New Thing #331: Watching My Daughter's Swim Class

Every Wednesday morning since the beginning of the school year, my wife has taken my youngest daughter to swim class. It's something I've never been involved with because usually on Wednesday morning I'm at school.

This week, though (and for the first time ever actually), Thanksgiving break for me was Wednesday through Sunday.

That meant I was available to see what swim class looks like for a 2-and-a-half-year-old.

It's a 'Mommy and Me' class…and part of the instruction, I believe, is for the parent to know how to handle their child in the water.

So I don't think the possibility existed for me to actually take her into the water.

But I didn't really want to do that anyway.

My wife did the class, as usual, and I sat in the viewing area with my other two daughters.

It's a great place - it's called 'Little Flippers Swim School', and I think we first discovered it through some birthday parties we attended there.

The pool is 4-feet-6-inches at its deepest point - my daughter's class takes place in the 3' 9'' end. My wife likes the water - she says it's warm.

The pool is closed off by a glass window, so the other two girls and I could sit in the seating area watching the class. It's a great set-up - there are all these chairs and there's a little play area and there's a TV for the kids.

I got to see my daughter do a back float, jump into the water, put her head under, and do other things with little toys that from my vantage point I'm not really sure I could figure out what she was doing.

I like seeing my youngest daughter getting comfortable with the water. My oldest two didn't really start getting into a pool and learning how to swim until this past summer.

Now I feel like they can all enjoy a pool if we were to go somewhere where they could swim….or they could hold their own if there were some kind of water emergency.

I don't think any of them will be winning any Olympic competitions anytime soon. (Especially my youngest: she cries when she has to jump in the water. So once we get past that maybe we can talk Olympics. Or maybe we can get an accommodation where she doesn't have to jump in and can just start the races from the wall.)

But I would guess even Missy Franklin started in a class like this…so you never know.

New Thing #275: Father Of A 7-Year-Old

The fall of 2006 was awesome. The Mets were the best team in the National League, and my wife and I were expecting our first child.

As they so often do, the Mets went on to break my heart.

But for the first time in my life, playoff baseball took a backseat to life.

Because that October, which could have ended in agony because of the Mets, began with a bliss that has continued for seven years.

All right, maybe that's a slight exaggeration. It hasn't been seven straight years of non-stop bliss.

Being a parent is harder than that.

But it has changed my perspective on so many things.

The sadness I felt about the Mets not advancing to the 2006 World Series was quickly quelled when I looked at the newborn baby in my lap and that type of perspective-changing continues to this very day:

If I have a bad day I now have three little girls who help make things a whole lot brighter.

Today my oldest daughter turns seven. Which doesn't seem like that big a deal because in many respects she's had the maturity of a seven-year-old since she was three years old.

I'm incredibly proud of all three of my daughters, but if the younger two follow the lead of the oldest as they mature, my wife and I are going to be even more blessed than we already are.

And with that, the birthday series of 365 New Things In 2013 comes to an end.

And as I compiled the links to the previous three, I realized that this might be the only year of my life where my age is the product of the ages of my oldest two daughters. (35 = 7 x 5)

See? Just blessed.

New Thing #272: Putting Hair In A Ponytail

I'm not a perfect dad, I know that. But I'm proud of my parenting these past seven years.

I read in Sports Illustrated this week how Joe Flacco - who missed the birth of his second child a couple of Sundays ago because he was quarterbacking the Baltimore Ravens - said he hadn't changed very many diapers for his two kids. That seems foreign to me. (Though perhaps signing million-dollar contracts would change the expectations around the house. But that's not in the cards.)

Anyway, I'm very involved with my kids. So I have that over Flacco.

Except in one area: My children's hair.

Saturday morning my wife left for work earlier than usual. We thought we had everything set for Saturday's dance class - I knew where the tights and leotard were, I knew where the tap and ballet shoes were - except for one thing:

I remembered shortly before it was time to leave that my daughter was supposed to wear her hair up for dance class.

Once before I had tried to do the hair of one of my daughters. My oldest asked for side ponytails - kind of like pigtails, I guess. It did not turn out well. And it was a school day, if I remember correctly. The hair was falling out of the elastics before we even got out of the car at school.

So I know my limitations. I let my wife handle the hair on a day-to-day basis.

I've never had long hair. I don't know how to handle long hair. And I'm kind of afraid of messing it up even worse by trying to ponytail it.

But on Saturday we had no choice. So, camera ready to document my success (or lack thereof), I brushed out the hair. Then I kind of grabbed the part that looked like it might become a ponytail. That's what you see in the picture above. It also kind of looked like the way my wife does it at that point, so I had a good feeling.

