Requiem for our Team

The baseball season ended at 11:30 Saturday morning. Not for you, I know, and certainly not for the professional athletes still a few games away from halfway through their millionaire romp towards September or, if they’re lucky, all the way to October and a bigger paycheck.

But it ended for the Hershey Little League Colts 9 team sponsored by Hershey Realty or, as we liked to call ourselves, the Blue Jays. And my royal blue coach’s jersey hangs soaked in sweat and rain over the chair in the next room.

Waking up in the morning, we werent entirely free of concern about whether we’d pull off the game at all. We knew going in that at least two of our best players would be out of town. Friday night’s weather report threatened rain, even thunderstorms. Recent real storms had forced us to reschedule this final game at least twice and to move the field just as many times, to make way at the main league field for older age group playoffs.

When I arrived at the field, our little boys in blue were playing catch on the infield dirt. As I did before every game, arriving between 20-30 minutes before the first pitch, I made a quick count of our players. Normally, each team fields 10 kids – one for every normal infield position and four outfielders. There were twelve kids on our roster, but not since the second game did we have a full crew all at once, so, for most games, each kid was able to play the whole game without substitution. When I got to the field on Saturday, I counted 8. By the time we called “play ball!”, two more – the brother and sister pair – had made it to the field.

Unfortunately, our opponents for the day, dressed in yellow, were six kids short of a team. A few players and even some coaches for the other side thought that we werent playing until 3 in the afternoon, so we delayed the start of the game for almost a half hour to give everyone time to arrive. We juggled the lineups and field positions just so we could get the game in, and for the first two innings, we lent our opponents in the yellow jerseys two outfielders. And we inserted coaches as catchers for most of the game and pitchers for the entire game in order to occupy more positions in the field.

These are but minor details. We started late, but there was no game behind us, so we were in no rush, and nobody in the park, players, coaches or parents alike, had any desire to forfeit the last game of the season for any reason. The game would go on. It had to.

With our two best hitters – who were also the most reliable gloves – absent, the pressure was on me to offer up some slow sweet pitches, giving the kids the best chance at putting the bat on the ball. Still, it took us about three innings to find our hitting groove, and before we knew it, we were losing 12-0. There is no worse feeling for a pee-wee baseball coach than striking out three batters in a row. Each inning, I moved a little closer to the plate, trying to reduce the vertical curve of the ball without throwing it too hard. But as I got closer, they got better, and four times I had to duck all the way to the dirt to avoid getting hit in the face with a mean line drive.

We had our standard problems and beautiful small victories, despite the early score. We even had a double play, and every one of our kids was able to get on base at least once. Thats a big deal – these are 7- and 8-year-olds. Next year, a full third will probably have turned in their gloves for video games or music lessons. At 7 and 8, just about every boy and girl tries soccer and baseball, but attrition comes quick. We had our share of clover-pickers and daydreamers, but by the end of the season, every kid, from the best to the least best, had improved greatly in their own way. My son was one of the most improved from start to finish – this being his first season playing the sport. In April and May, my playing catch with him meant that I had to throw my back out, reliably, having to bend down on every throw just to pick the ball back up off the grass. But when we played catch a few nights ago, he was throwing it right to me and he was catching most of my throws as well. And his batting went from shy and nervous to confident and quick, and when he first rounded third and headed for home about midway through the season, with me fortuitously manning the 3rd base coach spot and waving him home, earning a probably over-done hug from his old man, he didnt stop there – he’s been getting better every game.

He wasnt the only one. We had a few nice pop fly catches, a great throw from shortstop to first, and they even got the hang of backing each other up.

<img style=”max-width: 800px;” src=”http://www.remnants.nine9pages.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/out-of-the-dugout.jpg” width=”354″ height=”532″ /><div align=”center”><small><i>Out of the dugout and onto the field.</i></small></div><br />

There were still some little league moments, where we looked like the Bad News Bears. Jordan took a shot to the nose – playing in left field, a pop fly bounced a few feet in front of him and took a bad hop right at his face. We took him off the field and iced his nose for only a few minutes before he was wiping away the tears and running back out onto the field.

