Three months

and counting. Cannot believe I have left it this long. Granted I have been slightly busy, but that is no excuse. I will update this space with an entry about our middle child as soon as I do some "research" on middle children to figure out exactly what is happening with him. There is something to be said for having an even number of children. (But don't get any ideas Michaela.)

New post coming soon.

I Will Never Yell at My Kids Again*

I have vowed on more than one occasion to not yell at my children. It usually follows some outburst that was instigated by my children's annoying habit of doing the opposite of what I think they should be doing at different times during the day. Then dad feels bad and says he shouldn't have done it and in all seriousness makes the vow again.

And, of course, the children then sense the weakness and immediately chime in with something like, "Yeah dad, you shouldn't yell at us. It is scary."

"Now wait a minute, the REASON I was YELLING in the first place...." and then I remember the minute-old promise.

Michaela and I decided from the start we would not spank and so neither of us hit the kids. (We may each have one mulligan.) That leaves using our organizational skills to plan out an orderly schedule in which everything has its place and time and the kids are clear about all the rules and are encouraged to follow them by a complex program of positive reinforcement.

HA!

We are getting there and I think we will ultimately get there, but in the meantime can I shout at them? I mean, it feels soooo good sometimes -- especially when I shout something so logical and obvious I think I may have finally had a breakthrough with one of them. But I know it is wrong. I don't know why, but every fiber of my body says I shouldn't shout at my children.

So I looked it up and found two pretty good articles. The first is from The Guardian and is titled Loud but not proud. It basically says that researchers at Harvard Medical School found that shouting at kids DAMAGES THEIR BRAINS! WTF? I can handle a little emotional trauma that sneaks out when they see their shrink during their mid-life crisis, but brain damage? That's not fair. My favorite quote from the article:

There's an American saying that shouting at your children to obey is like using the horn to steer your car - and it produces the same results.

Of course since it is an article written about parenting it is written for mothers and goes on to talk about maternal isolation or something, but that's a whole nother post.

I found another article that gives concrete steps to avoid shouting at your kids at Wedding Magazine (really?).

I was encouraged by one of the last headings, "But sometimes shouting can be good for them!" until the last sentence.

Shouting also helps children to express their feelings instead of bottling them up. But never shout at young children.

How old is young? One I hope because I don't yell at Amalia.

Anyway, here is to not yelling at our kids anymore. Please, comment and let me know your yelling stories and if you have managed to get by with minimal yelling please tell me how. If you have a lot to say on the subject you can make a post on my blog. I just have to figure out how to do it.

*I mean it this time!

Single Parenthood Part II

Well, it is getting harder. Working full time and taking care of the kids and dealing with all the other dramas daily life brings is starting to take its toll. I can definitely do it, but I find myself staring off in to space a bit more often. I need to get a better routine down for the kids. I hope to hell they eat fruit at the babysitters because I am having a hard time on that front.

TRYING TO BREAK ME DOWN

This morning was a particular downer. The kids were in a fine mood, though Amalia has become a tad more whiny than she was the first week (she is sick so I will let it slide). In fact, all three kids were on medicine last week. Anyway, this morning I was dreading all the things I had to try and do today while getting the kids fed and dressed. Elliot threw a tantrum over something or other, his brother didn't help things and Amalia was being one and throwing her food everywhere. But it was in the car where Isaac, age 5, took psychological warfare to the next level on his dad. He must have sensed blood.

Out of nowhere he says:

"Dad, how old was your daddy when he died?"

"Sixty-two."

"Why didn't he live to be 100? (I somehow let slip that most people live to 100 to stop Isaac from worrying about dying. What do you tell a five-year-old about dying? That wasn't in the manual. Not one of my finer parenting moves.)

"He got sick, sweetie."

"Did you cry when your daddy died?" (You little, bugger. Why are you doing this?)

"Yes, I cried when my daddy died." (Now avoiding eye contact by looking out my window.)

"How old were you when your daddy died?"

"Thirty-one."

"How about me?"

"You weren't born, yet, sweetie." (In fact, Michaela was about six months pregnant with Isaac (our first) when my dad passed away.)

Short pause, and then Isaac goes in for the kill.

