My kids’ grandfather, my father-in-law, passed away last week.  He was diagnosed with prostate cancer about a year and a half ago.  Thanks to the VA cutting corners with the tests they were supposed to be doing, the cancer was already in Stage 4 when they discovered it, and had already moved into his bones and throughout his body.  Had they actually been doing the tests they said they were, they would have caught it sooner and possibly been able to treat it more effectively. But that is not the point.

This is the first time my wife and I have had to explain death to our children on a personal level.  Only my oldest had ever been to a viewing before. His only question back then was whether the body in the casket was going to be a vampire or a zombie. Thanks, Buffy.  This time, he’s now 8, he understands what it means that Grandpa is dead and he has broken down into tears several times since finding out.

My 4-year-old never really cried, but seems to understand that Grandpa is in Heaven.  She became somber when we first told her, but we really focused on the fact that Grandpa was no longer sick or in pain and that we would see him again one day.  This has been enough for her, and I think she understands.

My 3-year-old never really gave any sign of misunderstanding.  She seemed to be in the same boat as my 4-year-old.  That was until we were at the grave site.  The services were all concluded and the family was hanging around talking, consoling each other and not wanting to leave.  My little girl was looking at the casket, and then turned to my wife and asked when Grandpa was coming out. My wife explained the situation again, and my sweet little girl truly became sad for the first time.

How do you explain death to children who don’t quite understand such concepts?  I am sure the next time we are at Grandma’s we will get the question of, “Where’s Grandpa?” Another question is, what will come first: their understanding of death or their forgetting what Grandpa was really like?

My side of the family comes from decidedly non-Viking-like stock. We have a good bit of southern woods Native American (those are Indians) mixed in, along with (I’m assuming) some sort of pale European genetic material. Unlike my wife’s side of the family, who are endowed with a dollop of hefty Germanic breeding, myself and the rest of my family are little people for the most part.

But we’re spunky and that makes up for a lot.

Yesterday MLI (my little introvert) came home from daycare with an injury report and this time he wasn’t the victim. Instead, he was the cause. Or was he?

As is always the case with these things, what happened leading up to the “incident” depends largely on whom you talk to. My son’s teacher told Careermom that an older boy was being some sort of undisclosed “mean” to my son and in retaliation, my son bit him. The “victim’s” teacher says my son was just being mean. MLI hasn’t bitten anyone since he was a toddler and he’s four now, so something unusual must have happened to cause him to do this.

Of course he got “the talk” and he lost a privilege or two at home, but throughout the evening, both CareerMom and I questioned him about the incident, and the story, at least from his viewpoint, unfolded something like this:

MLI and some of his friends are often on the playground at the same time as a couple of older classes. There are some older boys who, for whatever reason, gravitate around my son and his friends, probably because my son and his homeys are usually playing “Superfriends” while these older kids are playing “Power Rangers.” Now, for some reason, I have a serious aversion to the Power Rangers, as do the parents of MLI’s best friend, so they don’t play Power Rangers. But this doesn’t stop the older kids from coming over and attempting to rope the younger ones into playing. And in doing so, they call them “Boom Rangers.” Yeah, I don’t get it either, but...whatever.  The point is, the older kids frequently bother the younger kids and this isn’t the first time we’ve heard of there being a problem.

Yesterday while my son was on the swing, this other boy stood nearby trying to get him off the swing and kept calling him a “Boom Ranger.” There was also some kind of “...sneaking up on me and I don’t like that...” going on. This went on until somehow the two boys got really close together and MLI bit the older boy. End of story.

But I have a couple of problems with this:
1. My son bit an older boy? Hmm, that in itself is suspect. I mean, I don’t doubt that it happened; I doubt the “who’s at fault?” theory.
2. Why was this older boy stalking my child and where were the playground monitors?
3. My son typically avoids confrontation. If something is going on he doesn’t like, he attempts to flee (”...so we can fight another day!")

Looking back at the times when I was little when I did something notoriously stupid, like pushing Ryan Smith into the lockers in 5th grade after I’d finally taken enough of his crap, I know that I’d reacted out of sheer frustration, not meanness. It wasn’t premeditated; I simply reacted out of emotion. And you know what? It worked. Ryan and I became close friends, which most dads know is usually what happens in these situations.

Obviously, I can’t condone biting under any circumstances; but while I disagree with the method, I don’t begrudge him the sentiment, or for that matter, the act itself. Had the bite been a shove, or even a hit, as long as it was in self-defense, I’m OK with it.

Childhood psychologists worldwide are shaking their heads at me right now (I’m sure many read this blog), but folks I’m sorry, I’m not going to beat my kid up for defending himself.

