Brand New Dad is a social network and resource center for New Dads and Expectant Fathers, just like you! Register Now (Free) - and hit the forums, get exclusive special offers, and setup a personal wishlist.
Lord's Prayer Watch Alleke go for the record for fastest reciting of the Lord's prayer—junior division, of course. I clocked her at 15 seconds flat on my phone.
I set down the suitcase and took the envelope out of my back pocket. On the front was handwritten, "Room #526."
I was studying the arrow signs pointing down two long carpeted hallways when April and Alleke rolled up next to me with their suitcases.
"Oh no," April said.
"What?" I asked.
"They have a pool," April said, underlining the word piscina on the sign with her finger.
"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked, nodding at Alleke.
April sighed. "I forgot our swimming suits," she said.
Alleke, who had not heard a single word about a swimming pool until this point and had been elated about spending a weekend at "the hotel in Portugal," was now in ruins. She had just endured eight hours in a car confined to a car seat, and as tired as she was, her mom had given her the worst possible news a kid could suffer: the hotel had a pool, but she had no swimming suit.
April and I cringed as Alleke covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook as she wept quietly.
I couldn't bear to see Alleke so disappointed, and as her father, at times like this I felt the incredible need to be her hero. Especially in situations where Alleke thought all hope was lost and she was ready to give up, I had to find a way to make the impossible possible.
"We'll find you a swimming suit," I said to Alleke. And so the following morning while April was listening to speakers at the conference in the hotel, Alleke, Teo and I walked along the side of the highway under an umbrella in the rain towards a small Portuguese village looking for a shop that would sell us a swimming suit out of season for a three-year-old.
It was a crazy pursuit, and if we had failed to find a swimming suit, I'm sure I would have learned a much-needed lesson about being a responsible parent, but the truth is we found a shop with kids’ clothes. Actually, it wasn't so important that we found the shop itself, but the shopkeeper who was nice enough to rummage through her out of season stock during her lunch break and bring back a few suits to her store.
We went back to the stop in the afternoon when the sun was shining, and the shop owner had the suits laid out and waiting for us. Alleke picked the suit she liked, and we paid way too much for it. Alleke was our little mermaid for the rest of the weekend.
I am aware that one day I won't be Alleke's hero anymore. We all realized at some point that our parents were normal human beings, right? We had to teach them how to work their VCR remotes for goodness sakes.
What I do hope that lasts is Alleke's simple belief that even when things seem impossible, there is often a way through, even if she doesn't see it at first. Usually there is a way to get from Point A to Point B, even if the bridge is out.
For now Alleke believes her dad can find her a bathing suit, and hopefully by the time she's grown up and finds herself in a truly difficult situation in her life, she'll believe she can find her way too.
50mm For all you photo junkies out there, here are my first photos with my new 50mm lens...
I bought this lens because late this fall when the days began to get shorter, I found that I was taking photos of Alleke in the evening at home without natural light, and it was almost impossible to get my photos to turn out without them being either blurry or grainy or an unflattering yellow color.
I've found this 50mm f/1.8 D lens to be a great solution. I'd even call it a "family-friendly lens" as it allows for taking photos without flash in low-light situations with moving objects (aka children at home) and at the same time great depth-of-field for portraits. It's also less-expensive than most lenses at $125 on Amazon. I would assume the reason is because it's not a zoom lens.
If you have any advice on using this lens or others with your family, feel free to leave a comment...
See more photos taken with a 50mm lens at flickr.com...
How to Wrap a Birthday Present Alleke demonstrates how to wrap a birthday present. Let's just say it involves a lot of tape!
Prophet "Who said you could play with that?" April asked, walking over to the table where Alleke sat with an open bottle of fingernail polish.
Alleke smiled innocently. "God did," she said.
April put her hands on her hips and frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"God told me in my heart that I could play with this," Alleke said and reached for the bottle again, seemingly convinced that she had just discovered the best excuse to do anything she wanted.
Compare Do you think Alleke and Teo look like brother and sister?
My closest friends say I'm a laid-back person. They tell me they feel peace and tranquility when they're with me. I'm a regular Gandhi, they say.
I've never understood this, and I don't think my wife or my kids would ever describe me this way. Today was a perfect example.
I got it in my head this afternoon that I was going to take the kids down to the playground after Alleke woke up from her nap, even though I knew we would be pressed for time since I had to go back to work in an hour.
In hindsight, I don't think Alleke wanted to go to the park when she woke up, and instead of listening to her when she said things like "Daddy, I don't want to go to the park," I started to get anxious because I couldn't get her to do what I wanted her to, and we were running out of time.
"If you don't put your shoes on right now," I warned Alleke, holding my finger in front of her face, "we're not going to the park." I made it sound like she was dangling by a thread over the pit of hell itself.
