Baby Update May 2, 2016

Hello everyone. Instead of me answering the questions, "How's your wife?" and "How's the baby?" fifty different times a day I'm going to give you guys a quick update here.

Our son's due date was scheduled April 29. It's May 2 and he decided he rather stay instead of getting up and start working.

Typical.

We do have an induction schedule for May 6 (this Friday) in the late evening. So if our little guy doesn't come before then the doctors are smoking him out this weekend. My wife is doing fine but she's extremely uncomfortable. I imagine being 40 weeks pregnant would be somewhat confining. It's not a total surprise that our third child is late. Our first child, Joelle, was 6 days late. Our second child, Alaina, was 8 days late. So our boy being late just confirms he's a part of the family.

Waiting around for a baby to come isn't new to us. But I do feel badly for my wife who has to basically sleep with a basketball in her belly. Honestly though, there's a little part of me that wants the little guy to come during his scheduled induction so we could see Civil War. "Hey honey, how about a movie and a baby tonight?" How often do you get to ask that question?

The things remaining on my "to-do" list is . . . well . . . nothing really. I only need my phone. It has everything. My bible, books, twitter, music, etc. The only thing I really need is to pack junk food. But I'm sure there's an app for that.

We'll keep you posted right here! Thanks for your support and prayers.

Two Years of Joy

So my little Alaina Joy just turned two. I remember the night she first came into the world and joined our blessed family. Being a parent is difficult. Anyone who is a parent would agree 1,000%. The idea of being parent is difficult for most people. Even when I was single I could understand in the abstract that being a parent would be extremely difficult and an endeavor I wanted to postpone as long as humanly possible. However, inevitability arrived a few short years after I got married to my beautiful wife. My motto of "avoiding responsibility" was completely and utterly obliterated. There is no avoiding it once you have children.

You see I've viewed, for much of my life, children as a necessary evil. It was a joyless "We have to have them because that's what people do" mentality. I even lazily attempted to find some goodness in having children but still ultimately viewed them as symbols of subjugation, restriction of leisure, and constraints towards happiness. I had a wife to take care of, a mortgage to pay, a lawn to mow, a dog to walk, and I was trying to start my own business. Where did having children fit into all of this?

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Good people in my life tried to tell me that being a parent is "character building." But character didn't matter to a self-absorbed idiot like myself. In my immaturity I thought "happiness" was "freedom from responsibility." That is a great lie the devil and the world tells every young person. Sadly, most of us buy into it and ultimately never truly grow up. Certainly there are people without children who are mature and godly. I'm talking about dismissing fatherhood as if it were banishment from "real freedom." In reality, I was hiding a deep seeded fear underneath this fake tough guy bravado. It was a fear that I might turn out to be like my dad (Summary: He wasn't around). It was masking my own feelings of inadequacies at being a father. Any type of major life change is scary to a child. And I was a child in fear of major change.

So what happened?

Parenting is embarrassing, exhilarating, and down right exhausting. It touches the entire emotional spectrum of the human soul and in so doing it awakens emotional senses within you and it expands your capacity for greater love. Like most things that happen in life, you either continue to avoid the responsibilities that have been given to you and fail or embrace them and thrive and watch yourself be transformed as the thing you dreaded (fatherhood) becomes the catalyst for greater heights of joy you never knew existed.

I love my children and I find joy in their joy. As a result, I learn to find joy in the joys of others, not just my own children. And when we truly "rejoice with those who rejoice" and experience it within community everyone shares in a joy inexpressible and unfading. I believe that's the way God designed a man to experience fatherhood. I've never been more affirmed in my manhood and my masculinity until I had the responsibility of taking care of a family, especially taking care of my children. I never thought that would be the case. But God clearly had other plans and I'm glad His plan always wins out.

Happy Birthday Alaina Joy! You are so dear to my heart and you've changed daddy's life forever. You motivate me to be a better man and a better father by your existence and just like your name you bring unspeakable joy to my life. I love you.

Why Do Men Want Sons?

Why Do Men Want Sons?

It’s simple really. We want company of our own gender, to share male camaraderie, do yard work together or go play ball together. Some men want to replicate the relationship they had with their own fathers (e.g., go to ball games, fishing, etc) and some want to build a close relationship they never had with their dads. I would be the latter.

I’ve said before that I’ve often wondered what it would’ve been like if I had a caring father growing up. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so angry, maybe I would’ve learned how to deal with my emotions better, maybe I would’ve learned the lessons I’ve learned sooner and would’ve been better off today. Well, I actually get to see a glimpse of that in my son. I know my son will have his own identity and his own interests. But he will also have a faithful father. The crazy part is that I have no idea what’s it like to have a loving and caring biological father, someone who will be firm and kind and not just cruel and demanding. The prospect to be someone I needed when I was a child to my own son is a cherished opportunity.

There is always the risk of vicarious living through your child, especially between a father and son. It’s a natural desire to want to have common interest with your child in order to have a point of connection, but it gets unhealthy when the child feels things are forced on them. I joke around about my son not having a choice with playing basketball. Truthfully, I really hope he loves basketball. It’s the best sport in the world in my opinion. I imagine taking him to Laker games and teaching the history of the team and all the legends from years past. But if he’s not interested, it’s not the end of the world (at least that’s what I keep telling myself). If anything else, I have an excuse to play with toys again.

What is important is that he has a personal relationship with the Lord. Although my wife and I will influence him in that regard there’s no guarantee he will come to know the Lord. That’s my worst fear. But I take comfort in the fact that the Lord will love him far more than I could.

Mental Preparation

My New Testament Greek professor told us on the first day of class that if you know something is hard up front you will be better mentally prepared for it. And yes, Greek was hard. My wife has done an amazing job as a mother to our two girls. Throwing a son into the mix, with half of my DNA, will probably be pretty volatile. Raising a son will be hard. So here’s a running list of things I’m already preparing for mentally:

• Getting pee in the face when I change his diaper
• My son hitting me in the balls for no reason
• Our food bill tripling as he gets older
• Breaking everything in his path because he thinks it’s fun
• Constantly injuring himself because he can’t understand why he can’t fly
• Being too rough with his sisters
• His teacher telling me he can’t stay still, focus, or complete a task because he has too much energy
• Trying to make him understand that smoking pot isn’t good for him
• Getting a call in the middle of the night needing to get bailed out of jail

This list is a few things from the top of my head. My fragile mind can only take so much. I’m sure they’ll be other things that come up. But part of the wonder of parenthood is figuring it all out as you go.

Carrying on the Family Name

I never gave much thought about my name other than the fact that no one knows how to pronounce it. When I realized I may never have a son and my name would come to an end when my daughters married some idiot, it didn’t really matter to me because it was my father’s name. He wasn’t the most outstanding citizen so who cares about his name ending. Now that I’m about to have a son, it’s made me rethink that premise. How many times does one have the opportunity to completely change their family tree? It’s already started.

• My father was lazy and never wanted to work and lost all his money gambling.

• He was never there physically or emotionally. When we look back at old family photos he was visibly absent.

• I don’t have very many memories of him. I do have one vivid memory but I won’t write it here. Sorry, it’s hard to even write it down.

• We went through an extremely stressful time with my stepfather. He was much worse if you could believe that. I kept thinking, “If my father was here we wouldn’t be going through this.”

It took my heavenly Father to firmly break me of my pride, anger, and bitterness and kindly reveal His will for adopting me as His son and lavish me with His grace in order to change me and gain proper perspective on everything that’s happened. All the negative stuff that’s happened in my life has been used to drive me to be better at everything I do. I don’t use it as a license to walk around with a chip on my shoulder, but I use it as a reminder to avoid the path of my forefathers and forge a new legacy as God’s adopted son. So my son will have the same name as my father but an entirely new meaning. That’s the beauty of redemption. God can take anything and make it new.

I hope to be a vessel of God’s grace to my son. I pray my son will receive God’s grace and that grace will forever give him hope, meaning, and purpose that drives him to godliness in a way I could not when I was young.

It's A Boy!