But I’m curious to hear from other dads, and moms. How do you deal with these situations?

As it turns out, MLE (My Little Extrovert) was bitten yesterday, so as a whole, we came out even. The universe is pretty good like that isn’t it?

I wanted to take a short interlude this month.  One of the things I like most about blogs is finding other dads that are going through the same things I am.  Following blogs, and tracking down comments is a great way to do that.  Personally speaking, I think it’s not quite as easy to meet new people that way.  So when I found Twitter, I was pretty excited.  Once I signed up, I immediately met new Dad’s who are online and discussing fatherhood from any number of different perspectives.

Don’t know what Twitter is?  The popular term is micro-blogging You post what you’re doing in 140 characters or less.  People can sign up to ‘follow’ you, and they’ll get your messages.  I tend to think of it as a public\broadcast Instant Messaging platform.  If you’re already familiar with IM and have the ability to use this during the day, I’d highly recommend it as a way to find interesting discussions about any particular topic.

You can follow me here.  Twhirl is the client I use, you can download that here.  But you can also just view your twitter ‘stream’ on Twitter’s website.  If you’re looking for Dads to follow, this post by Derek Semmler is a great starting point. 

To some this might be information overload.  But you can pay attention at your own convenience.  And if you’re looking at this blog, you’re probably interested in meeting new people and reading about their perspectives on parenting.

Look me up and say hello!

Each week there is a celebration in our home. It begins early on Wednesday morning and includes singing, cheers, and some occasional dancing – it’s also included tears when one of the boys sleeps through the first phase. The celebration isn’t something my wife or I started; it began with one of our youngest son’s fascinations.

Each Wednesday morning, we hear the tell-tale screech and both the boys bolt out of bed and rush to the window to begin the celebration for a much needed, yet seldom recognized group of men, the “garb men” – known to you and me as garbage men.

My youngest son, Alex, loves big trucks and a garbage truck certainly qualifies. On trash day, they rush to the window for each wave (refuse, plastic & glass, and paper) of collection, scream “garb men”, and watch in fascination. Some days they simply return to what they were doing when the truck moves on, but on other days they run around singing praise to the garbage men – it’s quite a spectacle.

It may seem funny, but this celebration is one of the things that concerned me about moving. I accepted a new position in a different part of the country and one of the things I’ve been wondering is – will garbage day be too early or too late in the day for the celebration? We’re staying with friends for now and the kids were able to see the new garbage men – it wasn’t the same celebration, but the men were appreciated none the less.

There are a lot of things that we take for granted – jobs that people do that are necessary for our society to function, but jobs that I often overlook; things I take for granted. I realize that we can’t have a party every day for all the people that make our lives what they are, but my sons are certainly showing me that we can take the time to appreciate them more often.

Hurray for all of our civil servants and community helpers.

Don’t we all want to be the best parents ever?  Every generation seems to convince itself that the last generation got it all wrong.  My Mom had Dr. Spock.  He released his book, Baby and Child Care in 1946 (that, by the way, was long before his work on the USS Enterprise).  An oft cited quote from Dr. Spock is, “Parenting is about choices and deciding what’s best for your child.” Revolutionary!  Can you imagine the pre-Spock world that our ancestors grew up in, where everyone thought parenting was about being restricted and deciding what was worst for your child?  That’s the same world where kids regularly snacked on lead paint chips and got their heads stuck in too-wide crib rails.

Then, our generation was blessed with Dr. Sears and The Baby Book.  Oh, man.  He’s the ‘attachment parenting’ genius.  You know - if you don’t hold your child 24/7, he or she may develop serious social and psychological disorders.  To quote the good Dr., “…a child’s needs that are not filled leave an empty space that can come back later as anxieties…(317)” Wow, as if being a new parent wasn’t stressful enough, now we were worried not just about making the right choice in the moment, (‘Johnny is probably crying because he has a wet diaper, so I’ll change it.’), but we had the added pressure of knowing that a wrong choice (‘Actually, his diaper had nothing to do with it.  He was crying because he was hungry’) could result in years of therapy in some dark, unknown future.

When Tonya was pregnant with our first child, we were reading Dr. Sears and believing every word.  We were going to be the best parents in history and he was our ticket.  For Tonya, it was every maternal instinct and hormone coupled with her truly giving and loving nature (yeah, I hope she reads this…).  For me, I hate to admit it, but during the pregnancy, it felt like a challenge.  This was the big game, and I wasn’t going to be beaten.  That attitude lasted until I held Isabel the first time, about 15 seconds after she was born, and realized that it was only about love…but I’ll save that for another blog entry.

