Christmas Time Performance Ramblings

I suppose all parents feel the same way watching their little ones perform on stage; excited, nervous, anxious and proud all at the same time. Well, tonight I watched Nicholas perform at his school's Christmas program and it was the best Christmas program EVER! Sure I might be biased but what did you expect?

But the performance was more than just a performance. It was a realization that he is making his way in this world. First, when we arrived, a teacher from his school whisked him away to the staging area. Now, I am not a "helicopter parent" by any means. A drone or a spy plane maybe. But definitely not a helicopter. I don't hover. I just want to know what is happening. I don't hover for the sake of hovering. I need information. Information that tells me my son is okay or if he needs me. Well him being in the staging area away from me resulted in some anxious moments.

But, when he emerged on stage all confident and went through his performance with the rest of the maybe 30 plus other kids, I was all smiles and expectant. And upon seeing me in the audience made him smile sweetly too.

Watching him though made me grin broadly and even though he was in a large group, he made himself stand out. Almost like he was saying "I can take on the world, in my own way." The cool part is when the performance was completed and all kids were delivered back to their parents, he leaped up in my arms with joy. That made me feel good; like I was still needed.

So this performance was more than just a Christmas program. It was a reminder that my son is no longer a baby, not quite a man; but now a little boy, growing up and making his way among the sea of faces.

On top of the world

I find there are some moments that will live on in a parent's memory forever. For each of my children I have a defining memory. Somewhere on this blog I think I made a post about Angeline and how after taking taking her to the movies one night on a father daughter date, she turns around just before climbing the stairs to her room and said "Thanks for taking me to the movies daddy". Simple. But somehow, someway I can't explain that stuck with me for years and still does. Jodi though is still making me work (and wait).

But with Nicholas I got one of those defining moments recently. On vacation in the mountains of North Carolina.

Grandfather Mountain.

Aptly named too, if you asked me.

We made our way to the very top of the mountain. Some 5,270 odd feet in elevation. That is about 1 mile.

We are standing just off the edge of a cliff (safely mind you) and I tell him that as long as he lives, always remember that he and his dad were on top of the world. The girls had run back to the car for something so it was just father and son. We turn to look over, down the mountain at the wonderful creation before us. (Attached photo was taken moments later).

I hold his hand (firmly, I am a bit paranoid) and paused just long enough to really enjoy the view. After being serenaded with silence for an eternity that elapsed in a few seconds, he softly turned to me, barely daring to speak, and said,

"I love you daddy".

Conversation starters

I always find it interesting how mothers are able to generate a conversation out of thin air with other mothers. Somehow fathers don't seem to be able to do that. I have tried. But it just doesn't work. Funnily enough I have generated conversations with moms more easily than other dads I have tried this with. Perhaps dads are more protective? Well, not sure if as a dad I am more cautious or wary than Nikki is as a mom. I can't explain it. I just know that it is unlikely for me to walk up to another dad and strike up a conversation that lasts beyond 3 minutes. Meantime, Nikki can walk up to another mom and three hours later still be conversing. (Ok, so that probably wouldn't happen as at least one of the kids would need to go to the bathroom, or is hungry or is cranky or something, there is always something!)

In fact, I remember when we were looking for child care some time ago, we came up with a list of possible day care centers. Since I was going to be passing by one of these locations I told Nikki I would stop in to check it out. I did, but I also wanted to ask a parent what they thought so while leaving I walked up to a dad who was picking up his daughter (big mistake, should have picked a mom to survey!)

As I walked up he turned and looked at me menacingly. I thought he was going to go all John Rambo on me (remember him?) So I started talking quickly trying to get the words out. Of course that didn't help as he couldn't understand what the heck I was saying which made matters worse. Finally, I was able to convey that I just wanted to see how his child liked the school. His response: "She likes it. The office is over there go, check it out!"

Try that with a mom:

"Oh she loves it. They have the Abeka program which I love. Little (insert cute name here) particularly likes the circle time where they dress up and role play. They take naps everyday from noon till one but the older kids can stay up if you like......"

Three hours later: "........and my poor little (refer to cute name above) was crying and I was like where were the teachers. Nobody saw her fall on the playground. I am not taking her back."

(Rolls eyes, get the hell outta there!)

