Category Archives: kids’ love

What Does Impulsive Look Like?

"Dad, honest I did not pick up your nasal hair trimmer to attack my eyebrow."
“Dad, honest I did not pick up your nasal hair trimmer to attack my eyebrow.”

​In 36 hours, my son took scissors at school and cut his hair really close to the scalp, tested his scissors that he took home on his pillow case, and tried out my nasal hair trimmer on his eyebrow. It is funny to me when colleagues at work tell me about the trouble their children invent. It makes me realize it is not that my kids do unusual things to find their way through the world. It is that they do so many, so often, and in such rapid fire ways. So my colleagues sometimes look at me like I have some sort of antidote because my kids still live despite having made crazy decisions. If I had that power, do you think my kids would still be making and remaking the same decisions? I mean O has now nut his hair to the scalp three times now at ages 3, 6, and now 8. It’s a good thing he looks good with a shaved head.

This same impulsive behavior that often makes me feel as if my hair is falling out when O is hyper every night at 7:30 to 9, also leads to some very touching, heart felt moments of empathy. Last week after talking about how A could only eat peanut butter sandwiches every day because we had to limit her food, O decided that was all he would make himself for lunch. That way A would not feel alone in not being allowed to have different lunches like her friends have. I think these moments are golden.

I just wish we had a few less moments like last night when O came home from a birthday party A left because she didn’t want to watch everyone else eat pizza and cake. O came home and said, “A, you should have been there. We had pizza and great cake! It was awesome.” I think the head-slap emoticon was meant for those moments.

I wonder how many more generations will enjoy newspaper comics.  I love seeing my kids read for fun.
I wonder how many more generations will enjoy newspaper comics. I love seeing my kids read for fun.

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The First 3,652 Days of Marriage (10 Wonderful Years)

Many years ago, in a time unlike today, I began a lucky streak, unbroken to this day.
Many years ago, in a time unlike today, I began a lucky streak, unbroken to this day.

This week, J and I will hit a milestone, our tenth anniversary.   After 3,652 days of marriage, I can still claim to be the lucky one.  I married an awesome woman, a great mom, a good cook, a caring nurse and  my friend.  I managed all of this without running afoul of polygamy laws too. I think about all of this in light of research showing MS patients are 40% more likely to divorce than the general public (already grim odds), and like in so many other topics, I am happy our family embodies the role of the exception.

Every year, I include on an anniversary card my favorite saying, though I know not where it originates,

“Come walk with me.

Stay and grow old with me.

The Best is yet to be.

This I believe.”

I think the reason I have always liked the saying is the way it makes sense in so many orders. In my head, the order is frequently swapped to the point where I don’t even know the “correct” order any more. The only current tense relates to a belief in the bright future.  The future in any order speaks to a vision of a wonderful shared journey.  What more could I ever want than someone with whom to share the good life?

Because it’s our ten year anniversary, I’m happy to be able to bring out my other favorite verse to describe the way I would wish to think about our last 3,652 days and my hopes for tomorrow and all of tomorrows’ tomorrow: .

Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself. will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

      Walt Whitman (end of Song of the Open Road)

Sometimes, the best part of a shared journey is the feeling of having helped those whom we love and admire. K (age 3) pushed A (age 8) up the hill.
Sometimes, the best part of a shared journey is the feeling of having helped those whom we love and admire. K (age 3) pushed A (age 8) up the hill.
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