Finally! I’m having a boy!!! Yes, I admit both times I found out I was having a girl I was a little disappointed. Of course, over a period of time I learned to love my girls and now wouldn’t trade them for anything. When my wife told me she was pregnant for the third time I went through my regular routine of denial, “Are you sure?” and then acceptance, “Okay. That’s cool.” I skipped anger, bargaining, and depression because I’m too lazy to go through too long of a process.

After having two girls and genuinely enjoying them and learning to love them well, I came to a place of contentment and became completely satisfied with the fact that I may never have a son. It was a process for sure, but I got there. In fact, I was ready to endure the endless jokes from friends and family about having several weddings to pay for and not being able to retire when I wanted. Hey, if God wanted me to raise nothing but girls then I’d try and be the best father to a bunch of girls and hope they’d end up dating and marrying some godly guy with Division I talent (think Stephen Curry).

Now the day came when my wife surprised me with a gift on the Lakers season opener. It was a bag with baby clothes in it. At first, I pulled out the shoes and didn’t understand why she would get me a pair of baby shoes. But then she asked me to look in the bag further. I did so and found a baby shirt that said, “Baby Brother.” I was so overcome with emotion I might’ve wept a little (or a lot but you’ll never know because you’ll never see the video).

Yes. I’m an emotional sap. I’m even more so now that I’m having a son. I was watching The Lion King the other day and got emotional. It wasn’t even the part where Mufasa died (Although that part gets me every time. Oh sorry, Spoiler Alert!). It was the part after Mufasa rescued young Simba from the Hyenas and had to lecture him. Mufasa was firm and showed the gravity of the situation, “You deliberately disobeyed me! … And Nala could’ve been hurt!” And being the wise father Mufasa was, he saw the flaw in Simba’s thinking, “I just wanted to be brave.” And corrected his thinking, “No son, that’s not being brave” while still affirming his love for Simba, “I was afraid of losing you.” It’s an amazing scene. Let’s break it down further:

• Defining clear roles: “I am your father and you are my son, … you need to obey me.”
• There are consequences to your actions: “You and Nala could’ve been hurt.”
• Correcting a child’s thinking and clearly defining terms and ideas: “I wanted to be brave like you.” “Bravery doesn’t mean you go looking for trouble.”
• Yet, not completely destroying his son’s morale but affirming a father’s love by being vulnerable: “I was afraid of losing you.” How many fathers are willing to show vulnerability to their sons in order to affirm their love for them?

That’s pretty good stuff for an animated feature. I guess that’s why it’s a classic. It’s a great father/son exchange that gets me emotionally all the time because, as a parent, it’s not easy to have proper balance between firmness and affirmation and this scene does it beautifully (having James Earl Jones’ majestic voice doesn’t hurt).

I hope to provide this for my son, and my other kids as well, just without the whole “dying in a stampede” thing.

Making A Splash

My weekend warrior routine usually consists of me playing basketball Saturday mornings, coming home and bragging to my wife about how well I played, and working out on Sundays after church to make sure I can still play basketball well enough to brag about it to my wife.

However, this particular Saturday morning was different. I used to think girls who got frustrated when men didn’t know what they were thinking were weird. I mean, how are we supposed to know what girls are thinking? We don’t expect them to know what we’re thinking (although, admittedly, guys usually think about nothing anyway). Girls refer to this expectation of theirs as, “Picking up the signs.” I wish that instead of applying some type of electroencephalography and hoping our neurons reach a comprehensive understanding of all forms of non-verbal communication, girls would just go ahead and tell us what they want.

Ha!

That’s just naïveté on my part. Older husbands know that’s never happening. You have to “pick up the signs” or else... Communicating in plain English just makes too much sense. But that’s another story for another day. I admit I’m getting better at “picking up the signs” from my wife. This particular weekend for example, I was headed out for my morning basketball routine and noticed she seemed stressed out and the kids were crying. I had my bag in hand and was ready to go. She would’ve been the “good wife” and been fine with it. But in clear conscience, I couldn’t just leave her in that state.

So I asked her if there was anything I could do to help. In short, I stayed and watched the kids so she could clean the house a bit more easily. We made plans to go to the local water park, Splash, later in the day. It just made sense to skip basketball that morning, help my wife, and hang out with my family.

Back when I was single, I remember dreading this exact situation. I would have to “give up my freedom” in order to attend to “family duties.” Strangely, I didn’t really mind missing out on some basketball. They’ll be other days to play. I was happy to help my wife and be with my baby girls. Who would’ve thunk?

After cleaning up the house, we got the kids ready for Splash. It would be my first time there, so I was looking forward to it. My oldest daughter loves the water. When we got to Splash, she wanted to go everywhere, but only if I was in arm’s reach of her. She was confident when daddy was around. She knows daddy will protect her, watch over her, and take her to places she can't go on her own. Her recognition of daddy's role gives her confidence to venture out and experience life.

I realized it’s a great stage in life. We must’ve gone down the slide about hundred times, and she never got tired of it. I loved every minute of it. I’ll never forget this particular day with my daughter and the chance to simply have a fun day with her as her daddy. In all of it, I realized that she’s starting to recognize me as a distinct person. Her Mom and I work together as a team, but she also knows that there are things that she can do with just Daddy (including our nighttime routine of “flying” up to the ceiling after Mom gives her a kiss).

Interestingly, she probably won’t remember this day. Initially this may seem sad. But it’s the accumulative moments gathered together over a long period of time that builds the relationship between a father and his child. It’s a double blessing in that you enjoy the moment as well as build towards a better relational future.

Bedtime

The other night, my wife was looking at video footage of Joelle when she was younger, still crawling around and laughing, and felt a tiny bit of sadness because she was growing up too fast. I thought to myself, “Relax. She’s not even two years old yet.”

A couple of days later my wife told me, “We need to get a bed for Joelle because she’s getting too big for the crib.” I said, “Okay,” but thought “How much is this bed going to cost, and will I have to be the one putting it together?” My wife recognized the look on my face and said, “It’s going to cost around $200.00? And yes, you’ll have to put it together.” Well then, I guess that’s that.

We took an early drive to IKEA and purchased the bed we wanted for Joelle. It was surprisingly easy to put together. I didn’t drop one F-bomb while I was assembling it. Once we finished setting it up in Joelle’s room, we were excited to see how she was going to react. Joelle was excited and jumped on the bed and had an ear-to-ear smile that would melt your heart. The true test, however, would be if she would actually sleep on it. The evening came and so did bed time. Joelle began complaining immediately that she didn’t want the bed and started crying. Instead of fighting her all night about it, my wife decided to put her back in the crib. What a waste of $200.00. I could’ve bought some new Kobe shoes with that money or spent at least 20 minutes at the blackjack table before losing it all.

My wonderful wife, however, came up with a plan to rearrange the furniture so the bed was in the same place as the crib in order to give Joelle the same perspective of the room while she was sleeping. As it turns out, it worked! It worked during nap time anyway. I had yet to see if it would work through the night. Again, the evening came and it was bedtime for Joelle. Our nightly ritual includes reading some stories to her, my wife putting her down, and then I close with a kiss and tucking her into bed. Last night was a little different though. I sat there on her new bed and held her reciting scripture and telling her the Lord provided a new bed for her. I also kept telling her how much I loved her. I could’ve been there on the bed all night with her it was so much fun. I tucked her in and told her “good night” as usual. After I closed the door, something hit me. My little girl IS growing up. She’s forming into a little person with her own thoughts and feelings. She tells me she “loves me” and can’t go to sleep without “daddy’s kiss.” Maybe she’s just posturing because she doesn’t want to get kicked out when she turns 18. Or maybe she knows I’m one of two people in the house who knows how to work the DVD player and can turn on Baby Einstein for her. Either way, if I were capable of crying I think I would have.

Eventually my little girl will grow up and be less affectionate, more independent, and start dating someone I disapprove of. But for now, I’m going to enjoy these moments with my daughter because it’s worth more to me than a hundred pairs of Kobe shoes.

Joelle’s Eye Surgery

Our 19-month-old needed corrective eye surgery because her eye crossed a bit. When we first heard the news, naturally, my wife and I were nervous for our baby. The doctor reassured us that it was a routine procedure and that he’s done it a thousand times on children. He also explained that if Joelle doesn’t have this corrective surgery, it could lead to further problems down the road.

