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Weeds and Wheat

One of the things I find most challenging about parenting a newborn this time around is the bizarro sleep schedule. It’s not so much the typical baby “every four hours” feeding routine, so much as contending with the random sleep patterns of the other children or my inability to find the “off” switch for my brain as well.

 

Jake’s sleep, for the most part, is pretty solid. In fact, his ability to sleep is impressive. He may be eight but he slumbers like a teenager. He’ll have the occasional nightmare and once a year we can count on him getting a nasty cold, both of which require my hanging out in his bottom bunk until he falls back asleep. But when he’s up, he’s up… an unstoppable bundle of kinetic energy.

 

Gracie, on the other hand, tends to flit around the house like a ghost. In addition to being a light sleeper, she also has the uncanny ability to detect motion in other rooms and rouse herself from a deep sleep at the most inopportune times. When I wake-up early to get some work done before the house comes alive, when wifey and I try to have a grown-up conversation or when we’re putting presents from Santa under the tree… they all trip some invisible biological alarm within my daughter and she’ll just show-up.

 

Gracie is also exceptionally quiet, like a three-foot-tall ninja in High School Musical PJs. I can’t begin to tell you the number of nights I woke-up in a fright, opening my eyes only to find Gracie standing next to the bed, waiting to announce why she’s awake and needs to crash in our bed.

 

This past Sunday was one of those nights when I couldn’t seem to string together more than two consecutive hours of sleep. The weekend itself was go-go-go from Friday evening straight through dinnertime on Sunday, so I was wiped-out to begin with. Baby Sam was fussy for the lion’s share of the night, then Gracie had a nightmare, then one of the dogs needed to go out at 3:00 a.m. By the time I started to settle-in for some quality sleep, it was time to get up and hit the office. Once there, Monday was a “Monday” in every sense of the word and the combination of a sleepless night and a challenging day was a killer. Me = zombie.

 

As I was driving home that evening, the theme of Sunday’s sermon kept replaying in my head: “weeds and wheat.” The reference is from a reading from the book of Matthew and my priest used it as an example to broadly discuss that there are individuals who are “weeds” and “wheat” in our lives and in the world – those who are destructive and those who are blessings. I’ve been blessed to experience far more wheat than weed.

 

While stuck in 495 traffic, however, I came to think of the weeds and wheat within the context of our day-to-day lives instead – good days and bad days, rough patches and smooth sailing – and was oddly comforted by the message. No matter how many long nights or tough days get thrown your way, the next day always presents itself with an opportunity to hit the ‘reset’ switch and give it another go… and things invariably improve.

 

The next night all of the kids slept soundly (which means wifey and I did as well,) I had an excellent day at the office and had plenty of time to play a game and watch a movie with the kids when I got home. What a difference a day makes.

 

The sardonic side of my personality – which is, by the way, the dominant side – hates to post a Successories-like blog entry such as this. However, I think it’s important to step-back every now and again and realize the power of perspective. (I’ll get back to raving about my kids or picking on mainstream media tomorrow.)

Mickey Mouse, Nerds and Big Thoughts

As if it isn't patently obvious through reading any of my prior posts, let me spell something out for you: I'm a nerd. Not your passive "I kinda' like gadgets" nerd, mind you... I'm of the "oh-my-God-how-did-you-ever-find-women-to-date" variety. I'm neither ashamed nor proud of it, it just is what it is. (Plus, my geekiness has served me well thus-far in life so why change now?) However, I occassionally catch myself saying things that force me to be embarassed on the behalf of my friends and family, simply because I can only imagine how irritating life with me must be. A few prime examples of this came during a recent business trip to Florida.

A couple of weeks ago, my company had a booth at a modestly-sized trade show which took place at Disney's Contemporary Resort - a hotel that is conveniently located a single monorail stop away from the Magic Kingdom, a.k.a. "My Happy Place." (More on that in a moment.) At said trade show, we were raffling off a Wii to encourage traffic and tantalize people into visiting the booth and at least feigning interest in a demo. Shortly before the big drawing, the CMO and one of the sales execs were chatting about the Wii and how much fun it is to play EA's Tiger Woods game.

"It's amazing," said sales guru. "You really need to follow-through on your swing or you'll slice, put the right amount of backswing into your shot so you can get enough power... it's incredible how responsive the controls can be."

My CMO responded with: "Really? Sounds cool. I think I need to break down and buy one."

I then chimed-in with... well, let's just say that they learned more about the technical features of a Wiimote than anyone was really interested to learn. The words "multi-axis" and "accelerometer" were mentioned. 'Nuff said.

It also appears that my fascination with the Disney corporation in general, and Walt Disney World (WDW) in specific, rendered me unable to refrain from spewing "hey, did you know..." factoids to my coworkers throughout the week. Kinda' like a Cliff Clavin in Mickey Ears.

For those of you reading this blog who have never been to WDW, words just can't do it justice. It's one of those love it or hate it spots. Those who hate it tend to see it as a towering monument of crass consumerism and capitalism run amok. Park admission is not cheap (although warranted), the hotels (although lovely) can be pricey and the food (although excellent) will set you back quite a bit. They choose to see the endless array of stores and claim that every parade or thrill ride is just an elaborate ploy to sell stuff. Consequently, they dismiss WDW as a tourist trap then proceed to tell the world how intellectually and culturally superior they are for being above it all. (They'll also tell you that they only have one TV in the house and it's only used to watch PBS.) 

