her earn her paycheck.

Nearly as Good as I Hoped, Much Greater Than I Feared

As parents, we want to protect our little chickadees. We want to shelter them from danger and harm. We calm their fears of darkness and monsters and vegetables - all while being terrified of the unknown and the boogie man and the bank. One one hand, we know the horrible things that are out there. Things like the tragic story of Somer Thompson near Jacksonville, FL. Some random psycho strikes and she's gone. (That story hit close to home, not just because of her age. It happened in Heather's hometown and her home church was deeply involved in the recovery process.) We are all too aware of those real monsters. But we also don't know a lot. I think that may be what is even more scary. We want everything to be laid out before us, with our little brood safe and secure. But remember, when Marlin asked Dory, "How do you know nothing bad will happen?" - she classically responded, "I DON'T!"

We don't know that. But we have to move on anyway. The education of our children is one of these "Unknown Terrors" for our family. On one hand, there are some amazing experiences that a child can have going through public school. I went to public school grade 5 and 7 through 12. Heather went to public school her whole life. We made it through. BUT..... There is that but, the fear, the doubt, the unknown. There are some really rotten things that happen in public schools, too. Josiah's first experience last year was terrible - potentially damaging enough that we pulled him out and enrolled him where I was teaching. We hear rumors of all kinds of things happening in the cafeteria or the playground or library. How do we know the experience will be great? That nothing bad will happen? We Don't.

Today, our kids made it to school - after a false start thanks to the plague affecting our house. I wanted everything to go perfect. We got there and met the kids' teachers. They were both very sweet women and we felt like we were placing our kids in good hands. The school is very well run and organized at least (as far as we can tell). The woman working the cafeteria line was very helpful, explaining the process to us. Then she also took care of the kids when they came through. After debriefing the children when they got home, they both had lots of fun things to report. Josiah had a fun art class that sounded like he really enjoyed. They both had recess on the big playground. Both kids met a lot of kids. Natalie made a point to tell me that there were very few with "light skin." (I had tried to gently prepare them for this because every school they have been at have been the exact opposite. It wasn't because this is a bad situation - just very different and a new opportunity.)

Natalie went to the library and got a Curious George book, but she thought she had forgotten it at school. (It was in her bag.) Both of them got to use the computer. They had a great time buying lunch. Things were going great! Then the phone rang...

Yeah, my phone rang. "FLORIDA STATE O" There is no way THAT is good. I assumed it was something regarding Heather. Maybe she had to call from a school phone for something simple. I answered. "Hello, this is David." Quiet. "Hello?" Maybe it was a salesperson or survey monkey. Finally a softer lady's voice came through. "Mr Staples? This is Mrs. Williams. Josiah's teacher." What . . . the . . . what. Getting phone calls from school is never good. What could have happened on his first day?

It turns out that they give new students evaluation assessments to see which reading and math group they belong in. Mrs. Williams had told us this. As he was taking the math exam he just lost it. She said he started crying and saying he hated school and hated math. He wanted to go home and didn't want to be there. She was blindsided. She tried comforting him and explaining about the test and that he didn't have to get them all right. Didn't help. So, being the brilliant and wonderful teacher she is, she called me to see if there was something going on. I was stunned. I had seen the meltdown during math before. But I was more surprised by the teacher's response. She said, "There is no way I'm going to let him have a bad first day."

I briefed her on the death plague experience. The kids had just gotten their fevers down for 24 hours last night. They still had a cough and I know they were tired. (They both complained about how long the day way.) I also told her a bit about Josiah. He's a very smart kid. He is a perfectionist and hates missing questions. He HATES timed tests. (This one wasn't.) And, at times, he can be flummoxed by easy math questions while acing ones above his grade level. I asked if maybe I could talk to him. "Sure." Wow.

I talked to him and tried to reassure him. Just do your best, leave ones empty if you don't know them, this isn't graded or timed. He said that some of the questions were so hard. I said it was okay and that he didn't have to get them if they were too hard. He lost it again. [When he got home, he also told me that it had been a long day and he missed me. Tears.] She had other students come and help get him tissues and help him to his seat. I can tell the kind of classroom she runs - it is a place of love and support. I was embarrassed, of course. She assured me not to worry and said he could take the tests Monday. That would give him time to get a little more acclimated and healthier. I thanked her profusely. I explained that in Josiah's first experience, there was no way that would have happened. Josiah even told me that when he got home. What a wonderful gift for a teacher to give her children - a safe and caring learning environment where even on their worst day they don't get shunned or ridiculed or mistreated.

