Time flies.

I really don't update this thing often enough. But there are a ton of things that I don't do often enough. Write. Tell people that I love them. Get 8 full hours of sleep. Eat salads whatever anyway you get it.

The lack of updates would make one assume that nothing is happening. This would be a very, very wrong assumption. Kids never rest.

And neither do Vanessa and I. We had another kid... Two years ago. So. Yeah. A little behind on updates. Whoops.

Anyway, Jack is two now, Matt just turned 6, Lilly will be 5 tomorrow and Em's gonna be 4 before I know it. Which means that we are just shy of having been parents for five full years (yes, those numbers are correct). And I still don't have my head wrapped around it at all. I love it, mostly, and they're amazing, except when they're not, which isn't often. 

Here's an example of Jack being amazing. It's bedtime. Baths have been taken, pajamas put on and a bedtime story read ("Theodore the Flying Mouse," a Little a Golden book that belonged to Vanessa). We're working on kissing the girls goodnight and tucking them in. While Vanessa finishes that, I go into the boys room and Jack is standing by his bed. He hands me a couple books to put into said bed and then says, "wrap me up." I ask him if he's ready and he says, "yeah," in his little, adorable voice.

So I wrap him up, he says, "baby," which means "Rock A-bye Baby," so I sing it, kiss him and put him in bed. And he's out before I put a blanket on him.

Here's why this is amazing: at two he has the presence of mind to know that he's tired and ready to go to sleep. I'm 31 and half the time I'm like, "I'm tired, I wonder what's on the internet now!" It's just an amazing little thing.

Here's another example. If you say "nap," he knows that means bedtime and he is not always game for that. So we would trick him by saying, "let's go change your diaper!" and then throwing him into his crib after that. Now any time you suggest a diaper change, he says, "I'm happy!" 

"Jack, do you have a poopy butt?"

"I'm happy!"

While it's not a correct response, it's hilarious. When you take him to change that inevitably poopy butt (this kid shits a lot), he just repeats, "I'm not tired," and, "no bed," until you put him down. Vanessa claims she's never heard the "I'm happy" business and that's too bad. It's great.

Anyway. This kid is two and he's smarter than a lot of the adults I know.

Vague freak out.

A thing happened the other day and it freaked me out. 

That's pretty vague, right? Well that's kind of what parenting is all about. 

This specific thing was a text message from Vanessa while I was at work. "Taking Jack to the ER. Can you join me." That sounds equally terrifying and nonchalant. No follow up to be like, "he fell down the stairs and has a bone sticking out of his leg" or "he got stung by a bee and is swelling up." Nothing. Just "taking your child to the ER. May or may not be dying."

So I ran the hell out of work. 

With the information I had prior to this text message, I should have been able to piece together what was going on. Jack had been treated for croup earlier in the week. A dose of meds earlier in the week. He had still seemed kind of sickly but not terribly so--just grumpier than normal. Vanessa had mentioned that he had puked that morning as well. 

So I should have figured it was croup rented and he was likely ok. But I fucking panicked. Whoa boy did I ever. I was madman on the highway. 

As it turns out, unnecessarily. They x-rayed his lungs, determined that he looked fine, gave him a once over and sent us packing. Jack still seems a little grumpy but he is my son...

Return of the Living Dad.

Everyone tells you that being a parent is difficult. 

But they never tell you how difficult that is, exactly. And even if they were like, "It's really, really hard. Harder than you could ever imagine," you still would have no idea how hard that truly is. 

The thing is, they don't tell you what is hard. It's not so much the day to day stresses of being a parent--feeding and clothing your mini-mes. Not to say that is always easy but there are more difficult things. And most of them, you are never prepared to handle. 

One would be having a child diagnosed with special needs. That term instantly makes you think of a kid with Downs Syndrome or any other form of handicap where you can look at someone and say, "Yep. They're different."

But there are so many others. ADHD and ODD are two. One is probably familiar to you. The other probably not as much. Both are subject to debate and often those debates are capped by someone saying, "That child just needs a firm hand," or something similar. 

They are so incredibly wrong. 

