I’ve always loved Christmas and always loved giving gifts.  I’ve always loved giving gifts for any reason, to be honest.  When I traveled all the time, I’d store up inventory from my trips to Raffles Jewelry in Singapore.  I’d drop baubles of all kinds throughout the year to my wife.  Add Tiffany’s and Red Envelope to the mix, and I was every woman’s dream, every man’s nightmare.

My family has cut and cut gift giving to the point where we now don’t give gifts to one another.  There are great reasons for it, and I understand budgets and priorities etc.  I do miss it though.  Last Christmas, I got the boys together to paint coffee mugs so we could at least give something (that and framed photos).  I didn’t put up much of a fight when family members told me of this year’s plan.  I do think that part of gift giving is having to thoughtfully think about someone you love, think enough to search and find something that you think they would like.

Do we get it right?  Most of the time, that would be a no.  Some of the worst gifts, though, can be the most memorable.  My late grandfather, he of no means, gave me awful tube socks one Christmas.  I was a teen, and the tube socks from Wal-Mart were just dreadful to look at much less to wear.  I wish I had those tube socks.  I still have the clock he gave me sitting on my vanity to this day.  I haven’t put a new battery in it, but I don’t need to.

For my wife and boys, I’m free to grab whatever I like for gifts.  Add her parents and brother, and at least I do have a few presents I can get.  With the tough economy, we’ve decided to work hard to have a Christmas with no money spent on gifts.  One way of doing this is to give no gifts, while another way is to make things or give services.  We’ve decided to use miles and points to purchase gifts. I’m off to a very fast start.

I’m a horder when it comes to my miles and points.  I’ve long had a Business Platinum AMEX and rarely tap the points.  I think my only big previous splurge was for a week in Italy with my wife.  We stayed at the Danieli in Venice, then headed to Florence and San Gimignano (Relais Santa Chiara).

So poof, half of my AMEX Membership Rewards points are now gone, an equivalent of about $2k or so in purchases.  I don’t have much more to do, probably some gift cards with a few other cards.  Electronics are the worst value when buying using points, with gift cards for retailers being the best value.  Electronics cost 1.5-2.0x in points vs gift cards, but I was able to get a deal on something my wife wants plus a big surprise for the boys.  I was close to getting a Wii (they have no gaming system, just their computer), but I decided to put it off again.  They’re surviving, and I’d rather give them something super cool that they can have with them all the time.

I’m pretty sure we’ll spend less than $200 total on gifts, but I’ll have to do some more legwork over the next couple days to finalize it.  How ’bout you, how close can you get for $0 this Christmas?  If not this year, how much can you slice off your bill next Christmas through credit card points and miles?

I’ve been a bah-humbugger the last several years when it comes to what used to be my favorite holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It’s a combination of things, mostly work related (where I feel bad about not working or having work in front of me).

I missed my family dearly this Thanksgiving, as it used to be the holiday that the world revolved around my mother.  She always played the role of the matriarch-provider, giving and giving and giving of herself with her loving extended family surrounding her.  I spoke to her Tuesday evening, and she said that she and Dad would probably have a sandwich this Thanksgiving.  Post-Christmas has become the new tradition for us, just easier to leave Atlanta and head to Memphis with plenty of time afterwards.  But I do miss those times with my family and my Mom.

No, this time I just headed to the mountains north of Travelers Rest, South Carolina to join my family at my in-laws.  No wireless, no cell phone coverage, just alot of nothing but beautiful mountain peace.  My Thanksgiving began with me taking the three boys to the Cliffs for swimming indoors, shower, lunch, then some golf.  It was magical to walk on a temperate Autumn afternoon, the four of us (43, 13, 10, and 4) not keeping score, just whopping the ball, finding the ball, shanking a shot, shrugging our shoulders, then moving on.  I’d forgotten what it was like to have peace, and I’d forgotten how blessed I am to share this life with those boys.  I know the time is fleeting where they’ll still have a twinkle in their eyes when they look at me.  Wednesday was still one of those days.

Thanksgiving dinner with my in-laws is more of a big meal than the typical Thanksgiving as they don’t have extended family there.  No sweat, good food, great nap, “Australia” with my wife as we snuck away for the evening.

Then today, we have a nice breakfast (scrambled eggs and bacon for me, I fried eggs for the rest of them).  My the five of us joined my father-in-law for a hike into the mountains, something we never, ever do.  There may have been trails fifty years ago, but they were pretty overgrown as we headed up the mountains.  What a beautiful day, with nowhere to go as we climbed the mountain.  Our youngest on a wild hunt for Indians, and we joined in as we snuck over fallen timbers and cleared paths with our walking sticks.  We found a special hideout next to a small stream.  No path laid out, no quest, just wandering in the woods with my wife and our boys, their grandfather as their guide.

I’m at Leopard Forest Coffee Company in TR, on my way to BadBlood’s for an early evening of poker.  I was encouragingly given approval by my wife to join in, and I’ll crash at her brother’s place this evening.

It’s plenty enough for me.  I’ll take it in a heartbeat, no doubt about it.

It hasn’t been a great first couple hours this morning.  Unmotivated to start looking for new business from scratch, unconvinced on whether to pursue light bulbs in my mind, disappointed with the list of new efforts stagnating on my laptop.

I headed upstairs to click the coffee maker back on, heating up the final two cups of coffee.  After a quick pit stop, I wandered over to the now weathered kitchen table that the five of us eat almost all of our meals.  I plopped down to take in the wonderment of mother and son, at work with Play-Doh.

It’s a decision we’ve made or avoided making over the last decade or so, the mother of our boys setting aside her credentials as a Chemist and Chemical Engineer to take on her primary vocation of mother.  It is a rare blessing that we have as a family, these imperceptible nudges and nuanced directions to turn babies into boys, and hopefully boys into men.

Maybe it would be better if this asset called stay-at-home-mother was deployed rigorously toward advanced tutoring, contemporary fitness drills, some new-age art and creativity mind-melding.  Yet it was the two of them sitting on the bench, a plastic bin of realized profits amid stray plastic knives, clay becoming eyes and pizza and the imaginings of a fifty-month old.

I sat across from them, just taking it in after wasting two hours of my life this morning, trying to think up a way to think up a way to find what comes next.  If you stumbled here, hello.  If you have some youngster that shares your DNA, take a big step back this afternoon or evening and just be in his or her midst, either alone or with your spouse/lover/significant other.

Stay-at-home or not, travel heavily or not, juggle or not.  In my Suburbia with my Ti-Vo at the ready, the blessing of witnessing a mother nurturing a child is as magical today as ever.

It’s been refreshing in some ways to accidentally step away from this site, this after investing a significant amount to refresh the look and feel of my site.  I missed the third anniversary of the launch of my blog in the process.  In essence, I took probably 3-6 weeks off to launch a new soccer club, and I have been richly rewarded to invest so much discretionary time into something of great value to others.

As with most folks, alot has happened in the last few weeks.  Probably the highlight away from the soccer venture was taking my wife to an evening with Julie Andrews.  I thought it would be fairly dull, to be honest.  Andrews had throat surgery over a decade ago, and she retired her voice soon after.  We made our way to the new ampitheater which now houses the Atlanta Symphony for what promised to be an evening of music narrated by Andrews.  What was rolled out was a gift to everyone there.  “The Sound of Music” notes were unmistakable from from the ASO, then the images came on the big screens around the stage.

Andrews came out with three men and two women, and the quintet would sing different Rogers and Hammerstein songs solo or together.  Andrews would take over or join them on occasion, and you really didn’t care what she sounded like.  Her vocal range, once like a sparrow’s, had been transformed into a Lou Rawls-like bass at times.  She would change key in mid-song, much like you or I would in some sing-along.  It was an incredible gift that she has given us for the last fifty years, and it was an incredible gift that she gave my wife and me that Saturday evening.