The drama of the game took on an extra bit of excitement when the dark clouds moving towards us from the west opened up for a 5-minute drenching downpour. We were in the field, and our kids suddenly leapt to life. Like a dozen blooming flowers our strange gang of first and second graders jumped with joy and yelped with glee, thrilled with the weather and very quickly soaked to the bone. And I was in the midst of it, standing next to my oldest son in left-center field, giving guidance and encouragement to our team, letting them know where the play was and reminding them to pay attention. Suddenly my youngest son ran out onto the field to stand next to me, his short-cropped hair and white shirt soaked all the way through and grinning from ear to ear. He wasnt there for any reason other than to try to share some of what the team was feeling, and there was no way I was going to tell him to get off the field. He was fine right where he was.

By the end of the game every kid and coach on the field and every parent and sibling sitting on the bleachers increasingly revealed the same intense yearning, as if driven by some psychic magnetism, to hold fast to the diamond. Even though we never caught up in the score, both teams were having so much fun that we extended the game a full two extra innings, and in the last inning we ignored the outs and just let both teams bat around.

Nobody wanted to go home. We had an up and down season, some good games, some frustrating ones. Some tears and some surprises, and our share of pouting and shuffling bored back to the dugout, dropping balls, running the wrong way, and bumps, scrapes and bruises. And at least once a game I found myself tying someone’s shoe, and we even had a surprise appearance by a baby toad in the outfield. But as this last game neared the final out, and the storm clouds had given way to blue skies, the atmosphere seemed to murmur the melancholic gratitude we all shared – a season, or any similar experience, doesnt need to be perfect or brilliant or unbeatable in order to be memorable – in order to be something we never want to let go of.

I wasnt the head coach. I volunteered before the first practice and it was the best decision I’ve made in quite some time. It was an experience I’ll never forget, but it was also the kind of experience that can inspire more of the same. We can always look back on the pictures and videos we made during this season, but those tangible reminders dont need to be all that endures as a result of what we did this year. Both of my sons made new friends because of this team. I made new friends, too. And I got to be the first to congratulate so many kids on things they had never done before – their first hit, their first double play, their first run, their first catch. Giving them high-fives, hugs and fist bumps, when their emotions are quivering excitedly between shock and impossibly pure joy, is like nothing else in the world.

When, as adults, we can live vicariously through the developing emotional and physical education of our children and their friends, themselves growing to realize and appreciate what it mean to be part of a team, it finally makes me believe that we can get high on life.

So I’m sad tonight, because it’s over. My jersey is hanging there. My partner and I must have lamented about the end of the season for more than an hour after we got home today, reminiscing about all the good times we shared. But I’m also happy, because I know that it’s only this season that has ended – and because this season is the start of something that can last for a very long time, if we want it to. It doesnt matter if it inspires another baseball season, or a set of piano lessons, or a new adventure in camping, painting or learning how to hustle friends at the poker table. The inspiration is there for us to do with it as we choose.

So this goes out to all of our kids – Cameron, Jack C., Jack E., Jackson, Jonathan, Jordan, Kieran, Liberty, Luke, Miles, Wyatt and Zach. I love you all. And to our coaches, Vinnie and Brian, and our volunteers who stepped up to help whenever we needed help – Carly and Jake and Dan the Bat Man, and everybody else. And to every kid we played against, and all the coaches in between. I’m grateful to all of them for letting me in on their ride, and I always will be. So even when the rain washes our footprints away from today’s dirt, I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to find our way back the way we came, whichever direction it points us in down the road.

Days of joy for fathers

GeekDad has another reliably interesting list today — Father’s Day Gift Suggestions.

I’m sort of a geek — it’s my fault the boys are fully invested in Star Wars, including the endlessly exciting Lego Star Wars Nintendo game. But, with a nod to GeekDad, I thought I’d put together a list of things that readers of Daddy’s Time blog might have on their gift lists.