The problem was I wanted to go to the park, and she didn't, so the more ridiculous my threats became, the more convinced she was that she didn't want to go to the park.
I stood at the front door with my coat and hat on, Teo against my chest in the baby carrier pounding his fists and screaming for me to start walking so he could fall asleep, and a giant bag of recycling in my hand. Meanwhile, Alleke sat in the middle of the living room floor still in her pajamas, intentionally ignoring me. I felt helpless and completely out of control of the situation. So, I did the only logical thing that occurred to me. I set down the bag of recycling, took aim, and kicked it as hard as I could. Empty Coke bottles and tin cans exploded from the bag and went spinning across the floor.
It felt so good to kick that bag, to relieve all that tension, and to feel physically in control of the situation for a moment, but I scared myself too. I wondered if I would be capable of taking the same physical aggression out on my kids or my wife. I was thankful it was only a bag of recycling.
Alleke began to cry quietly to herself as she put on her clothes and her shoes and climbed into the stroller. We went down to the park, but it was so cold that we couldn't wait to get back home again.
I apologized to Alleke. I explained why I had gotten frustrated. She said she was sorry too for not listening to me, but I felt so guilty and ashamed for throwing a 30-year-old tantrum and modeling the kind of behavior I was worried she was picking up from the other kids at school.
After some reflection, I've realized that I parent very badly when I'm in a rush. I order my kids around, and I expect them to be robots that follow commands instead of people with their own needs and expectations. I need to leave enough time for us to come to an agreement. I also hope to approach each day with open hands, which means a willingness to let go of my expectations or plans, and remember that my relationship with my kids is more important to me than what we do together.
It was my day off. Alleke was at school. April was in the shower, and I sat on the couch with Teo asleep in my arms smelling the back of his neck.
His neck smelled like the beach—not clean or refined, but earthy and rich, salty and sweet, all blended together by nature. Smelling Teo's neck was like smelling the aroma of life itself.
Most days I take Teo in the morning while Alleke gets ready for school so that April can sleep a little longer. Even though it's Teo's best time of day, and I'll often catch him smiling and giggling at nothing in particular, I don't actually have time to play with him. I'm happy if he's content to sit in his bouncy chair and watch Alleke and me eat our oatmeal.
When I get Teo in the evenings it's because April doesn't want him anymore. "What do you want now?" I heard myself snap at April one evening last week, anticipating that Teo would need a diaper change, or he had gas and needed to be burped, or he was tired and needed to be bounced to sleep.
The beginning and the end of the day were not the best times to take care of a baby. They were a lot of hard work, and I had been conditioned not to want to take Teo because it would put me back to work after I had just finished.
I sat on the couch and smelled Teo's neck. I was looking for that sweet spot where the two of us were just happy to be together...and then I found it. The warmth of his body against my chest and his sandy smell were as nourishing as a day at the beach. Yes, Teo was a lot of work, but if I would let him, he was also vitality and warmth and rest and laughter.
Teo and I must have both fallen asleep because later I woke to find April sitting on the other couch drying her hair with a towel. She grinned. "You're not going to give him back to me, are you?" she asked.
Alleke ran ahead of me down the echoey hallway, and I helped her push open the swinging door into the men's bathroom. Before I could say anything she had closed herself in one of the stalls and said, "I can do it myself, Daddy." I watched from the outside as the small medal disk next to the door latch rotated and locked into place.
"You just locked the door," I said in astonishment. I was a little miffed. "I can't help you until you unlock the door again," I warned her.
As I paced back and forth in front of the bathroom stalls listening to Alleke cheerfully singing "En la granja de Pepito," I realized that on the surface level I was more than happy to do nothing and let my daughter do her business by herself.
On a much deeper level, however, I realized that my daughter had just closed me out of another little compartment in her life. "I can do it, Daddy," Alleke would say about something we were doing together, and that meant she didn't need me to help her anymore. I needed to let one more little bit of her go.
Someday when she was older, I thought, she might only come to visit me once a year if I was lucky. (So sorry Mom and Dad for being that son!)
With two little kids at home, my life is a grocery cart full of responsibilities. I'm relieved when Alleke can do something for herself because it means more freedom for me. But, as my parents like to say, "Enjoy these years while they last, because once they're gone, they're really gone."
After Teo was born in mid November, my family appointed me as the official ambassador of the Democratic Republic of Teo. April, especially, seemed only concerned about homeland security, in other words what happened inside the four walls of our apartment.
Stepping through our front door seemed as intimidating as having to go through customs, and this world beyond was now a separate society, across the border, left to be dealt with by an official representative like me.
