Month: June 2014

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Jack’s Sticky Situation: The “Do Not Remove” Tag

July 25, 2011 at 8:23 pm , by 

Eight months.

The renters that have been in our Nashville townhouse will be moving out in September; in the meantime, we are once again staying with our good friends, Dave and Karen. Last Saturday morning while Jill was making a wonderful French toast breakfast (ironically with dark German bread), I hung out with Jack on the kitchen floor. He discovered a sticker on the bottom of a chair that read “DO NOT REMOVE…”.  So of course, he did exactly the opposite.

Jack was thrilled at how easily he was able to tear off the sticker.  He wadded it up in his hands, making a ball.  But it didn’t take long for him to realize his newly acquired toy was wearing out its welcome.

What had become a cool new discovery had instantly become an annoying chore. How could he rid himself of this pesky new virus? If only he would have read the tag, maybe he wouldn’t have done exactly what it told him not to.  Jack did his best to remain calm and find a way out of this sticky situation.

He tried crawling with the sticky ball stuck on this hand, hoping it would lose its stickiness, and in the process, latch on to the floor.  But that didn’t work.

So Jack tried to convince himself that he still wanted to play with the tag.  But the look on his face told me different.

Sometimes in life, when you just stop trying so hard to do something, that is when you get exactly what it is that you want.  After all, on the night I met my wife for the first time at the taping of the CMT Crossroads episode with Lindsey Buckingham and Little Big Town, I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone.  It was just a random Thursday night in Nashville and I only went because The Office was a rerun.

Jack put the sticky label up to his mouth.  I had a choice: Either take a picture of the next part of this story, or keep him from trying to eat it.  And that is why you do not see a picture of Jack with the sticky label in his mouth.

It’s funny how if you simply have a camera and a baby, then you automatically have a limitless library of stories to tell.  Writing for The Dadabaseis just a part-time job for me.  But with all the amusing little things Jack does everyday, I could without a doubt, do nothing but just share stories of him as a full-time job.

Jack really does provide great material. What a cool kid.

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Where Simple Faith Meets Complicated Reality

July 23, 2011 at 10:34 pm , by 

1 Comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

John Lennon’s Song, “Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)”

July 22, 2011 at 7:42 pm , by 

Eight months.

It’s one of the most masculine yet sensitive songs I can think of.

One of my hopes as a dad blogger is that parents will be able to identify with what is going through my head when they read my Dadabase posts; to make readers say, “That’s exactly how I feel! It’s like you’re reading my mind!”  I am a guy who loves to inspire others as much as I love to beinspired; I am always ready for that next awesome quote or motivational true story.

As a guy who loves music (I own over 700 CD’s,) I am regularly a-ha’d (to be made to say “a-ha!”) by song lyrics.  In fact, I think songwriting is one of the most vulnerable forms of communication and/or art that exists.  I can easily write a new 400+ word entry for the Dadabase every day and never feel as exposed as I would compared to if I was writing and performing a song instead.

It was the 1995 movie Mr. Holland’s Opus that truly first exposed me to John Lennon.  At the end of the movie, Mr. Holland (played by Richard Dreyfus) sings and signs the song “Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)” by John Lennon.  I am not the kind of guy that will cry when I see a sad movie.  But… I will confidently admit to letting my eyes get a little bit watery when I see something truly moving- like the last five minutes of the final episode of Lost or the ending of half of the Rocky movies or heck… even Marley and Me.

Needless to say, since the first time I saw it, that scene in Mr. Holland’s Opus has always found a way to connect to the “truly moved” part of my brain.  It’s not just the imperfectness and realness of how Richard Dreyfus sings the song but also because the genius of the way John Lennon’s lyrics are so cleverly played out as a disconnected father reaches out to his son.

And I know that the word “genius” is thrown around pretty loosely in the entertainment world, especially when it comes to legendary Italian-American movie directors like Quentin Tarantino, Francis Ford Coppola, and Martin Scorcese whose films are known for being “groundbreaking” as well as extremely violent.  But sometimes, an artist actually is genius, despite the cliché factor of the word.  And since John Lennon pulled it off perfectly in “Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy),” I feel compelled to expose the magic behind his wonderful creation.