ODD is a difficult thing to understand. It stands of Oppositional Defiant Disorder. A super simple explanation would be:

"Matthew, take a cookie."

"No!"

And the truth is that obviously Matt wants a cookie--who doesn't want a cookie? But because you're telling him to, he's not going to do it. 

And holy shit does that make things difficult. Not just at home. In public places like restaurants and grocery stores. Or in classrooms. You're seconds away from a colossal meltdown every place you go. Couple that with a lack of impulse control thanks to the ADHD and you've got a hell of a volatile situation. 

But the point of this isn't to frighten you. Or to complain about my son. Because while ODD sounds a little terrifying when you read about it, Matthew is not his diagnosis. 

He's a beautiful, sweet boy. He's smart like I never thought a five year old could be. He wants to hug everyone and give them kisses. He wants absolutely nothing more than to make everyone happy. He just can't. 

But I will never give up on him. I will believe in him until my dying day. I don't care how hard it gets or how much I have to fight--with, for and against him--I will always be there. 

Right now Matt sees a counselor every other week to understand why he feels the way he does. He takes medication for his ADHD. He's in speech therapy to help him vocalize his emotions better. I take him to all of these appointments. And it's hard--hard to see my child struggle with things that seem to come so easily. It hurts. I think about his future every day. I wonder if he will be OK. For a lot of parents, that worry is much simpler. And I kind of envy them. 

But then I get to kiss Matt goodnight or snuggle with him on the couch. His little bony elbows poking me, feeling him breathe. Right then, right there, everything is perfect. My child is special. Because he's mine. 

Small things.

Emmy's teething. Those things are SHARP. When she clamps down, it hurts--a lot. But it's really cute to with her try desperately to get things to her mouth.

The other night, Lilly was sitting on my lap, stroking my overgrown face stubble. My heart literally melted. Today, she was chillng in her diaper, watching Yo Gabba Gabba and saying "Hi" to all of the characters. Then, she was blowing kisses to strangers in Target.

Matt makes me laugh endlessly. He has a new habit of labeling everything as mommy, daddy and baby. He also refuses to wear any shoe without a "man" on it. He has some Transformers shoes and refused to wear the nice dress shoes we bought him for his school Crustmas party. He also loved the creepy gingerbread man that visited. It was cuh-reepy.

It has been an intense, amazing year. I can't wait for next year.

Grief.

Not a lot of people knew this, but Vanessa was pregnant. Not a lot of people new this because it was very recent. Only a few weeks. This baby was planned and a welcome addition to our home. We were so excited.

But that excitement has turned to extreme sadness. On Sunday night, Vanessa started bleeding. We went to the hospital where they drew blood, had her pee in a cup, did a cervical exam and an internal ultrasound. All done just so that they could send us home with a prescription for another blood test in two days and nothing in the way of answers.

So we waited. Then, on Tuesday, we took a blood test only to be told that the results wouldn't be available until the next day. So we waited again.

Then we finally got the call. Her levels were lower. There was no baby anymore. Vanessa had miscarried.

After three days of waiting and hoping and giving up and returning to hope and then giving up again the end result was anticlimactic. There was no surge of emotion, no tears. Just more emptiness and numbness. Truthfully, I don't know how to feel or what to do. I lack motivation to do anything except sit. Life is zooming by all around me and I have no inclination to join the world.

I'm sad. I wanted another baby. I love being a dad. It is, without a doubt, the greatest thing to happen to me. I love my kids so much. And the idea of having another little one to snuggle against my chest, roll on the ground with, teach to brush their teeth, all of the stuff that comes with being a parent, it absolutely thrilled me. This, more than anything, is something that I was born to do. I'm good at it. They make me better.

And now I feel like I've been robbed of it.

People might say that we're over-reacting, that this was hardly a baby. I call bullshit on that. This was MY baby. In my heart, they weren't just a thing, they were my child. And losing a child is an awful thing.

I'm scared to move on. I'm scared to try again.

I can be strong. I can be brave. We will survive this.

*tumbleweeds*

So, I have been gently reminded several times that it has been awhile since I have updated.

Well, I have been busy. EXCUSE ME.

