Here Daddy or Beware Of Three Year Olds Bearing Gifts

We've begun the exciting task of potty training at our house. The proposed reward for this is that when he learns he will be ready for preschool and be "big" just like his sister. Of course Sam has taken this very seriously and always wants to please Mom and Dad. He is at that time in life when everything is about helping and pleasing others. Small children are not selfish, rather they see the best in life, they see that helping others is a good thing. They see that the world is a better place when you get along and work towards a common goal. Folk who don't have kids don't get to see this. 

I never wanted kids in the beginning. I was one of those people who thought that the world is a horrible place and that to bring a child into it was a horrible thing to do. That way of thinking changed with my daughter, Logan, being born. I don't think I had ever seen perfection until the first time I saw her, held her. There is something magical about that. It can't be written, not really. Other Dads will understand.

Then, four years later, along comes Sam, and I got to feel it all over again except a little differently. I now had a son. Logan was and still is a tomboy but she is deserting to the other side. From superheroes to Barbies, from action shows to things a bit more girly, and I'm okay with that. It's the natural order of things and she wants to be like the other girls at school. (Don't tell anyone but I catch her playing with one of her Batman sets all the time and I don't care if you're male or female, Whovians don't judge by sex.)

I learned to raise Logan. I told her when she was born and we were all alone that I was just winging it. I had no idea what to do or how to do, but we would work together and make it through all this. Now with Sam I have done the same and it's very much the same but also different for me at the same time. Why should the change in biology of the child matter so much in the raising? Is it because I am so traditional as far as family goes? Either way, I'm still winging it. I was raised in the church so my values come from that base. I don't follow the traditional path of Christianity. I don't agree with following the rule just cause the rule is there, I question why. I always question and challenge authority, because they have to prove to me that they indeed have the right to authority over me. I am raising my children not to conform. Just because everyone else is doing it doesn't mean that you have to. Never let people waste your time, never let weaker people get hurt by someone just because they are stronger. My basic lessons to my kids. Always be the hero. There's always someone that needs help. We pass them everyday knowing that we can't help everyone. If that were possible Logan would. Sometimes I worry that her heart is too big for this world. That as big as it is, this world is going to swallow it whole. And I don't want my little girl to lose because of that. So I have to teach her as well that no matter how many times that heart gets broken, she has to try again. 

Sam is all boy. Running, jumping, rough housing. I am with him 99% of the time. We do boy things. We play with cars, build with blocks, watch action shows. Sometimes we just sit around in our underwear and burp. (Okay, that last part's not true. But we could if we wanted to.) I'm a stay at home Dad and proud of it. I never regretted the choice to stay at home. It has been an eye opening experience to realize how much is involved with taking care of a house on a day to day basis. The cleaning and other things that Mags and I used to share after regular work hours without kids has turned into a full time job with kids. The laundry never stops for one thing. There is always a load that needs done. Children don't stop eating. I don't mean "you have to feed these things everyday?" I mean they never stop eating. As soon as a meal is finished, they want a snack. And they don't care what it is. If it doesn't eat them first, they're going to eat it. I worry about going to sleep around them sometimes for fear of waking up to one or both of them chewing on a leg or arm. If you decide to have kids my only advice to you is popcorn. Lots of popcorn. It's cheap and filling. And it holds the wolves at bay here sometimes. Luckily our two are very much into fruits with the occasional piece of candy, otherwise our dentist would have a huge payday in the next few years. 

Here I am going to stop you. Here I am going to warn you. If you are the least little bit squeamish or easily grossed out, stop reading now.

Okay? Step this way...

This morning Sam walked into the living room and placed something on my arm. "Here, Daddy," he said, "this for you." "Is it chocolate?," I asked. It certainly looked like chocolate, and I am not above a little chocolate in the morning, nothing wrong with that. He laughed, "No. It not chocolate, it poop." 

In the potty training we have gone from pull ups to boxer briefs "like Daddy". These are not designed to  "maintain the integrity of the payload" should an accident such as this happen. His are a little loose on the leg as he hasn't develop the larger muscles in his thighs yet so things tend to fall out of them if place or deposited in them.

There was a time when I would have freaked out had someone placed poop on my arm. I'm not quiet sure when this happened to change. I am quiet sure that it is a recent happening, like in the last hour or so. As I follow my son picking up bits of payload behind him, I thought about this. There aren't many people I would do this for. As a matter of fact I can count them all on two hands. 

People often talk of what they would do for love. Romantic love and parental or family type love are so much different. I see people writing all the time of what they would do for love. They would climb the highest mountains and swim the deepest seas. Fight hoards of barbarians at the gate of some mystic city. Attain impossible objects though the odds greatly outweigh them ever achieving the task.

Romeo and Juliet. Superman and Lois Lane. LOVE.

Pick up another persons poop as they are running from you. Then talk to me of love. Stay up nights worrying over them, listening for the slightest change in their breathing through a monitor. Feel the pain when you can't make it better with a kiss or some goofy printed band-aid. Or the heartache when they break yours.

That's love.

Picking up poop is just part of it.