So, even while I wanted to race down the street and grab my baby boy and hug him until his eyes got all googly like in a cartoon, I knew he was in good hands. Sure, I would have liked the day to go perfectly. I wanted Day One to be something glorious and golden to point to as we said, "IT WAS THE RIGHT THING TO DO!!!" (I saw us prancing around wearing togas and laurels in a coliseum as I wrote that.) But there was that issue. Josiah didn't want to be outside during recess because it was hot. So he just sat at the end of the slide by himself. And Nat's shoes got untied and she can't tie them yet - and her teacher didn't help. And Nat inadvertently got tired of a girl who was desperately trying to be friends. "I couldn't take it any more. So I had to go away." (We explained that the girl was trying to be friends. Nat responded, "Oh. I'll tell her I'm sorry tomorrow.") Nat said that the teacher at one point said if anyone said anything they would get sent out. A little boy said "something little, not even a word" and got the promised consequence. We asked if the class was being naughty at this point. "Yes. But I wasn't following them." GO NAT!

So there were some minor glitches. But for the most part, it was a good day. In one class, I learned my son had a protector and educator who had his best interests at heart. And in the other, I learned again just how tough my little girl is - and how she is going to do just fine. Now if we can just get rid of the death plague around here....

School Memories

I wrote the other day about needing to make some decisions regarding our kids' education. After looking at a lot of options, doing a lot of research, and praying a LOT, we have decided to go ahead and enroll the kids in our local public school at the end of the 1st quarter (end of October). So Apalachee Elementary School, look out - here come the Staples. You won't know what hit you. Unless it is Natalie, then you'll know it. Cause she hits hard.

Am I nervous? Oh sure. It is never easy to send your babies off into the big bad world. Any parent understands that. We have been blessed that the day when we send them off has been delayed longer than a lot of people - between schools at our church, working at a school, and things like that. But, as with most things, it won't be as bad as we fear or as good as we hope. So the adventure continues.

I've attended both public and private schools. I have worked at both public and private schools. There has been good and bad in every one of those situations. (Well, except ICS. There was only good. Always good. Remember, I have to go back there eventually.) No matter where you go, there is no denying that school brings you some incredible memories. It is funny - as you age you forget all kinds of things. Anniversaries, birthdays, names, addresses, what you were blogging about. But you can still remember the full name of the kid in your kindergarten class that smelled like pee. So in honor of this new opportunity for my kids to establish some great new memories, here are some of my favorites.

AS A STUDENT

• I once got in trouble for punching David Furtado's sandwich. He squished his sandwich every day in lunch. So one day, I did it for him. He told on me. I got in trouble. I still think I got the shaft on that one.
• I rode the bus with Brent Wilburn. He could blow air out of his eyeball. He also taught me how to draw Garfield. But the eyeball thing was way cooler.
• I used to do lots of academic competitions. I played "academic games" from elementary through senior year - you would get together after school with all the other schools and play these different games. Math. English. Social Studies. I always did well, but never was the absolute best. Then in 8th grade I finally won one of them. I was completely numb and blindsided when they called my name. It was the biggest trophy I got in my life. (Go ahead. Laugh. I know you want to. I was a nerd and can't deny it - nor do I want to.)
• In Debate in ninth grade, I went to a competition. I was competing in the extemporaneous division, where you draw a topic and have thirty minutes to write a speech and then go talk about it. Really pompous stuff. And debate is like where all the annoying to-be frat boys start. So there is all this hierarchical garbage. I hated it. Anyway, on this particular day we were being judged by some guys FROM MY SCHOOL. And I decided to open by quoting "God Bless America." Only I accidentally started singing it. They busted out laughing during the speech. Then they came and told everyone on the bus what I did. One of them is dead now. True story.
• In ninth grade my Earth/Space Science teacher hated me. We used to really give him a hard time. I asked him one day what nationality he was, and he responded Polish. I said, "I thought so." He just stared at me. I meant because his last name ended with -ski. We moved school locations mid-year and our class' AC never worked. One day it did and he started class with "Notice anything different today." Alex next to me said, "Your tie matches your socks?" During my first experiment in that new school, I completely violated the rules for using a bunsen burner and struck the flint with the gas going full steam. I was lucky nothing happened. Oh yeah, I also threw up all over him and his desk. He always said he would get us back. Then we all got Incompletes on our report cards. True story.
• My Chemistry class was made up of a bunch of very smart guys - and that is dangerous. I remember they were always pulling junk on the teacher (jumping around when he was writing on the board, ignoring him during experiments, group cheating on tests). Finally one day, he got fed up and yelled at the side of the room where they were messing around during experiments. "YOU ALL ARE A BUNCH OF DISCOURTEOUS NERDS!!!" I was on the other side of the room and I remember all of us just looked at him like, "Uh, what? That's the best you could come up with?" He was so worn out by the end of the year he had a heart attack. True story.