Nah, sorry. I feel bad. I have had a bunch of stuff going on, a lot of it that would be incredibly relevant to this blog, but I just haven't sat down to update. Gonna try and correct that right now. Biggest thing?

Vanessa and I finally have full legal custody of Matt. This is huge. This is the culmination of two years of pain, heartbreak and frustration. Getting custody was not easy. First, there was a huge battle with bio-mom. She was so convinced that she would get custody and was so angry at us that she fought us tooth and nail. It was ugly. We walked away a couple of times. It was one of the most emotional times of my life and I don't ever want to go through anything like it ever again.

But things finally came around and my parent's got custody of Matt. There's a good reason for this: they have money. Vanessa and I aren't homeless, nor are we broke, but we're not buying gold-plated anythings anytime soon. It was easier for the courts and CSB if my parents and custody. So they got it and Vanessa and I did the muscle work.

And then came Em. That was super simple. Emotional and painful but in completely different ways. And overall, simple. Just paperwork. Which is what it finally boiled down to with Matt as well. We filed some paperwork, paid some fees and waited.

The letter was non-descript. Just like any other letter addressed to me. But when I pulled the papers out, they looked distinctly like court documents. Realization was immediate and profound. I fucking cried like a baby. In my heart, Matt has always been my son and I didn't care what anyone else thought. Still, the official label was important. Now, I don't have to explain it to anyone. Matt is my son is my son is my son. All day, every day.

It was a great day. I love my kids. I love my family. And now, we're officially completely a real family.

A Couple of Brief Lists.

Things I Love:
1.) Snuggling--there's nothing like a warm baby head cozying itself into your chest.
2.) Wrestling--babies like to wrestle and get physical and the laughter that they unleash is better than any high you get chemically.
3.)The Laughs--I know that I just mentioned them, but I thought it worth mentioning again.
4.) Sleeping--in their beds, the car, my arms, whatever, this is the most amazing thing in the world. Ever tear is forgotten, every headache, whatever, it's all washed away. If you ever want to see absolute peace, watch a baby sleep.
5.) The Smiles--especially in little, teeny, tiny babies. Em's smile is wonderful.

Things I Don't Love:
1.) Diapers--in general, I don't mind them. But at a certain point, every baby wants to fight having them changed. This leads to poop (never pee) on feet, hands, the floor and pretty much anywhere else you don't want it.
2.) The Inability to Speak--hearing as they get new words is pretty awesome. Waiting for those words is difficult. They can scream all they want, I still don't know what it means.
3.) The Fights--babies are hard headed. It just happens that way. They don't mean to be, but sometimes babies are full on assholes. Yep, I said it. This usually happens when they want thing A and you want thing B and there's no type of compromise. Negotiating with a infant? Impossible.

Babies Don't Play Fair.

Seriously. Especially when you're outnumbered, 3 to 1, it's like a four way dance of death where three people all team up to beat up one guy and they don't really care about winning.

Kids do that. And it can be exasperating beyond belief. I don't believe in hitting kids, per se (jury is still out on spanking), but there are days where I think that a minor throttling would not be out of the question.

Today was one of those days.

Truthfully, it started last night. Emily was being "cute." She woke up at 3, so I changed her, went to the bathroom and then tried to feed her. As soon as the nipple hit her mouth, she was out. I sat there, tried to prod her awake and nothing. She was out.

So I put her down. And BOOM. Awake. I succeeded in feeding her but had no luck in putting her to sleep. Finally, I was ready to give up so I put her back into her bassinet where she promptly fell asleep instantly. This baby was messing with me. She thinks she's funny, but she'll learn.

(also, she's continuing the "falling asleep/waking up" thing right now... wtf)

Then, there was Matt and his goddamn big boy bed. I say it like that because there was nothing "big boy" about his behavior today. The past few nights, it has been a literal nightmare trying to get him to fall asleep. We've been sitting in the room for 45 minutes plus, and usually he's still awake when we leave. We're lucky if he stays in bed.

Today sucked extra hard because I had to pee when I took them upstairs. It was a little later than normal, so I figured they'd be out in no time. WRONG-O. 25 minutes late and he was sitting up, staring at me. I figured I'd give it a shot and go pee. As soon as I was over the gate, I heard feet hitting ground.

