Every Day Cleaners Can Cause Emergencies

Emergencies never happen the way you’d expect. Last night, my nine year old daughter fell off her desk chair right in front of her brother and sisters. No one thought anything of it. She often played this way with her two year old sister to make her laugh.

But when Mom came out to get her to help in the kitchen, she was discovered to be unconscious and drooling profusely. She gave all indications of having had a seizure. This is a girl who, aside from allergies, has always been the picture of health.

Dad (that’s me) came rushing home from his writing regimen at the local library and discovered the children had cleaned the bathrooms with off the shelf chemicals. As it happened, my son had cleaned what we call the ‘blue’ bathroom and shut the door without turning on the vent.

Enter my nine year old. She’s playing computer and has to go to the bathroom. Yep, you guessed it, she uses the one he cleaned. She shuts the door, does her thing, walks back out to her computer and falls unconscious to the floor a minute later.

In the insanity that followed her discovery, putting the pieces of the bathroom cleaning together helped calm nerves. If she had actually had a seizure, the outlook would be much more dire and fraught with concern. Once she was exposed to fresh air, four hours later she was back to being her perky little self.

This I write just to let fathers, mothers and children know that those warning on cleaning solution bottles are not there just for legal purposes. They are real dangers that can manifest in the most quiet and unassuming manner, such as a child who likes to play with her sister by falling out of her chair.

Keep all those chemicals away from your children. Go right now to every cupboard and cranny and find anything with a warning on it and make sure children are monitored as they use them. My son was concerned that he caused his sister to go to the hospital. Despite our reassurances that we knew he didn’t mean to do anything to hurt her, I know he felt terrible. Protect your family. This incident was triggered by a bottle of tub and tile cleaner. Go check right now!

When Dad Comes Home

My apologies for writing late this week. I returned home from a writing conference that rocked my world and I have been caught up in the aftermath of being absent from my home for four days. You know how it is. When you have four children at home and a wife, there are a myriad of issues to be addressed upon your return.

One such issue is getting caught up in the activities you missed out on. Your son will invariably wish to wax poetic about the soap bubble that went up his nose or your youngest daughter will regale you with the story of the leaf that flew all the way across the yard in the air. These items can seem tedious and unimportant compared to a stack of bills, a wife with a crazed “just give me five minutes alone from the kids” kind of look, or a long list of vital emails awaiting your attention.

I submit that you must, not should, must, suffer through and muster all your interest to these small items while you embrace your children with arms and ears. These young hearts and minds prize your attention above all else. The minutes you spend sharing in their world are priceless snippets of life they will fondly recall one day after you’re gone. Please remember, your time here is limited. The email will wait. The bills as well. Your wife needs you, and by involving yourself with your children, those five minutes may just save her sanity.
We must live our lives like each moment is the last. So what is truly important in that scenario? What do we wish to leave with our children? The fact that Dad paid attention to every other detail in life but the children? Or the legacy of a father who took the time to be wowed by the slinky that ‘walks’ down stairs. I do not believe I have to tell you which is better. You know.

Work at Home Dads and Children

I have a wonderful life. Never boring. Cram-packed with every conceivable time demand, my day goes hither and yon yanking me along at its whim. There are the demands I don't like (business related stuff that takes a writing soul out of his muse), things I run from (commitments to write certain word counts for certain projects), things I love to write (like fiction), and then there's my children. The smallest child is my largest hurdle to working.

She is cute and knows it. She is polite beyond two-years-old. She's all about "please" an "thank you" and "you're welcome" and "bless you". She has the look and knows how to use it. Dad is unable to resist her. I want to entertain her and teach her and hang out with her.

Then, there's work. It must be done. I wouldn't wish the writer's life on, well, I suppose I'd wish it on my enemies, but possibly not my general acquaintances that just irk me. Writing is a tough business and it requires that a certain amount of work be completed at home. The more the better given fuel prices these days.

Fortunately, today I have devised the plan of allowing (like that term?) the three older children one-on-one time with their littlest sister. In one hour shifts, they will take her off my hands for three hours. This is at least enough time for me to blog, write a couple articles and then get some word count on my book.

The good thing is that it's working. I am getting this blog written. Are you looking for proof that something works? Read each word. Look at each letter. Each and every one was written without the interruption of my super-cute little girl. See? Proof positive. 100% money back guarantee.

Granted, one has to trust the older children enough to carry out this grand design, but if you've trained your children up well, here is where the big dividends begin to pay. I am buried in writing work and my daughter is buried in the thrill of playing with her older siblings.

Every now and then, good ol' Dad comes up with a good one . . .

Time Out for Basketball!

I took my son to opening night for the Orlando Magic. I hadn't seen a professional basketball game since the early 1980's when Larry Bird played. We used to travel from WV or NC to Washington or Cleveland to catch a game.

I remember being thrilled by Bird, Parrish, McHale, DJ, Danny Ainge and a host of others. Twenty years is a long time to be away from something though. Back when we traveled to those cities for games, I often sat stoically and soaked in the game. That was just my nature. The last couple games I attended, I recall lending my voice quite loudly to the fray.

So, here we are in Amway Arena in Orlando, and Dwight Howard, fresh off his Olympic gold medal performance, is in attendance. The lengths the NBA go to for audience participation these days struck me as the most apparent difference between the old days and the new. Our seats, quaintly called the "O" Zone were better than expected. While we were on the second tier, we could still view the game very well.

All the hoopla was interesting. If it affected my son, you couldn't tell. The game began, and he watched so stoically, I couldn't tell if he was paying attention or not. Then, a miserable call by one of the refs got me out of my seat. My son threw up his hands and said, "He can't do that, can he?" It was nice to see that the old saying, 'like father, like son' still has some truth to it.