AS A TEACHER

• There are some things that you never ever ever ever imagine yourself saying. I remember actually playing this game with some friends in school - trying to come up with sentences that never had been said. (Already established that I was a nerd, remember?) But as a teacher, there are definitely some things you don't expect. I think my favorite was this one. "HEY! Put your leg back on and stop hitting the other kids with it." No explanation needed.
• Of course, one of my fellow interns topped me in the same week. She was a P.E. teacher. Walking with her students out to the field, she punched out this one. "I'm sorry your eye keeps falling out. Just wipe it off, put it in your pocket, and we'll deal with it after class." The kid had a glass eye and they were getting to the point when they needed a new one, since he was growing. Yup.
• My roommate had a student come up to him and ask, "Mr. Shields. Can I go home early, please? I need to beat the cops to the house." Tim looked at him for a second and said, "Do what you got to do." He told me that he admired the originality of the request - or the truth of it, I guess.
• We watched the O.J. verdict. In my class at Evans High School. I almost had a riot on my hands - a happy riot. Not my brightest moment.
• Last year when I was teaching, one of the students wanted to go get some water. But, we had just been told we weren't allowed to let the freshmen go out to get drinks. It was trying to teach them to use the breaks to get their stuff done. So one kid wants to get a drink. I said no. He said he was going to die of thirst. I said i was sorry to hear that. About two minutes later, he fell over onto the ground. The rest of the class laughed. I had to fight back the laugh - and then I sent him to the office with a referral. He apologized profusely, but I did ask as a bonus question on the next test, "Why did Seth die in class?"

All of that is to say that I look forward to hearing the stories my kids have to tell. Those memories last a lifetime. And I'll make sure they look out for kids with artificial body parts and not sing during speeches.

A Week of Answered Prayer

So by the old filing system, you can tell that this is a posting of the religious nature, so decide if you want to continue. I can wait. . . Oh, hey, so you're still here. Good. I know that I have posted a few times about the troubles and difficult days of our New World Order - me being home and wifey being at school. I was thinking about it, and it isn't right for me just to post on the weird and bad stuff and not mention the good - or the REALLY good. There are a couple of reasons that I shy away from the happier topics. First of all - and this really is the biggest thing in my mind - the rough stuff is funnier. I like to write and make people laugh. And it is easier to tell the weird stuff in a way to bring cheer - you know, laughing at someone else's expense, commiserating together, stuff like that. This leads into my second reason. Too often, when one is expressing the good stuff going on, it seems like bragging or rubbing it in. I don't want to do that. For all I know, you may have had a horrible week. I don't want you to sit there and resent my good week because you had a bad one. I know my friend Jill lost her dad last week. And I'm mourning with her, but she also could use some encouragement. Third, I'm a weirdo. But you already knew that.

So this is how this all went. We have gone through the whole summer. Heather is finally going to finish this semester next week. It is hard to believe that we already have been here for a whole semester! Of course, Heather has done awesome in her classes and is already establishing herself as a medical force to be reckoned with. Her classmates love her and so do her professors. And she is having a ball. And things have gone well at home. The kids have really acclimated well. There have been bumps - boredom is never a good thing for three kids in a small apartment. We actually had a rough stretch of a couple weeks where I was wondering if the kids had been swapped with human torturing robots. But it seemed everything turned late last week.