Anyway, to get to the point, we did it all:  co-sleeping (again, a topic for another blog…), making our own baby food, never putting her down, never letting her cry AND making our own baby wipes (“Ay, there’s the rub…”).

Yes, we made our own baby wipes.  In case you aren’t familiar with the concept, the basic recipe is paper towels, water, olive oil, and a few drops of baby shampoo – put it all in a Tupperware container and wait.  At the time, it didn’t occur to me (as it apparently hasn’t occurred to the hucksters still plying the idea on the internet – go ahead, type “make my own baby wipes” into Google) that this is also the recipe for a PETRI DISH!

So we diligently made those ‘more healthy’ wipes and wiped our beautiful newborn with them – and she developed urinary tract infections – twice.  We didn’t put this all together, and neither did the doctor.  The doctor had her own ideas about what was going on…

Allow me to pause in my story to tell you about a more recent event.  Last week my brother, who is seven years younger than me (and whose first-born isn’t yet a year old) emailed to ask a question.  His son had a bunch of ear infections and the pediatrician recommended tubes…my brother was freaked out at the idea of putting his son under anesthesia and under the knife.  What did I think?  Here’s a bit of what I wrote back:

“There is this tendency in the medical field to go with the quickest possible fix (e.g. four vaccinations in one visit).  I asked a friend who is a public health nurse about this and she explained it by saying that, as a medical provider, you try to do the quickest and most efficient thing possible because you don’t know when, or if, people will come back.

Try chiropractic; it worked for Abe (our second born, who also had lots of ear infections).  A few adjustments, and I’d bet that his ear infections will go away.  Be wary of accepting doctor’s advice carte blanche.  Your son is not a statistic; he can’t be placed on a bell curve.  He’s your son and you know him and love him more than anyone ever will.  Avoid surgery; try the other options, but watch him, closely.  Watch him and you’ll know if he needs surgery or even if he needs another round of antibiotics…”

Back to the story…after two urinary tract infections, the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that a baby be given a voiding cystourethrogram (VCUG).  Here’s how it works:  X-rays are taken, and then a catheter is inserted into the bladder through the urethra. A liquid dye is put into the bladder through the tube, and more X-rays are taken to watch the dye as the bladder fills and as the baby urinates.

Pretty heavy stuff – x-rays of the urethra, bladder and uterus, a catheter in my 9 month old baby–I didn’t like it.  So as a loving dad, as Papa Bear, I asked why.  What was the goal and/or benefit of this procedure?  What were the risks?  Was it absolutely necessary?  The conversation didn’t go so well.

The test is for vesicoureteral reflux (VUR).  That’s a condition in which urine from the bladder backs up into the kidneys. It’s found in less than half (30-40%) of toddlers who have urinary tract infections.  So, after this astoundingly invasive procedure, what would change if Isabel had VUR?  Not a lot.  Many kids outgrow it.  Some get a continual low dose of antibiotics, and a few need a surgical fix, but the Doc admitted that, whatever the results, she was inclined just to do the test and wait.  At the same time, she was very irritated that I would question her about this (as she recited the info I found online about the condition almost verbatim).  It was, after all, a protocol backed by the AAP.  In essence, her answer was, ‘we do the test because we can (so there!).’

For some reason, in the end, we agreed to let them do the test.  As I handed my baby over and had to move behind the lead screen as they x-rayed her, then watched her scream and cry as an intern held her down and the nurse inserted the catheter, I knew we’d made a mistake.  The test was negative; anatomically, she was fine.  That same week, I popped open our homemade Tupperware wipes, and they smelled like a used towel left in the corner of a locker room.  We stopped using them – Isabel never had another UTI.

Can I ever prove that those wipes were the cause of her UTI?  No.  Can I say with certainty, though, that we shouldn’t have had that procedure done?  Yes, absolutely.  Even if, since that time, Tonya and I hadn’t discovered that chiropractic really does seem to help with certain infections (again…another blog…), it felt wrong, and it made no sense.  We should have listened to that parental instinct – which pre-dates Spock and Sears.  I can honestly say at this point that we love our pediatrician and we love our chiropractor, but mostly, we love our kids.

We all know that parenting is, if anything, a humbling experience, and there are lots of experts out there to tell us how little we know.  That humbleness is important in the face of the awesome responsibility we bear as parents.  At the same time, I like to read a little Sears now and again to remind myself that the experts don’t always get it right – and sometimes they are downright silly.

Parenting provides a constant low dose of uncertainty, so an occasional shot in the arm of self-trust can’t hurt.