Little girls clothes

While at dance practice for Jodi, I overheard a dad comment that the tights his daughter wears are so difficult to put on her. He further said that he ruins tights and stockings every time he gets his little girl dressed. I totally can relate. Those things are quite tricky as if you are not careful they get torn and ruined. Not only that, but half the time I can't figure out how to get Jodi's clothes on her. I mean, most times it is not a simple T shirt or dress. The outfits have straps and ribbons and such that makes getting her dressed comparable to a puzzle.

I remember taking the kids to swimming one day so I picked them up after work (running late) and planned to get them dressed in the swim clothes in the parking lot and then cart them inside the facility for the lessons. Nicholas got dressed with minimal help but here I am with Jodi, trying to get her in her swim suit. She steps into it and I fix it on her and got the straps over her shoulder and couldn't figure out to save my life why the straps are in the front and not the back! So then I thought maybe they should be in the front. But it looks weird.

So I try it again. Same result. I am looking at this thing and thinking to myself "how difficult could it be? next time your mother is drawing me a map!" After the fourth maybe fifth try I got it to work (dumb luck if I am being honest) and there I am running through the building with a child under each arm, barely making it there on time.

Of course half way through the swim lesson I remembered that I forgot to put on Jodi's swim cap.

Her momma is going to kill me!

Fishy High Fives

Life with three kids is undoubtedly chaotic what with camps, dance classes, basketball practices and games, art classes, birthday parties, play dates and so on and so on. It sometimes feel like being the only driver in a multi-national transportation company. But every once in a while it is nice to take your foot off the gas for a while and do something really low key. Like going fishing.

So, with another family we drove to a local park and grabbed some pizzas along the way. After both families ate pizzas and drank juice and sodas and chatted for a while we set about trying to catch some fish. Nicholas and Jodi have never gone fishing before while Angeline has so it was a good experience. It is truly heartwarming watching Jodi sitting there with a pink rod and reel (reminds me of one of my favorite songs) and Nicholas insisting he will catch some fish today. Since we are not real experts on fishing, the other parents took the lead, baited the hooks and made all the preparations necessary. Watching the joy on my kids faces as they each caught a fish (some with a little "help") was priceless. Jodi actually caught the first one!!! Angeline even caught a starfish (seriously she will catch anything and Nicholas hooked something that looked like a catfish (with the "help" I referred to earlier :) The other kids were old pros so they let us enjoy the moment (Thanks guys!) Fishy High Fives all around.

The entire experience has now added one more item on the list of activities for the kids. Can't wait to take them again.

Family Restrooms

One of my biggest pet peeves is going to some public establishment and finding there is not a family restroom there. In fact one of my favorite stores is Wal-Mart. They have a huge family restroom (at least my store does and it is actually clean – very important!)  When I have Nicholas it isn’t a big deal. But when I have Jodi (or both toddlers) it is an issue. At least Angeline can go to the female restrooms by herself. But when I do have to take Jodi to the restroom I have to go to the men’s room, cover her eyes and make a mad dash across the room to a stall. I remember doing that with Anga as well.

Funny enough, before kids it was not something I paid much attention to but now I tend to favor any place that has family restroom (and a clean one at that! Ahh, the little things that makes life so much easier.

Father's Day

Nicholas and Jodi, while watching television one day saw an ad for Father’s day which was fast approaching. Having just gone through the barrage of ads for Mother’s day they turned to me and said Happy Mother’s Day Daddy! I thought that was hilarious. I chose not to correct them for a while as I thought that it was so cute hearing them say that. But, finally Nicole and I taught them that Mothers day is for mommies and Father’s day is for daddies!!

Okay, let's try this again

So I decided to start blogging again. Yes I know I have started and stopped numerous times but I am giving it one more shot. It is quite ironic; the reason that I want to blog is the reason that is preventing me from blogging consistently. But I am finding out over the last few years that time is something that is in short supply and even more so when you are a parent. Most days it seems like I am trying to fit 25 hours in a 24 hour day.

My regret about taking a break from blogging is that I missed out on sharing so many stories. So much has happened since I last blogged and I missed the chance to chronicle them. Now I only have my memories. The thing about memories though is, while they fade they get replaced with new ones. And that is fine. It is just that each stage has its own unique memories that you want to reminisce about at some point in the future. And a blog is the perfect avenue for that so here we go again.

First Soccer Camp

I find it funny how we project our own preferences on our children. Whether it is career choices or sports, I imagine all parents are guilty of this in some form.