As a father, John Lennon touched on several major elements of the father-son connection in the 114 words of the song. The first verse addresses his fatherly role of protector:

“Close your eyes,
Have no fear,
The monsters gone,
He’s on the run and your daddy’s here.”

I think there’s something immeasurably powerful in the phrase, “your daddy’s here.”  Because no matter what our own relationship with our father was like growing up, every kid wants to know the presence of a positive, protective father.  “Daddy” does have the power to scare the monster away.

Next, John Lennon touched on the importance of encouragement:

“Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer,
Everyday in every way,
It’s getting better and better.”

This verse is a reminder for me to pray for my son when I am inclined to worry for him instead.  Additionally, John Lennon paints a positive future for his son as he focuses on things getting better as they move forward, not dwelling on past mistakes and decisions.

My favorite part of the song is the bridge, which paints not only the masculine element of adventure but also the excitement of the father looking forward to his son growing up and becoming a man with him:

“Out on the ocean sailing away,
I can hardly wait,
To see you to come of age,
But I guess we’ll both,
Just have to be patient,
Yes it’s a long way to go,
But in the meantime.”

The lyrics of the song come to a close with the final chorus refrain of “beautiful, beautiful, beautiful… beautiful boy.”  And then finally John Lennon calls his son by name: “Darling Sean.”  I think for the past several decades, the idea of a father kissing his son on the cheek or forehead or calling his son “beautiful” has become pretty foreign.  In fact, those outward expressions of a father’s love do indeed make me think of old Italian culture I’ve seen in movies throughout my life.  Blame it on the ¼ Italian blood running through my veins, but I admire those ideas enough to want to replicate them in my relationship with my own son.

The last verse contains one of John Lennon’s most famous quotes:

Before you cross the street,
Take my hand,
“Life is what happens to you,
While your busy making other plans.”

I of all people know what’s like to carefully plan every year of my life, only to see a completely different reality come to fruition.  (Are you like so tempted right now to copy and paste “Life is what happens to you while your busy making other plans” as your Facebook status update and/or Twitter?)

“Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy),” which was released as a single on November 17, 1980, just a few weeks before John Lennon was killed and a few months before I was born, obviously speaks to me as a father.  Looking back on past Dadabase entries, I have specifically written about the same exact aspects of the father-son relationship as John Lennon wrote about in the song:

Strength, guidance, courage, adventure, direction, and the appreciation of beauty.

The song’s subtle magic exists in these properties of manhood that we men already identify with, even if we don’t realize it. And that’s why it’s dang near impossible for a father not to relate to and love this song.

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The Three Types of 30 Year Old Parents

July 21, 2011 at 8:11 pm , by 

Eight months.

If you are around age 30 and are a mom or dad, then you likely fall into one of three categories: A) You had your first child while I was in college; B) You had your first child while I was still single and establishing my career; or C) You had your first child around the same time I did.  So your oldest child is either around ten years old, five years old, or is still an infant.  And yet you’re still about my age.

While living in Alabama from March 28th until last Friday, I worked with Mandy Wilhite-New, a girl I grew up and graduated high school with.  A while back we were talking to each other about our kids and she pointed out the fact that it’s often difficult to relate to her similar aged friends who have infants and toddlers. Mandy and her husband have both a 10 year old and a 6 year old.  It was ten years ago, back when the first Shrek movie was still in theaters, that she was experiencing what I am now.  Yet Mandy and I are both 30.

I’ve heard it said that compared to 30 years ago, today’s younger adults are more dependent on their parents both financially and emotionally. In other words, our own parents had to “become adults” more quickly than we did.  So in theory, even though by a calendar’s standards I am 30, compared to this point in my own parents’ lives, I’m more like 22 or 23.

So while I got to travel the world and take my time in settling down and getting married, I don’t have the abundant parenting experience that 30 year old parents with a 10 year old have.  It’s also safe to bet that I don’t have the same level of maturity, in certain senses, because in theory, I am a younger, less experienced adult.  I have more growing up to do and more humbling experiences to encounter.

