New baby girl changes the parenting plan

My biggest wish and greatest fear both came true last week when my wife gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl.

Everly Grace Paré arrived by at 9:54 a.m. on March 11, weighing in at 7 lbs. 9 oz. Already parents of two healthy little boys, Amanda and I were ecstatic to welcome another female to our brood.

That night, I laid awake in that horrible hospital recliner, my wife and new infant daughter sleeping soundly an arm’s length away. Drifting in and out, I tried to process the fact that I had been given a little girl to guide and care for.

When we first became parents four years ago, the prospect of raising a boy didn’t seem so daunting. For the most part, I understand what little boys are about. I still act like one on occasion.

But I feel like I have a lot to learn about what it means to be a girl dad.

My first thoughts are about what the teen years might be like. I’ve heard scary stories from friends and family members about teen daughters going rogue; breaking curfew, dabbling in drugs, dating losers or running away from home. And I hear junior high can be an especially challenging time for young girls.

Part of my revised parenting strategy is to foster a sense of protectiveness in her older brothers. I’m sure my own little sister would testify that my brother and I were a tad overprotective of her when we were kids. More than once, we made menacing threats to the sketchy little zit-faced punks who tried to take her out on dates and I’m confident she is a better person for it.

I’m thankful to have a wife that is so well equipped to teach her all that it means to be a female, but I know that fathers play a huge role in shaping in how little girls grow up to see the world. We all know someone who’s been let down by their father and the devastating long-term consequences that it can have – for both boys and girls.

Each evening, I hold Everly and look at her tiny hands and perfect pink face and make all kinds of silent promises to be the best girl dad I can be. I may not be Father of the Year material, but my children go to sleep every single night knowing they are loved.

If I manage to play this just right, my daughter will grow to be someone with inherent sense of self-worth and self-respect; someone who doesn’t see her gender as any kind of limitation; and someone who loves and is loved for all the right reasons.

Leo is a former Advocate editor. Contact him by email at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/LeoPare

Time with grandparents is a win-win

Grandma Polly Paré was your quintessential loving granny who spoiled the heck out her grandchildren every chance she got. I remember playing hookie from elementary school many times, just so I could walk down the street to her house for an orange float and cookies.

When Grandpa Polly passed away on a cold December evening back in 2009, it hit our family hard.

Though struggling through our own feelings of loss, everyone’s hearts ached most for my dad. Grandma was his last surviving parent, as Grandpa Leo had passed a few years earlier.

My dad is a tough character, so he didn’t talk about it much, but one day while driving home from town, he said something that really stuck with me.

The exact wording may be a little off, but it went something like this…

“You live your life and do things in a way you hope makes your parents proud. When your mom and dad are gone, it’s more about making your children proud.”

Though we may not always follow their wishes or advice, most of us value our parents’ opinion. I make a point of calling my folks to share good news and often consult them when making big life decisions.

The oldest of three siblings, I like to think I’ve given my parents good reason to be proud – or at least not ashamed – but there’s no doubt that my greatest contribution has been my children.

My kids light up at the very sound of their grandparents’ voice – and vice versa. Watching the boys wrestle with Grandpa or make cookies with Grandma fills me with a strange sense of accomplishment beyond anything I’ve ever known. It’s almost surreal to see them together and try to imagine what life must have been like for my parents when my brother, sister and I were still just toddlers running around in diapers and colouring on walls.

When my wife and I were still new to parenting, we used to fret over the way both our parents spoiled the kids when we all get together. Now, we pretty much sit back and let them play by their grandparents’ rules for a few days and ‘adjust the attitudes’ when we get back home.

Now that the kids are getting a little older, we’re starting to take advantage of my folks as babysitters when Amanda and I decide we need a break. I love my boy dearly, but I long for that day when we can dump them on their grandparents and jump on a plane to somewhere warm and boozy for a week or two.

I have nothing but fond memories of my time with both pairs of grandparents. They played a big part in shaping the person I am today and I’ll treasure those memories as long as I live.

Life is precious and I’m still learning just how fast time flies when you have a family of your own, which is why I intend to give my parents plenty of opportunity to spoil and love and heck out of my kids.

Leo is a former Advocate editor. Contact him by email at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/LeoPare

A few things I should tell her more often

Historically, I’ve been known to drop the ball on Valentine’s Day.