"It's sad your dad didn't get to see me." (Easily the absolute biggest disappointment of my life thus far -- granted, I've had it pretty good.)

"Yeah, he would have liked you guys a lot."

"Maybe when I am older I can be a daddy."

"You would be an excellent daddy." (And I hope your kids do to you exactly what you do to me -- good and bad)

Single Parenthood

No Michaela hasn't left me, yet. She has gone to London for 10 weeks to study as part of a new business venture and I will be taking care of the three kids. I will post some of the experiences the kids and I share, and maybe someone can benefit from the mistakes of a sometimes-ignorant-but-hopefully-not-dangerously-so father.

Disclaimer: Two days before Michaela was set to leave, a friend from high school posted to facebook that her husband was about to deploy for another six months (presumably to Iraq or Afghanistan). If I sound like I feel sorry for myself in any of my posts, it is not my intent and I really don't. I am fully cognizant of the fact that a 10-week-tour to London in no way compares.

First off, the kids are Isaac 5, Elliot 3 and Amalia 14 months. Isaac can read some, swim, dress himself and as he proved to me this morning, get everyone's breakfast ready. This is in addition to his previously mentioned technical prowess with regards to DVD players and PSPs.

Elliot can read his name, dress himself (a little better than Isaac at times) and thinks he knows how to swim. In fact, he can swim, but only as far as he can get on one breath. He hasn't figured out how to get his head above the water to breathe. This is a huge problem at the pool because he will just jump in with no fear and I need to jump in to save him. Annoying.

Amalia can walk and climb and loves to jump in the swimming pool as well. She can say some words and can be pretty clear through grunting and pointing about what she wants. She also takes no crap from her brothers.

The Departure

We decided to drop Michaela off at the domestic airport and she would take the bus to the international airport -- the idea being that would give her some time to calm down before boarding the airplane. Fat chance.

The goodbye got off to an awkward start as I had parked in the bus lane and when the driver pulled in, he interrupted our emotional farewell by laying on his horn. Anyway, once back in the car, boys were crying and I had a headache -- a nightmare for me since I get about three headaches a year. We decided to head to the club for an ice cream. The ice cream turned into the boys playing Lego Star Wars on the club Wii and our first day was nearly in the books.

The First Night

I decided to let the boys sleep in my bed. Amalia had fallen asleep in the car (which started a nice run of kids falling asleep in the car at night) and I made the transfer to cot very professionally. It is not as easy at it sounds at our house. When I pull in to the driveway, I need to immediately start trying to mitigate the sound of our eight dogs barking and yelping like there is no tomorrow. Amalia missed out on the gene that lets the two older children sleep through the barking. A mixture of Tom Petty on the stereo and a quick exit from the vehicle and "shushing" of the dogs did the trick.

After I got the boys in bed (after brushing their teeth -- they had to remind me), I was feeling quite proud of myself. Then I looked into the bedroom and Isaac was crying but not making any sound. He had found a little baby toy that played "You are my Sunshine," and said the part -- "you'll never know dear, how much I love you" reminded him of his mommy. Of course, Michaela read my facebook post about this in the airport in Kuala Lumpur during her changeover just as she was calming down. Oh well.

Moving Forward

Amalia has been great so far. She literally does not cry unless she needs something or is pointing out something I have forgotten. The way I plan on managing the three of them moving on is to go slow and give us plenty of time to get places and do things. When we rush I tend to lose my patience as a father. Another thing I am going to try not to do is tell them they have to be better for me because Michaela is not here. I am well versed in the way of the guilt trip and am trying hard not to become a practitioner.

There will be posts coming more often. We had a cracking time at the zoo on Saturday where the kids got to play with a police officer's handgun. Great fun.

Techno Kids

When Michaela and I had our first son, I vowed I would never let him beat me at basketball. I know, of course, my aging and his maturing (maturing sounds way better than aging) will eventually cooperate to put the matter beyond my control, but I think a father should stay the alpha male for as long as possible. What I had never given any thought to, however, was my son surpassing me in the area of technology.

I am not an MIT graduate or anything, but I do fancy myself pretty technical when it comes to computers and computer-related gadgets. I have always said my generation will be the first senior citizens who play video games in the old-folks home. I can design basic web-pages

(www.taiwanpokertour.net) and get all my cameras, cell phones, psps, laptops, etc. up to date with all the latest software and whatnot. So, I never thought I would have to worry about having to work to stay ahead of my children in this field.