It was less than a week from AJ’s birth and Joelle’s surgery was scheduled for early in the morning. My wife’s sister, Becky, and her parents were nice enough to come along that day. Joelle was blissfully unaware of what we were doing there. Once the nurses called us in and started walking us towards the preparation section, my heart rate increased like I just took a triple shot red eye from Starbucks. I thought to myself, “Sh** just got real.” The nurses were great. They were accommodating, extremely nice, and patient with Joelle as she rampaged through the facilities.

The anesthesiologist came by to give her some medication in order to calm her down. I thought to myself, “If this works I’m totally asking to take some home with me.” Unfortunately, the medication had an adverse affect on Joelle. Instead of calming her down it made her more agitated. She was getting drowsy but angry as well. It was a drunken baby rampage. This of course made both my wife and I even more nervous. My wife was already losing it emotionally, so I couldn’t possibly lose it either. One of us had to hold it together. Then it was time to put the hospital gown on her. It was dark green and had bears and balloons on it. I thought she would like it. Boy was I wrong.

Once we slipped it on her she looked down at it and started dropping baby F-bombs and completely lost it. Who knew 19-month-olds are fashionably aware? The nurses were flexible enough to take it off her. I mean, who could stand a drugged up, hungry 19-month-old screaming baby profanities at you? Finally the operating room was ready for her and they carried her off screaming baby F-bombs and all. Naturally, my wife got a little emotional so I tried my best to comfort her and reminded her we just needed to trust the Lord.

My wife, her sister Becky, and her parents went to take AJ to her grandparents to care for her there since they were so close by. I picked out a spot in the waiting room, sprawled out with my book, and pretended that I was in my own living room. I even had the person next to me say, “You look way too comfortable.” I smiled at her and said, “Well, if no one else is going to use these chairs . . . “

A couple of hours passed by and the doctor came out to give me an update on Joelle’s status. He said the surgery was almost done and that she was doing fine. I was relieved. He was going to allow me to go see her in a matter of minutes. I texted my wife the update and immediately she started heading over to the hospital. A nurse escorted me back toward the operating room and they brought Joelle out. She was screaming and still had her IV (Intravenous Therapy) in. I asked if they could remove it but they said it needed to be in for a while longer. Joelle’s eyes were swollen and blood shot. She hadn’t eaten or drank anything all day, so I wasn’t surprised to find her in a bad mood. I’m sure the anesthesia that she had been under didn’t help. I calmly wrapped Joelle in a blank and held her while caressing her head. She was able to stay calm for a while. My wife arrived shortly afterwards and we took turns holding her.

One Asian nurse with a thick accent said to me, “You know you remind me of my son.” I replied, “Really? How so?” She said, “You’re so calm just like he is. Nothing seems to trouble you.” Ha! If she only knew what was going on inside me. I just told her “Thanks,” and started thinking about my mom, wishing she were here. It certainly was a parental experience.

In short, Joelle’s surgery went well. We had a post-op appointment the next day and scheduled another one in six weeks. There’s a chance she may need another one but we’re praying that she won’t. It’s been about a week since the surgery and her eyes look better. She’s a little trooper. Thank you for all of you who prayed for her safety.

Labor Night

Didn’t we just do this? Well, that’s what it felt like when we were headed to the hospital for induction. It felt like we were resetting the clock after only 18 months. Joelle is on a schedule and sleeps through the night. She’s also hit all of her milestones and comprehends far more than I realize. Now, here comes Alaina Joy? We’re going to have to go through all the sleepless nights and schedule setting all over again, with the addition of a toddler to compete for attention on top of it?

Sweet!

Anyway, we could talk about that stuff later. Right now, here’s a running account of the night of induction. Our little angel number 2 was taking her sweet time, being 9 days overdue. Maybe she knew once she was born, I would start the clock – 18 years old and they’re out! My wife wasn’t feeling much of anything in the way of contractions. So induction was the plan. Why not? We had to induce with Joelle and everything turned out fine. It was scheduled for Sunday night at 11:30. We arrived at the hospital on time and had the induction started by midnight or so. AJ came at about 6:30am Monday morning, about 6.5 hours total. I was asleep for about 5.5 hours. Before you start thinking I’m a slacker just know that the couch in the room I was sleeping on was extremely uncomfortable. So it was 5.5 hours of restless sleep. Why can’t they have nicer places for the husband to sleep in labor rooms? I mean there wouldn’t even be labor rooms if it weren’t for men.

Also, I knew the induction could take a few hours anyway. At least that’s what I heard the doctor saying when I was half-asleep. There was no point in BOTH of us staying awake. As the “Labor Coach,” I was going to need all my strength to yell, “PUSH!” (I’m not sure why they call us “Labor Coaches” anyway. It’s not like we know what we’re doing. Outside of yelling, “PUSH!” what tactics am I really giving my wife? Don’t coaches usually know what they are coaching? Well, unless you’re Mike D’Antoni of course.)

The doctors woke me up at about 6am and said, “It’s almost time.” Naturally, since I was just waking up, it took a moment to figure out what they meant. “Oh right! My wife is having a baby.” My wife’s goal was to have a “natural birth.” I think every woman wants a natural birth, at least until the pain starts. Since Joelle’s labor process was so long, my wife decided to go ahead with getting an epidural. This time around, however, she decided against it and almost immediately regretted the decision.

Now my wife is one of the most gracious, loving, and composed individuals I’ve ever met. All of those things went completely out the window once labor started.

Me: PUSH!
My wife: Shut up!
Me: PUSH!
My wife: SHUT UP!
Me: But honey, you have to push!
My wife: I said, “SHUT UP!!!”
Me: Hey, I thought we co-signed on this.
My wife: (throwing things)
Me: . . .
Nurse: Don't worry. She's suppose to be mean to you right now.
Me: (Thinking: I guess that's sort of comforting.)

(Katie: I never told Jr to shut up during hard labor. There was on moment in the night when Jr was helping me through contractions in which he teasingly yelled “push.” When the contraction was over, I looked at him and jokingly told him to “shut up.” In true Jr fashion, this single expression said once in jest has now become his tag line for the night. ☺ )

This is the part where I start praying the baby comes quickly and not for my wife’s sake but for my own. There were other things yelled from the top of her lungs said that I won’t repeat here. Let’s just say I saw a side of my wife I’ve never seen before.

(Katie: While I will admit to yelling to get through the pain, nothing that was said was inappropriate for little ears.)

Once AJ was out, the joy (and relief) filled our hearts. This time around, I felt more comfortable handling her. I enjoy being a father. I never thought that would be true and it’s certainly not because it’s easy. Cuddling AJ late into the night while my wife finally got a chance to rest was both difficult and wonderful. Alas, these moments seem to always intertwine elation with sorrow. My life is given a greater sense of purpose because of our new little angel. It’s also a sorrowful reminder that my mother wasn’t here to witness it. My mom prayed fervently that the Lord would provide a godly wife for her son. She would not live to see her prayers answered. My mom never told me her thoughts about me potentially being a father. I would’ve liked to know her thoughts. Interestingly, during this whole process, my thoughts turned to my biological father for a time. I wondered how a man could so easily turn his back to his family when I would gladly die for mine. I strive to not be like him while at the same time try and be like my mother.

(Katie: Jr has indeed become a wonderful father. It was a joy the first time around to see him embrace his new role with Joelle, even when many of the baby care routines were foreign to him. This time, it has been so special to see how much more comfortable he has become in caring for our girls. He knows when and how to step in and help, and there is nothing sweeter than seeing them cradled in his arms. His role as a father to our family is a constant reminder of God’s ability to heal and redeem the brokenness of our world.)

This past week has been crazy. In the midst of it all I have experienced an outpouring of love by my friends, family, Grace Group, and co-workers. I’m overwhelmed by God’s goodness poured out on my family through our community. It’s truly a blessing to be a part of it.