If I’m lucky, I’ll remember to stop at the flower shop on the way home from work. If I totally space on the occasion, I make an evening run to the gas station or grocery store.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate my wife; she’s amazing in all kinds of ways. I just have a little trouble buying into the whole Valentine’s Day concept and all the protocols that come along with it

This year, instead of flowers, chocolates, or a fancy dinner, I decided to share a short list of things I appreciate most about the mother of my children and the woman I’ve been married to for nearly six years. Here’s hoping this article is received as a romantic gesture and not a totally inappropriate ‘overshare.’

1.       She’s an incredible mother. From the time we started dating back in the early 2000s, Amanda was excited to start her own family. Now we have a three-year-old, a two-year-old and another mystery baby on the way in just a few weeks. She’s a caring, nurturing, committed mom and our kids go to bed each night knowing they are truly loved.

2.       She’s tough. You wouldn’t guess it by looking at her, but Amanda is strong in more ways than one. In addition to caring for two rambunctious kids and growing another one inside her, she also works part time and keeps our household functioning.

3.       She’s kind-hearted. Amanda is compassionate and sympathetic to the point where tragic stories about perfect strangers (or even animals) cause her to well up with tears. It’s one of my very favourite things about her.

4.       She’s exceptionally beautiful. My buddies frequently remind me that I have a much hotter wife than I deserve. A former colleague once told me that I ‘out-punted the coverage’ when I convinced Amanda to marry me; he’s probably right.

5.       She’s thoughtful.  In our house, no milestone goes uncelebrated. She makes sure everyone gets to feel special on birthdays and other special occasions. When our three-year-old requested a tractor birthday cake last year, she didn’t think twice about spending hours and hours slaving in the kitchen to fulfill his wish. With her every word and action, Amanda reminds everyone in our house each and every day how well she knows us and how much she loves us.

The list could go on, but the non-romantic readers are probably starting to feel a little nauseous if they’ve continued reading to this point. I’m not usually one to get all sappy, but I know Amanda will enjoy reading this, cutting it out of the newspaper and tucking it away in her little box of memories and keepsakes.

Hopefully I remember to pick up some flowers in time this Valentine’s Day, but if not, my wife should have no doubts about how much she is loved and appreciated.

Leo is a former Advocate editor. Contact him by email at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/LeoPare

Suffering through the sickness season

It’s about 3 a.m.  when I awake to the anguished cries of a toddler bawling in the next room.

I lay perfectly still for a moment, hoping my wife is about to respond. Evidently she is playing the same game, so for a few seconds, neither of us budge. Finally, I throw off the covers and go investigate.

Our two-year-old, Rylan, is sitting up in his bed, wailing wildly. Without turning on the light, I lean in to comfort him.

“What’s wrong buddy? Did you have a bad dre…”

Suddenly, I realize my hand is resting in some sort of warm liquid. My nose picks up the distinct scent of vomit.

I am filled with a sense of panic; not because my hand is covered in fresh toddler puke; it’s because I know the flu bug is about to rip through our house like a California wildfire.

I head into work the next morning, but by the following afternoon Amanda sends a text message confirming the worst; both kids are violently ill. In addition to sporadic barfing, they become exceptionally whiny and needy. Amanda monitors their temperatures and does her best to keep them comfortable, but it’s all-around nasty situation for any stay-at-home mom.

Fast forward another 24 hours or so and Amanda and I are both incapacitated by unspeakable flu symptoms. I lay helplessly on the couch, trying not to think about anything that will make me nauseous. Amanda is lying on the bathroom floor, crying between fits of sickness.

Of course the kids are almost fully recovered at this point. They jump all over the furniture and try to entice me into wrestling matches. Realizing that Mom and Dad are in a weakened state, they root through cabinets and raid the pantry in search of candy and snacks.

It’s all Amanda and I can do to provide the basic essentials of life, but we manage to feed and bathe them before bed time. Wallowing in the depths of exhaustion and self-pity, we collapse into bed at 8:30 p.m. and fall into a restless sleep.

It takes two or three days to free ourselves from all lingering flu symptoms. Life is just starting to return to normal when our three-year-old, Grayson, suddenly launches into a fit of raspy coughing.