I felt bad for our friends who started to miss April. They began to call and ask for her, or write emails with something in the subject line like "This email is for April," but they always had to talk to me first because, after all, I was the ambassador of the Democratic Republic of Teo.
As the ambassador, I did not like having to tell our friends over and over that April was too busy, or showing up at a friend's house by myself again. The truth was April did not seem capable of caring about the well-being of anyone except for the four citizens of our small state.
At first I thought April was being heartless and unsympathetic, but as time went on, I began to see that this was the work of a mother. She protects her young. It's strange to think that hormones and instinct probably had more to do with her focused attention than a personal decision. This was the natural course of things.
Now I greatly appreciate April's willingness to put her life on hold to care for Teo. I marvel at how her instinct told her to protect our little ones at all costs.
I don't mind being the ambassador because I know April's got a good health care plan in place for Teo.
Every time our friend Laura comes over, she looks at Teo like he's a steak dinner. She has an appetite for holding babies, and she's always so appreciative that we are willing to share him with her, which is just the way April and I want it to be, since in all honesty we would let the mailman hold the baby if he was willing.
April had a great idea the other day. She said, "I know, Laura, you can change Teo's diaper," and when Laura's eyes lit up, April added, "and Kelly can show you how."
So, while April sat on the couch and watched TV, I supervised Laura at the changing table. I didn't say much because I thought it would be more entertaining to watch her figure out how to change the diaper by herself. Also, in some twisted way it seemed therapeutic to watch someone else, completely unaware of what was about to happen to her, suffer the same way I've suffered changing diapers every day of my son's life.
See what Laura didn't know, and what most people would find difficult to believe is that my son Teo is actually a werewolf. As soon as Laura would open that diaper, he would start howling at the moon and pawing at her hands and trying to escape.
That's not what happened, however. Teo didn't turn into a werewolf. He stayed a little boy, and he smiled and even giggled at Laura as she changed his diaper. The difference was Laura didn't treat him like a wild animal like I do. I always feel like a zoo keeper getting in the cage with a wild animal, and my thinking is this: "Teo, this isn't a pleasant experience for either of us, so let's get it over with as soon as possible."
Watching Laura change Teo's diaper, on the other hand, was like watching someone get a pedicure. She played with his feet, and they chatted, and she gently took off his diaper without him even noticing.
"You did pretty well for a beginner," I told Laura as she lifted Teo into her arms and we left the room.
Later that day, when it was my turn to change Teo's diaper, I tried giving our little werewolf a pedicure, and he was all smiles.
San Miguel Alleke bowed her head reverently and folded her hands above her plate.
"Dear God, thank you for my cousin Josie and my cousin Emma and my cousin DJ and my cousin Charlie."
She lifted her head and peeked at the people sitting around the table.
"Thank you for mama and for Teo and for daddy and for my friend Amy," she continued, naming each person.
Once again she bowed her head and closed her eyes. "Help me drink and help me eat," she prayed, and then, as an afterthought, she added, "and help daddy drink beer. Amen."
Before I had even set down the grocery bags and closed the front door, Alleke had scrambled off the couch and latched onto my leg. "Daddy," she squealed.
"See," she said, pointing at her lips, shiny as a chrome bumper. "I did it myself," she added, now pointing at the lipstick sitting on the arm of the couch next to her aunt Aunt Heidi, who coincidentially also had shiny bumper lips.
"I'm a grown up now," Alleke assured me, "but I'm still three."
It's only a matter of time, I thought, with a sigh.
Teo Smiles This video is guaranteed to make babies smile.
I just showed this video to Teo twice, and both times he couldn't stop smiling at himself. I guess he's a perfectly healthy, egocentric, baby.
Rick is my brother-in-law. He's home from college for Christmas break, and he's been a permanent fixture in the basement playing Modern Warfare 2 on his Xbox 360.
I had to laugh this morning when Heidi, my sister-in-law, and her boyfriend Josh were sitting at the kitchen table and my dad-in-law popped his head around the corner.
"Josh, do you know how to play video games?" he asked.
Josh shrugged and said, "Yeah."
"Good," my dad-in-law said. "Go downstairs and kill Rick."
Kings Day Kings Day is celebrated on January 6th, and it is the day children traditionally receive Christmas presents in Spain. The gifts help the children remember the part of the Christmas story when the "kings" or wise men brought presents to baby Jesus.
We started celebrating Kings Day with Alleke last year because we wanted to join in on all the festivities happening around us in Madrid, and as a Christian family, it took some of the pressure off of Christmas Day so that we could focus on the story of baby Jesus without having to worry about presents until later.
This year we were still in Iowa visiting family for Kings Day, so we invited Alleke's grandparents and some of her cousins to help us celebrate.
I'm not sure if we got all the Spanish traditions right, but we had a lot of fun!