So I peed, went back up and heard him scuttle into bed. I hung out for a little bit and since it was quiet, decided to go check on Em before my shower. She was quiet, so I got clean. By the time I was out: pitter-patter of little feet from above, hoots and hollers from below. The team-up had begun.

Got dressed, grabbed a bottle and Em, headed upstairs. Matt had unloaded a library into Lilly's crib, and she was sitting flipping through the books while he did the same on the floor outside her crib. I grabbed the books, put him in his crib and sat there. For another 45 minutes.

Lilly jumped up and down in her crib. Matt sat and stared at me. Em fussed and continued to spit the nipple from the bottle out of her mouth. Believe it or not, this was really, really annoying. Like I was being taunted from all sides. Finally, I cracked. I set Em down, and grabbed the sides for Matt's bed and changed it back into a crib.

THen I walked out of the room (with Em, of course). They fussed and cried, but eventually they went to sleep.

But it doesn't end there.

After nap was a nightmare. Em fussed and fussed and fussed and fussed and fussed endlessly. Nothing that I could do was right. She wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat, didn't want to be held, but didn't want to be put down.

Matt was bullying Lilly who was trying to grab the baby's bottle and everyone was trying to get a piece of me.

I tried taking the kids outside and that was a disaster. Three crying kids standing in the middle of my driveway? NOT FUN.

Eventually, Vanessa came home and let me escape for a bit. I needed it. Oh God, did I ever need it. When I came home, I was relaxed, Vanessa was getting the kids ready for bed and there was a picture on the table for me. It was from a Star Wars coloring book and it said, "Daddy, you are our hero." Damn cute kids doing things to make me forget why I was so upset in the first place.

Father's Day.

This is my second Father's Day. Last year, Lilly was only about a month old and Matt was just over a year. We spent the day at my parent's house and it was pretty awesome.

This year was even better. Again, we spent the day at my parent's house. Most of it was in the pool. Neither of the big kids has any fear of water at all. Matt floated in a raft the whole time (Jeffrey pushed him around) and Lilly floated between Vanessa, my parents and I. Unfortunately, we didn't have the Lil Swimmer diapers, just regular crappy ones (poor quality, not filled with poop, just to be clear), and those things were SWOLLEN. Both kids ended up looking kind of like Howard the Duck from the movie of the same name.

When Matt finally got out of the pool (this took some time, and he was jumping back in like an Olympic diver), his diaper was so swollen that he looked like he had an ENORMOUS bubble butt. If pictures had done it any justice, I would post one. I might still any way.

Eventually, Lilly got tired of it and ended up swimming naked for a bit and then with her suit on. At one point, she was walking around the outside of the pool, and had been for a few minutes. And then she peed. All the while, Emily slept. I have a feeling that tonight I will be spending a lot of time with her. I'm OK with that.

Trying to explain how awesome this all is is incredibly difficult. I truly believe that you've never experienced love at it's fullest until you've had a child. That experience broadens your understanding of love. It brought my closer to Vanessa and overall, made me into a better person.

The simplicity of having a day with no responsibility (no chores, no meals to cook, NOTHING) and just having fun relaxing in the pool, splashing around with my wife and my big babies--it's really the most amazing experience ever. I feel bad for people that won't ever experience it. Parenting can be incredibly trying and beyond tiring, but a day like today makes every single headache worth it. There is nothing like ending the day totally sun-baked, chlorinated and exhausted. It is indescribably awesome.

So, yeah, today was totally awesome. Thanks for asking.

Parenting is not a straight line from A to B.

More like a curly cue with several zigs, a handful of zags and a loop de loop or four. I think that, without any false sense of bravado, I can say that this is especially true for my family.

Matt and Emily are adopted. This process can be long, tedious and costly, even under the best situation. Ours is even more twisted because their biological mother is my adopted sister. The circumstances of their removal (at birth) from her care isn't a nice one. Let's just say that it is completely and utterly not a safe place to raise a child.