To what do I owe this transformation? I would like to have something really impressive like I cracked open a new set of parenting books or had a good talking to with them. But the fact of the matter is that we were at Sam's last week and bought a new Wii video game. DON'T JUDGE ME!!! I can see you shaking your heads already. The kids had been bored - and they had put up with a lot. So we were looking at the Wii games and Super Mario Galaxy was there for $25. I thought about it and had heard good stuff about the game. I had rented it and the kids seemed to like it. Well, I figured, "We don't go to movies. We don't go out to eat much any more. This is a better investment than those things." Well, the kids have found endless hours of play time - both Nat and Josiah like it. So that helped right away.

The other things that were giving us a some difficulties was the fact that we had not met anyone really up here. Heather had all of her med school classmates. And we, of course, have Greg and his parents. And there is Amanda, but she just went through a big life change herself. And then a couple of others - but nothing like we had in Orlando. We had not found a church, yet. We actually have only had a couple of Sundays to even have a chance to look. And that was really started to wear on us. Combine that with the "end of the semester financial strain waiting for the new disbursement to happen" and things were getting to be hard.

So here is the day by day rundown:

Friday

Heather got to go in later. And that night, Greg was able to come over. He and I went over to the Downtown Digital Dome to watch the U2 at D3 multi-media show. It was nowhere near as good as the stuff they do at MOSI in Tampa. But it was an hour of U2 on an awesome sound system. And it was free. And I got to spend some time with Greg, which is always a delight. Plus, it got us even more excited for the U2 concert in two months in Tampa.

Saturday

Like every day, Heather had to take some time to study. This is normal - I can think of only a handful of days since May that she has studied nothing all day. But, we then went to dinner over at one of Heather's classmate's house. He is an old college roomie of a friend of mine, went to UF, and knew several ministers I know. He and his wife invited us over - neither couple is from Tally and neither of us knew a whole lot of people. It was such a wonderful evening, being able to have adult conversation. (Another one of Heather's classmates was watching our kids.) We all had such similar outlooks on life, faith, medicine. It was a really neat time with some new friends - which is something we desperately needed.

Sunday

We were trying to get serious about finding a church. I don't like missing church and don't want my kids to get into the opinion that it is not important. We had planned on visiting a church across the street that meets in a movie theater. But Greg was trying Thomasville Road Baptist. This was one we had looked at visiting - it was recommended by some fellow ministers. But we just hadn't gotten there. So we decided to go. It was such a wonderful time. The service was not as contemporary as we have been used to. But the music was good and genuine. The pastor's sermon was very solid - encouraging us to pray boldly and specifically. It actually went against a lot of the (as he said) "broad, generic wimpy prayers" that are encouraged now. And the people were so friendly. As a church staff veteran, I know that there are people who "have to be" nice. These are greeters, staff members, deacons. But the people there who were not in those roles also reached out.

The kids loved their time. And Gabe actually made it through service and through part of Sunday School. The cool thing was that they buzzed us when he was not getting calm - a lot of churches take it upon themselves to help your kids acclimate. And when we got him, the director was very sweet to him and us. She smiled at him and said, "He did good. He made it an hour, which is good for a little guy in a new place." That meant a ton - to know that she wasn't going to lecture us on how we needed to be tougher. The strangest thing that happened was in Sunday School - or the 15 minutes we were in there. While I was talking to one of the guys in there, we were comparing similar things in our past. (His wife is from Oviedo, he lived in WPB and went to PBAC when my brother was there, he was a Marine like my dad.) He asked what I had done at the churches I worked at and I told him I was the Graphics Guy. A couple of minutes later, he said, "You do graphics?" I said yup. He asked what I was doing now. I explained how I was the stay-at-home parent. "You want a job?" Huh? Heather asked if I could work at home. He said, "Probably. I would have to check." He explained the situation and said to contact him this week. Whuuuu....? So they are looking at me as a freelancer. Didn't see that coming. After church, we went to lunch with Greg and a couple that he knows from TRBC. Another wonderful time with new friends. Sunday was a good day.