Case in point: I am already drilling into Nicholas’ head that he is a Manchester United fan. I even envision him to be a United player. So much so that when I took him to his first “organized” soccer camp, I was looking forward to him playing well beyond his years.

I can see him now, snarling in the middle of field like the former Manchester United captain Roy Keane as the Irishman did while stamping his authority on the game. Or perhaps he will run through the opposing players like they are not even there like the wily, intelligent Welshman Ryan Giggs. Both are United legends and young Nicholas will be firmly on his way to being one too after this practice session.

So imagine my amusement when the coach said “Everyone to the white line. We are going to dribble the ball to the cones and back.” Everyone except Nicholas that is.

He took off running in the opposite direction, laughing the entire time. With me chasing him. As I got close he fell on the ground laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. After bringing him back to the line so we can complete the drill, he picked up the ball and took off again. You guessed it: I am right behind him; chasing him this time in a complete different direction.

So maybe the lucrative contract from Sir Alex Ferguson will have to wait a few years, decades even. For now I will just envision the little Pookster running, falling down and laughing with his Dad trying to catch up. All the while laughing too.

Super Bowl Time! Or is it??

Earlier tonight there was the small matter of a football game that saw the Packers of Green Bay matching medieval swords with the Steelers of Pittsburgh. Game should be exciting except on my television screen was a cartoon of a little four year boy with a funny name (Caillou) and my son nestled in my lap enjoying his favorite program.

Not much more to say in this blog post.

You are Gonna Miss This!

While visiting a client recently I had to reach underneath a desk to retrieve something and my glasses fell off my face. They are somehow twisted and not sitting right thanks to the work of my two toddlers. See what had happened was: A few days earlier while at home, I took my glasses off briefly only to later hear something fall to the ground. Upon investigation I found both kids standing over the glasses looking down at it and then looking up at me with the look that said “I don’t know what happened!”

Try as I might I could not get one to roll on the other so the mystery of whose fingerprints are at the scene remains unsolved. So I am stuck with busted glasses that I have not found the time to go and get repaired.

Anyway, I had to use one hand to poke the frame back on my face and hold it in place and the other to reach for the item in question. When I sat back down I started laughing to myself. Not to worry: I was alone in the office at the time so no one would think I am losing it.

But then I got to thinking; as a parent you have myriads of stories that pile up as time goes on which represent memories that you can look back on and smile. The old reminiscing feeling no doubt take over as you fondly think “I remember when they did this…” or “I remember when they did that…” Whatever “it” is you would gladly tell every living soul who would listen about those times. And when those souls are tired of hearing the same stories over and over you would gladly tell the cat!

One thing is for sure, I am going to miss those times, the times represented in the stories that are told to anyone within earshot. And every parent has them. Each story is a chapter of a much longer story and represents a new stage in the kids’ lives that is gone and you can’t get back but you do miss.

Worries Never Cease

Being a parent I find I worry about everything. From sleeping habits to speech, from playing or roughhousing to dietary preferences. It is never ending. Think about it – if Nicholas keeps getting up in the middle of the night I worry about why he is not sleeping through the night. And when he does sleep through the night I worry if he is sick and just wants to sleep and sleep and sleep.

If he eats everything on his plate I worry if he is eating too much but if he doesn’t eat everything I worry if he is eating enough. And so it is with going to preschool or day care or whatever fancy word there is. I worry if keeping them home would negatively impact their development but at the same time worry if they are ready to go out to school.

Speaking of preschool, I worry about Nicholas having separation anxiety when we decide to put him into preschool but I will worry if he doesn’t shed at least one tear over it.

I worry about temper tantrums and at the same time worry about….. well temper tantrums!

I worry about what career path Angeline will choose and then worry when she tells me. Why? Because I have my own preconceived notions about what she should choose.

I will worry when Angeline, Jodi and Nicholas start dating but will worry if at an appropriate age they are not (well not so much for Angeline and Jodi - they can start dating when they are like forty - five or so).

I used worry about Jodi not saying Mommy for a long time. Now I worry if she doesn’t say Daddy when I walk through the door.

I used to worry about the kids not yet talking and someday I worry that they will never stop. (Aw come on you know what I mean!)

I worry that the list above is not a complete list and thus worry that I will have lot more to worry about as they grow up.

Quite frankly I worry about the fact that I worry so much.

Sleep Interrupted

Milk? Milk Please?

