Daddy's Days

It was on a whim that I knocked gently on the door of the two-story house on Varadi Ave.

I was in Brantford after driving a friend home from the University of Ottawa. On the long drive I randomly asked if he knew where Wayne grew up. He did and after a bit of convincing he agreed to take me there – I grew up a huge Gretzky fan.

The door opened and the most famous hockey dad suddenly stood in front of me.

“Hello, Mr. Gretzky. I’m a big fan of your sons,” I said.

He nodded.

“If you don’t mind sir, I would love to see the trophy room in your basement.”

He shook his head.

“I’m sorry son, it’s all at the Hockey Hall of Fame.”

I reached out for a handshake and said: “Ok. No problem. It’s an honour to meet you sir.”

Then, he looked me in the eye and said: “well, we do have some stuff left” and waved us in.

We took off our shoes and followed into the childhood home of the most famous hockey player to ever live.

To my left a ’98 black Roots Olympic winter coat hang on a dining room chair. I could see straight through to the back of the house and a sliding glass door, with the backyard shining through.

Walter made a right and led us down a flight of surprisingly raggedy stairs.

He stopped at the bottom where a pile of sticks rested in the corner, just like many people had in their basements growing up in suburban Canada.

“You know what this one’s from,” he asked?

The stick was small.

“That famous picture of your son with Gordie Howe as a kid and the stick around his neck?”

“Yup”.

The basement was plethora of Wayne Gretzky memorabilia. And in no order. From very expensive collectibles, to random life size posters. There was stuff everywhere, though it was organized. One of Wayne’s brothers was even laying on a couch.

Walter told story, after story, after story.

We checked out small replica Stanley Cups. A bench made from some of “my kids’” old sticks. Cereal boxes with Wayne’s pictures. NHL jerseys with Gretzky on the back. Endless medals and trophies.

At one point, Walter lay on the ground and started signing a stack of dozens of Wayne Gretzky posters

He signed: W. Gretzky on all of them.

“I can still get away with that,” he howled.

And then this.

“You know why I speak to all these groups, and do all this community work,” he asked motioning us to come closer.

“Because the wife….she don’t listen no more,” he whispered to us motioning upstairs.

His wife had passed many years before.

I was sort of numb and overwhelmed when I left. Walter chased my car down as I pulled away – I had left my camera case behind and he was returning it.

Months later, a box arrived at my apartment in Ottawa, where I was just about to start my fourth year of university back in 2002. I had been hired to serve as the Editor-in-Chief of the Fulcrum, the University of Ottawa’s student paper.

The box was from Walter. Inside were two hardcover Wayne Gretzky books, one signed by Wayne the other a nice message from “the Gretzky family”. There was a signed plastic drinking pint from Kraft with “JELL-O Pudding Shaker” written in red, along with the logo of each NHL Team – the sort of memento they would give at the gate to every person who attended a Junior A hockey game. He had signed W. Gretzky on it too. I drank out of it for years.

Most importantly the box included a hand-written message on a small piece of lined paper.

“To Adam. Good luck with the paper. W. Gretzky.”

I taped the note to the wall behind my desk at the Fulcrum. It lived with me every day and guided me through.

Walter is a legend. Countless people all over the world have Walter Gretzky stories. He was accessible, relatable, local and everyone loved him. Now, as I build my own backyard rink, I often think about the hours Walter spent perfecting the craft that birthed the greatest player who ever was.

He spoke at so many charity events, lending his fame to causes and raising who knows how much money. He was patient and real.

He was a good, kind person. The type of person I want to be. He represented a different era of celebrity.  

Walter has nothing left to give.

Thank you, Walter. You sure did have some stuff left in that old basement.

The buzz emanating from the kids inside the bright classroom is failing to lure my daughter in.

So is a teacher’s warm smile and out-stretched arm.

She is clutching the palm of my right-hand with all five of her little fingers. Her new grey sundress with lemons is squeezed against my right thigh.

She’s shaking slightly.

I’m trying desperately not to cry.

It’s her first day of Grade 1 at a new school, in a new language.

 

I’m only standing in this dim hallway because the school bus – which my kids were excited about riding – didn’t show up. So, I had to drive them. Her brother marched down the hall to Junior Kindergarten without a care in the world, perhaps too young to grasp the size of the moment.

My daughter’s fear is ricocheting off my soul. She’s a brave kid who is not afraid to go down the steepest slides, take hard falls, go on roller-coasters or jump off tall heights.

This is different. The unknown and uncontrollable laying beyond the classroom door’s threshold is overwhelming her.

Her hand squeezes tighter as the teacher reaches out a second arm.

As parents, we’re not supposed to be our offspring’s best-friend. Our job is to channel our efforts into arming them with the tools they need to be safe, curious, kind, confident and well-adjusted little humans.

Sometimes that mission is hard for me to remember when I am constantly worrying about them. Over time, I’ve learned to let go of the instinct to over control their lives. I assume that if I put too tight a box on them, they will find their way out or suffocate in it.

I lean heavily on conversation to ease my active mind.

I’ve learned to ask strategically specific questions.

“Was school good today?” is a sub-par question eliciting a shrug, or the dreaded “yes or no”.

Smart questions include: what did you do in gym or music class today? Who did you play with at recess? What did your friends have in their lunch? These focused questions offer me clues into how they’re doing.

I don’t really care that little Samantha had a peach yogurt. I care that my questions trigger anecdotes about moments of their day.

I always try to answer their questions too, regardless of how mundane or repetitive. I tell them if I don’t know something and ask them what they think.

It also helps me to have conversations with people who see them everyday. That’s meant finding time to meet their teachers and being present at school events – even if I’m not interested in the activity. This past year, my wife and I joined a handful of parents taking a 30-minute dance lesson in the school gym – taught by the principal – while the kids enjoyed the school movie night.

All these conversations help me uncover little clues I piece together to keep my thoughts rational, (somewhat).

Sometimes, though, I just have to let go as I did last September.

It was time for her grade school journey to start.

I open her school bag and take out the tiny pink croc shoe we put in it the night before. It’s the same one she “wore” as a newborn, which had for years been hanging from our car’s review mirror.

She rubs it with her fingers.

I take a deep breath and get down on one knee and look into her soaked eyes.

“We’re proud of you. Be brave. I know you can do this,” I say quietly near her face.

The classroom door closes behind me.

I walk back through the silent hall, get in my car and cry.

I want to sit there all day, waiting to see her at recess to make sure she’s fine and playing with someone, anyone. I think about taking a quick peek into her class through the outside window. Her smile would be comforting.

Instead, I call my wife.

“That was really hard.”

As my daughter’s school journey continues there will be many doors luring her through. Some will be exciting and important, others risky and dangerous. While I won’t be there to hold her hand, I wonder if I will have done everything I can to prepare her.

So, I was lucky enough that the Globe and Mail published my piece about my backyard rink. It was widely shared and I thought I would post some of the pictures I described in the piece.

This can serve as a guide for those of you looking to build rinks next year!

 

You know the big newspaper dada reads at the kitchen table on Saturday, while you eat your crepes? I want to tell you a little story about why the newspaper is a gift with special powers.

Each of the words you see in the newspaper are part of a story. All the stories are what’s called  the news. Think of it like this; imagine all your bedtime story books being put together in one big book. You still have each story, but they are all in one place – that’s basically the newspaper.

But here is where the newspaper is different from your bedtime stories. Instead of the stories being about princesses, dogs and imaginary places – the stories in the news are about real life.

The most important thing I want you to remember is that news is real. It’s about real things. Real people and real stuff. It can be all kinds of different stories, like about people who get in trouble with the police, schools that aren’t doing well, sports games, cool things from different countries and even stories about the weather. Yes, entire news stories just about the weather! Seriously. And there are also so many different pictures.

Dada likes to read the newspaper because that’s how he learns about what is happening in the world. What I learn I can then tell mumma and even you guys and yes, other people too.

Now here is another really special thing about newspapers. There are people whose job it is to make the news we read. They’re called journalists. The stories in the newspaper don’t just appear there like a magic spell from Cedric. Someone has to type them on their computer after watching the story happen in real life. Love those people. They’re the best and right now they’re under attack.

Not real attack like with bows and arrows, but other people are trying hard to stop them from doing their jobs, from telling true, great stories. Why would anyone do that? It’s hard to say, but for now, you can help. What I want you to always know is that we need journalists because they tell the news in a way that is mostly fair. No, they’re not perfect and like you and everyone else, they sometimes make mistakes. That’s ok because, for the most part, they’re trying their absolute best to teach us and tell us stories that matter.

So, next time when you’re eating your crepes after we scrape the paper off the front steps, remember that each word is part of a real story, each one matters and they’re all powerful.

Additional reads on the crisis in Canadian media:

• Paul Wells Toronto Star
• Why Journalism Matters
• Canada media industry needs cash
• Trump vs the press

The Daddy Tag Challenge #TheDaddyTag – The Frenchie Mummy

Are you a Stay at Home Daddy or a Working Daddy?

• Working Daddy

Would you have it any other way?

• I only know one way, but wouldn’t mind being a Stay at Home Daddy at one point in my kids’ lives.

Do you co-change dirty nappies? Even the very smelly ones?

• Of course. I’ve cleaned poop and pee off the walls too!

A little fairy gives you the possibility of breastfeeding? Are you going for it or do you run away?

• Yes, definitely. I would love to really know the pain and struggle my wife went through and be able to better understand it. And, breastfeeding is a bond us dads will never understand.

What is the one must-have item for a daddy?

• A big jar of patience.

How many kids do you plan on having?

• We have two and plan on having no more.

Lads’ nights? How often do you have them?

• I play ice hockey once a week with the boys.

Your children’s favourite achievement?

• For my four-ish year old daughter it was being the “snack sheriff” and “special helper” in her Junior Kindergarten class. For my two-ish year old boy, it’s likely going to the potty all by himself – but he loves and smiles through most days.

What is your best memory with your kid(s)?

• I feel like every day is a memory. I remember both their births like it was yesterday. I also remember my daughter being maybe 5-months old and I was sleeping on the floor in her room. She had a cold and we were worried (first kid). At some point she woke up and looked through her crib and saw me lying there, looking at her. A huge smile and look of surprise came across her face. The look was like “you’re here!!!!!”.

Name one thing you miss since being a daddy?

• More weekend time to enjoy a newspaper and a good cup of coffee at a coffee shop

Weight gain, before pregnancy, during, after and now? And we mean YOU DADDY, not the mummy!

• Throughout

Dream holiday with your kids?

• Peru

Dream holiday without your kids or even without the other half? (You’re allowed to dream)

• Japan

How has your life changed since having kids?

• I like to think I am the same person, just with more responsibility, knowledge and life experience.

Finish the sentence “It makes my heart melt when…”

• When my kids play/communicate with each other

Favourite beers brands and football team?

• Rochefort (Belgian) and Toronto FC (MLS)

Huggies or Pampers?

• Pampers

Have you always wanted kids?

• Yes

Best part of being a dad?

• It’s almost impossible to accurately capture “the best part of being a dad”. From the warmth and pride when they rest their heads on your shoulder as you hug/hold them, to them being captivated while you teach them something new. And, holding their hand and them squeezing it tighter as you walk into a busy place/new situation.

#thedaddytag

They lurk like heat seeking missiles, ready to pounce on their unsuspecting, innocent prey. Little warm paws, eagerly searching out their target for a quick, stealthy attack. These ten weapons hit anything in their path.

Welcome to life with my two-ish year-old boy. It doesn’t matter what or where it is – he grabs it. It happens at a moment’s notice, whatever is in sight. Swipe.

If there were hot coals on the on the counter with sharp daggers sticking out of them, he would grab them.

My wife and I are constantly playing a jiu-jitsu defence swiping his hands away and looking over our shoulder to see our little boy roaming around, often on his tippy-toes, lurching. At a restaurant, it’s the salt, or soy-sauce, or sugar packages, or the cucumber in my salad bowl, or his sister’s hat.

(as I type, he is sitting beside me constantly trying to “push the red button” on the keyboard on my laptop).

Exhausting and relentless.

Why does he do this? Is he a curious child? A mischievous child? Does he lack for stuff? Is he worried that if he doesn’t hoard things he won’t have anything? Does he have sensory issues?

I trust some expert, somewhere knows.

But, for these parents – we’ve had enough.

I’m tired of saying “don’t grab”, “use your words”, “do you need this?” and, most often “stop”.

So, what do you do? How do you prevent him from unleashing his grabbing terror on the house, all the time? Do you keep things elevated and out of the way? Or, do you constantly discipline? Or, do nothing and just let him tear the place apart?

Our current method to solving the madness is to elevate things and sternly tell him not to grab, whenever he’s caught. Our sense is that this just a phase, he will eventually grow out of. But, who knows.

So, parents? What do we do? How do we limit the grabbing? How have you prevented the warm little paws from attacking the countertops?

So, you want to strap sharp blades to your kid’s feet and let them stand on frozen water? I had long dreamed of a little foot resting between my knees, me hunched over, a drip of snot hanging from the tip of my nose, my raw, dry fingers threading the lace through the little skate eye hole. Call it a “Bucket List” item.

My 4ish year-old daughter skated on my very makeshift backyard rink last winter and I taught her to skate the winter before. We got my 2ish year-old boy up on skates for the first time just a few weeks ago at a public skating open ice. I am no expert, but in an effort to help other parents this season, I have put together a Top 10 “Ways Not To Such At Teaching Your Kids To Skate” list.

1. Don’t buy/borrow/use cheese cutter skates

We don’t put out kids in extra big shoes to work on their balance. When you teach them to drive, will it be in an 18 wheel truck? If the objective is to teach your kid balance on one blade I have long believed that using the cheese cutters is counter-productive. You may as well just let them walk on the ice in their boots. They will be fine. Figure skates. Hockey skates. It doesn’t matter.

2. There are no boy or girl skates

It’s 2016; there are no boy skates and girl skates. There are hockey skates and figure skates. Figure skates have toe-pics on the end and hockey skates don’t. It drives me mad to hear people still use those terms – especially as the father of a little girl who already in her short little life has heard the term “boy skates” too many times.

3. Invest in a helmet with a mask

They don’t need to look tough for Don Cherry. A full cage is a must. You will see lots of kids without a cage or plastic face shield. But there are all kinds of reasons why a face shield is a must. For example, if they fall near other kids they can get dangerously close to the other kids’ blade. Or, they can fall quickly and might not have the reaction time to bring their hands up to cover their nose. It just makes sense. Yes, it costs a bit more, but you will have helmet and cage for years.

4. Don’t dress them for outdoor ice fishing in Northern Ontario

If you’re reading this in Nunavut and planning to skate outside then bundle up. But, if you’re like most readers and you live in an urban centre, chances are your kids first experience will be in a rink. There is no need to layer your kids like the Stay Puft Marshmellow Man. How are they supposed to move? Sure, monitor their hands and face for cold, but be reasonable and give your kids the opportunity to move their extremities.

5. Your kid is going to be bad

So, you have visions of the videos and photos you’re going to take of your kid just taking off on the ice when they step onto the glistening sheet. It ain’t gonna happen. Your kid is going to fall. They are going to trip. They are likely not going to be able to stand up at all the first few times. This experience is huge and very different for them so be patient and don’t push too hard or your risk them not having a good time (see step 6).

6. It’s ok for them to fall and make snow angels on the ice

Let them fall. That’s right, make sure they know that falling is ok and they are not going to get hurt. Sure; protect them and help them fall, but falling is good. Laugh with them. Cheer them on. The more excited you are, the more exited they will be. I’m sure Wayne and Sidney spent lots of time as little kids flailing on the ice. It’s good for them and will make them comfortable. Just like bath time, the more fun they have, the easier it is to accomplish the goal. Resist the urge to mock them.

7. Get to their level and make it fun

You’re a dad (or mom), your days of looking cool are long past. Throw on some snow pants, and get down to your child’s level. If they fall, get on your knees and help them out. Don’t just pick them back-up and hold them. Make them feel in control so they can try themselves. The first thing I did with my kids was hold them between my legs and go very fast around the ice, putting their feet down like rudders so they could feel the ice. They both loved it.

8. First skate lesson plan

The idea is to get them to stand in place on their own. If you can do that the first time out – HUGE SUCCESS. Cheer wildly. Then, the next steps is to make them put their arms out like an airplane and have them take steps towards you. They will march and eventually glide.

 9. Hot chocolate and snacks

Be prepared with some snacks and some hot chocolate for the post skate. Your kids are going to be sweaty and hungry. Reward them with that treat. They will be thrilled.

10. Where do you go?

Last but not least, where do you go? Anywhere. You can literally go anywhere there is ice. Most rinks offer public skating for a few dollars where you and your kid can enjoy. Some cities also have artificial outdoor ice. In my hometown of Richmond Hill, the town maintains an outdoor skating path (click here). Do some googling. If you have skated before, I recommend you take your kids out with you before immediately putting them in lessons. Ultimately every town offers skating lessons at the local rink.

Where to shop (for Toronto, Canada based readers):

• Play it Again Sports
• Canadian Tire
• National Sports

 

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Do it – you deserve it.

Don’t feel guilty. Don’t feel shame, just go.

As parents, we need to breathe and air out; “blow the stink of us” as someone once said. Escape the home every now and then and live life out in the wild, like we used to do. Leave behind Dora, stickers and group toilet trips, trading them in for well, anything that’s not that!

When was the last time you got away?

I’m lucky, wifey (my wife) and I have worked out a healthy cadence where we each, separately, take a few weekends a year where we go away with our friends, leaving the kids for the other to parent for the weekend.

Does it mean I don’t love my kids? No.

Does it mean I’m selfish? No.

Does it mean I am a bad parent? No.

Does it mean I don’t like my home life? Not at all.

The complete opposite – it means you’re a good parent who has strong self-awareness and the ability to enjoy life.

(** Note: Now, before I get all kinds of social hate from folks who don’t have the luxury of going away, can’t find child-care options or are single parents; I’m sorry. This post is not meant to judge. I hope that you too can find time away from the kids in any way possible.)

For dads, stereo-typically, our “airing out” usually involves sitting around in our own filth, drinking, laughing, mocking each other incessantly, telling tales (mostly sensationalized) watching/playing sports and of course, farting. We rinse, repeat and come home Sunday exhausted. (think this)

As a good dad – which all of you are – you’re involved with your kids every day. You’re present and share the load at home. It’s tiring, mentally and physically, so the ability to get away and be with other adults out in the wild is healthy. Even just the quiet time in the car on a road trip sitting in total silence, energizes the heart and rejuvenates the brain.

Schedules are busy. Life is busy, so among my friends we have created two annual events a year. These annual events are getaways to look forward to and your life partner is preconditioned that they happen every year. Non-negotiable.

But don’t wait for an annual trip if you don’t have one planned.

For example, this past weekend I went to Detroit. Who goes to Detroit?? Me. I went with my brother and a couple of cousins – one of whom is expecting his first kid in a few months. While Detroit needs its own blog post because of it’s surprisingly stellar food scene in the midst of urban decay, one of the main messages I told my cousin – in between sips of beer, eating meat (so much meat), gambling,  and giggling – is that it’s important to take a few days away every so often.

It grounds you. It resets the soul. It gives you time when you don’t have a little one tugging at your pocket asking for more goldfish, for the 20^th time.

The flip side of this is that it’s imperative your partner get away too, so you can experience handling your kids alone. Remember, kids were raised without electricity in huts, in below zero temperatures. Surely, with so much around us today, you can figure out how to handle your kids alone for a few days. And, as a dad, lots of people won’t think you can do it – you can.

And, for your kids, they will learn that you have a life outside of their little self-absorbed worlds. They might even be curious about where you went, what you did and who you saw. They will learn to understand that mommy and daddy have friends too.  Our belief is that it helps teach our kids that both parents are in control and independent. We think that’s a good thing.

So ask yourself, where are you going next and with whom?

Dear my two little kidlets,

Let me tell you a story about a man named Donald (not the duck).

Donald convinced people that he was the best person to be leader of a whole country – the most powerful country in the whole entire world.

He became what’s called the President of the United States of America. A President is sort of like a King or Queen. It’s like people in Arendelle getting together and deciding their new King or Queen.

Even though most people don’t agree, Donald still gets to be President, but that’s a whole other story.

Here is the thing with Donald; he is not a nice man. Actually, he’s terrible. Some call him dangerous and rude. Others go so far as to call him a criminal. He doesn’t make people feel good. He’s bitter, sad and scary.

When Donald traveled around the country trying to convince people to let him be President he said a lot of really awful things. Things that would get you both in big trouble. Things that were mean to people who have different skin colour than yours (that’s called racism) and insulting to people who come from different countries (called xenophobia). He was nasty to girls (that’s called misogyny) and some girls even accused him of touching them in their private parts when they didn’t want him to (that’s called sexual assault). He was very rude, always angry and he yelled a lot. He made people cry.

Yet, despite all of this, he still managed to get people to decide to let him be President.

I know, I don’t get it either.

Then something changed.

Suddenly, once he became President Donald stopped saying those really bad things. He talked about people working together and how he would be the President for everyone; even the ones he was mean to. He stopped yelling and being rude.

On his computer he tried to erase all the bad things he had ever said.

Now this is the part of the story you need to remember.

Donald is a liar – yes, pants on fire.

You can’t spend lots of time insulting people; being hateful, awful to girls, mean to others with different skin colour and then wake-up one morning and expect everyone to forget.

People won’t, and they shouldn’t.

Remember, if someone does and says the things Donald has, you must always remember them. Don’t ever, ever forget that he said them. Because you can use his anger and negativity to make you better, even more wonderful, strong children.

As someone famous once said, “Love is always better than anger. Hope is better than fear”.

Yes, people make mistakes and can say sorry. But sometimes, when someone just keeps being mean over and over again, it’s obvious they can’t change and they won’t; despite how hard they try.

So, even though Donald was chosen President, people are not forgetting what he did and said. And they are doing something about it; just like Anna did when Arendelle was falling apart.

Anna worked for what she believed in. She fought for her family and for her kingdom.

She said no. Not now, not ever. No thank you.

So what does this all mean for Donald? Well, he might be President, but regardless of all the nice things he is trying to say and past he is trying erase, he will always be a racist, misogynist, zenophobic liar.

And little princesses and princes like you two won’t stand for it and won’t let him forget it, ever.

Additional reads:

• Explaining Trump to Children
• Aaron Sorkin letter to his teenage kids