Love and Fear - In No Particular Order

    To commemorate the fourth weekly post and the support and help that I've received from friends and family in starting this blog, I'd like to pass along a bit of that same support and help, in the form of advice. It occurred to me as I changed a horrendously awful diaper this morning, that there are many things that I had to learn from experience instead of being instructed in them beforehand. Every parent knows that there isn't a handbook for being a parent, there is no way to prepare a new parent for everything that comes along, and there is no way to impart the knowledge of parenting to someone who has not experienced it. Despite this, there are always tidbits of information that can be passed along that many people might not think to. Some of these are funny, some are not so much, but no matter the case, I think every parent will be able to admit the truth of at least a handful of these. Without further ado, I give you:


The Top 25 Things Someone Should Have Told Me About Being a Father and Didn't (In No Particular Order):

1. If anything is breakable, it will be broken. Learn swiftly the transience of material belongings.

2. That which once was yours is yours no longer - it has become part of an inheritance - to be run away with at top speed by your offspring, while said offspring laughs with manic glee.

3. That which has been run away with, if once it leaves your sight, shall never be found, unless you develop the magical power Eyes of a Parent. You shall not gain this power until your third year of parenting or after, and this power does not grant automatic success.

4. Though common sense will tell you to breathe through your mouth if you don't want to smell the foul stench that reeks from your child's diaper - trust me. This is a very bad idea.

5. Everything that you think is not a toy is, in fact, very much a toy.
    5a. Everything that you think is a toy is actually a boring and unimpressive floor decoration.

6. The statement, "That toy won't fit in there," is made to be proven wrong. Even when the disproving of the statement violates some laws of physics, this law supersedes all other known physical laws.

7. Every command, rule, or expectation has a loophole.

8. Learn to put everything up high for the safety of your child. It doesn't matter about you, you'll never find any of it anyway, no matter how organized you think you are.

9. Your friends either love babies/children or hate them. They don't know, and neither do you - until you realize which friends you still have.

10. The feeling that fills your heart as your barely walking toddler hugs your leg for affection instead of support is, actually, true love. Treasure it, it doesn't come to the human heart often.

11. Everyone you know, even those without children or any experience, is suddenly a better parent than you are, and intend to help you learn how to be as good a parent as they are.

12. Every electronic device is a phone or a hammer, or both, interchangeably.

13. The earpieces of glasses are meant to be tied in knots.

14. Books are meant to only be read partially, but so many times that a child can memorize them before his or her third year, despite never having heard them in their entirety.

15. Children are smarter and faster than their parents, but cannot strategize or concentrate as well. Use these facts to your advantage.

16. Buckets are hats. Do not question it. When in Rome, do as the children who want to wear buckets on their heads do.

17. Your pain and hardship are, to children, amusement and play. They will not understand when you are truly hurt or upset - and telling them would be worse than letting them learn to understand.

18. Upon becoming a parent, it becomes possible to catnap for half an hour and gain enough energy to last the equivalent of eight hours of sleep, when necessary.

19. Give up the idea of being able to make a quick exit from the house. This power is only retained by your children, and only when you don't want them outside.

20. It is impossible for a father to listen to his child cry from any need and do nothing. Your child will learn this and attempt to manipulate you. Value this advancement, but do not succumb.

21. Parenting a toddler means that not only have you become a sentient, mobile wastebin, but you are also a handkerchief, pillow, leaning post, jungle gym, ladder, and hammock.

22. Coolness is impossible to maintain as a parent. It's practically impossible to have a peer-admired image after blowing raspberries to a fussing child in public.

23. It is better to teach your child that monsters are real and vanquishable than it is to teach them to ignore their fears.

24. A camera is never accessible at the most opportune moments, and you will never be able to record all the things you wish you had.

25. Before having children, your goal is to be the perfect parent, and raise your children to be what you envision. After having children, your goal is simply to survive and teach your children to be better people than you are.



    Thanks for reading, and I hope you found this list to be informative - and as amusing as I found it in the making.