Baby Prep #2

When my wife and I decided to start having kids, we thought it would be a good idea to time the birth for the summer and after the NBA Finals. Okay the last part was my idea. Since we both teach we’d be off of work and wouldn’t have to deal with taking time off. Having the child after the NBA Finals was just an added bonus for me. Besides, I wanted to give my wife and new child undivided attention and how could I do that with the Finals going on?

You could read about The Birth of Joelle here.

With baby #2, we decided we weren’t going to time anything and just “let nature take its’ course.” One of the changes in philosophy is that I wanted the kids to be close together, not so much because they would grow up together and be close but rather because I wanted them out of the house faster. Our second little girl is due in the next couple of week, and it’s in the midst of a really busy work schedule. Maybe waiting another four months wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but it’s not like we can go back and change things now. The staff at my school knows baby #2 is right around the corner and knows I might just split and leave my students hanging if #2 decides it’s time to introduce herself to the world.

It was pretty easy to prepare for a baby over the summer. I just needed my blanket and a bag of junk food. Once those things were ready, we just had to wait patiently. This time around, it could happen when I’m at work, which freaks me out a little. Mid-February is right around the NBA trade deadline, and I don’t want to get behind on work. Truthfully, all those things will have to be set aside because the most important thing is my family. Honestly, what frightens me is our world changing because we’ll have not one but TWO babies. How will Joelle react to not being the big banana? How will my wife deal with having two kids to take care of and working from home as well? How am I going to accomplish what I want to accomplish AND give all my girls the love, care and attention that they need?

There are so many questions. But you know what? I don’t need the answers (not right now anyway). That’s the beauty of life. You just need to enjoy the ride. I’ll figure out those questions (and even questions I have yet to ask) with my wife, my community of family, friends, and pastors and ultimately the Lord, who will grant me wisdom, as I need it. As I reflect more about having another little girl, I’m excited to shower another person made in the image of God with love and care- the love and care neither my mother nor my sister received growing up. As you may already know, my biological father wasn’t around when I was growing up. I’ve had to deal with that my whole life. But with Christ’s strength I have the confidence in knowing I won’t turn out like him. By the grace of God I have an opportunity to redeem my bloodline and that opportunity excites me even though it will cost me two weddings, many sleepless nights, and diligent gun training to fend off unworthy boys. Whatever challenges are ahead I’m up for it, as long as they’re not during the NBA playoffs.

For more blogs like this read: Girl Power

The Dark Night

The Child Rises

Girl Power

If you haven’t heard, yet we are having a second girl. The prospect of having another girl frightens the crap out of me. It’s no secret I wanted a boy. My initial reaction when I found out that it was a girl was to be less than excited. It’s been about a week now, and I have properly put things into perspective. But if you want my raw emotions on the first day I found out then continue reading.

When my wife and I found out that our first child was going to be a girl, I was also disappointed. However, I love my daughter Joelle more than I thought capable. I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world… not even floor seats to the Lakers. It’s been over a year since she was born, and I’ve enjoyed bonding with her and watching her grow. When my wife told me she was pregnant again, I thought to myself, “It has to be a boy!” On the day of the ultrasound, I brought a cigar for luck, ready to light it up when the good news was given. However, the “good news” did not come. We were having another girl.

I sat in the room and tried to put the best poker face on for my wife’s sake. She even said, “You look like you’re about to cry.” And they weren’t tears of joy. It took everything in me to not weep in disappointment. On the drive home, I was relatively somber, attempting to gather my thoughts in a rational manner and simply put things in perspective. There are babies that have disabilities, people dying of cancer, and the Lakers will likely miss the playoffs this year. Having another girl isn’t a bad thing at all… look how it having Joelle turned out!

Common Responses By Others

The two most common responses by people have been, “Maybe your heart needs to soften more,” and “This is what God wants for you.” I can’t argue with the second because . . . well . . . this is what’s happening. However, the first idea- God is giving me another girl because my heart needs to soften- I simply don’t buy. If my heart gets any softer I’m going to turn into a pansy. There needs to be some level of toughness for a man to be . . . well . . . a man. I have the best wife in the world, I have a beautiful little girl, and I work with Special Education students all day. How much softer does a guy need to get?

Go For Three!!!

This, too, is a common response. Here’s the problem with going for a third child – I DON’T WANT THREE CHILDREN!!! Also, the possibility of having three girls running around the house makes me want to drive off a cliff. The estrogen levels at the house would be so high I would have to build a man-cave that would rival the Batcave in order to have some down time to myself.

You’re probably asking, “What’s wrong with three children?” First, I already have to pay for TWO weddings! It’s going to be difficult to even find one worthy candidate for my daughter but now TWO?!? Second, children aren’t cheap. My in-laws are always boasting about having SIX kids and they turned out okay (relatively speaking). None of them have really complained about lacking anything growing up, at least not openly. So when I put a cap on having only two kids, my in-laws are naturally not happy with this. My response, “Are you going to pay for them?”

This really is a losing battle. My prediction is that I’ll succumb to the pressures that be and end up having a third child, which will result in a) having another girl, which will closely follow with me driving myself off a cliff or b) having a boy, in which case I could pass on my Laker season tickets, lawn mowing duties, and my legacy. I would rejoice beyond measure or Thelma & Louise it off a cliff but not having Thelma with me. There's no in-between.

Boy No More

It’s not having another girl that saddens me. It’s NOT having a boy. If you were an outside observer watching my life growing up you would think, “That kid is lazy, irresponsible, and headed nowhere.” You’d be right. My life didn’t turn out to be a tragedy mainly because the Lord grabbed my heart. He undid a lot of pain and emotional trauma. Who would’ve known there would be a passionate and driven person underneath that young jackass? I’ve often wondered how I would’ve turned out if I had a father who took care of me and pointed me in the right direction. How much better of a basketball player would I be? How much smarter would I be? How much farther would I have gotten in life? What does it really mean to be a “man?” If I had a son, I feel I would get my answer.

I would be a father to him the way my father wasn’t for me. I would see how my son would turn out and also see how I would’ve turned out as well. Yes, my son might have different interests, which is fine (within reason) but he would have a moral center and a sense of responsibility knowing his father would be there to support him no matter what. He would want to make me proud not to earn my approval but because he knows he has my unconditional love and that same unconditional love drives him to pursue greatness in all its forms. He would be a window to a parallel universe, which would show another path I could’ve lived. How many people get that opportunity to see an alternate beginning to your own life?

Dealing with Disappointment

I’ve had several disappointments in my life and the Lord has brought me to a place of peace with all of them. I’m sure raising two girls will be nothing short of a major blessing in my life. Sure mowing the lawn will be a constant reminder that I don’t have a son, but I will place my trust in knowing God is good.

Who knows… maybe if I had a son he wouldn’t grow up the way I envision and the Lord is sparing me the pain of bailing him out of jail. Whatever the case, I will trust and I will believe this is God’s best thing for me . . . probably.

Joelle Year 1

Last month was my daughter’s 1st birthday. Yes, the year went by fast. And I keep hearing it only gets faster. There have been hard moments and some lifestyle changes that require a lot of sacrifice, patience, and understanding. None of these attributes are part of my natural disposition, which was one of the reasons for my initial reservations about becoming a parent. However, despite of all the hard moments of being a parent, there is a constant state of awe that one feels when looking at his child.

As Joelle grows, speaks more words, moves around more fluidly, and comprehends the world around her, I am constantly amazed at the growth of my little girl. Most children mature in much the same way, but when you’re the one with direct influence and when it’s your own child, it brings a deeper appreciation for the maturation process. I can’t tell you in mere words the joy it brings me when I hear her laughter, when I see her smile, and the love I feel when she just wants me to hold her. In the same sense, it pains me when she’s in pain or sick. I would gladly take that pain and sickness away from her and place it on myself.

These realizations make me think about Jesus Christ who took the cross in my place. It wasn’t when I was a helpful child trusting in a father who would provide for me that he did this. It was when I was an enemy cursing at Him and shaking my fist in defiance. As I grow in my appreciation for the natural maturation process of my own child, I also am growing in my appreciation for the love of God, “for when we were yet still sinners, Christ died for us.” My prayer and hope as a father is to show Joelle a glimpse of the same grace Christ has imparted to me. I will need the power of the Holy Spirit and Christ’s interceding on my behalf in order to do this. But the Bible has given me those things as promises. I need only believe them to be true and worship with a believing heart.

