Control

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Control?

January 30, 2011 | 2 comments

Recently, we celebrated Squirts’ fifth birthday. Could that be right? His fifth birthday? There are many days I don’t feel old enough to have a five-year-old son. Of course, most days I’m reminded (by either my body or my wife) that I’m easily old enough to have a 20-year-old son, to say nothing of a five-year-old. But that’s another story.

We kicked off what has become an annual weeklong celebration by telling Squirts he could choose to eat anywhere he’d like on his actual birthday. The week then followed with cupcakes at school, a bowling party with friends, and a family party with his Aunt K who shares a birthday the same month. By the time it’s all over, it feels like we should start prepping for his sixth!

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Out of Control

May 2, 2010 | 6 comments

Nothing shatters the illusion of control like being a parent. It starts the moment that baby comes screaming into the world (at least for dad; for mom, the feeling might start some nine months earlier). We knew we were in for an adventure when the delivery nurse—a woman who had witnessed thousands of births—responded to Squirts’ noisy arrival by saying, “Well, isn’t he dramatic!” Let the fun begin!

From there, the appearance of control has continued to crumble:

  • You never really appreciate the simple ability to decide when to sleep, eat or use the facilities until your carefree life turns on a dime to an hourly schedule of all those things.
  • Shopping for a birthday gift at Target takes on a whole new meaning when you turn back to the cart just in time to see your two-year-old projectile vomiting into the basket.
  • Driving to church becomes directed by a map marked with every easy-in/easy-out restroom to avoid another commando Sunday.
  • The five minute trek across the amusement park to the Shamu show takes 25 minutes because there’s so much for a four-year-old to see. Daddy, look at that rock! Mommy, I found a stick! Hey, that guy is old!

And those are just a few of the moments from the first four years. I’m in denial about what the future holds.

Last summer, DeDe and I met some people who have their own unique perspective on the illusion of control when we traveled with her church praise team to Northern Ireland. Read the rest of this entry »

The Big Picture

April 18, 2010 | 1 comment

[My wife DeDe has more faith in her little finger than I can muster in my whole arm some days. Add to that that she has more talent in her little fingernail than I have in my whole body, and it almost doesn't seem fair. The only thing that makes it OK is that she recognizes her faith and talent as gifts from God, and she happily shares them to glorify God's name. This week, she wrote a beautiful and insightful article for her church newsletter. I asked for her permission to include it on SoulSquirts as a guest post. She said yes! So, enjoy!]


To those who say, “Let God hurry, let him hasten his work so we may see it. Let it approach, let the plan of the Holy One of Israel come, so we may know it.” – Isaiah 5:19

This past week I had the privilege of going to a quilt show that my mother-in-law helped put together. Quilting is not something I am great at, but I am totally amazed by what these ladies do with fabric and thread. My mother-in-law had been working on this beautiful quilt for months, and I mean months. Last year, at this time we were at the lake house and she had this tiny piece of material about the size of a half dollar. She spent hour after hour on pieces that same size. We would be together a few weeks later and she would be working on a different piece, but it was still just an individual, tiny, half dollar-size piece of material.

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Becoming the Incredible Hulk

February 28, 2010 | 2 comments

Watching television with Squirts is never boring—not that the programs he chooses aren’t boring or repetitive or mind-numbing. But Squirts has a way of spicing it up by becoming a part of anything he watches on TV. Shortly after the show begins, he picks a character with whom he identifies—and then becomes.

“Mommy,” he says, “I’m Diego. And you’re that girl. Daddy, you’re Baby Jaguar.” Or, “Daddy, I’m The Incredible Hulk. You’re that guy with knives that come out of his hands.”

I’m not always the strange animal character, but it’s not unusual. In fact, lately, he’s been hogging all of the good characters. “Daddy, I’m Shaggy, Freddy and Scooby. Uh, you’re that ghost.”

As he watches the show, he becomes the character he has chosen. He even talks in first-person throughout his ongoing commentary of the program. It was a little startling at first when he said, “Daddy, you look like you want to hit me,” or when he asked, “Why are my feet so big?”

It took a couple of flustered promises that I had no desire to hit him before I realized he was talking about “my” character looking angry. And I’m not sure I was really any help when I assured him that, yes, he does have large feet, but I’m sure other kids wouldn’t notice.

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Bear