Love and Fear - Daddy Shrugged

“Children learn to smile from their parents.” ~ Shinichi Suzuki (Japanese violinist and teacher, 1898-1998)

    The title of this blog is Love and Fear for two reasons. The first, which has already been touched on in some detail, is that these emotions are the strongest and most prevalent in a father's repertoire, though they are by no means the only emotions present in his heart. The second reason is connected to the first. In the first post in this series, there is a quote (incidentally the source of the title) that states that everything a father of a family says must inspire one or the other of these emotions. With this in mind, then, I would like to discuss something that strikes very close to home for me: the emotion of a father.
    A father who knows, loves, and tries his best to raise his children is constantly aware of a draining and damning responsibility that has been laid on his shoulders. It has been said that "duty is weightier than a mountain," and none know this more than a father who has attempted to become the Atlas for his children's world. This responsibility is, as mentioned, accompanied by a joy that makes the weight a bit lighter, but it remains the greatest thing a father has to carry.
    A portion of this weight is made up of the fact that a father is, as surprising as it may be to some, an ever-flowing wellspring of deep emotion, often coming in a torrent that is nearly impossible to even comprehend, much less control. Love, fear, pride, anger, joy, silliness, exasperation, awe, depression, and mania are in the usual range for the daily emotions of a father, and it is not unusual to run the full gamut in several cycles throughout the course of a single day or less.
    From the day a child is born, the father of that child is hesitant, tentative, and ginger about showing his emotions. He's told to be careful, to be gentle, to avoid hurting his child, and he instinctively knows that it would be incredibly easy to accidentally bring harm to this tiny life he holds in his arms. It becomes natural, then, for him to mute his emotional responses as much as he's muting his physical ones. A large portion of a father's wonder and awe that is often evident as he observes his child stems from the fact that this small person begins to display emotions and personality traits similar to his own, and as he watches this happen more and more often, he begins to unbottle his emotions and display them proudly, learning the ways that he and his offspring are alike.
    I remember the first time I consciously became aware of this phenomenon with Tahiri. A month or two ago I was watching her attempt to put her shoes on herself, and since she didn't have the motor skills required for the task, success was unfortunately not an option for her at the time. Up until that point, I don't remember her displaying this level of perseverance and, in truth, stubbornness. Until then, I had seen her attempt to do many things she deemed herself incapable of accomplishing. This time, however, it was like watching myself in a miniaturized mirror, as she set her jaw, stuck her tongue partially out of her mouth, and proceeded to take a step-by-step, deliberate, and calculating approach. She mimicked from memory, as best she could, the steps which her mother and I take to put on her shoes, using two hands where we could use one, but carefully proceeding onward according to the plan formed in her ever-developing tiny brain.  This slowly unfolding intense drama culminated in tragedy, however, when she had tried this approach six or seven times and simply could not muster the required coordination to render her shoe "on."  Then, with a growl of frustration, she tossed the shoe a short distance away, growling with a ferocity I thought limited to feral animals, and said a phrase which I can best display in text as "Croo-it. Eye-pay."
    For several moments, I pondered what this phrase might have meant, as she had never said anything remotely similar to the first word. The second sound I recognized as her lazy way to say "I play." Then it struck me. Earlier that day, I had gone through the exact same mental processes, while looking for a quote from a book. Eventually I had tossed the book aside, and said "Screw it. I'll use a different quote." Imagine my chagrin to realize that my daughter had been listening closely enough to repeat this phrase nearly perfectly, and then my pride, amusement, and happiness that she had begun to mimic not only my actions, but my sentiments and emotions.
    Since then, there has been an increasingly torrential outpouring of personality from this youngling, as she mimics and grows and develops. As this has been brought to my attention, I have of course been observing her actions in this regard more closely, and I've learned that she looks to both of us for indications and clues to what her emotional reactions should be, and she takes these examples to heart, learning them and repeating them as if they are a magical formula that will help her relate to the world around her.
    It is both sobering and enrapturing  to realize that these examples truly are how she'll learn to relate to the world around her. These examples set by parents are what teach children to feel, to understand, to react. It is a well-known fact that young children and animals learn by imitation, by mimicry, and it is the parents that have the most bearing on this particular learning path.
    Someone recently brought up in an unrelated conversation the idea that men are not prone to higher, deeper emotion. I did not respond, but I thought about this idea for a long time, and in my pondering I came to the conclusion that by looking at a daughter's emotional outpourings, one may determine the depth, strength, and variety of her father's emotion. From how she bottles things inside, to the most vehement or exuberant expression, a child's emotion is a mirror image of the emotional framework provided by her father, built on the foundation that underlies all of a father's emotion - that ever-present and incomprehensible mixture of love and fear.