Happy birthday Joelle! I can’t tell you the joy you bring in my life. I didn’t have a father growing up, and I’m determined to not let that happen with you. I will be here for you as much as the Lord allows. I won’t be perfect in handling every situation, but I will love you in every situation. At times, I will probably be disappointed in some of your decisions, but overall I have no doubt you will become an amazing woman of God. You are my beautiful sunshine, the apple of my eye, and another reason for me to get up in the morning. Those things will never waver, and it’s only a glimpse of your heavenly Father’s love for you. I love you sweetheart. Happy 1st birthday.

PS – I still say I’m kicking you out of the house when you turn eighteen. (Mom’s in your corner, though, so this may be a losing battle.)

Father’s Day- “The Wife” Blog

For the first time ever in The Jammer's Blog history we have a guest blogger. My wife! She wanted to share her perspective on this year's Father's Day weekend. Thanks honey for taking the time to write and guest blogging.

It’s Father’s Day this weekend. For me, this day is a day of double celebration. I was (and still am) very blessed to have been raised by a wonderful father. My dad was loving, caring, and involved in our lives. I can still remember the days as a little girl when he would blow dry my hair for me on Saturday night in preparation for looking nice on Sunday mornings. I can remember taking trips with him to Home Depot where he would let us ride on the big flat bed carts until they got too full with supplies. Around Christmas time, my dad loaded our family up in the car, took us to Thrifty’s, and then cruised neighborhoods where we got to look at all the Christmas lights while enjoying our ice cream. During our years in Awana, Dad very patiently helped us design, cut, and paint our cars for the annual race. When we started playing sports in junior high and high school, my dad was on the sideline, cheering us on (and sometimes sharing his opinions about the games with the referees. ☺) In many ways, my Dad was simply “there” for us. Although I have no doubt that we drove him nuts at times, he never made us feel like a nuisance. Instead, my dad lovingly welcomed us into his everyday life and inserted himself into ours.

Perhaps most importantly, my dad led our family well. His love for my mom was never in doubt. We used to cringe as kids when we watched them kiss and hug, but I realize now, that those moments were very important in building within us a sense of security in their relationship as well as an example for how a husband and wife should function. My dad honored my mom, and demanded that we do the same. My dad led us spiritually as a family. He initiated Bible reading and prayer each night. He lovingly disciplined us, administering spankings when necessary followed by a conversation in which he reiterated his love for us despite our disobedience. In all these ways, my dad gave us a picture of a heavenly Father who loves in much the same way. I am still so grateful for my dad!

This year, Father’s Day has brought on new meaning for me. I not only have the privilege of celebrating with my own dad, but now, I get to celebrate with Junior. Watching Junior embrace the role of fatherhood has been such a joy. I can still recall the day, almost a year ago, when he stood in the delivery room, playing “Circle of Life” on his iphone while my mom held Joelle. Yes, he really did that. ☺ In the months since that time, Joelle has grown by leaps and bounds both physically and emotionally, and we’ve had to grow with her. Junior has been wonderful at embracing the role of father. We both certainly have a lot to learn, and it hasn’t all been easy, but watching my husband lovingly care for our little girl has made me fall even more in love with him.

Junior has a wonderful sense of humor (as I’m sure many of you know), and he does a great job of bringing that into his role as father. When Joelle used to complain about getting her face wiped after meals, he simply turned it into a game with funny noises and quick swipes. What was once a battle became a fun father-daughter interaction. As I have passed off kid’s book for Junior to read to her while I prepare dinner, I often find myself laughing as I listen in on the storytime. Let’s just say Junior has a wonderful imagination, and the storyline often sounds quite different than the one I remember reading from the same book.

As Joelle grows, it has been fun to see the way that Junior takes pleasure in interacting with her more and more- taking her for rides in her favorite green car, tickling her into hysterics on the floor, letting her climb all over him in bed when we wake him up in the morning, watching NBA games together (although Joelle doesn’t last for very long), and kissing her sweetly for bed each night. (The smile she gets on her face each time this happens melts my heart). Even with Joelle still as young as she is (and not very willing to sit still for long), Junior has begun to lead us in family Bible reading and prayer, knowing that these habits that we build as a family will be so important to her spiritual growth.

If you know Junior’s story, you know that his earthly fathers were far from ideal, even according to worldly standards. It still saddens me to think that he grew up without the love and support of a father. However, we have a good God of grace, and I love that Junior’s story of redemption is continuing as he takes on the role of fatherhood. I don’t expect him to be perfect (as I’m sure he already knows that I’m not a perfect mom). I know that we both have a lot to learn as parents and probably many more mistakes to make. However, I have great hope as I watch Junior develop as a father. He has surrounded himself with good, godly men who speak into his life and will be instrumental in helping him develop and holding him accountable in his roles as both husband and father. Most importantly, Junior knows his heavenly Father and seeks to honor him in the way that he loves and leads our family. I know that He who began a good work in Junior will perfect it until the day of Christ. (Philippians 1:6). I am so grateful that I get to be the woman who shares the journey with him!

Junior, I love you. Thank you so much for caring for “your girls” so well. We are blessed by you, and Lord willing, look forward to many more Father’s Days to celebrate you.

Joelle's First Flight Part 2 of 2

For Part 1 click here.

The flight from LA to SF is about an hour (at most) but the boarding process took about, well, an hour. To further aggravate the situation, once everything was squared away and everyone was ready to take off the captain came on the PA and said, “There will be a slight delay.” Now there are several words that ran through my mind that my wife wouldn’t let me write down here but I’m sure you can figure out that they were of the 4-letter variety. This whole time Joelle was doing okay but the delay was eating into “The baby is okay” time. We knew it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. The captain went on to try and explain the reason for the delay, but once the word “delay” came out of the speaker, I really didn’t care what the reason was. The airline had promised us a time when the plane would take off and when it would arrive at the desired destination. We had done our part… We arrived at the airport on time and got through the necessary security checks then waited patiently at the gate only to have the airline screw up somehow and delay the flight. I understand there are several variables that come into play, but if airlines were required to refund a prorated rate to people whose flights were delayed my guess is that airlines would all of a sudden run more efficiently.

Anyway, once we FINALLY took off for most of the flight Joelle stayed content and didn’t bother anyone. Yes, I was looking at her like a proud father. Then it was time to descend for the landing. As you know, once the plane starts to descend your ears start popping and aching because of the drop in pressure. For a nine-month old who has never experienced something like this, it can be nerve wracking. Sure enough, my daughter started dropping baby F-bombs with the intensity of a heavy metal rock band. This went on for the entire descent. It definitely was another “Welcome to Parenthood!” moment. Once we landed and Joelle’s equilibrium began to stabilize, she started calming down. That was a rough first flight with my daughter.

During the flights home, however, my baby slept the whole way and was a sweet little angel. I guess she just needed to get over the initial shock of the first flight. Let's hope she won't need drugs in order to get on a plane like her mother-in-law.

Joelle’s First Flight Part 1 of 2

Last week I had the honor and privilege of being a groomsmen in my brother-in-law’s wedding. The only problem was the wedding was happening in Spokane, Washington. I had known this for several months now but I was praying (and hoping) my brother-in-law (Jon) would post-pone the wedding for another few years so my daughter would be a little older than, you know, nine months. It didn’t matter what the reason was for postponing the wedding as long as it was postponed. Naturally the wedding was not postponed so my wife and I had to fly to Spokane with a nine-month-old child – fun times ahead!

I remember when I was single traveling at the airport. I would look at crying children with complete annoyance hoping I wouldn’t get stuck with a seat close to them to hear their crying. Traveling was also fairly stress-free. I didn’t have to worry about a child. Those days feel like a long time ago. Once my wife and I got to the airport, I was immediately stressed out because I kept waiting for our child to blow up. Getting through airport security is stressful enough but try doing that with a crying nine-month old… I felt the single people looking at us with the same annoyance I use to. Welcome to parenthood!