I got the elastic and put the hair through - that went fine. It's always the second pass through the elastic that's tricky for me.

It wasn't the most perfect hair-through-elastic performance in history, but it worked. We had hair in a ponytail. And it only had to last an hour.

It did.

New Thing #269: Sharing History With My Daughters

I think I've told you before that I just love American history. My daughters have picked up on some of that here and there - like showing an interest in some of the presidents and related trivia - but for the most part they're still a little too young.

For example, my favorite part of American history - the American Revolution - is still a little too far above their heads...and maybe too violent.

But I can't wait for them to be old enough to be really interested, because we live in a place that is so connected to all of that history and we can have some fun little day trips together.

On Saturday, I got a taste of what that might be like.

There's this show called Liberty's Kids which has been around for a decade at least (that's how long I've known about it, anyway) but I've never watched consistently.

I don't even know if they still make new episodes, or if they just show the same ones over and over.

Apparently, as I discovered on Saturday, it's on the local CBS station on Saturdays at noon. (And again at 12:30pm.)

Because it was a particularly busy week, and I couldn't sleep in on Saturday on account of the ballet class, I penciled in a nap around noon on Saturday, once my youngest daughter was down for her nap.

There was no good college football on TV to which I could fall asleep, and I happened to switch by Liberty's Kids. The older two girls seemed interested, and wanted me to leave it on. So I did.

They may have been the most exciting episodes ever - featuring April 18, 1775, with the titular kids helping Paul Revere and Billy Dawes alert the countryside that "The Regulars are coming out!", and April 19, 1775 with the Battles of Lexington and Concord. Those may be my two favorite days in American history. (Followed closely by October 25 and 27, 1986, of course, when the Mets won Games 6 and 7 of the World Series.)

Anyway, I drifted in and out of sleep, but it didn't seem like the war scenes were terribly inappropriate for a 5-and-7-year old. There was a death shown, but it wasn't graphic or anything.

I definitely sensed engagement from my daughters...and they certainly made connections knowing they had been to both Concord and Lexington.

It makes me excited for the possibilities of a New Thing in 2015 or 2016 or so - when we can walk the Freedom Trail in Boston as a family.

New Thing #263: Bringing Two Girls To School

My two oldest daughters attend the school where I teach....in case you didn't know that. The oldest is in first grade - this is her third year at the school.

The New Thing here is that my middle child started pre-K this year - so now my commute is dependent on getting two children ready in the morning.

So far, it's been OK.

But it's certainly an adjustment.

I used to get to work pretty consistently at 7am.

I liked getting there more than an hour before any students - I got so much done in that quiet hour-plus, and then during the day I had opportunities to be social because I had lots of time before school to get done what I needed to.

Then I started taking my daughter to school, and I wasn't leaving the house until 7am.

Good-bye, free time.

Now I spend most free minutes during the school day slamming to get work done because I know before school isn't an option...and there are few days I can stay after school without family obligations to pull me away.

Luckily for me, the girls enjoy the activities offered after school, so if I'm in a bind and need to stay, I don't feel guilty about it. Also, they had some practice this summer with a long day and commuting between school and home with their camp experience.

And I'm sure I'm healthier because of the chauffeuring of my daughters. With the time I'm saving by leaving later I'm eating the solid breakfast that I know I've written about multiple times before. If I was on my own I'd be having Dunkin' Donuts way too much and I'm sure I'd weigh too much right now.

Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes one or both girls are slow to get going in the morning. Sometimes they want to listen to the radio while I want to listen to podcasts. Sometimes I remember a jacket for me and forget that I'm also responsible for two other little people and they're not exactly dressed appropriately for school and colder fall weather.

But almost every day for nine months I get to drive in the car to and from my place of work with two of my favorite people in the world.

And that's worth a rough morning or two.

New Thing #262: My Middle Child Is 5

Five years ago on September 18th my wife called me at work to tell me she was going into labor. It wasn't totally unexpected - our second-born was due on September 15th - and my wife had first experienced phantom labor (is that a thing? I think it's a thing.) as early as September 10th or so.

But the fact that for most of the month of September the doctor was telling us she was  due "any day now" (this is the only one of our three daughters we knew was going to be a 'she', incidentally) had us on pins and needles.

But finally, at just before 12:30 on this Thursday afternoon I handed over my lesson plans to the sub being put in place for me and I went to meet my wife at the hospital.

It would be about another twelve hours before we had ourselves a baby.

It wasn't like twelve straight hours of labor.

In fact, one of my favorite stories about the birth of our second daughter is how laid back it was.

