Rise, Shine, You People

Ages. It's been ages since I've been to church.
But this morning, Crash and Jessi were both asleep, DanPar and I were up, and I knew every moment with that loud boy (and his loud dad) in the house was risking waking up the rest of the household.
So you know what? It's Sunday. I'm Christian. Let's go to church!

I chose the closest one with the earliest service, which happened to be a Lutheran church nearby. (I was also able to get the Pokestop outside!) I was nervous, for a couple reasons:

1, classic, I hadn't been in a while. There's some sort of shame involved, but I knew it was dumb, so I muscled through it. While keeping an open ear for Crash, just in case "Oh no he's up guess I'm staying here."
2, I'd never been to a Lutheran church before, and while I was pretty confident DanPar could get away with wearing a nice jacket over his Avengers pajamas, all I'd been able to scrape up from our clean laundry was a golf shirt and a pair of jeans (with only one stain!)

But there's no chance I'd let #2 get to me, because if the Screwtape Letters taught me anything, it's that you don't need to follow every tenet of a church in order to attend and feel that divine belonging.
So with a wet hand through the hair, one last check on Crash to be eeeeeextra sure he was asleep (he was, dang,) we headed out.

The closer we got, the more real everything became. Over the last year, I'd come to think of religious folk as a voting bloc, thinking of them less as a group I was certainly a part of, and more of a tangle of politics and personal ethics. Before turning into the parking lot, I nearly turned off to find a nice  McDonald's to take DanPar, because I was overflowing with concerns. What do Lutherans think about gay marriage? How do they tend to side on racial issues? Are they active in the homeless community?

But by the time the car stopped, I was ready for church. Religion is a weird thing. I follow the idea of "You are not a body with a soul. You are a soul. You have a boy." (Not CS Lewis. Hard to find the origin.) And I could tell this was going to be good for me. So, deer in headlights, I walked in, trying to take everything in. Okay, everyone's wearing jeans. Cool. What the, is that a little thing of holy water? Mmkay, no problem, just pass it. Oh crap, the pastor's wearing a robe? That's a thing in protestant denominations? Well, the pastor's a woman, so that's neat.

The poor usher. I gushed everything to him. Confessed full ignorance, shared my worry that we were underdressed, and told him the only reason I came was because it was open early. I probably went a little far, but he gave me a big smile, and said, "Well, I'm glad you came. And we're not going to turn you away because you're not wearing a tie."

That's what made it all come back. The small-church churchgoers that were never anything but glad that you were there. It was like God nudged me and gave me a wink. It was all good. Good to have you here today.

Daniel was the loudest kid at the service, but not because he was sad or angry. He just told me in his normal volume (THIS IS HIS NORMAL VOLUME) all about the red car, about drinking milk, about Santa. But, and this was weird, the thing he said the most was, "Bless you, Dad." You can call me superstitious all you want, but I've already admitted to believing in an all-powerful magical being, so yeah. It was sweet of him, and in a way, it was comforting to hear it. I still had God's blessing, I hadn't fallen out of His favor, and it continues to remind me of powerful lyrics:

And if our God is for us, then who could ever stop us?
And if our God is with us, then what can stand against?

One last note: Today, Daniel had his first communion. (The bread and wine thing.) I know that's a big deal to some people, so there you have it. After the bread, he asked if he could have pizza. That's my boy.

What a heck!

DanPar is  a nice kid who is clever enough to ask for ice water if he wants it. Yesterday, however, the reason he wanted it was to pour it into other cups and onto his tea party table. I didn't catch on until the third time he asked for water was followed only a few seconds by his fourth time, with the empty cup in hand.

He calls them "twenty-six cups!" It's more like 12, but kudos for spitballing above ten, right?

I came in, and exclaimed, "What the heck!" And I scrambled to get some cloths to clean it up. When I'd cleaned up his mad experiment, pouring cups of water into other cups, I looked at him, he looked at me, and with the grin of a child who knows he's just learned something beyond what he should, he said, "What a heck!"

And he kept saying that.
All. Day. Long.

When his nap was over, and he still hadn't forgotten the phrase, I decided to let him have so much fun he'd forget the little joys of knowing an almost-swear.

Jessi had taken the Crash Boy out and about, so it was just Mr. Par and me. I sit him down in the driver's seat of the car, and took out my phone.

The results are as follows:

We are intellectuals.