What I love about the place, however, is that it stands as the physical manifestation of one man's dream and stands as a testament to Walt's vision, imagination and determination. The fact that it exists is proof-positive that anything is possible. In 1964, the site now occupied by WDW was nothing more than swampland in central Florida gator country. Today, 25 million people visit each and every year... and the numbers keep climbing, even in this sluggish economy. Walt unfortunately passed away well before the park's opening day in 1971, but those properties which generate billions of dollars in annual revenue for the corporation represent - and the businesses which sprung-up around the property - are there because one man said "what if..."

There's also an undeniable charm to the place, particularly when you look at it through the eyes of your kids. Our last family vacation to WDW was in December 2007 and, as always, we had a great trip. My daughter had an opportunity to become a princess for a day - complete with manicure, make-up session and a head-to-toe costume taken from the closet of her faorite princess. She proudly walked around the parks all day in her powder blue Cinderella dress, idly waving her jeweled royal scepter at other parkgoers - certainly all were regarded as her loyal and adoring subjects. It was ridiculously expensive, but the photos alone are priceless. While she was off having the four-year-old's equivalent of a day at the spa with my wife, my son and I were able to take off for some "guy time." We rode the monorail, walked around EPCOT center, went on Mission:Space five times in a row, but most importantly, we had some great conversations.

Jake is my thinker. He's smart, creative and tries to get his head around some pretty big concepts for an eight-year-old. At other times, he is the quinticential little boy wrapped-up in G.I. Joe playsets, collecting Pokemon cards and occassionally dedicating some cycles to thinking about all of the big changes that were going on in our household at the time. Shortly after arriving at EPCOT, we stopped by the ice cream shop near the big fountain at the main entrance and grabbed a sundae. We picked a table outside and sat down to enjoy the warm air and map-out our plan of attack for hitting all of the attractions we wanted to see. Then midway through his bowl of cookie dough with hot fudge, he lays this on me: "Dad, are you going to love me less when the baby comes?"

Ugh. Not an unsurprising question for someone his age, but it definitely came at me from left-field. I immediately responded - as any parent world - with a resounding "no, of course not." He stared at me blankly, so I knew that wouldn't be the end of it. Jake the analyst was kicking-in. He's not one of these kids that will simply accept an answer that sounds like it came from a Successories poster... the old "a parent's love is infinite" standby doesn't work with him. So each concern needs to be addressed thoroughly, thoughtfully and - most importantly - sincerely. (He also has a finely-tuned B.S. detector. It will serve him well one day.)

For the next 20 minutes he grilled me about how much time we would spend with the baby, how that would impact our time together, if we would still be able to go to the movies and have one-on-one play time, etcetera. We tackled each of these points one at a time and thoroughly. Midway through the conversation (and the sundae) he climbed onto my lap and we concluded the chat (and the sundae) with a hug and an "I love you, Daddy." Heart:melted.

After throwing away our now empty ice cream bowls, he then climbed on my back, ordered me to carry him to Test Track and asked if I thought Superman could beat-up the Hulk. Apparently we were back in eight-year-old mode again.

As is often the case in Disney World, we took a rather winding path from where we were to where we wanted to go. As we strolled past the Innoventions area, Jake informed me that supercomputers need to be liquid cooled and that they're very helpful in studying hurricanes.

The apple, it seems, never falls too far from the tree.

Respect, Rewards & Number 17

Only time for a quick posting today, but I had to acknowledge the amazing Celtics victory.

I was having dinner with a friend from out-of-town and missed much of the game last night, but I was able to catch the second-half on the radio during the drive home and actually made it home to catch the last two minutes and the post-game celebration. (Katie stayed-up to watch the end of the game with me so the TV was already tuned to the game when I walked in the door. Kate, you rock.)

The story of the 2007/2008 Celtics will undoubtedly go down as one of the greatest in sports history. At the end of last season, the best we could hope for was a good draft pick... owners of the worst record in basketball. At the end of this season we're holding a trophy and prepping the city for a parade. Oh, what a difference a year makes.

The turnaround story of the Celtics is a study in visionary leadership, focus, persistence, teamwork, collaboration, planning, execution, course correction and passion. I'm thrilled for Doc Rivers, a man who stayed focused despite an incredibly troubling year. Pierce, after 10 years of persistence, is now MVP of a World Champion team. His fellow members of the "Big 3" are enjoying the rewards as well. So is the rest of the team. So is the rest of New England. And, I'm 100% certain, Red is smiling down on this team and this town... probably whispering to someone: "see, I told ya' so."

One of the most amazing things to me is that my kids now live in a world where the Red Sox are World Champions, the Celtics are World Champions, the Pats were thisclose to culminating the perfect season with a Super Bowl victory and the Bruins are fighting their way back to past glories. If ever a city was firing on all cylinders, Boston is it.

Congrats to the players, the fans and the Celtics management. Thanks for turning an ordinary Tuesday into an extraordinary celebration.