Whereas for our first-born everything had to be perfect - the right music had to be playing, we had to do the correct breathing exercises, I had to make sure I didn't pass out - by the time we had our second we were old pros.

I liked to joke that with the first we had all kinds of CDs to make sure the ambience was just so - with our second, we sat around waiting for the contractions while watching 'Hole In The Wall' on Fox. (This was a show with a wall that moved towards a person on a plank. The wall had a cutout of a person in a weird position. The person on the plank needed to assume that position to make it through the titular 'hole in the wall' or else get knocked off the plank into water or muck or something. I'll never forget that show or the role it played in our family's life.)

Anyway, our daughter was born a little after midnight...and she is certainly worth all that waiting.

Today she turns five.

They were five pretty quick years - faster than an approaching wall to a contestant on the short-lived Fox show "Hole In The Wall."

And in about two weeks' time, I'll be telling you a similar story about how fast seven years have gone by.

New Thing #257: A New Saturday Morning Routine

This past year has been a pretty busy one. I think I've told you that before - and I also think I've said this before:

I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm just stating fact.

I get up early every morning, work is busy, and sometimes I go to bed too late.

As the week goes on it gets harder and harder to wake up in the morning...and it all catches up to me by Friday.

All of which is to say, by Saturday morning, I'm ready to sleep in.

But beginning today, that won't be happening.

As of today, I'm the parent in charge of taking my daughter to her dance/tap class.

This isn't terrible for me - remember, I enjoyed it when I took her one morning last year.

Even had I not enjoyed it that first time I'd be ready for it now - because watching the recital in which she participated would have convinced me the time invested in it was worth it. That recital was awesome.

It was also in May.

So we're looking at a new Saturday morning routine, beginning today, lasting all the way until May - that's the stretch in which I'll be in charge of Saturday morning dance dropoff.

This year both of my daughters are doing dance, actually. (My wife will be doing the other dropoff - it's after school.) That means both girls will be participating in this year's recital.

So if you're looking for me on Saturday mornings...I'll be waiting for my daughter at the ol' Dancer's Workshop.

And I wouldn't count on seeing much of me on Saturday afternoons either...chances are that's when I'll be sneaking in a nap.

New Thing #253: Writing A Letter From The Tooth Fairy

You might not want to read this one around the kiddos...it might shatter some myths. At my house, like many others, we are in the practice of lying to our children about certain fantastic people who enter our house while they are sleeping to leave them things.

The Tooth Fairy is one of those people. (Are fairies people?)

This is a hard parenting decision for me, because for much of my young life I was frightened to death of these people.

So I will not be too upset when my children no longer believe in the lies I spew - in fact, it will be sort of a relief.

But for now, I guess I'm all-in.

My oldest daughter is probably the most like me as far as apprehension about magical beings. Not apprehensive like doubtful. She fully believes in them, which is probably why she's so scared of them. (Clearly only the most intelligent of us who fully comprehend what is happening are the ones who experience this fright.)

She wants the benefits of the Tooth Fairy without actually experiencing the Tooth Fairy. Which is complicated (she's shedding teeth these days like Tony Soprano in one of his dreams), but fine by me. Tooth comes out, we leave it far away from her bed, she wakes up and there's money, and we don't talk about it for weeks or months until the next tooth comes out.

Except that recently, she has seen from a couple of her peers that the Tooth Fairy sometimes leaves notes. And you can just see it on her face: "Why does the Tooth Fairy love them more than me?"

My wife had a great explanation: "Well, you really haven't wanted to have much to do with the Tooth Fairy."

My daughter thought this over, and after her most recent tooth came out last week she wrote a letter: (Warning! It's adorable.)

Well, now of course the Tooth Fairy had to write back. So I went to work. I crafted a handwriting style for the Tooth Fairy. I tried to strike a balance between caring and teeth business.

I'm not going to say I'm the best Tooth Fairy going right now...I'm just saying Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson had better just recognize he might have some competition for any future Tooth Fairy movie roles.

The only drawback is the amount of time it takes to get into my handwriting character. Maybe my children will stop believing before it's time for me to write another note.

New Thing #206: Playing Tennis With My Daughter

I told you last week how my daughters were having a grand old time at camp. One of the activities my oldest daughter has particularly enjoyed is tennis.

This led her to off-handedly remark to us that she might be interested in taking some lessons.

This is a girl who has had no interest in any organized activity whatsoever in her seven young years.

And my wife and I certainly were not going to force her to do something she didn't want to do.

But when she opened up this door we came barreling through.

My wife scoured the internet for lessons that might work.

And last weekend I took her out to hit some balls.