So, in no particular order, here is a list of Father’s Day gifts appropriate for the single father or the divorced father, with some overlap between the two:

• A day with the kids, with no travel between houses involved. Just a Father’s Day when we can wake up with our kids in the next bedroom.
• A day free from harassing, attacking or complaining phone calls from the ex. If she wants to call and talk to the kids, thats fine — it’s welcomed. But if the phone conversations are made up of whining and moaning on her end telling a toddler how much she misses him and loves him and is sorry they arent together, then we dont want it.
• A day when the boys are dropped off wearing clothes that are in some way similar to the quality of clothes they left the house wearing. I’m tired of sending them to school in nice pants, collared shirts and underwear that fits only to have them returned in floods and stained shirts.
• A day of kids’ activities, attended by my wife and I as well as the boys’ mom, such as a tee-ball or soccer game, without angry stares, “look at me” loud talking or coddling the boys so much that they dont want to even get on the field.
• One day when my parental decisions arent questioned for the sake of questioning them. Just one.
• A day observed by courts, lawyers and police as one dedicated to the fact that fathers are parents just like mothers.
• One day where I am allowed to keep something more than 60% of my own paycheck instead of handing it over to the boys’ mother, who, along with her live-in boyfriend (as an example), work barely more than one full-time job but nevertheless live in a quaint McMansion in the quiet suburbs.
• Just one day to live in a non-rented home, where we can afford our own landscaping and appliances — a home our sons can brag about to their friends, with a backyard full enough of toys and games, bikes and trampolines.

Father’s Day has always been the second day for parents. And fathers always take a back seat to mothers whenever possible — going to the doctor, going to school, playing sports, going to birthday parties — the list goes on. A nice gift for divorced and single fathers, aside from just a day, would be for people to start seeing us as real parents — unique, competent and happy in our role as guides for our children’s youthful development.

So, with a few weeks to go before the official day, I’d like to extend a warm “Happy Day for Fathers” message to all my readers here and to fathers everywhere.

Inventing problems isnt just for mommies anymore

Banana Splits Resource Center — Support Groups for Children with Divorced/Deceased Parents

I “received” a notice this morning that Seven has the opportunity to get involved with the “Banana Splits” program at his school. By “received,” of course, I mean that I was handed a permission slip this morning by BM (short for “Biological Mother” or “Baby Mama” or “Baroness von Munchausen” — take your pick) as I was dropping Four off at her house. Seven’s teacher knows or ought to know by now that she is supposed to be sending home two copies of everything. BM claimed that she received the permission slip on Friday. But the fact that it was due back to school today makes that claim seem a bit less true.

Either way, Seven will now participate in this program. I tried to put the slip in my pocket so I could review the information and make a decision, but that was prevented by BM who said the thing was due back immediately. Sure it was. Even though we dropped Seven off at school this morning without returning the slip that we didnt know about until close to 10 am this morning. Anyway, the information provided on the back of the slip seemed reasonable enough.

And BM added her favorite line to the equation, which was (and always is), “Seven is really looking forward to it.” She said the same thing about a birthday party that Four attended yesterday. Before knowing if we were able to bring him to the party, she had told him about it. Her Grand Plans involve setting the boys up for being disappointed in their father. Very simply, there is no reason to tell the kids to expect something if one of the parents making the decision about that thing has yet to make the decision. Idiot.

Anyway, this morning I did some research on this “Banana Splits” program and I’ll admit that I’m actually less impressed about it — rather, more concerned about it — than I was at first. Briefly — the program was established in 1978 by a social worker in upstate New York as a way to counsel and educate children going through a divorce or dealing with a custody situation, or children of deceased parents.

It’s not unimportant that children of divorce are grouped with children of deceased parents. In most cases of divorce, one parent, usually the mother, is able to effectively kill the other parent through the custody and support process.

But this wasnt the case with Seven and Four, my two sons. And through no fault of their mother’s, I assure you. Despite her best efforts, as well as the efforts of her disfunctional and aggressively ignorant extended family, the boys enjoy a relatively equal (though not completely so) parenting arrangement. As I read through a lot of the information available online about this Banana Splits program, I see that the thing was mostly designed for children who, through either death or divorce, live primarily with one parent.

What bothers me most about the program is the focus on anger. Just look at how the program describes some of its own ideas:

III. Crafts

“Pillows” – For cuddling or smacking: self soothing or harmless discharge. From an old sheet, cut rectangles twice as long as they are wide. Turn over about a half inch all the way around to make a smooth edge and iron it flat. Have the kids create a personal design for their pillows, using paper for a rough draft. Let them share and discuss their choice of design. Fold over the cloth rectangle, put cardboard between the cloth sides to prevent color bleeding, and then copy the design onto half the rectangle with permanent Sharpie markers. Have the kids stitch two sides shut, stuff the pillow with polyester fluff, and then stitch the remaining side shut. Kids keep these for years.