That was Nicholas requesting a cup of milk, so I got up and trudged downstairs, opened the refrigerator poured his milk and took it back upstairs. On my way back up my eyes wandered over the clock on the microwave.

3:05.

AM.

At that moment, one of my favorite expressions flashed across my mind.

You have got to be kidding me!

That was the thought but really this is the norm. Welcome to parenthood.

It is not unusual for me to have this late night interruption. After all Nicholas does love to stroll over at some point during the night to our bed. Or maybe the interruption is Jodi crying in her sleep. Sometimes I hear a phantom cry. Other times I wake up expecting to hear a cry which doesn't happen. But it doenst matter. I am up anyway. One thing is for sure: my sleep from this point on has been interrupted.

Permanently.

If you have told me twelve years ago that I would be yearning for uninterrupted sleep, I would have laughed. After all, I pioneered the concept of “sleep days”. Here is how Sleep Days work: it was one day a week where I would go to sleep the moment I got home. This was back from my college days when I worked and went to school at nights. So one day each week I would not work late, no homework or studying. Just sleep.

But those days are over. The brutal truth is that once you are a parent a good night’s sleep is one of those little things that you are eternally grateful for when it happens. Because the moment you take that little bundle of joy home, your sleep just got interrupted. On a permanent basis.

At this rate I may end up being the one crying!

A Prayer Story Part 2

Children are so observant and they do watch everything that we do. I always knew that but to have a real experience that provides confirmation of that exemplifies knowing something in theory and having practical experience in it. Of the difference between academics and real world experience. Until you see your child do or say something that you yourself consider routine, then the opening statement of this post will remain an abstract piece of theory.

 

After having the experience of Nicholas' request for prayer in the car in the prior post, I had another such experience that brought the theory to light. Early one morning while running late to a networking event, I paused so we could once again pray as a family before we left the house. We all held hands and Nicholas started praying. Now for most of the prayer we couldn't make out the words except somewhere in the prayer we heard him say "...... and Mommy and [Jodi]....... Amen".

 

Okay so Daddy got left out of the prayer but I was moved nonetheless. We make it a point to call names when we pray and he was copying that. Truly heart warming and made me glow within as I got my day started.

A Prayer Story Part 1

On a recent Saturday morning, I decided to take Jodi and Nicholas to the park so Mommy could get to sleep in, a rarity nowadays. So after being awaken by the alarm clock (Nicholas), I rounded up the troops and got them showered and dressed. Jodi even allowed me to comb her hair (Like Mommy, she usually gives me the "Watch the Hair" look!). After getting them dressed and preparing breakfast, we started toward the door. Departure was delayed though for a few minutes as Jodi needed a diaper change. Leaving the house is more complex than just jumping in the car.

After getting Jodi a fresh diaper and ensuring that there was no more holdups, we started out again. After strapping both kids in the car seat I jumped behind the wheel and paused just long enough to silently say a quick prayer. You see, it is standard in my household to pray before leaving the house each day. After completing the prayer, I put the car in gear and was about to start driving when I heard "Let us pray Daddy". That was Nicholas. Okay so the words were not as clear. But I definitely made out the words "pray" and "daddy". To emphasize his request, he reached for Jodi's hand and mine and we held hands while I prayed. Aloud this time. At this point I should probably amend an earlier sentence.

It is standard for us to hold hands and pray.

Together.

As a family.

Each day.

Before leaving the house.

A little reflection

I love being a Dad. Said another way, I love being a father. Often times I reflect on the days my kids were born and remember the promises made to each one. I remember promising them the world, being the best father I could be. I was a proud beaming father on each of those three occasions, believing that I could move the world.

Now as the years roll by and I remember those promises made, I wonder if I am living up to them. I don’t have any regrets. But I do want to believe I am making good on those promises and my kids are getting the best father possible. Every once in a while I wonder how good a job I am doing.

I want to believe that I am not just limiting the imperfections, but actually striving for perfection itself.

Recently, I attended an information session for a start up non-profit that I was invited to be a part of and the speaker, as he presented his idea for the mission of the organization, mentioned that kids in general do not understand fully the sacrifices that parents make for them. Not until they become parents themselves.

I am inclined to agree but more importantly I wonder if as a parent I am sacrificing enough. Or if I am sacrificing in the right areas, making the right decisions. Life as a father is now a delicate juggling act because of all the hats I am required to wear. I have to ensure that amidst all the efforts in working and building a business to provide for my children’s needs and then some, I am not neglecting the essence of being a Dad. I would hate to gain the forest and realize that there are no trees in it.

