Another Decade Gone
December 31, 2009 at 6:43 pm | In Holidays | 3 CommentsFor some reason, it doesn’t feel like the end of a decade to me.
Could it be that technically this isn’t the end of a decade. Ten years ago, journalists reminded us that the new millennium didn’t start until the end of 2000 because there was no year zero. Purists still insist that 2009 isn’t the end of a decade. Technically, most of us don’t care. The year 2009 is the end of a decade.
Could it be that the decade has been so devastatingly bad that we’re in disbelief that it could finally be ending? After terrorist attacks, wars, natural disasters, and financial crises worse than any in generations, maybe we find it hard to believe that we could get a fresh start.
Or could it be that the past decade hasn’t really had a feel? I remember the end of the 70s, the 80s, and the 90s. Those decades each had unique fashions, styles, and fads. For me, those decades also pretty much corresponded, respectively, with my childhood, my high school and college years, and my twenties. This past decade has felt more fast-moving and more like anything and everything goes—but not for any significant length of time—which maybe was its feel. The decade really hasn’t even had a name. Ten years into it, has anyone really said the “naughts” or the “aughts” all that often?
The more I think about it though, the past decade has had a very specific feel. Yes, it was a terrible span of ten years for many people. But for the feel I’m talking about, I have to look closer—not at the fashions or fads, not at the world or the country, but at myself.
Ten years ago—on December 31, 1999—I was an attorney living in New York. Clare’s Mom and I—still relative newlyweds—spent the last night of the last millennium at Madison Square Garden where we had paid a ridiculous amount of money for two tickets to see Billy Joel. After midnight, we walked through the confetti-covered streets of Times Square. Today, I’m executive director of a children’s theater in Connecticut—a nonprofit where I’m earning far less than I did one decade ago. Clare’s Mom and I have been married eleven years. And of course, there’s Clare. That’s a lot of change in ten years.
So, for me, the past decade hasn’t been so much about what’s happened in the world as what’s happened in my own family. I’ve certainly never been Father of the Year—some years far from it—but overall I think I’ve been a pretty good dad. Clare, at least, gives me her seal of approval—and that’s all that really matters. For me, the past ten years have been the Decade of Being a Dad—and that’s a very good feel. (And, just think, if I make it through another decade Clare will be eighteen. We’ll call that the “Decade of Being Worried.”)
Have a safe, healthy and happy 2010, everyone!
(Almost) Wordless Wednesday: Happy Holidays
December 23, 2009 at 9:52 am | In Christmas | 1 Comment
A very happy holiday season and a wonderful 2010 are wished for all of you. Happy Holidays, blogmigos!
Stop the Madness or Happy Birthday, Clare
November 7, 2009 at 11:55 am | In Birthdays, Growing Up | 8 CommentsFive is a great age, isn’t it? Kids are old enough to have real conversations and do some things for themselves, like get dressed (usually) and wake up, turn on cartoons, and grab a box of cereal for breakfast without waking up the whole house (usually). But, they’re still young enough to be totally silly and cuddly and not embarrassed by kisses or hand-holding in public. Unfortunately, Clare isn’t five any more. She’s not even six. And tomorrow she won’t even be seven.
I was okay with six. I accepted seven. But on November 8 Clare will turn eight and it’s time for the madness to stop.
More and more each day, I see Clare turning into a smart, talented, conscientious young lady. She’s not the toddler who’d run and bounce around willy nilly and lose her shoes. She’s not the Kindergartener who didn’t mind kisses at the bus stop. She’s not even the first or second grader who still needed—and accepted—help buttoning buttons or brushing her hair. And worse than that? In Clare’s opinion, being eight years old will make her a ‘tween.
I’m not sure if there’s an official definition of ‘tween, but I do know that I’m not ready to be the parent of one. Not even one who may be one or two years away from ‘tween.
I’m glad of course that Clare is becoming a smart, talented, conscientious young lady. But I also think about all of the troubles and decisions that ‘tweens and teens have to face. And what bothers me most about Clare’s age is that the end of her childhood is almost visible on the horizon now. Eight years have passed so quickly, and before I know it the goodnight kisses, bedtime stories, lullabies, games, and toys of her childhood will all be distant past.
I know that things won’t change overnight. Next week, we’ll still read and sing at night, and I’ll kiss her before she goes to sleep. We have a few years left of that I hope. But, knowing how quickly the last eight years have passed, the next few will be all too short. One day she’ll crawl into our bed for the last time. One night—maybe without even knowing it—we’ll read and sing together for the last time. Until then, every day from now on will somehow be even more special than the last eight years.
Happy birthday, Clare. I love you more than ever.