The first flight was to San Francisco, which then would connect us to a flight to Spokane. We boarded the plane, buckled up, and prayed Joelle would handle her first flight okay. If you’ve ever traveled by plane you know the boarding process is always an adventure. There’s always those few people who try and stuff their clearly too big carryon in the overhead compartment and hold up the line (I think my sister-in-law happens to be one of them! ☺). Some of those people even ask for help, “Excuse me, could you help me stuff my over-sized carryon that’s way too big to fit into this overhead compartment? If we keep pushing I’m sure it’ll eventually go in.” Look, I understand that after airlines started charging for extra bags that people started doing this in order to save money. I get it. People are just trying to save money, so I’m not too annoyed by that. I’m just annoyed by the airlines that created this problem.

We can’t forget those people who simply refuse to turn off their electronic devices out of pure defiance. Everyone knows the chance of our device actually affecting the plane’s electronic equipment is rather low. But since there is a slight possibility, the airlines don’t want to take that chance. I get it. So when I see people trying to hide their devices only to be reminded again by the airline staff they need to turn it off, it’s frustrating. You mean you’re holding up the plane because you can’t turn off your device for 20 minutes?

Part 2 will be posted tomorrow.

Daddy Daughter Time

Last week was my Spring Break. On one of those days, my wife had some work she needed to do outside the house and asked me, “Could you take care of Joelle?” My reply was, “You mean by myself?” She just gave me the “Of course” look. Hey, it’s Spring Break why not have some daddy-daughter time? Truthfully I was a little nervous not knowing what to expect. The night before, my wife was kind enough to write out the schedule on the board hanging on our refrigerator so I’d know exactly what to do. She knows if she just tells me, I’ll either forget or only be half-listening in the first place while she’s telling me what to do.

The day arrived when I was scheduled to take care of our daughter by myself. I remembered the advice of many to not call it “babysitting,” so I got that thought out of my head. My wife told me, “Okay honey I’m heading out. I’ll call you when I’m on my way home. Just stick to the schedule and you’ll be fine.” My reply was, “Okay.” After she closed the door I immediately checked the schedule she wrote down (It was the first time I looked at it). Joelle already had her breakfast so the next thing on the item was:

10:15 nap – approximately 45 minutes to an hour

It was only 9:15 so what in the world do I do for a whole hour? Wait! There were more notes my wife left me. It read, “You can let her play with her toys in the family room. She’ll do that for about 45 minutes.” I said to myself, “45 minutes! That’s almost an hour! Perfect!” So I took Joelle to the family room and let her play with her toys just like the note told me to do. To my amazement, Joelle kept herself entertained for about 45 minutes as I was reading. How does my wife know these things? As 10:15 approached, I started cleaning up the toys and began to rock her to sleep. When she finally nodded off I looked at the clock and it was . . . wait for it . . . 10:15! How does my wife know these things? I placed her in her crib knowing I had about an hour to catch up on all the important updates in Laker Nation. It was coming up on an hour so I checked the next thing on the list:

11:15 lunch – feed the baby, VERY IMPORTANT!!!

The all caps text immediately caught my eye. I guess feeding the baby is important so I didn’t want to screw this up. My wife already had a bowl of some powered looking stuff with some other liquidity thing I was supposed to mix in, I guess. As you can tell, I didn’t bother reading the labels to find out what contents were in the food. I just did what I was told.

I mixed the stuff in the bowl as my wife instructed then I went to wake up Joelle who looked ready to eat. I sat her down and sat next to her. She knew it was lunch time and was excited to get some grub. I gently spoon fed Joelle while occasionally wiping her face from the mess. Then there was a moment (or a few moments) when I gazed into her eyes and thought about the story of Joseph in Genesis 41:51-52 when Joseph had his two sons:

Joseph called the name of the firstborn Manasseh. “For,” he said, “God has made me forget all my hardship and all my father's house.” The name of the second he called Ephraim, “For God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction.”

This, of course, was several years after Joseph’s brothers plotted to kill him and sold him into slavery instead where he was falsely accused of sleeping with the boss’ wife, thrown in jail for his trouble, forgotten about for a couple years and then forced to interpret Pharaoh’s dream accurately or be executed (If you read Pharaoh’s dream you’ll know it’s like someone dropping acid at a Jimi Hendrix concert. The best dream interpreters of that day were confused.).

My point being, even though Joseph suffered many troubles and knew the Lord was with him during those difficult times, it wasn’t until he had his kids when he began to forget about those troubling times, “God has made me forget all my hardship . . .” Not only did he forget his hardship but Joseph saw how blessed he was, “For God has made me fruitful . . .” That’s what I felt when I was feeding my daughter and looking into her eyes. All of the trouble I got myself into, the hardship in my own house growing up, the failed relationships and unmet expectations, were all forgotten and I realized how extremely blessed I was at that moment. It doesn’t matter what I’ve been through, it only matters that I’m here now with a future I never thought I would have. Maybe one day Joelle will realize how much she means to me and understand why I do everything in my power to scare all of the would-be boyfriends away.

Okay, enough of the mushy stuff. There’s the rest of the day to get through so let’s get to it. After I finished feeding Joelle lunch, I noticed there was nothing else on the list to do. I thought my wife had forgotten to write the rest of it or something but I quickly figured out I was on my own. Well, if I was going to be on my own, I figured I would go rogue and take Joelle to the supermarket to buy junk food for daddy. I strapped her into the stroller and walked to the supermarket. She was completely content the whole time, just people-watching like she was sitting at the airport waiting for her flight. When we got to the supermarket, I noticed all the ladies smiling at my baby girl with the “Oh, she’s soooooooooo cute” look on their faces. I leaned over to Joelle and quietly told her, “Where were you when I was single?” She just smiled back as though she knew she was cute.

As we were walking back home with the booty of junk food, I kept appreciating the beautiful weather we have here in L.A. It was great to be outside with my daughter enjoying the world together. When we got back home, I quickly hid all of the junk food from my wife so she didn’t scold me and continued to play with Joelle. We read some books and played out in the backyard with Buddy (our dog) until mom finally got home.

The whole time went by in a blink of an eye. I lost track of time and didn’t even know how late it was. The entire time, Joelle didn’t cry once and was a perfect little child. She’s not always like this. But it felt like she knew dad was on his own today and she was going to give me a break. I hope she still feels like this when she’s a teenager.

The Days of Shrek 4 Past

I enjoyed the Shrek series. The best one (in my humble opinion) was the first one. The third one was the weakest installment, but the fourth one was surprisingly fun because it touches on a theme that I believe most men go through but rarely ever admit to it. Why am I even mentioning this? As I continue to blog, there are phrases I hope to embed with meaning so that I can use them regularly and not have to spend time explaining what the phrase means. So, my first submission for this endeavor is the phrase “Shrek 4.” I am hoping that after reading this blog, when I say, “I’m having a Shrek 4 day” or “It’s a Shrek 4 moment,” you’ll know exactly what I mean.

First let me explain the meaning of Shrek 4. It’s basically the premise of the movie, which is here:

In the present, Shrek has steadily grown tired of being a family man and celebrity among the local villagers, leading him to yearn for the days when he felt like a "real ogre". He takes his family to Far Far Away to celebrate his children's first birthday. Shrek gets annoyed when the three little pigs eat the kids' cake along with most of the other party food. A boy named Butterpants (who is said to be a "big fan" of Shrek) demands that Shrek roar. After he lets out a frustrated roar the entire crowd cheers, reinforcing his belief that no one considers him to be a true ogre. This coupled with the fact that the birthday cakes were decorated with a "cute" Ogre named "Sprinkles" finally makes Shrek snap and he smashes the new birthday cake in front of everyone, and then walks out in anger. He and Fiona argue outside about his reaction, which ends with Shrek rashly agreeing that he was happier before he'd rescued her.

Of course the term “real ogre” is an allegory of a “real man.” Being “domesticated” can feel somewhat neutering. Let me be clear, I’m not about to use worldly and secular ideas to define masculinity. But on the surface there are some legitimate things we can glean from the basic premise of the movie. Another disclaimer I would like to add is that even though I have “Shrek 4 moments,” it does not mean I don’t want to be married or be a family man. I love my wife and child. Okay? Okay.