Love and Fear - I'm Cute, Don't Eat Me

"It is not a bad thing that children should occasionally, and politely, put parents in their place."
~ Sidonie Gabrielle Colette (French novelist and performer, 1873 - 1954)

    I have come to the conclusion that a human child has the second-best defense system in the whole of time and space. The first is, of course, the quantum-lock inherent to the Weeping Angels of Doctor Who. Only slightly less effective is the ability of a human child to look at a raging, red-eyed, roaring monster charging toward them with bared teeth and steam coming out of its ears - and flash a smile that immediately reduces this monster to a creature of goo and mush that somewhat resembles a parent in shape and size.
    While it's true that all children can use this power more or less effectively on the majority of adults, the degree of effect is directly proportional to the closeness of the relation, culminating at a peak effectiveness when it is an adult faced directly by their own offspring. To be sure, this defense system of children stands them in good stead, but its effect on the progenitors of the child's existence is very much the more interesting study.
     This defense mechanism inherent in children is nothing but pure, instinctive manipulation. When faced with blatant disobedience and defiance, a father's instinct is to crush all resistance. While born out of genuine care for the child, a father must be careful to temper this instinct using logic and understanding, because while the father may know what is best for a child, the child must learn many things by experiencing the consequences that follow naturally from negative actions. On the other hand, any father faced with enough defiance or enough danger to their child will become the monster mentioned in the first paragraph.
    I was discussing with a co-worker the other day an issue that we're having with Tahiri climbing on the table. This co-worker does not have children, but is fond of them. I had been updating him on Tahiri's developmental progress, and I closed that list of milestones with the phrase, "oh, and now she can climb."  The co-worker's eyes widened, and he asked, "What does she climb?"
    "Oh, anything she can," I replied. "The couch, the coffee table, my chair, the bookcase...really just anything."
    The look on his face was priceless as he asked, "Surely you don't just let her climb on those things?"  I laughed and explained that we did everything we could to keep her off of them, but it was an on-going struggle, concluding with the guess that she probably wouldn't learn to stay off of them until she fell off of something and hurt herself.
    At this, my co-worker looked uncomfortable and said, "Well, you don't want that to happen, though?"
    Hold on one second here. Where on this green earth do you get off asking such a stupid question. As a father, it is my duty and beloved responsibility to do everything I can to protect the most precious and defenseless being connected to my life, from any and all possible harm. Your question is out of line and insulting. But I digress.
    I was forced to explain that children do what children will, and oftentimes there's no way to truly stop them. You can prevent their actions one hundred times, but the hundred and first try they make will be when you're sneezing, when you've turned your head to tell the cat not to scratch the cabinets, or when you've leaned over to grab the remote to turn off that mildly annoying children's show that they're not watching anyway. Turn back, and sure enough, there's your child, in mid-air, leaping off of the coffee table and attempting to fly through the air to the papasan three feet away.
    The one thing that I didn't explain in this effort to explain the wiliness of children is that children are, due to their inherent defense system, masters of diversion and manipulation. Regarding the above events, only a few moments before the traumatic conclusion to the final attempt, there was a much more amusing attempt, which provides a perfect example of this trait. Tahiri had successfully managed to achieve her goal (Excelsior!) and was standing on our coffee table, proudly. I sternly told her to get down carefully, and she said, clearly, and with as much attitude as her 17-month-old mind and body could muster, "Dad...NO." My response was typical of my half of the parenting duo: "Tahiri. Down. Now!"  "HA! NO!"
    I, of course, began marching toward this defiant child, intending to curtail this attitude and enforce the safety rule that was being disregarded. She stared at me, wide-eyed and innocent, during my three-step trek from the trash can just over the baby gate to the living room table, and upon my arrival, stared uncomprehending up into my eyes.  "Tahiri, you're not to be on the table. Get. Down."  "Dad. I dance." She then proceeded to dance in a small circle across the top of the table, in a manner very similar to that of the Australian Aborigines.
    Up until that moment, I had been fully ready to enforce the rule as stated, including (this being the fourth or fifth time she had needed to be physically removed from the table) some manner of corporal punishment; a single swat on the diaper or the equivalent. Suddenly, though, confronted with my daughter dancing on the table and smiling sweetly up at me, I was unable to maintain my stern and imposing demeanor. I couldn't help but smile at her, and, taking her hands, lead her off the table. "Tahiri, I dance too." The two of us spent the next five minutes or so dancing - short enough to me, but to her very small, ever-growing brain, it must have seemed an eternity.
    I am not the only father to whom this has happened, nor will I be the last, but every father will attest that it is difficult to remain resolute in the face of an overwhelming barrage of cuteness and adorability.  I've seen evidence that a father's susceptibility to this form of manipulation continues well after childhood and even into the child's married life. Though others may become less affected by it over time, this instinctive ability of children to manipulate their father with a look that begs, "I'm cute, don't eat me," finds a weakness no father would voluntarily remove no matter what age his child is, and yet is a constant source of that awe-inspiring mixture of love and fear.