“Mad Cookies” – Learning to do something creative with anger. Make a smooth cookie dough without any hard bits such as chocolate or raisins. Place one Ziploc baggie inside another for double strength, then put a small amount of dough inside each, press out the air, and zip shut. Explain that these cookies taste better the more the dough is beaten, and then let the kids pound it. (Have extra baggies on hand in case of breakage.) Bake and eat, or let the kids take home their dough with baking instructions. Next meeting, ask the younger kids: who had the chance to bake their cookies? who helped them at home? (Thanks to Helen Fitzgerald, VA.)

Anger is a recurring theme. The program assumes that children are exposed to angry situations and those of conflict. While this is often true for many kids, the idea of Seven sitting in a room full of angry kids, or kids encouraged to find anger among their emotions makes me very concerned. When BM initiated the physical removal of the children from their father (me), Seven was 3 and Four wasnt even born yet. Their particular custody situation is something they’ve lived with most of their lives. And while we might expect Dad to be relatively clueless to the inner workings of their minds, my partner and I are constantly reminded and congratulated for raising such well-behaved, polite and helpful young boys. We maintain an open dialog with them, one which I think has even improved on that which my partner and I experienced as children in our “un-broken” homes.

I dont object to having my kids learn ways to understand and cope with their feelings. And obviously part of their experience involves growing up in two homes, which can be challenging for both the kids and their teachers. And it’s not unimportant to recognize that, while my partner and I — married, stable and highly involved in the boys’ lives — are creating a positive environment for them, they may not be exposed to a similar situation at their other house with their mother and her current boyfriend. Impossible to go into in a post like this is the fact that BM still obviously suffers greatly from the split, is always reminding the boys that they are different, constantly puts their education and other experiences into the context of a divided family, and is repeatedly reminding them that there is a conflict between her and me.

I cant possibly categorically reject the idea of my kids getting involved in a program like Banana Splits. But it does worry me — the tone it takes and the things it seems to assume about what the kids are dealing with. It is simply impossible for even a small group of children to adequately learn from a generalized program like this which is going to cater to those kids who do fit the apparent profile of children in a conflicted family. So I worry that their experiences will be filtered into these negative assumptions.

We’ll have to see how it goes. Maybe the application of these ideas promoted by the program is less presumptuous and negative than their summary makes them seem. I certainly hope so.

Night-time fever!

Last night we had a fever emergency for Four (our 4-year-old). Little guy woke up crying hard at around 1 am with a fever of just over 102 degrees, defined as “Moderate” by pediatric health experts — anything higher than 102.2, and you should call your doctor. But, as much of the literature will tell you, fevers in and of themselves arent usually dangerous — as long as they dont exceed the Moderate range — and so it’s important that we treat the fever seriously but remember that our little patient requires special care.

Top 5 Middle-of-the-Night Fever Remedies, in the order we applied them:

1. Cool, damp washcloth applied to neck, forehead and temples, repeatedly
2. Popsicle
3. A Gatorade slushie
4. Ice cream run through the blender
5. Bath and, as a bonus item:
6. Children’s medicine to reduce fever — only to be used if the fever is around 102.

I’ve found it best to apply these remedies liberally. Once you take the child’s temperature the first time, it does wonders for your sense of worry to get the fever down as much as possible before taking his temperature again. And as we all know, kids sense our worries pretty quickly.

For the same reason, I think it’s important to make the middle-of-the-night fever seem as ordinary as possible to your toddler. Get him out of his room, turn on some dim lights, and get to work as Daddy Doctor on the couch in front of the TV. Even though you can sometimes find an appropriate cartoon on the Disney/Nick Jr/Cartoon Network group of channels, this is a good time to put a kids DVD or your TIVO’ed programs to use. You dont want to be channel surfing at the turn of the hour, when Scooby Doo ends and something violent or otherwise inappropriate comes on while your child is running low on his slushie or needs to run to the bathroom.