Amanda and I exchange horrified glances.

In desperation, I race to the medicine cabinet and reach for the bottle of Cold FX, but Amanda puts her hand on my shoulder and nods sadly.

“It’s too late.”

Leo is a former Advocate editor. Contact him by email at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/LeoPare

Winter rough on parents of young kids

Winter is a tough time for most people, but for parents of young kids, it can be downright brutal.

Despite our best intentions, my wife Amanda and I have struggled to keep our two boys entertained this winter, especially when the weather turns cold enough to prohibit any outdoor activities.

As someone who grew up on a farm, I’m a firm believer in the positive effects of playing outdoors. When temperatures permit, I try to get the boys outside as often as possible. We build snow forts, visit the nearby playground and hit the tobogganing hills. Often times I’ll even suit them up to assist me as I shovel the driveway.

After an hour of fresh air, they eat better, they sleep better and their behaviour even seems to improve. But when the weather turns cold, tempers generally heat up in our house.

For a while, we can keep the peace with toys, board games, movies and iPad activities. A prolonged wrestling match with Dad is always good fun, until somebody bonks their head or Dad gets kneed in the groin.

Once all those tried-and-true distractions cease being effective, we dig out the Lego, or Play-Doh, or Hot Wheels –  but eventually they become bored with those things too.

Then the whining starts.

“Daaaaad! Grayson pushed me!”

“Mooooom! Rylan is touching my water cup!”

If cooped up for consecutive days, they start to behave like caged apes. They climb on the furniture, raid the pantry without permission, and turn their pent-up frustrations on each other. Brothers that once got along fabulously suddenly begin picking fights, punching, pinching and biting for no good reason, forcing Daddy to dole out discipline on a near-hourly basis.

When the cold snap persists and outside activities are out of the question, we are forced to take alternative measures. Sometimes a trip to an indoor play centre helps burn off energy. A visit to the swimming pool is also a favourite family activity, though it usually exhausts us parents more than the kids. My wife recently took them out to the Abbey Centre in Blackfalds, which I suspect will become another popular destination for us when the thermometer dips below - 15 C.

Lately, it feels like we’re running out of ways to keep them entertained, which is alarming because there are still three months of winter still ahead. We even looked into a warm weather getaway, but it turns out that planning a trip for a family of four is a rather significant financial investment.

Let’s just hope my sanity can hold out until spring.

Leo is a former Advocate editor. Contact him by email at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/LeoPare

Rec hockey: why I keep coming back for more

Tuesday night games are the worst.

At 9:30 p.m. – a time I’m usually getting ready for bed – I throw my stinky hockey equipment in my freezing cold truck and drive to a freezing cold arena.

Puck drop is at 10:15 p.m. and I don’t want to miss warm-ups.

The dressing room is small, crowded and reeks like about 12 bags of sweaty old hockey equipment.

I get dressed, take the ice and skate a few laps before doing a completely improper stretch routine, which probably does more harm than good. By the end of my 35-second stretch, I usually know which muscles are going to hurt most by the end of the first period.

During my first shift, I feel great. I fly up and down the ice with teenager-like gusto. For the first few minutes, I even back-check a little.

As the game wears on, my legs wear out. At the end of each shift, I trudge back to the bench gasping for air and wonder how I’ll get through the next one. I look around the bench and notice that nobody else looks as tired as I feel and I become concerned about my lack of conditioning.

For some totally unscientific reason, just being on the ice for a goal usually boosts my energy level for a while. Having a goal scored against us – especially if I am responsible – has the exact opposite effect.

If the game is close, the third period will be hard fought and I will need every drop of fuel in the tank to keep my shaky legs moving for another five or six shifts. Damn my desk job and generally sedentary lifestyle!

With minutes to go, we attack, looking for that game-winning goal. One of my more ambitious teammates grabs the puck zigzags around the offensive zone.  I park myself in front of the net and try not to fall down.

Ambitious Guy shoots! A mad scramble! Somehow the puck emerges right on my stick! Despite my glaring lack of effort and talent, I manage to whack the biscuit into the wide-open net before falling down in a gasping, sweaty heap.  We win the game! I am a hero!

Afterwards, the team heads to the seedy local pub where we drink cheap beer, eat chicken wings and make jokes about how old we are and how much we suck at hockey and at life in general.