For some reason this felt like a third-person story...so that's how I'm telling it.

It was a humid morning, but not unbearable like it had been recently. Still, it wasn't the type of day people were rushing out to play tennis. So, the dad and his daughters had the courts all to themselves.

The dad had never played tennis. Well, not in an organized way. There was that one time playing his brother years ago when he swung hard, whiffed on the ball, and the racket hit him in the eyebrow. He still bore that scar - it probably needed stitches but he was so embarrassed he pretended like it was no big deal. You have to look hard for the scar - it's hidden by his eyebrow. But he had gone through enough instruction at different points in his life that he felt he could pass some knowledge on to his daughter. (Beyond "Hit the ball, not your face.")

He started with the grip - he remembered that the skin between your thumb and index finger should form a "V" when you held the racket. So he showed the girls that. He could tell, though, that they were really interested in hitting some tennis balls. He started to lose patience. And he started, in that moment, to sympathize a little bit with the hard-driving parents who pushed their kids too far with sports...wanting the kids to know the skills a little more, sometimes, than the kids wanted to themselves.

So he stopped and reminded himself that they were only 4 (almost 5) and 6 (almost 7).

He tried to show them how to balance the ball on the racket. How to try to hit the ball themselves by bouncing it and then swinging at it. (The resulting swings and misses were almost cartoon-esque.)

Then he started tossing the ball to them over the net. This was met with minimal success. The 4-year-old quickly lost interest - hitting a couple into the net and barely over using a variety of non-USTA-endorsed methods and then chasing the balls that got away from the other two.

But the 6-year-old was ready to learn.

The dad showed her where to position herself on the court. He put her just inside the 'T' halfway back to the service line. (Is that correct terminology? He doesn't know.) He showed her how to be ready - knees bent, racket in the middle.

He tossed her a couple of balls. One she hit into the net. One she hit too hard - way out and towards the fence. But she was making contact. Progress was being made.

The dad started hitting the ball to her lightly. Every once in a while his daughter would make contact.

Then, a perfect return.

The dad was caught by surprise. He certainly wasn't in the ready position himself - he stumbled to lightly hit the ball back to her.

Then - again! - a volley!

He certainly wasn't ready for this next hit. He hit it into the net.

The daughter knew she had done something really good. (She had played 'Dungeons and Dragons' at camp. The dad knew it as 'Jail'. If you hit a successful return you stayed in line. If you didn't, you were out - either in jail or in the dungeon depending on the variation you played. She knew that for the first time in her life, she had managed to avoid the dungeon. What she didn't know was that she had also won her first career point.)

They continued for a few more rounds, never meeting with the same success as the first volley of the daughter's burgeoning tennis interest.

The dad put away his racket and came back towards the net where his daughter had gathered the stray balls and was making her way towards the car.

"How was that?" the dad asked. "How do you feel?"

She smiled, and her reply made his heart melt.

"Proud."

New Thing #3: Ice Skating With My Daughters

I came late to ice skating. It just wasn't all that popular an activity for us growing up in Queens, New York.

It became a fun thing for me and some friends to do - on our own, without parents - in high school, and so I bought a pair of ice skates sometime in my mid-to-late teens.

And I think once or twice in college I went ice skating.

But before Wednesday, I'm pretty sure it had been a good 10 to 15 years since I had stepped on an ice rink.

The occasion was a birthday party for a classmate of my oldest daughter, and my middle daughter was invited to skate as well.

The girls were given helmets, and crates to lean against and help them balance as they skated. It was interesting to see how young kids are taught to skate. I never learned. I was a somewhat reckless teen who kind of figured it out as I went. As a result I'm sorely lacking in certain skills...but I'll get to that later.

The act of skating wasn't new for me - it was the fact that I got on the ice with my girls that was such a big deal here. They can be somewhat cautious, my daughters, and are reluctant to try something that sounds like it might be way out of their realm of expertise. (Gee, I wonder where they get that from.) But given an impetus - like the good kind of peer pressure at a friend's birthday party - they expand their comfort zone a little bit.

The jury is still out on whether they'll agree to take lessons...but it was a successful start. They've now been on the ice, and I at least have some ground to stand on if I want to take them again. "Remember that time you had so much fun skating at the birthday party...?"

As for me, it was successful on that front too. I was never able to skate backwards, but after giving it some logical thought on Wednesday, I managed to glide in reverse a couple of times. I don't know how to come to a hard stop, but I managed to fake it well enough so I didn't have to go slamming into the boards like some of the 5-year-olds.

And of course, my biggest measuring stick of how I fared hasn't changed over the past however many years since I last stepped onto the ice: I didn't fall down once.