Here's the recipe we used for our Kings Day:
1. We watched the Kings Day parade live in Madrid by streaming Spanish TV through my laptop. Watch the parade now.
2. We put out Alleke's shoes with a carrot for the kings' camels to eat before we put her to bed.
3. Alleke woke up and found that the kings had left presents by her shoes and their camels had eaten the carrot.
4. We read the story of the kings visiting baby Jesus from Matthew 2.
5. Alleke and her cousins opened their presents.
6. We ate Roscón de Reyes and hot chocolate with churros. The Roscón is a Spanish pastry traditionally eaten for breakfast on Kings Day. We usually buy one, but since we were in Iowa, I made it myself.
7. Grandma TG found the prize I baked into the roscón, which was a little silver coin. The person who finds the prize has to supply the roscón for Kings Day next year. Perhaps that means Grandma and Papa will have to come for a visit?
April walked into the living room and leaned over the back of the recliner. "Mom, do you have a nightlight?" she asked. Mom was sitting on the couch with little Teo asleep in her arms.
"I don't think so," she said, not taking her eyes off her grandson, "but you can look around."
April disappeared in the basement. She came back a few minutes later, collapsed in the recliner, and opened a can of Mountain Dew.
"I didn't find anything," she said.
I looked around the room. The Christmas tree still sat in the corner with gifts piled underneath. I eyed the glowing angel on top of the tree. "We could put the angel in our room," I said, pointing.
"That could work," Mom agreed.
April rolled her eyes, but she still sat up in her chair and looked around the room at all the twinkling Christmas decorations.
Later, when I carried Alleke into our bedroom and dumped her on the bed, I noticed that on top of the chest of drawers had been placed a small porcelain nativity with a cord plugged into the wall.
After I put Alleke to sleep, I climbed into bed and turned off the light. The soft light surrounding the silhouette of the holy family would light the room just enough for April to see what she was doing while she fed Teo in the rocking chair during the night. Somehow it seemed more appropriate this Christmas to have glowing baby Jesus at the end of our bed where he was needed instead of leaving him in the livingroom where he was just nice to look at.
Christmas Day Most of the chairs still sat up-side-down on the tables in the hotel lounge except for the table in the corner where we sat and ate our breakfast. Alleke sat in front of a half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and sang at the top of her lungs, "Let every heart prepare him room, and heav'n and nature sing," and then she would sing those two lines over again as one of the many songs in her repertoire that have no end.
I let her sing because the hotel appeared to be empty except for us and the waitress who was turning over chairs and setting tables. She gave Alleke a wink, then walked over and began to clear our plates.
"So you got stuck working on Christmas Day, huh?" I said.
"That's right. My girls opened their presents on Sunday," she said with a sigh. "They're with their daddy and his family today."
"We had our third flight canceled this morning," I said. "We were hoping to be with family, but we're in a hotel instead."
The waitress smiled and turned to walk away.
"Yes, but at least you're together," she said.
Report Card I met April at the front door of our apartment buildling. She was standing in the snow with Teo asleep in a sling inside her coat and pushing Alleke in the stroller, who was busy admiring her mittens.
As we walked down the slushy street together towards a friend's house, April handed me a white piece of paper.
"It's Alleke first report card," she said.
She stared at the piece of paper in my hand like it was a crossword puzzle that had stumped her.
"I can't decide if I'm going to look at it," she said. "She's three years old. I don't care what her report card says, but if I look at it, I will."
I still can't decide if Alleke's Christmas costume looks more like a shepherd or a pirate. I definitely think pirates would have made for an interesting Christmas story.
"...and there were pirates in the seas nearby watching over their treasure by night..."
I turned the key in the lock and opened the door into our apartment. Alleke scampered by and climbed onto the couch. Before I had time to take off my coat and hang it up, Alleke was already jumping up and down like a cheerleader and chanting, "Daddy's home. Daddy's home. Daddy's home."
"Guess what, dad?" Alleke said with a grin.
April, who was nursing Teo in the rocking chair, interrupted, "Alleke, I told you not to tell daddy. It's a secret."
Alleke giggled and covered her mouth. "Mommy got you a Christmas present," she blurted out, "and it's a kitchen knife!"
April gaped at her in astonishment. "I'm not telling you anymore secrets," she said defiantly.
I walked over and gave April a kiss. "Not that you wouldn't have found out anyway," April said. "Your knife is in our Amazon cart. Can you buy it for me?"
Brand New Dad provides general information and is designed for educational purposes only. If you have any concerns about your own health or the health of your child, you should always consult with a physician or other healthcare professional. Please review the Terms of Service and Privacy Policy before using this site. Your use of the site indicates your agreement to be bound by the Terms of Service.