Tuesday

This was the weird day. (Oh, yes, weirder than Sunday.) Heather had school all day and we hung around the house - playing Wii, using the computer, doing our normal routine. Except we were adding in the dreaded realization that we had to go to the store. We were running low on the supporting characters for our meals and . . . (shudder) . . . diapers. When you have little money, shopping is not a cool thing to have to do (especially the money pit of diapers). Add to it that Heather didn't get home until 5:30, so dinner and grocery slammed up against each other. We came up with a game plan. We would go to Target to get their store brand diapers on one bank account, eat there (lousy cheap hot dogs), and then go to Publix for the rest. We toyed with hitting Wally World for all it, but I shot that down. I like Publix brand stuff and wasn't ready to switch at that point. So off to Target. I just couldn't stomach eating there, though. Every time we go there (as I wrote before) the food is a fiasco. I suggested going to Chick Fil A, knowing that it would be painful to the slim account. Surprise - it was KIDS NIGHT! So our final bill was the same as at Target. We ran over and got diapers and headed to Publix.

We were being careful, getting what we needed. As anyone with a caravan of kids know, you can be a spectacle at the store. The kids were being good, but they were still kids. Josiah had to go the bathroom, so I walked him over and then watched for him as Heather wheeled the other two in the gigantic truck cart. (Have you tried driving those things? With the kids in them, they weigh a thousand pounds. It's like pushing Volvo uphill.) Some guy saw us and joked about how difficult it looked and wondered why I was walking behind instead of pushing. We laughed with him about it and continued shopping. When we went to check out, he was in the aisle next to us and kept smiling at us. I started to feel a little weird, not being used to being ogled. I loaded up the food on the moving walkway. I scanned my card and the cashier told me, "You have a guardian angel. Someone paid for your bill." Uh, what? I looked over at the guy, as he deftly avoided my eyes. I couldn't believe it. I had heard of stuff like that happening. But never had it done. Someone just picked up our $71 grocery bill. He probably had no idea how much that meant to us, but it was unbelievable.

There's been lots of other things, too. Heather had two tests this week and did well on both. She has three next week, but seems really on top of stuff - no surprise there. A bunch of the kids' homeschool materials were 35% off for no reason at all. The kids have been awesome. In short, it seems like we have kind of hit our stride. Next week will be crazy. Heather has the tests, I am going to Orlando to teach some seminars for our old school, Heather has her White Coat ceremony next Friday, Heather's brother and sister in law are coming down to Jax, and we will be driving all over tarnation. We get a week off, and then school starts back up for Heather and the kids. It was kind of like this week was a good refreshing charge-up for the next race. It is just very clear, that even in this new place, we are not doing this alone.

Little Children

I apologize that this blog is taking a bit more of a domestic turn as of late. I never had a real purpose for this blog except to serve as an outlet for my writing. It pretty much just follows my life, so right now as I begin the new adventure of being a stay-at-home dad, I guess the posts naturally follow that. As always, don't lament for too long - I'm sure the blog will return to its usual juvenile idiocy in short order.

There is something that I have noticed for some time, but it is becoming more and more apparent the more time I am around our kids. People don't like children any more. I don't mean me - I love my kids. But that is so often true . . . we love OUR kids . . . and we tolerate other people's kids. I can say that when I have close friends, I learn to love their kids like they were my own. My sister's sweet son, Toby? I would take him to live with me and raise him as my own if that ever was needed. The same could be said about my niece, Beulah, even though I have never even met her. I think the longer I have children, the more I am comfortable around other kids - and the more tender-hearted.

But the vast majority of people out there just plain don't like kids. I can tell. When we walk into a store or a restaurant, there is a flicker of disdain or pain that flies across the face of the host or hostess. This same look is reflected by customers and service staff. It is like, "Oh great, here comes a whirlwind." Now, my kids are very very cute. I am biased, but other people agree with this. The first thought a person should have is, "Dang, them there are some cute kids." (Remember we are now in Tallahassee - this is how they talk here.) It is usually only after hanging around my kids that someone realizes that they are, well, kids.

Kids. Juveniles. Minors. The very names indicate that these are not fully functioning and mature humans. They are still growing and learning. They still don't know how to act all the time. And if they do know, they don't remember. And sometimes, yes, they are just belligerent and stinky and whining. But that is part of growing up. This is not tolerated.

Some examples, please....