Happy Halloween
October 30, 2009 at 10:58 pm | In Halloween | 2 CommentsThanks for this post goes to Creative-Type Dad. Thanks for putting me to work for three hours carving pumpkins. Actually, Creative-Type Dad provided the stencils for these jack-o-lanterns. Clare and I couldn’t agree on which one to carve, so we (read I) carved two. The Evil Queen wasn’t so hard, but Linus has some real tricky cuts in the face and hair. And I totally botched his hands.
Happy Halloween, everyone!
A Walk in the Woods
October 28, 2009 at 9:27 am | In Autumn, Blogging, Nature, Weekends | 4 Comments“The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”
- Mark Twain
- Clare’s Dad
- commercial-free blogging
Can I even call myself a blogger anymore? Is there some authoritative panel that gets to determine that? Maybe the FTC? Or maybe the Blogher bosses (even though they refused to list dad blogs when I first asked four years ago)? Or maybe I should just ask Whit? He seems to be connected with every blog on the internet.
It is kind of shameful that I’m barely getting one original post up each month. In the past year or so, I’ve made some excuses about why I’m not blogging much anymore. More work. Too busy. Clare’s older and should have more privacy. But I think that Dan over at All That Comes With It may have hit on an even greater reason this week. In Blogging for Fun and Profit, Dan laments that blogging—and mom and dad blogs in particular—have become too commercial. I’ve noticed the ads and reviews too, of course. (I’m actually in favor of the FTC regulations.) I’ve been paid for links and have done reviews for free products too, but not within the last year (not that anyone has even offered in the past six months). And I’ve listed this blog on promotional websites and social networks for like-minded parent bloggers to connect. Somehow though, I didn’t realized where that was headed. Somewhere between the first blog promotions and today, blogging became less about connecting with other bloggers and more about “what can blogging do for me?”
Dan pointed out that four years ago I was able to include just about every dad blogger on my blogroll. After a year or so, it became impossible to keep up. I even deleted dad bloggers who no longer write or who have never commented or linked to me. With the explosion of bloggers, there are so many more who seem focused only on increasing the number of hits they get and trying to make a buck or just get attention. I miss the days when blogging was more about reaching out than trying to hook people in.
Don’t get me wrong. Some of the dad blogs I still follow have become more commercial. I have nothing against advertising or product reviews, but I don’t follow these bloggers because of that. If anything, I follow them despite that. I honestly respect the bloggers who have found a balance between personal writing and blog promotions. (I’d be surprised if many of them spend much time promoting their family blogs at all.) To those of you who do work hard to promote your family blogs, I have to ask: why are you blogging?
It’s a rhetorical question. You don’t have to tell me why you’re blogging. I’ve told you a few times though: I’m blogging as a record for Clare to highlight some things we’ve done, some things we’ve said, and what her world is like as she’s growing up. Keeping true to that purpose can be increasingly difficult in the new commercialism of blogging. But, like Dan, I’ll make the effort. There’s still a great community of dad and mom bloggers out there that I’m proud to be a part of. I won’t post daily, and maybe not even weekly, but I’ll make a renewed effort to be here.
When I started typing this post, I was just going to upload some pictures from a hike that Clare, Clare’s Mom and I took in a state park a few weeks ago. A walk in the woods. Walks like that are always good for getting back to basics and spending some time in thought. Maybe this post has been about a walk in the woods in a couple of ways.
Help Cure JM, or, Happy Birthday, Rhonda
October 2, 2009 at 12:01 am | In Uncategorized | Leave a CommentTags: juvenile myositis
This blog is nearly in retirement. Nearly, but not quite there yet. Even if it were over though, one thing I’d come out of retirement to do is help a fellow blogmigo. Kevin over at Always Home and Uncool has asked me to post this as part of his effort to raise awareness in the blogosphere of juvenile myositis, a rare autoimmune disease his daughter was diagnosed with on this day seven years ago. The day also happens to be his wife’s birthday.
Our pediatrician admitted it early on.
The rash on our 2-year-old daughter’s cheeks, joints and legs was something he’d never seen before.
The next doctor wouldn’t admit to not knowing.
He rattled off the names of several skins conditions — none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner — then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.
The third doctor admitted she didn’t know much.
The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter’s knee showed signs of an “allergic reaction” even though we had ruled out every allergy source — obvious and otherwise — that we could.
The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.
She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:
The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.
The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.
The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.
The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.
She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.
This was her gift — a diagnosis for her little girl.
That was seven years ago — Oct. 2, 2002 — the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.
Our daughter’s first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn’t tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.
Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.
What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don’t know.
I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter’s condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.
That, too, is my purpose today.
It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.
To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.
To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go to www.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.
Back to School
September 9, 2009 at 3:28 pm | In School, Summer, Third Grade | 2 CommentsSince I’ve hit year four with this blog and got picked up for a fifth season, I suppose that I should actually post something new. Because I have little creative energy left outside of work, I’ll go with the obvious back-to-school post.