We are pandas.

This one turned out really well!

Then I noticed that there was a Pokestop at the nearby King Soopers, and not only that, it had a LURE on it!!! (Translation: A phone game I play practically forced me go to the store.)
While there, I bought an apple for the little guy, and ordered a five-dollar pizza, with chicken, zucchini, and sausage.
We learned a new idea, too! Was it Daniel's pizza? Not entirely. Was it Dad's pizza? Not entirely. It was our pizza. And he was just as excited to learn about the collective possessive pronoun as he was to learn "What a heck!"

He made me cook more zucchini and cheese to put on it!

When his mom and baby brother came home, he was doing his best to keep his eyes open, because his Dad had kicked his ass.
But that boy is never too tired for a smile. :)

Brothers

Today, I feel in tune with my children. I've been able to accurately predict when they need food and rest, and I just know what toys will work best with them. I love these two little boys.

Breakfast time!

But goodness me do I love not spending time with them.

That's not the case with DanPar. If he hears Crash let out a little whine, he will rush to the crib and start poking the little baby's face, pointing out all of his facial features.

DanPar demanded Crash get out of the cart to also look at the fish.

Just yesterday, I fell asleep with Crash in my arms. When I woke up, I discovered three stickers on the side of his head, lovingly placed there by his older brother.

They are good boys, and DanPar is a good brother, if a little rough sometimes. But even when we drag him out of Crash's swing, where he'd been climbing up to give Crash Boy a kiss, little baby Crash has a big smile on his face.

Crash is also sometimes terrified of DanPar's hugs.

I'm one lucky dad.

Hiding from the boys

Breakfast is an ordeal. I can whip up a meal for the kiddos in no time, but when I'm trying to eat something for me, it's hard to find a moment's peace. So I hide.

 It's not for a long time or anything. I just want five minutes, five glorious minutes, where I am still close enough to come running in a crisis, but just out of sight, so DanPar forgets about me, and I can drink coffee on the floor.

 It's a glamorous life. But eventually DanPar does something impressive enough that he wants to show off what he can do, such as hide things in boxes, put things in his mouth, or bounce things off my head.

 It's tough, not ever getting a moment alone. Not to eat, not to go out, not to text someone without the big boy demanding my be used to watch garbage trucks, not to just zone out at the computer. I do miss videogames.

But I'm incredibly happy. Tired, yes. Stressed, oh yeah. But above all, I love my family. Joy predominates. Then exhaustion at a close second.

The Sims

Let's face it. Parenting isn't a super glamorous thing when you actually look at it. The highlight of my day is making a dad joke that is so bad it makes Jessi leave the room.

But if you know anything about parenting, you know that you quite literally and figuratively have to put up with a lot of crap. So why, Woodman, why, would you have kids?

I blame the false advertising of that classic life simulator The Sims. They make having kids seem AWESOME! And here's why.

1) The first part only lasts two weeks.

Those sleepless first few newborn months? The terrible twos? Fast-forwarded in a just one fortnight! Okay, Woody, you're thinking, aren't there times that you want to pause and enjoy forever? The answer's yes, but hey, I've got a smart phone! I've got a camera with me at all times! In just seven fourteen days, your kid goes from human paperweight to literate, potty-trained, conversational, grade-school kid! (Not to mention that recovery after pregnancy is literally instant.) BOOM. Instead, we're almost two years in with DanPar, and he still hasn't gotten a job! NOT EVEN ONE. Lazy freeloader.

Future puppet dentist?

2) Kids clean things up when you tell them to.

Here's the biggest one, right in front. In the game, you just click on a puddle, and have your kid mopit up. Or you click on the trash and boom, they'll take it out in no time! It's easy as the pie that your kid just baked because they can cook, too. But in real life, the closest DanPar has come to cooking is putting blueberries on a banana to make it look like people driving around in a car. (And then eating the occupants.)

And while yes, he will wipe things up, he usually leaves more of a mess than there was before. We got him a play cleaning set, because he loves brooms, and now he uses the mop to play field hockey with his Batman ball.

3) They have a status bar.

This is probably the most legitimate claim as a loving parent. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone in your family had a status bar that told you when they were dirty? Or sleepy? Or lonely? Or bored? Let me tell you, we just taught DanPar to say "change" when he needs a new diaper. Okay, okay, he somehow learned on his own, but I'm sure I helped. And dude, that is SO nice. With baby Crash around, it would be unfairly convenient to be able to look and quickly know exactly when he'll want to nap, or when he'll be upset and why. I'm quickly recalling the checklist I had for DanPar when he was whiny:
- Too cold / too hot?