• The other day our downstairs neighbors were getting in their car as we were arriving. So I took a moment to go and check on our noise level. Having lived below a family at our last place, I know it can be loud. So I kindly asked. The husband goes, "It's not too bad." The wife glares at him and me. "No, it is horrible. Absolutely terrible." I was startled. He tried to cover. "They are just kids, we know it is going to be a little loud." She shoots more ocular daggers. "No, he's being kind. It is just so so loud." I just stared. I apologized. I said I was doing my best to keep them quiet, especially at nap time and night time. Now, these people have a three year old and the mom is pregnant. You would think there would be some communal goodwill. I guess we won't be invited downstairs for dinner.
• The McDonald's at our Walmart is pretty small. The tables are right up against each other. So when we sit at our benches, we are right up against other people at other tables. Well, that is just an invitation for our kids to turn around and try to talk to these people, check them out, steal their food (kidding, I think). One time, the person next to us was very cool about this. The other times the people were visibly wolfing their food to escape. I am sitting there correcting the kids constantly. "Be quiet, turn around, stop looking at them, keep your toys on the table." This is Mickey D's! They give the kids freaking toys! It is fast food. This isn't like I dragged my kids to Morton's and we shared table space with a dating couple. Really, these people are on MY territory. But they glare at you when your kids try to play with their wind up dinosaur.
• We are trying to find a new church. Our old one is in Orlando, so it is a bit of a commute. One of the things that is so hard with churches now is what to do with the kids. There are a ton of traditional, older churches that have tons of kids' programs, classes, facilities. But many of these places come with some of the "stuck in the mud" grime that can accompany an older church. The newer churches don't have anything for the kids, in many cases. Sure, they have a place to send them during service. But it is largely a holding pen so the parents can have a break for an hour. And God forbid if your kids doesn't like being penned up. If you have a crier (like Gabe), the workers can't stand seeing you coming and want to offer you tons of advice about how to make their lives easier.
• This stems off of the last one. Both Natalie and Gabe had trouble transitioning into a nursery setting. Nat was fine once she got into preschool, with teachers and such. But in the "nursery," she hated going and cried. Gabe does the same thing. A big part is that they don't want to leave Heather. They have been with her all day. They nursed longer than many kids. They co-slept. All of these things lead to trouble with nursery, babysitters. They grow out of it. But you hear all kinds of stuff. Basically, we get berated regularly for letting our kids get "too attached" to us. They "like us too much." We should force them into uncomfortable situations more often so they handle them better. Huh? But we also hear parents frequently talk about how their kids aren't going to "change their lives."

This is all what I don't get. Kids change your life. They change it for the better. You get to watch little people grow up. You get to be a part of crafting a person. It may be tiring, but it keeps you young and on your toes. It forces you to be better because so much is riding on you. I can honestly say that being with the kids has been great. I have been stressed and tired. But I feel better than I have for years. I am moving and active. I can't afford to be lazy and sit around. I am more disciplined and organized. I am more patient and gentler. And I can tolerate a lot more.

It used to be that I would get very upset at our kids for being loud or crazy. Now, I understand a lot of that is them playing and learning. Sure, they can't do this all the time. But they don't and they won't. I remember that with Josiah, we stressed about everything. He didn't potty train or wean from the bottle fast enough. He wouldn't go to sleep when we wanted him to. But by Gabe, we realized that it may be on a different time table then we want - but it will happen when it is time. That different approach makes this much easier. But most people won't be tolerant. It used to be that a whole community was a part of raising a kid. The people around town loved kids. But now that is not the case. The thing that stresses me now is worrying that people around are going to get angry. I worry they are going to hate me or my kids. Why I care, I don't know. But I do.

It's too bad, really. It stinks that people don't have that soft spot for kids any more. Because kids will just totally brighten your day if you let them. As I type this, Gabe is running around with a blanket on his head. The three of them have turned a laundry basket into a boat and a clubhouse. Natalie brushed my hair earlier. Josiah was just reading Gabe word cards, teaching him how to say words. Most people wouldn't even notice that. They would just be angry because the laundry basket was getting bent, their hair was getting messed up, and the running pounded on the floor. Boy are they missing out. Give my kids a chance and they will change your world. They changed mine. And it is my job to make sure the change they make is for good and for eternity. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to show them how to make spaghetti. And I'm sure they will make a mess.