When I was single there were tons of things I enjoyed. For instance, there was the freedom to basically do whatever I wanted when I wanted to do it, which is not always a good thing. Also, I didn’t have to worry about being a “Spiritual Leader” in the home because, well, I didn’t have a home or a family to worry about. I went to church weekly, read my Bible daily, and made sure I spent a portion of the day praying. Spiritual disciplines came easy because I wasn’t on a schedule. I got to it when I got to it.

Now that I have a full time job, a boatload of bills, and a wife and child to look after, things are not quite so easy. Do I sometimes long for the days of being a “real ogre?” I’d be lying if I said, “no” but the emphasis is on sometimes. If you did see Shrek 4 you’ll remember by the end of the movie [Spoiler Alert]: Shrek realizes he wouldn’t trade the family life for anything [End Spoiler]. Yes, there are moments we go through wishing we could “just hang out with the guys” or just have time to ourselves. But at the end of the day, there’s nothing that beats coming home to a family. It’s a different level of enjoyment. For example, when you were a kid you thought spinning around in circles and getting yourself dizzy was the best thing ever. When you get older, you realize there are other enjoyments in life that pale in comparison. Imagine seeing a 30-yr-old spinning around in circles in order to get himself dizzy and crying out “Wee, wee, weeeeeeeeeeee!” There are two questions that would come to mind. First would be questioning the guy’s competency. The second question I can’t put in this blog, but you get the picture.

There are more mature enjoyments in life. The challenge becomes in redefining what a “real ogre” is. So what if I can’t devote myself to becoming a better basketball player? So what if I have less time to goof off? Yes, more responsibilities tend to add stress and pressure, but these are good things. Admittedly, too much of stress and pressure can drive you over the edge. That’s why we should allow a little time to ourselves in order to “hang out” and let our hair down. Yes, I get stressed out with the responsibilities of being a family man and sometimes long for the days of Shrek 1. But just like at the end of Shrek 4, family is really what matters.

Holiday Cheer 2012

Well, we're in the middle of the holidays and Christmas is almost here. I love the holidays even though I have yet to think of a good gift idea for my wife and it's stressing me out. Besides being a dead-beat and procrastinating I've managed to take a little time and reflect on all the goodness of the Lord has provided, namely, blessing us with a wonderful child.

As you know, my mom is no longer around. My crazy older sister burned every single bridge like a pyrotechnic on steroids. My younger sister, Vicky, goes with her husband's family each year as I go to my wife's side of the family each year. Sadly, this year will be a little different. There's usually several people at my in-law's but this year everyone will be scattered across the world and Becky, the youngest, will be in Japan (what do they do for Christmas away). I'm predicting my in-law's depression will hit an all-time high to the point where I'm considering putting them on suicide watch.

Maybe having at least one child, my wife, and one grandchild, Joelle, relatively close will cheer them up a bit. We just got our Christmas tree and my wife put up the Christmas decorations, "it's starting to look like Christmas!" Here are some photos of Joelle enjoying her first December.

"Hey, these lights are pretty cool!"

"So this is what a Christmas tree smells like. Nice."

I've mentioned before we had a fake tree growing up. I didn't mind it because it wasn't messy, it was easier to clean up, and it was cheap because we could use it for several years. But now that I'm older I appreciate the fresh pine smell and the "realness" of a Christmas tree. I hope the pine will inspire Joelle to enjoy the outsides a little more.

"Hello Buddy. I don't understand why my dad hates you. You seem really nice."

Joelle meets Buddy. Well, she met him 4 months ago but is only now starting to notice the flea bag. It's actually endearing since Buddy has been great with kids and is the ideal family dog. Actually, having a real Christmas tree, a child, and a dog makes me feel more American. I'm sure everything will work out for the in-laws. Maybe this year they'll be open to drinking. If that's the case, the first round is on me!

The Child Rises – Part 3

For Part II Click Here.


I promised you I would write about The Jammer’s Philosophy on Parenthood. Honestly, I simply don’t have one. Before you get disappointed, just bear with me. Any parent who says they have a comprehensive philosophy towards parenthood, I’m convinced is full of it. No one truly knows exactly how he or she will do things with their child. They only have ideas of what they’ll do. But ideas and principles are extremely abstract and once the child actually arrives, all bets are off.

I’ve seen some godly people have miniature a-holes for children. I’ve also seen young people come from the most difficult types of backgrounds and home lives yet they turn out to be some of the most outstanding individuals I’ve ever met. As a result, I’m not sure how much “parenting” is really an influence. In the end, like in all things, it’s all God’s grace.

Of course that doesn’t excuse me from the responsibility of attempting to be the best father I can possibly be (I wish it did). So here are some of my half-baked ideas of parenting. I know it’ll almost certainly be in a constant state of flux, but I don’t mind it. It gives me full deniability.

Besides, I’m a guy who saw Scarface at the age of five. When I started Kindergarten, I didn’t know how to spell my name but I knew what a Cuban drug cartel was and the phrase “Say hello to my little friend.” I’m going to need some deniability.

School:

I might offend some readers here, but first, remember that it’s only my humble opinion. Second, if you were easily offended you wouldn’t be reading my blog to begin with so let’s just move on. I know it’s popular among Christians to “home-school” their child. It’s a form of “protecting them from the world.” Also some of my most respected elders from my church home-school their children. However, I don’t think we’re going to home school Joelle and it isn’t a result of the stereotype that Christian home-schoolers end up socially awkward, riding unicycles barefooted, dress up like Wizards, Elves, and Star War characters and attend Comic Con (although that may be true).

I just don’t want my child to miss out on all the opportunities in the public school system (e.g., basketball, influence on non-believers, experiencing real temptation but resisting, etc.). Am I worried my daughter might get hurt or negatively influenced? Of course I am. But I’m not going to hide her from it but teach her to confront it the way Ra’s al Ghul taught Bruce Wayne to confront his fear in Batman Begins.

Grades:

Graduating High School was a complete miracle for me. Actually, I think my teachers passed me because they didn’t want to deal with me anymore. I’ll take it. So if my daughter comes home with bad grades, who am I do tell her she should do better? I’ll defer to her mother for that. Since she has half of my wife’s DNA this shouldn’t be an issue. Although if you take my F-average and my wife’s A-average do you only get a C-average kid? I would be fine with that. That’s what I wish I had but my wife might have a problem with it. We’ll see what happens.

Boys:

Never! I would post a clip from Bad Boys II but my editor (aka. My wife) wouldn't let me because of the offensive language (you were warned). Moving on.

Sports:

After getting over my initial disappointment with having a girl I started looking at some of the positives, one of them being sports. I don’t feel the pressure of getting her to play basketball. Actually, I don’t even care if she wants to play or not, but she’s not allowed to be a cheerleader. However, if she picks something like golf or soccer I’ll be bored out of my mind watching her play and I won’t even try and hide it. I’ll just be streaming Lakers games on my iphone.

Music:

I’ll certainly expose her to musical instruments (e.g., the piano) and see where it leads. I’ve always imagined my daughter really taking music seriously and leading worship at church someday, although if that doesn’t happen, it wouldn’t bother me. There’s no pressure at all.

Again, these are only half-baked ideas. My daughter has half of my DNA so I can assure you she’ll have some of her own ideas. Some of the ideas may cause me to bang my head against the wall but isn’t that a part of parenting?

On a special note, I find it absolutely amazing how much I love my daughter. She wasn’t even here two months ago. I catch myself thinking about her throughout the day wishing I were by her side. It’s like falling in love all over again. And if I were man enough to admit it, I would admit I sometimes get emotional just looking at pictures of her. Since I’m not man enough to admit, that doesn’t happen. I remember being single and watching screaming children and thought, “Why would I want one of those?” I had parents tell me parenthood is difficult but it’s worth it. My response was always, “Whatever.” Now that I have a child of my own I “get it.”

(Cutting to: Parents nodding in agreement)

I didn’t think I was even capable of loving a child at all, but life is always changing and sometimes you change with it and in this case, it’s for the better.


Stay tuned next week for Becky’s Wedding blog!!!