Then came Isaac.

I do not think my wife will mind (and if she does, she will have to comment below) that I think Isaac has already surpassed her to an extent when it comes to technology. He has been able to

use my digital camera (zooming, switching between video, camera and gallery, and [most importantly] not dropping it) since he was three years old. In fact, he used it on our last big trip to the states and the last picture on it was the one his mother took before she dropped and broke it.

The last time the family went to England was another eye-opener. Michaela flew with the three children by herself a few days earlier than I. We spoke every day on Skype and finally it was my turn to fly. As I was eating lunch at a restaurant before catching a taxi to the airport, my cell phone rang.

"Hello."

"Hi Dad. When are you coming here?" was the reply from Isaac, four years old at the time.

"I'm on my way there today. Let me talk to your mother." It was not unusual for Michaela to call on Skype and have the boys talk first.

"Mom! Dad's on the phone."

"Isaac, not now. I am busy." This I thought was a tad unusual. It was not like I had called her, she had called me. The least she could do was come to the phone.

"He wants to talk to you."

"Oh, Isaac."

Finally. "Hello?"

"Hi Michaela. Why did you call if you didn't want to talk?"

"Oh my God! I thought he was just joking."

It turns out Isaac had gone on to his grandfathers computer and called me on Skype with no one's help. This scares the crap out of me.

How are we as parents supposed to exert any kind of controls over what he reads or watches or gets into on the Internet? How far can we go and still be good parents and not stuffy, over-protective Footloose parents?

All these questions popped into my head a couple of weeks ago as Isaac was watching Scooby Doo on my PSP. I looked over and he had started Star Wars instead by accessing the main menu and the memory card.

"Isaac. I said no Star Wars. And how did you know how to change it? I never showed you that."

He said fine, he would change it back. And then a couple of seconds later he looked at me and literally said.

"Dad. Nothing can stop me."

Insert expletive here.

NOTE: It has been a long time between posts. I am going to try and be more on it, but kids, work, husbandry, and 'other' are taking their toll on the spare time.

Nice Party

Anyone contemplating throwing a child's birthday party and trying to choose between a house party or a restaurant party, I here and now declare my preference to be a restaurant party. No clean up. No dishes. Love it. It is a load off my shoulders to have there be no mess. I feel incredibly guilty watching Michaela clean up after a party.

As for the party, I think everyone had a good time. The rain held off long enough for all to enjoy the paddling pool and squirt guns. The food was decent and the Taiwan Beer is always good. The best part is there was enough space for the kids to play and run amok (needs to be a mountain restaurant not a normal restaurant) and the adults could talk and hang out. Getting taxis up the mountain in a timely manner was a bit of a problem and there was, unfortunately, one trip to the hospital.

Amalia had a good time though she was naked for most of the party. In fact, very few clothes were worn by the assembled children considering we were in a restaurant of sorts. Thankfully this trend did not extend to the adults in attendance.

I've attached a photo of Amalia with her and her brothers' babysitter, Yi Mama. They adore her. Also, there is a picture of the family with new haircuts (except the blonds) and a video.

The video is of Isaac playing with his friend Liam in Chinese. Liam's father is English and his mother is Taiwanese. It is not the bet illustration of kids speaking Chinese as they are talking about absolute nonsense, but it is a start. I am forever trying to get the elusive Brennand-boys-speaking-Chinese video. The hunt continues.

A Gathering Storm

I will update this blog at the end of the day. Today is Amalia's first birthday party and I am sure it will be representative of most of our Taiwan get-togethers.

On the foreigner side, as with any gathering, there will be quite a mix of people from several non-Taiwan countries. It is Michaela's job to get everyone to mingle. On the kid side, I have put Isaac in charge of making sure all his friends have fun. He has taken this to mean he must tell their daddies if they do something wrong.

On the Taiwanese side, we are having the party at a traditional restaurant on the mountain that grows its own food and animals -- though I hope the seafood is bused in. It is run by a very nice man who is great with the kids. My job is to shave and get a haircut and take some photos. We'll see if the weather holds.

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