Love and Fear - An Introduction

    "Love and fear.  Everything the father of a family says must inspire one or the other."  ~Joseph Joubert (French Essayist and moralist, 1754-1824)

    It is a unique thing to be in my position. On the one hand, I am a young man, born in 1987, with my formative years spent in the 1990s, easily one of the most decadent and wealthy eras of American history. With this comes a (begrudgingly admitted) sense of entitlement common to my generation and all the cultural nostalgia that seems to be more common with the children of the 90s than many other generations. I am tech-friendly, I am an internet scion, and I am an ever-wondering student of modern science. On the other hand, I was raised by two parents who were born in the 40s, happily married in 1968 (thus in their 43rd year of marriage), and adopted me as the youngest of their six children. This situation put me in the position of being raised with old-fashioned morals and cultural exposure to things that were favorites of the generations preceding mine. I was taught that to work for my keep, to be a gentleman, to help others, to save money, and to generally do what I can to better myself and the world around me as much as possible.

    In 2007 my older daughter, Emily Teresa, was born. I was 19 when she came into the world on April 25th. She lived with me only for two years, and then her mother and I, who were married, separated because of irreconcilable differences, following with a divorce two years later. Her mother signed over custody to her parents, and they adopted Emily, without my consent, and with my ex-wife doing her best to play different faces to all parties involved. She told me that I was not allowed to contact her or Emily, and kept all of their contact information secret from me. To others, she presented that I had all of their contact information and was allowed to contact them any time I liked - but I never did.  This was neither the first time, nor the last, that she presented different stories to multiple people, or manipulated things into the most convenient arrangement for herself at the time, and my separation from my daughter was something I only could cope with due to the help of my close friends who trusted that what I told them was true, and many sleepless nights filled with cold rage and hot fury, screaming, weeping, and prayer. Sometimes this is still the case.

    In 2010, my younger daughter was born. Caelen Cassandra Tahiri entered this world on March 31st, with a full head of hair and all the attitude of her mother and myself combined. Her mother and I are still together, and we each make every attempt to understand, work with, thrive on, and grow into the other's differences, doing the best we can to provide for each other and our beautiful little Jedi.  It is with this background, then, that I approach fatherhood. This mix of old and new, this blend of decadence and morality, shapes the man that I have become - the man my daughter is, for better or worse, stuck with as a father figure - a geek, a martial artist, a student of the sword, a big-city boy turning into a small-town man, an anachronism immersed in modern society and comfortable in any situation.

    Fatherhood has already been a daunting task, with many unforeseen pitfalls, stresses, worries, and grievances. On the other hand, it has also been a bountiful source of joy, amusement, and near-endless hilarity. With this blog I hope to give all of my readers a glimpse into my family life, and the ups and downs of being the old-fashioned father of a small child in modern times.

    Lastly, I would like to explain the title of this blog. It was inspired by the above quote, and it shows the two sides of the fatherhood coin extremely well. Every father has a list of fears as long as both his legs, and faster moving. These fears are wrapped in the body of a child, and are what keeps that child safe, what comforts that child when he or she is hurt, and what bring rules and guidelines into existence. These fears are what keep fathers up into the wee hours of the morning, looking at the face of their sleeping angel and wondering what mischief they will bring the next day, or what new hurts and bruises are to be dealt with. These fears are what make a father wonder if he was really ready to be a father, or if his son or daughter will ever look back on his efforts to raise them with the fondness he feels toward his own. These fears are what make every father understand that the life they've helped create is precious and fragile.

    On the other side of that coin is that this love a father feels for his child is a revered and sacred thing. This love helps a father face his own shortcomings and be willing to learn and grow more, to become the role model and guide that his child needs. This love is what makes a father turn into an angry bear when his child is in danger, and turns him into a ball of fluff when the child is happy.

    It is said in scripture that "perfect love casts out fear."  Conversely, it is this love for his child that makes a father afraid, because this love is what makes him realize that he is not perfect, and makes him realize with great sorrow that even his best efforts will never be completely enough or completely right, that he will make mistakes, that he will fall short, and that he will fail his child repetitively. Despite knowing this, it is a father's love for a child that makes every father strive to give his child the best he can, to raise his child the best way he knows. It makes him face his fears, take on this daunting task, and continue to strive forward for the benefit of his child, though the effort bring him to his knees time and again.

    Also, let us not forget that one definition of fear is synonymous with awe. To be a father, to be blessed with a child, is an awe-inspiring thing. To know that your destiny has brought you together with this small being, to be this little person's guide into life - these realizations inspire a mixture of dread and reverence. Every father who accepts this task has paused for a moment and considered this, being struck by the momentous task, and the monumental honor, that comes with it.

    To be a father, to know that you are a father, to take on this task of being a father - it is a trial, a burden, a joy, and a thrill that inspires the raw emotions of love and fear.