The Dark Night – Part 2

For Part 1 click here.

The first night Joelle got home, she screamed, cried and dropped baby F-bombs most of the night. The doctors said this would happen because of the traumatic experience of exiting the womb. Even though the doctors warned us, it didn’t make the dark night any easier (sorry, I didn’t know how else to work in the title).

It’s been six weeks since little Joelle Penny Jamreonvit arrived into our lives. I’m excited to see where the journey of parenthood takes us. I’ve been asked several times, “How’s it feel to be a father?” or a question of the same variety. It’s interesting because I don’t know how to answer that question in just a tweet or two. So here’s me attempting to answer that question with a little more than a tweet.

If you’ve been following my blog, you know my background was a little rough to say the least. I never really thought about and dreamed of having children like most people. I just wanted to survive myself. Why in the world would I spend time thinking about providing for other people when I was just getting by myself? If you were to have told me when I was in college, “We’ll give you a million dollars to NOT have children” I would’ve said, “You outbid yourself. I would’ve taken $50.”

When I found out our baby was going to be a girl, I was initially disappointed because, well, how do I relate with a girl? Having grown up without a father, I now know exactly what I was lacking as a child and all the issues they caused once I got older. As a result, I felt confident knowing exactly what to provide for a son. A girl, however, felt like a whole different ball game. Now what?

Once Joelle was born all that stuff didn’t really matter to me anymore. The abstraction of it all was gone. It went from being the “idea of parenthood” to “Oh Sh**! She’s here!” My background felt nonexistent. I didn’t care what gender the baby was. I was simply grateful she was healthy, my wife was okay, and that we had so much support from friends and family. So do I feel any different? The short answer is, “No.” I still have bills to pay and life is still happening. The long answer is “I’ve been more reflective on issues I hardly reflect on.” For example, I’ve thought much more about issues like child neglect, abortion, and the philosophy of parenting. My conclusions are these: 1) It takes an evil person to neglect your own child, 2) abortion is evil and 3) I don’t yet have a philosophy on parenting (I’ll save this one for part 3). However, if you’re curious, this was my old one: click here.


My role as a man has certainly expanded, and I embrace that responsibility. I know this flies in the face of my motto “Avoid responsibility whenever possible” but child neglect isn’t an option. My wife told me last night how much she appreciated how I’ve embraced fatherhood (she was a little nervous about this, I guess). In her words, I’ve been tender and patient with Joelle and even more helpful around the house. Things have been coming naturally, and I haven’t really thought about “What do to” much at all (Unless it’s time to change the diaper… then I make like a ninja and disappear.) Joelle is still a baby, so it’s not all that complicated at this point. She eats, sleeps and fills her diaper with regularity. The true challenge begins when she can start thinking for herself and actually drop real F-bombs. For now, I’m just enjoying this moment.

In addition, watching my wife tend to Joelle makes me love her even more. She’s an amazing mother. It’s interesting how that all indirectly works. She’s not taking care of me directly when she’s caring for Joelle, or vice versa, but as we fulfill our responsibilities as mother and father we grow closer to each other. That’s probably been the biggest surprise in this whole “having children” thing.

Part 3 will be posted next week and it will be The Jammer’s Philosophy of Rising Children.

What’s In A Name?

My wife is done torturing her mother. For the last several months, she has been withholding our daughter’s name from her despite my mother in law’s numerous attempts to find it out. The torture came to an end on Mother’s Day when my wife gave her mom a card with each letter of our girl’s name cut out and stuffed inside the envelope. It was up to my mother in law to unscramble them in order to figure out the name. I guess white people think this is fun. Whatever.

Once we told my in laws, we decided there wasn’t a whole lot of point in keeping the name a secret any longer, so my wife posted our daughter’s name on Facebook last night to rave reviews. Our daughter’s name is “Joelle Penny Jamreonvit.” It’s important to note that it’s atypical for Thai people to have middle names. Since our last names are so long already we figure, “What’s the point of having a middle name?” Apparently, though, white people like middle names, and it seems they often use them to let their child know when they’re in trouble by emphasizing it. For example, if little Joelle does something wrong, I’m sure to hear an exasperated voice from my wife saying, “Joelle PENNY!” Then Joelle will know she’s in trouble. This will be a bit different from my childhood. When Thai children mess up, Thai people just yell and start cussing up a storm in Thai. Growing up, my sister and I knew that when Mom started cussing in Thai, it was time to run because the sandal was sure to come off and the swat to follow. (Unfortunately, my mom was a ninja when it came to the sandal, and running didn’t always help. She had great aim and could throw it with ninja-like precision.) It was about the equivalent of a middle name, I guess.

The Break Down: Joelle

So, here’s the breakdown of how we picked the name. I wanted a “J” name because my last name starts with a J. It just sounds nice. I was perfectly content with common names like, Jamie, Jessica, Jennifer (ex), or Justine (not so common). Eventually, though, my wife and I decided on Joelle, which means, “Jehovah is God.” Look, I know I went to Talbot School of Theology and have two masters degrees in Bible. And yes, I know that “Jehovah” is a nonsense word. But every time I try and explain this to people no one seems to care. Whatever. Joelle sounds nice anyway.

Middle Name: Penny

Penny was my mom’s name. I was asked on Mother’s Day, “Is it harder for you without your mom on days like these?” I said, “No, I miss her all the time.” I’ve only visited her grave a couple of times since her passing. The reason I don’t visit often is purely theological (she’s not there but in the presence of the Lord). I don’t need reminders that a big part of my life is no longer here. I have pictures of my mom all over the house and I think about her often, especially these last several months because Joelle will be screaming bloody murder soon. I wonder how she would take the news that I’m having a child. She would be excited beyond containment, overflowing with thankful enjoy. She would also be deathly afraid I would screw up somehow and forget to feed my daughter or something, but then she would realize Katie is her mother and that she has nothing to worry about.

Every time I run into people who knew my mom (and there’s a lot of them) they always mention a story I haven’t heard about her and how they were so touched by the way she lived the gospel and loved others with the love of Jesus. I hope Joelle loves people the way my mom loved people (Unless she’s on the basketball court, then I want her to destroy people with assassin-like proficiency.). I’m looking forward to telling my daughter dozens of stories about her grandmother. Joelle will shortly realize the impact her grandma had on her father’s life and will also feel a sense of love as well, much in the same way my wife does without ever meeting my mom.

My hope is that those stories inspire Joelle to love much because she is touched by the love of God in the same manner her grandma was. When she gets old enough, I’ll take her to visit grandma’s gravesite to see that grandma was real, and that death is also real. I’ll want her to realize that as a result, we should live our lives with Kingdom purpose, just like Grandma Penny did, for tomorrow is promised to no one.

Last But Not Least: Jamreonvit

A person’s last name has their legacy attached to it. Throughout the Bible, the Lord was very concerned about His Name and what it meant to Him and to His people. It was a window into His character. If you know me or have been following this blog for any amount of time, you’ll know I grew up without a father.

I remember watching a documentary on Ray Lewis who also grew up without a father. He took his mother’s name (Lewis) instead of his father’s name because his mother was there for him and his dad never was. There was bitterness in his voice when he spoke about his father. Lewis was extremely emphatic about not wanting to know his father and that having his mother was enough for him.

I have my father’s name, but I’m not my father. I’m sure some psychologist would tell me that because I lacked a father growing up, it’ll impact my parenting. Of course it will. I’m determined NOT to be him. I’m not bitter towards my father anymore. It just takes too much emotional energy to be angry with someone who isn’t even around. I can use that emotional energy towards loving my family, loving my Lord, and yelling at refs. I’m not going to change my name the way Lewis did. I’m just going to redefine it. Joelle will know her father and know him well. She will be a part of redefining the family name. (That is until some jerk marries her and changes it.)

So, in summary, Joelle is an extension of my mom, a part of my wife and I, and will be her own person (who doesn’t play soccer). I have no idea how she’ll turn out. If she turns out to be like my mom and wife, she’ll be one of the most godly women in history and absolutely beautiful. However, she has half of my DNA and may have anger issues as a result. So, we may have some challenges to work through, but that’s what makes parenthood so interesting, right?