When CSB called us about Matt's case, Vanessa and I knew that we had to be a part of his life. Every child deserves the best, and very rarely do they get it. THe foster care system is a fucked up, flawed place where kids fall through the cracks, get tossed from home to home and the guidelines for who can and cannot be a foster parent are pretty slack. So we stepped in to be mom and dad.

But things hit a speed bump pretty early on. Bio Mom was pissed at our family, convinced that it was our fault that Matt was taken from her in the first place. So she went into to court and said that my family was a bunch of bad people and that we would hurt Matt to get back at her.

So we fought. We hired a lawyer and inserted ourselves into the case. We were bound and determined to provide the best life outcome for Matt. Even when it seemed hopeless, we persevered. Eventually, Bio Mom came around and saw that her case was pretty much doomed, and signed off on us having legal custody. Matt came home to stay a week after Lilly was born. So in one week, we went from having zero kids to having a newborn and a one year old.

Eventually, word got back to us that Bio Mom was pregnant again. The first question everyone asked was, "Are you going to take this one too?" And from the start, we said no. The process was too painful, too long and we didn't want to put our family through it again. From the start, we knew that we were lying. Of course we were going to do it.

There are a lot of reasons: this is our son's sister. The repercussions of NOT doing it are astronomical. There are so many questions that Matt could ask that I don't ever want to have to answer. And I won't ever have to. Because things went very differently this time.

CSB stepped in as soon as Emily was born. This time, Bio Mom said that Vanessa and I should take Emily so that she could be with her brother. This was before anyone ever spoke to us about the matter. The phone call that we got was essentially, "This is CSB. We're taking custody of Emily Beane. Bio Mom would like you to take kinship care while she works her case plan."

The discussion that we had with Bio Mom was short and simple, "I don't want to work a case plan. I can't get my head out of the water, this is what's best for her." It was the most grown up decision that I've ever seen her make, and I was very proud of her for doing it. Then, I very literally carried her baby out of the room, taking her away from her forever.

It was one of the worst moments of my life, because I could hear Bio Mom's heart breaking. The flip-side is that I knew how much better off Emily would be with us.

Yesterday was a big day because we went to court. Usually, after 30 days, there is a hearing where the details of the case plan are discussed in order to achieve reunification. To the judge's surprise, Bio Mom was foregoing that, asking for Full Legal custody to be placed with Vanessa and I.

Seems like a straight line, but it isn't. We were awarded Temporary Legal Custody while we wait for Bio Dad's paternity test to come back. Even though it was court ordered and CSB bent over backwards to make it happen, he didn't take it on time so the results hadn't come back...

Obvious questions that people have:
How and why are Vanessa and I willing to do this?
--Short answer? Because it's important and because we have been blessed (by God? I dunno if I want to go there) with the strength and determination to do it. That or we're too stupid to say no. Take your pick.

How can you say that you feel the same for Matt and Emily as you do for Lilly, your biological daughter?
--Easy. I'll give you an example. Emily failed her first two hearing tests in the hospital, so she had to be rechecked. For the test, they put me in a separate room while they hooked electrodes and all kinds of machinery to her. The sick feeling that I got in my stomach was identical to the one I got when we had an echo-cardiogram for Lilly to make sure that she was healthy, or when she had a minor surgery under her tongue. My reaction to Matt's pains and sicknesses are identical. The feelings that I get when Matt snuggles me versus when Lilly does it are the same. Forever and ever, these are my children. No matter how they came to be here, they are.

What are you going to tell the kids?
--The truth. They deserve it. Hiding it won't accomplish anything.

Do you really think that you can make it work?
--Absolutely. See question number one. Also, because we have an amazing support system. Also, as an incredibly smart man told me, "If anyone can make it work, it's you Beanes."

What about the next one?
--Shut up. I don't want to think about it.

I know that it doesn't make sense to a lot of people, and that's OK. It doesn't have to. It only has to make sense to Vanessa, me and the kids.

Children's Television.

When I was a kid, the shows that I watched included He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, Thudnercats, and G.I. Joe: two shows about large dudes carrying swords and beating up bad guys, and another about a military force with laser guns beating the crap out of a terrorist organization. Sure, they shoe-horned morals in at the end. For instance, this one where Shipwreck convinces you not to run away:



But really, they were all about the ridiculous action where the good guys beat up the bad guys. End of story.