The bottom line is that becoming a parent has a lot to do with adult maturity.  That’s obviously not to say that adults who never had children or are unable to do so are less mature; not at all.  But the undeniable fact is that becoming a parent changes you into someone else.  Becoming a parent is a disciplining process that has no other comparison.

Once you produce and care for human offspring, you will undoubtedly be removed of much selfishness and self-pride.  And no caring parent is immune to this fact.  No parent has a baby that feeds himself, changes himself, entertains himself, pays for himself, and takes care of himself.  (Or “herself” as the case may be.)So there’s your dose of irony for today: Nothing makes an adult out of a person like a baby does.

Unexpected Bonus:

Today is a Lucky Book Giveaway Day!  In the vein of “removing selfishness while serving others,” the featured book this time around is “Lead. Serve. Love.”  If you are too busy for some daily inspirational reading but still would like to somehow fit in a bit of motivation to start out or finish off your day, then this book will be perfect for you.  You can read plenty of reviews of the book here. (Its average rating was 4.5 out of 5 stars.)

To the first five readers who leave a commentsaying they want it, I’ll have the book mailed to your house.  Include your mailing address in the comment itself or email it to nickshell1983@hotmail.com.

*Within an hour or so of this post being published, I got my 5 winners for the book.  Hint: When I give away books here on The Dadabase, it’s always on Thursday nights around 8PM Central Time.  But not every Thursday…

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The Fear of Messing This Thing Up

July 20, 2011 at 8:53 pm , by 

Eight months.

As a dad, I have fears. Something I have learned in life is that when I say my fears out loud (or “type them out loud”), I can get a better handle on them, putting them into their proper perspective.  It’s my way of controlling my fears instead of them controlling me.

I’ve written before here on The Dadabase about my fear of not being able to financially providefor my family, as well as my fear of being responsible for my sonbeing seriously injured or killed. But today, instead of focusing on a financial or physical issue, my featured fear is a psychological one: It’s my fear that I will somehow “mess up” my son.

I get it. No parent is perfect or has this whole parenting thing all figured out, so I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I know; part of what helps us mature and have realistic expectations in life is when we are forced to be strong.  And of course, any parent who would be sensitive enough to worry about somehow messing up their kid is the exact kind of parent who probably won’t mess up their kid. I am aware of all those things.

Still, the longer I am a parent, the more I realize my potential to really prohibit or injure my son’s full potential in life. Sometimes it just starts to really sink in that I’ve brought a human life into existence and that my decisions greatly effect how he turns out.  And he has a soul, too. So it’s not just an earthly issue, but an eternal one, as well.

God evidently believes in my capabilities more than I do.

It was one thing when I was a single guy with no peripherals. But now, every tiny and humongous choice I make can ultimately mold my son into the person he will become.

How did I become qualified to be so powerful and influential in both my son and my wife’s life? Like Jack Shephard on Lost, I often feel like I am a reluctant leader who realizes the seriousness of the role I must play, as others depend on me to do so.  I am so not qualified for this job.  So undeserving.

Instead of falling through the chaotic vacuum of life unconnected to anyone who needs my care, my love, my guidance, and my providence, in reality, I hold the hand of a beautiful woman and a magical son who depend on me.

They don’t care about my imperfections. They don’t care about how little money I make. They don’t care about the fact that I am lucky to just be one step ahead of the game of life each day, if that.

As a man, I understand the importance of not dwelling on these fears. I was wired to be strong. I was wired to say, “Here’s what we’re going to do…” when a new problem arises, then I make sure that the plan gets carried out. I can’t worry about the very real fact that I opened up the most cosmic can of worms when I became a husband and father.

My job is to create an atmosphere of confidence, strength, hope, and faith, despite the clusterfog that often surrounds my family of three. And regardless how I may feel about my lack of qualifications or merit, the fact that I stay intact and refuse to ever think about giving up on them is perhaps one of the greatest signs that I do indeed have what it takes.

Wow. I do feel better now.