- Dirty / wet?

- Uncomfortable? Toes or fingers stuck?

- Wants to be held? (For Crash: Always.)

- Tired?

- Just being a baby? 

Right now, Crash is curled up against my stomach (the closest thing I have to a boob), and he's content, so I feel pretty confident. but give it an hour, and I'll be caught up in guesswork once again.

Big ol' hairy pillow!

There are many many more, such as being able to save your game, so that if you mess up your kid (by withholding pineapple or snuggles of course), you can always go back and fix things. Or the fact that children are literally invincible in the game. But looking at DanPar's reckless behavior, and how he rode a wagon down the stairs a week ago, cried for one minute, kissed his own boo-boos, and went on his way, that may already be the case.

In any case, even though I may have been initially misled by The Sims, I think we are doing outstanding. I'm really really happy. (And oh, oh so tired.)

An open garage

Last winter, when it started snowing big flakes, I brought a big soft chair to the open garage, snuggled with Daniel under a heavy blanket, and read his favorite book at the time, Ten Chirpy Chicks, while the world, just one arm's length away turned white.

That was a joy I don't think I'll ever forget.

Today, I'm sitting and reading a Kindle in the open garage as leaves fall, with Christopher dozing at my feet. And it makes me smile to feel that joy again.

The Earthly Medium

When my mind is in the clouds, I think about the afterlife. And since there's really not too much we know about the idea/place/concept/thing that is life after death, I have a fun time just making my own most preferred version.

No clouds. No gates. No wings. I'm rather attached to this planet, since it's where all my favorite things are. (No offense, Big Dipper, I'm sorry that you didn't make the cut.) So I like the ideas where we are healed, and become caretakers of the world and those on it.

Now, that whole "healed" thing. By default, we tend to think about the blind seeing, the lame walking, and the terminally ill shedding our disease. But you know how so many of us struggle with mental illnesses on a scale from slight to severe? Imagine none of that. No addiction, no depression, no fires of aggression barely contained behind our decency.

And then remove the Earthly Medium. That strange veil that serves as an obstacle from us clearly seeing one another as fellow souls who all have our own struggles and burdens to bear and share.
Let's lift that veil. To hear about someone in need is the same as to feel their pain in your own heart, and want to help them as much as you would help your own brother. And in that love is work, and love is work. And in that love is joy, and love is joy. In this heavenly earth, you can feel the love of others as easily as you can inhale, and you can express that communal love for all of us as easily as you can exhale.

You breathe in, and the smiles of strangers support you in your own struggle, the words of friends come to mind, and you know you are not alone.

You breathe out, and you nod to someone who looks like they need it, you give encouragement to your friends, and you make everyone's path a little clearer.

A world where the promises of heaven have been fulfilled. We still work, we still play, we still struggle, but we know we are not alone through it all.

Here in the pre-afterlife (let's just call it life), the love for mankind is something that takes work, and lots of it, to feel it and express it. You have to decide if that strange man truly needs money or just wants to get something off his chest or is trying to swindle you. You have to decide what role money plays in your life without abandoning the society you know. You have to decide how much effort you should put into others, when you know at the end of the day that looking out for yourself is the one thing only you can do.

In life, even baking your neighbor cookies takes a path of a million decisions. But here, that's the blessed path that it takes to simply express yourself in ways above words that genuinely say, "I'm here for you."

P.S. How incredible would it be if heaven were established on our planet, and we explored the galaxy with hearts that held the greatest power of our entire human race?
P.P.S. That power? It's LOVE. And man, that's cheesy, but yeah.
P.P.P.S. Yeah, all right, so if earth becomes an afterlife, won't it be a little crowded? And can people die now? Do they just respawn back on earth if they accidentally fly into a sun?
P.P.P.P.S. Well, it's an idealistic thought. Idealism comes with the territory of being religious. And I for one enjoy the idea of an earth where I can play Dungeons and Dragons with Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Theodore Roosevelt, and my kids, all at the same table, fighting fantastical evils in a world where actual evil has been ultimately vanquished from our hearts.
P.P.P.P.P.S. And yes, vanquished by LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE.