18 Comments

It’s my first day home with my three daughters (all under six) for the summer. I know I’m extremely fortunate to have this time with them. I’ve been looking forward to this with excitement, but, to be honest, also some dread (it’s daunting in totally different way from my normal job of teaching and coaching).

Thanks for the dose of perspective this morning. The inflatable pool is filling as I type this. Here’s to another day of maintaining the illusion!

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[low whistle] Three under six. Godspeed.

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Holly sweeping the "who has the most legs" debate in your household and wearing that win with pride.

One time a kid in our suburban pool took so long on the diving board, a group of kids formed a voltron from underneath the diving board to push them into the water. The 90's were a wild time.

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I can remember my dad's super power - he was car repair man, no matter how cold, dark, grimy, smoky it would be, he'd be under one of the family peoplemovers ratcheting away at the most urgent squeak. I loved helping out, but as he got older and engines got more digital, we stopped getting our fingers dirty.

I don't know what my legacy will be. The spicy food eater? The silly animal name giver? The attic walker? No telling, but I hope that they never stop seeing a hero, even if I am flailing like a madman at that excessively hot pepper I popped in my mouth on a dare.

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"I’m going to soar as long as they let me, though, and I’ll have something those dreams always lacked: a place to land."

I never thought about that until today. Im back home in my old bedroom working while the grandparents get some granddaughter time. It's sort of humbling that no matter how far you roam and do, you can come home and recharge and reflect on the journeys without being pulled in different directions. And it's making me think about how I will be the Alfred, to my daughter's superhero journey.

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I got talked into going off of a 10-meter once and hit the water so hard that my watch broke and I had tiger stripes on my back for a month afterwards.

I might go off a 3-meter again someday, but never a 10.

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Hahaha. There are limits to what I can be goaded into. 10 meters ain't happening no matter how much the kids want it.

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"I thought about flying." One of those lines that pops into my head hours or days later and catches in my throat. They don't tell you how being a parent changes you in those ways. A least we have Cookbook and Bluey.

Long live the Cannonball.

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This was great. My nine month old is on a major Dada kick. Which is actually BS because my wife does everything for her and baby gets all entitled and demanding with her but lights up for me. I'm both offended for my wife and also totally smitten. I'm sure that only increases when they can talk.

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In my experience, this will swing back and forth every few weeks or months, so you just enjoy your time in the sun and don't feel guilty about it. This weekend, my daughter said "Daddy, you're my favorite grown-up" and I bellowed to my wife "DID YOU HEAR THAT?"

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We're weaponizing this affection against the child. If she doesn't want her diaper changed or doesn't want to get a bath, she doesn't mind if I do it. Helps that her mom is a child psych major who is always thinking of new ways to outmaneuver the little one.

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"Part of reckoning with my own mortality—and in this particular moment I use that term less to refer to the fact that I will someday die and more in the sense of understanding that I am in fact a mortal and not a superhuman—is getting better at predicting in advance when something is going to absolutely wreck me."

I learned this very early on. In my college days, I tried doing a backflip off of trapeze into a pool. I did not properly rotate and landed flush sideways on my head. Getting out of the pool I was very disoriented (this is how I learned about inner ear balance). I put in ear drops afterwards and it burned with the fire of 1,000 suns. The next morning I woke up with a pool of yellow liquid on my pillow. I immediately went to the doctor. Come to find out I had ruptured my ear drum and it was very infected. I don't care what my future child wants, I will never go off those trapeze again.

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“ When you first have a baby, well-meaning and absolutely-wrong people will tell you isn’t this the best and to cherish every moment of this and it’s such a special time and that’s borderline offensive when you’re bottle-feeding a newborn, dying from lack of sleep, and the kid won’t even have the common courtesy or muscle control to smile at you once in a while for your troubles. I appreciated that stage of life for what it was, but I did not especially enjoy it and will not participate in the romanticization of it.”

you really know how to emotionally kick my ass at 6:30 on a Monday morning, guy.

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if you want me to finish the job I've expounded on this before: https://actioncookbook.substack.com/p/are-you-ready

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I think this was mere months before I subscribed, when I was reading at random from Twitter links, so boy am I nervous to read this one and cry before my day starts!

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I was on my university's diving team back in the day and ended up rupturing my ear drum after a particularly bad takeoff. I smacked the water pretty hard flush from my ankle up to the side of my head. No matter how sore you are, remaining in one piece after jumping off the high dive is no small feat.

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you and Fountains of Wayne both: their song Action Hero also captures the difference between how the world sees a parent and how they want to appear:

https://youtu.be/L_t2pIjcRxw

The second verse especially will break your heart.

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Ahhh I loved FoW but never got around to this album. Adam Schlesinger had a singular gift for this sort of beautiful and heartbreaking window on ordinary life.

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