Today, things are different. For instance:



There is definitely part of me that's saying, "What in the hell is this?" And then, the Roots play a song, introduced by John Reis (of Rocket from the Crypt non-fame(my favorite band, unknown to most of the world)), or Andy Samberg or Elijah Wood teaches us a new dance. Or MARK FREAKING MOTHERSBAUGH (of Devo) draws a fish. Or a goat on a boat.

Or on this other show, Jack's Big Music Show, where Andrew Bird shows up and this happens:



So. I know that the shows I watched probably weren't targeted at me and that there are shows just as brainless today (Pokemon, Ben 10 and who knows what else), but the example above, plus things like Wonder Pets, Backyardigans and the like are fantastic. They're usually short, which is great for little kids and their short attention spans, have bright colors and teach a lesson. They encourage dancing, singing and creative thinking while also managing to be a positive influence.

I can get behind this. They're fun, they're entertaining, the kids love them and I enjoy them too. Best part? No commercials. They aren't trying to sell me anything! All of the shows that I grew up on are literally 30 minutes toy commercials with breaks put in for more toy commercials.

There's a certain amount of creativity and purity to these shows that is unparalleled. I can almost picture the creators of Yo Gabba Gabba sitting in a room and saying, "We really need to address the issue of kids biting each other. Through song." And they do, and it's awesome.

Whether it works or not is hard to say. But still. I'll take the head start, for sure.

Matt and the Big Boy Bed.

So, Matt is two years old. And smarter than any two-year-old has the right to be. You can see the wheels turning in his head as he watches and figures things out, putting the pieces together. He may have been two months premature and have a speech delay, but the boy is practically an evil genius.

This past Friday, I woke up to an unexpected noise: the pitter-patter of little, two-year-old feet. Our house is set up with the kids above us, on the third floor and every room has that fake wood floor stuff, so any movement at all comes right through the ceiling. I went to check, and there was Matt, as happy as could be, throwing all kinds of toys into Lilly's crib. I was not ready for this at all.

Vanessa and I did the smart thing and turned his crib into a day bed.

Things went well until Monday. Monday was a big, fat pain in the ass. It took me two hours of screaming, shouting and fighting to get Matt to fall asleep for his nap. Every time I laid him down, he was up again, running around, sometimes before I had even left the room. Sometimes, he would look at me, and the look was 100%, "Yeah, I'm winning. Ha. Ha. Ha." Frustrated? You better believe it.

I got some sage advice from my mom, though. She told me to sit in there until he fell asleep. This seems like another pain in the ass, but one I could deal with. After all, sitting and watching my kids sleep is much less stressful than fighting with them. The first night, it went well. Last night? I stayed through the Hushabye Johnny Cash CD that we play and he was still awake.

Testing me. I'm sick, and ready to fall asleep while standing, let alone sitting in a glider, and I'd close my eyes. Randomly, from the darkness, "Da?" And he's staring intently at me, "I'm watching you, Dad. Slip up once, I dare you." Every once in awhile, he'd just slightly lift his head to make sure that I was still watching.

The boy is an evil genius.

But the jokes on him. In his quest to stay awake, he positioned his head closer to the edge than he did his feet. When I came downstairs, I said to Vanessa, "He's going to hit the floor."

An hour later, there was a loud thump from the third floor. Matt had hit the floor. No crying, no tears. He got up, crawled into the chair and quickly fell back to sleep. I went, picked him up and set him back in bed.

Because even evil geniuses need their sleep.

Welcome to Daditude.

Hey there.

My name is Jay and this is my blog, Daditude. Here are a few things you should know about me:

1.) I'm a dad. I have three kids: Matt, 2, Lilly, 1, and Emily, 1 month.
2.) I'm a stay-at-home dad. My wife, Vanessa, is working on her degree and is interning this summer at Community Support Services. Until the fall, I'm playing nanny, housekeeper and cook.
3.) I used to be a punk rocker.
4.) I love my life.

So, this is a start. I'll update this with whatever, whenever.

Thanks for stopping by.