I suppose my questions will be answered once my kids grow up. I know though in my mind now that I appreciate all the sacrifices my Dad made for me.

And it is times like now when I self evaluate, that I reiterate to myself to keep pushing that bar for perfection and maintain that balancing act.

And oh yes, when I look at and think of them, I still think I can move the world!

Separation Anxiety - A real world experience

Imagine taking a scenic drive out of town to a wonderful hotel where you plan to just unwind, relax and thaw out for a couple of days. You are with your sweetheart so you are looking forward to all the (ahem) “play time” that your getaway could tolerate. Oh yes sir, you are going to handle your business alright. You are thinking to yourself “I am a baaaad boy.”

You already rescheduled your business meetings. You inform your clients you are unavailable for the next couple of days. You even manage to squeeze in a couple hours of work in the early morning just so your clients don’t pay the price for your rendezvous. And it is smooth sailing from here.

You get to your destination, check in at the front desk, get up to the room and take in the view. You manage to scrounge up enough pennies to pay for a room with a nice ocean view so you take full advantage by opening the door so you can hear and feel the ocean breeze. Ahhh, the sweet sound of the waves rushing to shore accompanied by the therapeutic and distinctive smell of the ocean.

Paradise. Well if it isn’t, it sure is damn close to being paradise.

You and your honey sit in one of those lounge chairs and you grab a beer and take a sip, snuggle up and whisper in her ear.

No, you don’t say something sexy. Or naughty. Or romantic. Heck, you don’t even say “Honey I love you” or “We are going to have a great time Sweetie”. No, no whispering of sweet nothings here.

What do you say?

“The kids would really love this!”

Seperation Anxiety - Part One

I am acutely aware of the concept of separation anxiety. Usually when I hear that term, I think of some kid, kicking and screaming because he or he does not want her mom to leave him/her at the daycare, babysitter, or at Grandma’s house. It doesn’t matter much if the reason for drop off is to go to work, a business lunch or a dinner with girlfriends. Little Junior does not want Mama to leave him there, wherever “there” is.

As a parent, I imagine the child in question must be going through anguish the entire time that he is at the daycare. I imagine that the child must be crying non-stop until the parent shows up and rescue said child. And often times, the teacher/sitter/Grandma would tell you upon arrival for pickup, “He stopped crying the second you left”. No kidding.

True, our kids are often more resilient that we give them credit for. Or so I am told. But how resilient are the parents? What about our separation anxiety? This separation anxiety thing goes both ways. I must admit I too get separation anxiety when I am away from my kids especially Nicholas and Jodi purely due to their ages. (Okay so I don’t kick and scream and throw a temper tantrum!)

It does not matter why you are away. Whether it is for business or a quick getaway. Whether you stay at the Holiday Day Inn, The Marriott, The Ritz Carlton or The Waldorf Astoria. Whether you get away to the Bahamas, Jamaica, South Beach or Bonita Springs. That separation anxiety kicks in. It kicks in when you get that sinking feeling because of how you much you actually miss the little bambinos – even if you are away only for a couple nights of vacation.

 A few months ago, Nikki and I managed to get away for a few days and the occasion represented the first time we were away overnight away from the kids. We knew for a fact they were in the best of care. But nevertheless, we found ourselves calling constantly to find out how they were doing. It felt like we were calling every hour on the hour. Our chosen caregiver finally told us that we can stop calling as they are fine.

But I did miss them. I thought about who is waking up in the middle of the night, who likes to have a cup of milk before bed, who likes to fall asleep on my chest, who likes me to kiss them right smack on the bridge of their nose, who likes me to flip ‘em upside down and tickle their stomachs, who likes to yell “Horsey” and clamber onto my back (that would be Nicholas for sure!), who likes me to bite their cheeks… well you get the idea. Because, of course, no one understands my kids more than I do. And no one can take better care of them than I can. No matter how good the stand-in is. Or how much you trust the surrogate. Because when it is all said and done, these three are just like three separate heart beats. And you need all three to survive.

Now, I won’t say that being away is harder on me than on the little treasures, but it is difficult nonetheless. I was tempted a couple times to cut the getaway short.

We never did, but I was happy to return home to them and end my separation anxiety issues.