By treating the situation as calmly as you can, you are putting your child in a peaceful setting and giving him the opportunity to show you when he starts to feel better. Many toddlers have a hard time calming down if they’ve been woken up by a fever; they may have had a nightmare, or they may just react to the overall crappy feeling with a nonstop crying jag.

The site linked above — KidsHealth.org — points out that, while the fever is an important symptom, the associated behaviors are just as important to monitor. What you’re looking for in your child, to be sure your treatments are successful, are these factors:

• still interested in playing
• eating and drinking well
• is alert and smiling at you
• has a normal skin color
• looks well when his or her temperature comes down

So creating a comfortable environment enables you to watch for these additional symptoms, and to be on the lookout for other symptoms, which, regardless of fever, may require medical attention. The link above includes a detailed list of warning signs, including vomiting, persistent fever, rashes, severe headaches, limpness or difficulty breathing, among others.

But lets say your child accepts your treatment. If he’s laying on your bed in the dark, still crying or just upset, you’re not going to encourage him to act normally and therefore present the kinds of behavior you’re looking for to ease your mind that he’s OK. This is why it’s important to provide that comfortable environment.

Last night, by the time little Four got to the bath stage, he was starting to feel better. He stopped crying somewhere between the popsicle and the ice cream, spurred on by a particularly funny episode of Ren and Stimpy. In the bath, we didnt want to over-stimulate him so much that he wouldnt want to go back to sleep, so as a toy we introduced a purple washcloth. You may laugh — but this kept him occupied for about 20 minutes, which was about as long as the tub kept the lukewarm water at a good temperature. As he played, he became more and more active and eventually began laughing and generally having a hell of a good time with his washcloth — experimenting with the physics of it — laying it flat on the surface of the water, tossing it against the tiles and splashing water on it until it slipped back into the bath, and turning it into a little ball.

By this time, he gladly accepted the thermometer under his tongue and the fever had come down to 99 degrees and he was ready to get back in bed. We were all relieved, and the rest of the night was uneventful.

But if we had kept him in his bed during his treatment, or made too big a deal of it in front of him, we might not have seen so clearly the results of what we were doing for him. This is especially important, and perhaps counter-intuitive, for these middle-of-the-night fevers, when we have to be a bit more deliberate in taking the necessary steps to allow him to show interest in playing, to smile and laugh, and to react in an alert way to his surroundings.

As divorced dads, we are often criticized no matter what we do in these circumstances. The general attitude seems to be that as fathers we are bound to miss something important or wait too long to react. But as parents, we know that our concerns are real. It can sometimes be tough to balance our intuition (dads have intuition, too) with the worry that comes from repeated criticism, but by remembering a few simple rules of thumb, and by not being afraid to trust ourselves, we can see, in our children, how successful we can be at the most important tasks of parenthood. We may not be able to spend every night with our kids, but by being ourselves, we’re not only providing critical care but also the kinds of memorable moments that we, and our kids, can look back on with pride and comfort.

Welcome to Daddy’s Time

Hi and greetings and welcome one and all to Daddy’s Time blog.

This isnt meant to be another retread of another blog by another father. This is a blog about being a father in a shared-custody arrangement. Our challenges are unique and interesting, and I hope to write about those challenges in a way which both informs and assists most humbly all the other fathers out there who are dealing with similar situations. And I think that what we discuss here at Daddy’s Time blog will be of interest to parents everywhere.

As we know, western society is not particularly supportive of the paternal role of men in families. We hear lots about how the paternal role of men throughout history has adversely affected politics and society, but when it comes to parenting, fathers are often left to fend for themselves and are rarely acknowledged in most serious discussions about parenting in general.

I hope to change that, even in some small way. While we may be under-appreciated, we’re certainly not useless. The role a father plays in a child’s life, from birth to adulthood and beyond, is one of the most critical relationships in a person’s life, for both the father and the child. We’re going to celebrate that relationship here, and we’re going to focus on it from a real-time point of view.

I am the father of two young boys who are just now getting to school age. As we progress, we’ll all learn more about one another. The boys’ mother and I have been separated/divorced for nearly five years. While it was anything but easy, my new family and I have managed to gain a decent amount of Daddy’s Time. We’re not done yet, but, when it comes to this blog, we’re just getting started.

So grab a chair, grab a feed or just bookmark the site. We’re in this for a lifetime, after all.