After a ridculously short, cold and wet summer (despite three vacations since May), Clare headed back to school two weeks ago. Clare’s Mom and I thought about encouraging her to take a year off to find herself, but until she can get a job that’s not really a practical idea. Plus she needs third grade—she’d be no use to us until she can multiply and spell a few more two-syllable words. (If you’re reading this, Clare, I hope you know I’m kidding…nobody really cares about spelling anymore.)
So here are the obligatory photos. And now we have only about 170 school days left until summer. Maybe I’ll post again next May.
Four More Years
August 23, 2009 at 9:56 am | In Anniversaries, Blogging | 4 Comments
Olympiads. Presidential terms. High school. College. A lot of life comes at us in four year increments.
Today, this blog celebrates its fourth anniversary. I’m not sure I thought it would last this long. And to be honest, I’m not sure it should have. But here we are.
Last year—on this blog’s third blogiversary—I wrote a pretty nice post about what this blog has meant to me and why I continue to write. The sentiment still holds. I’ve made friends through this blog despite having only met a couple of you in person. Even though comments have trailed off and I’m less frequently reading other great dad and mom blogs, I’d miss you folks if I stopped writing here or reading your posts.
For a couple of reasons though, this blog is struggling. In the past year, I’ve written that Clare is getting to an age at which she deserves some privacy, where I shouldn’t be blogging about every funny or awkward thing she does. That sentiment still holds too. Clare is almost eight; when I began this blog, she was only three. It’s a completely different world (as some of you with three year-olds will find out). So the problem, I suppose, is that the blog of a father of a three year-old must be different than the blog of a father of an almost eight year-old. I have to figure out what that “different” is.
Also in the past year, I’ve mentioned a couple of times that I’ve been spending more time working. My schedule is flexible and some work is doable from home, but it still takes time. If things keep going well, it’ll take a little more time. I think, maybe, when someone is in a creative job like I am, trying to be creative on a personal blog feels like more work. But I have to find the fun in it again.
Somehow, I’ll try to find this website’s place in the blogosphere again. Still a dad blog. A few photographs. A few stories. Somehow we’ll find our way—kind of like we do as parents.
Will the blog last four more years? I don’t know. Maybe not. But maybe it’ll last forty. Wherever we go, thanks for coming by and being a part of Clare’s Dad.
Rocky Mountain High (Summer Photos Day…where were we?)
August 13, 2009 at 12:50 am | In Summer, Summer Photos, Vacations | 2 Comments
Wow, I’ve really blown it with the photo-a-day plan this summer. Unlike last year’s two weeks, Clare spent four weeks in day camp (with one overnight) this year—which means that we didn’t do as much together. Also unlike last year, I spent more time working. The kids’ theatre I’m at spent four weeks rehearsing for Suessical (starring thirty-five 8 to 14 year olds), and the past three weeks with kids creating an original musical with our staff and four guest artists from Broadway. (We met cast members from The Lion King, The Little Mermaid, Mary Poppins and Wicked.)
One great thing we did do together was visit Denver. Clare’s Mom has been there for business before and that’s what took her there again; Clare and I just tagged along for our first visit. It was fun (even if Clare’s favorite part was the hotel pool) and we’ll probably go back someday. I posted more about the trip over at UpTake.
I’ll get more summer photos up here (maybe even some from July), but I probably won’t fill in every day of the summer. I guess I didn’t realize that last summer may have been the last that Clare and I would spend so much time together. In a couple of weeks, she’ll be starting third grade. She also says that, when she turns eight, she’ll be a ‘tween. I guess there’s no pretening she’s still a little kid, but she’ll always be Daddy’s little girl.
Maid Marian on Her Tiptoed Feet
July 10, 2009 at 8:07 pm | In Summer Camp | 4 CommentsMaybe you’ve noticed that I haven’t posted photos for a few days. (Or maybe you haven’t.) I do have some photos to post, but they’re not all of Clare—because Clare and I haven’t done anything exciting together since last weekend. And the operative word is “together” because Clare has been doing exciting things—I just haven’t been with her to take pictures.
Since Monday, Clare has been going to day camp. She’s been swimming, playing, dancing, and she’s even tried archery (an elective that she picked—which, I guess, is the definition of “elective”). Next week, she stays overnight once, so Clare’s Mom and I get to go out!
For the past week and the next two weeks, many of the pictures I’ll post won’t be of Clare—but they will be of Clare’s world. That’ll give you—and her when she looks back on this blog—a different look at what it’s like to be Clare. I’ll be backdating some posts for the past week too—not to confuse you, but just to have the post date match the date the photos were taken (and to appease my OCD).
So, what does all of this have to do with “Maid Marian on her tiptoed feet?” When Clare told me that she would be trying archery, I told her to not get stuck being the one who has to stand with an apple on her head. Still don’t get the connection between William Tell and Maid Marian? Take that up with Squeeze.
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