When Daddy Let Me... Cook

Being a Dad, I find that my tastes have evolved over time, whether it pertains to movies, reading material or music among other things. For instance, it is not so much the genre of music anymore but whether or not I can relate to it or find some meaning in the songs I choose to listen to.

I have made a list of songs that I will post in this blog in the future that appeals to me in the role of a father.

One such song that I will mention here at this moment is by Alan Jackson titled Drive. The words can be found here.

Every time I hear this song, my thoughts go racing (pun intended!). Not only do I envision teaching my kids different things at different age groups, but the song speaks volumes to me in that I can remember my father teaching me things as well.

I remember listening to the commentary on the radio of cricket matches as a child in Jamaica. My father is an avid cricket fan and I would ask him questions about the game regarding what I heard and he would patiently answer them (which was no easy feat; try explaining to someone what “forward short leg” means or what it means to be “square of the wicket”. If you really want to confuse the heck out of them, try explaining what a googly is!).

Another favorite memory is of my father cooking and explaining what he was doing each step of the way. For me that was priceless. In the same way in which the song speaks of the young boy being on top of the world, so did I as a young boy cooking an entire meal under my father's watchful eye.

I got the opportunity to play that role recently as Angeline, who loves to cook and enjoys watching various cooking shows, is always asking to make breakfast or cook dinner from recipes she conjures up in her head. So sometimes I would be in the kitchen with her and I felt moved when she asked what I thought or what she should do in different situations. Knowing that she is actually listening to what I was saying to her made for a proud Dad, much like the feeling I imagine my own father felt as he explained the very same things to me years ago. I gave her little tips on preparing the food, pros and cons of using different ingredients and on "plating" (apparently this is a term meaning the presentation of the dish which I learned from watching the cooking shows with her).

And I look forward and hope, as the song mentions, that my kids would reach into their memories when they are adults themselves and pull a warm memory such as the ones I have. Whether it is teaching Nicholas about soccer and watching Manchester United with him; or more time in the kitchen with Angeline – cooking and watching The Food Network; or teaching Jodi how to ride a bike, there is certainly enough opportunity to help create those memories.

I look forward to teaching my precious ones more things throughout the years even though the complexity of things to be taught escalates as the years go by. I believe though that these occasions, which I will call teaching moments, are a monumental part of the parenting process and make for a memorable childhood experience.

Hearing the word "Daddy"

Probably the sweetest word in the English language is "Daddy", well at least to me. This resonated with me about five years ago when I called Angeline, who was in another room. She came flying around the corner and answered "Yes Daddy". The words bounced off the walls throughout the house and send shivers down my spine. To this day it still echoes in my head.

Hearing Jodi say "Daddy" in that soft voice is like a sweet song. Never mind that half the time she is really looking at Nikki when she says it. I still claim it because Daddy in any language is just that - Daddy. I will conveniently ignore the intent!

As far as Nicholas is concerned, I believe most times he says Daddy to verify that I am there. I suppose he finds it comforting to hear me answer "Yes Nicholas". Jodi, upon hearing her brother call out for Daddy follows suit so I then oblige with "Yes Jodi".

I remember coming home one evening and having all three children rush to the door. Angeline being the oldest was ahead of the pack shouting "Daddy's home" with Nicholas not far behind her. Jodi was bringing up the rear but not to be left out. That was a priceless moment that I often relive in my head.

I have to admit though that hearing Daddy is as much reassuring for me as it is for my children when they say it. In some ways I think it is an affirmation of my existence, of my importance to them and my defining moment here in the world.

I often think that it is poetic that one of the first words (or babble) from a baby is Dadda or some variation thereof. I think in my selfish mind that this is an equalising factor for fathers in the world of parenthood. See, mommies get to carry the babies for close to a year and in some cases go through the breast feeding process. The bond, the connection is there between mother and child simply by nature. Us dads are playing catch up and have to manufacture the bond we share with our children.

So we rub mommies tummy during pregnancy and try to burp the baby after mommy breast feeds (or bottle feed the baby in the case of those who do not breast feed) and we tell ourselves that we are bonding. And we are. It is just that we are miles away from the ground that mommies cover by the process of nature and pain.

So when Jodi looks at Nikki and says "Daddy", I make sure to answer.

That's right, I claim it. All along thinking to myself the entire time "Oh yes the sweet sound of the word Daddy!"