I get home at about 1 a.m. My wife is annoyed. I set my alarm for 6:30 a.m., cursing myself for staying out so late.

Rec hockey is pretty much the best thing ever.

Leo is a former Advocate editor. Contact him by email at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/LeoPare

Adjusting attitudes after the holidays

After a week of non-stop goodies and gifts, sometimes toddlers need a harsh reality check.

After returning from our annual Christmas visit back to the home country, we noticed our two boys’ behaviour had taken a clear turn for the worse. It was not a shocking development – we’d just spent four nights in four different places and they’d been bombarded with attention and toys at every stop.

This year, they asked Santa for the usual little-boy stuff; trains, trucks, robots, dinosaurs, robot dinosaurs, etc. And thanks to some very generous, loving, overzealous relatives, our boys had the kind of Christmas that many kids can only dream about.

At three and two years old, Grayson and Rylan had gotten used to the idea of been treated like royalty over Christmas. At Grandma and Grandpa’s house, it was all about them. On Christmas morning, they were excited, grateful and gracious about the many gifts laid before them.

By the second round of family visits on Boxing Day, they had developed certain expectations.

After an aunt presented Grayson with some spiffy new clothes, he quickly set the package down, looked around and said, “What else did you get me?”

If there’s one thing that bugs me, it’s ingratitude, so after that mortifying incident, we had a little talk about greed and good manners. I explained to him (again) that Christmas is more about giving than getting, to which he replied, “I know Dad. People like to give me toys!”

When we got back home to Red Deer and unloaded their vast bounty of toys and gadgets, a massive brawl broke out over which items belonged to who. Apparently both boys had laid claim to everything and neither appeared willing to compromise in any way. As a result, we spent the first few hours back in our own house breaking up boy battles and making trips to the ol’ Time Out chair.

Now that we’ve been home for a few days, they seem to have grasped the idea that Christmas is over and Daddy’s Rules are back in effect – though the occasional brawl sparks up over the particularly contentious toys. That damn Nerf gun is going to be the death of me…

Though my boys’ behaviour could certainly use a little… ‘refining’ it was a fantastic Christmas for the Pare crew. Having little kids of our own definitely revived some of that childhood magic for my wife and I, though next year,  we’ll definitely work a little harder to teach them about the true meaning of Christmas.

Leo is a former Advocate editor. Contact him by email at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/LeoPare

Time with family makes the rush worthwhile

Since my wife and started dating 10+ years ago, we’ve made an effort to equally distribute our Christmas visits between families. The trouble is that both moms typically hold their Christmas dinners at the same time, on the same day. Keeping everybody happy requires some careful planning on our part.

Our parents’ homes are both in the Provost-Chauvin area and you can drive from one to the other in less than half an hour. Most of our siblings also live back near the old home land, making Amanda, Grayson, Rylan and I the ‘outsiders’ as we reside in Red Deer, which is more than three hours away.

We used to spend Christmas Eve at my parents, attending midnight mass then waking with everybody to open presents early Christmas morning. When our first child came along, we decided to start spending Christmas Eve in our own house and make the drive on Christmas Day.

Our destination this year will depend on how we did things last year. We’ve attempted to keep a rotating schedule of where we spend Christmas Day and Boxing Day. This year, we will spend Christmas Day with my folks – I think.

One Christmas, we managed to attend both Christmas Day dinners. After two massive turkey feedings, just hours apart, I almost required medical attention.

Another year, we attempted to spend portions of Christmas with both families, traveling back and forth between the two gatherings. Needless to say, this was not an enjoyable experience.

The kids don’t really care one way or the other, as they are lavished with treats, gifts and attention for three consecutive days.

As trying as the Christmas rush may be, I always try to find a moment of peace and calm to soak in the warm and fuzzy holiday feelings. For me, the true ‘Christmas moment’ comes at the end of the day, when everybody sit around the dining room table playing card games, sipping festive beverages, teasing each other or reminiscing over days gone by.

It’s a little sad to consider how rarely we get to spend true quality time with parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. We’re all too busy and so many things can change in just one year. But somehow that precious time we spend together during Christmas always wonderfully familiar.

Leo is a former Advocate editor. Contact him by email at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/LeoPare