One of the forgotten gems that she shared was her first television appearance, a live production of “Cinderalla” in 1957.

From “My Fair Lady” to “The King and I,” notes morphed from memories decades old.

From thirty years ago, an Evening with Julie Andrews in Japan (1977)

These days seem like gifts to me, I must confess.  After days of drifting and bobbing, days of neglect, days of forbidden thoughts, days of self, I cherish each day of potential now, each day of nurturing, each day of subtle joy.

I am thankful for the love of my life choosing me each morning and evening when life could be easier away from me.  She is growing her hair to chop it off as a gift to cancer victims, but she’s become more beautiful to me with each passing day.  That beauty will fade, I realize.  It’s never been about the beauty for me.  When you find a spirit so vast yet gentle, you cherish each and every moment with that soul.

Our boys started school (7th and 5th grade), leaving our youngest to hold down the fort as he waits for his final year of pre-school to commence.  I wait for the day when the boys walk away from me, when I no longer am fun or interesting, when I’m unable to create a spark in the eye of one of these three young men.  The older boys are definitely on their own at twelve and ten, but they still love their mother dearly and still love me.

These gifts, the gift of a new day.

I don’t remember the last time I took a week off from my blog.  This wasn’t planned, just a tidal wave of busy-ness overwhelming.

My wife just headed out of town to see her friend, and they’ll be meeting at her parents’ place in the mountains.  I’ll have the boys here this weekend, and I will still be extremely busy.  I’m hoping I can make it through.

The boys have gone through some changes in the last few months, and maybe this weekend will be a time I can refocus on them.  I’ve had the blessing of being in their midst much more than most fathers, but I’m in their midst much more than I am really with them and focused on them.  I can feel that pinging around that can happen, where you just knock down nail heads that stick up from time to time.  I just need some renewed intimacy with each of them.

All of my daily habits of time-wasting and meandering have evaporated over the last couple weeks.  No YouTube, no surfing, no poker, no TV, not much of anything but being diligent.  I am loving building something, and I really hope it stays on track.

I’m a daily blogger who needs to get things out.  As I’ve been overwhelmed by work the last three weeks, it’s been difficult to get me from inside to dumped on here.

I’ve really been at 110% for several weeks, and it has been a bit strange for me.  I have barely seen my boys since they returned from Hilton Head.  They’ve been here, and we’ve walked past one another, but I haven’t really interacted much with them.  It’s not that I’ve mistreated them or my wife, I’ve just been unable to take a breath and focus on each of them individually or even as a group.

Working alone most of the time definitely affects you.  It gives one a false sense of how much you’re getting done, overshooting and underestimating regularly.  I may be much more productive than I realize, I don’t know.

In case you missed it, here is an incredible article from the Sunday NY Times Magazine.  It’s called When Mom and Dad Share it All, and it is a fascinating exploration into the world of the distribution of labor in the household among husband and wife.  Whether you struggle with this or not (and especially if you’re oblivious to the whole topic), I’d highly recommend reading it.

My wife and I used to have a very structured process to sharing the workload of the home before kids.  We divided chores then drew any bad chores from a hat, sort of like a draft.  We then could trade them back and forth if required.  Fast forward seventeen years and three boys, and I work while she does the housework for the most part (who am I kidding–for the TOTAL part).  The article is pretty sobering, especially from someone who does little around the house.

For some couples, failure to conceive is the most heartbreaking situation in their lives.  It destroys marriages, drives wives into depression, and sends husbands into isolation.  It is difficult to imagine the pain that must accompany a desire for children yet lacking the means.

We seem to have the opposite problem, firing babies out at the blink of an eye.  It turns out that I made a good decision not to be sexually active in my youth, as I would have been a father at 13, 15, or 17.  I must be what one would call virile or potent, whichever word is accurate.

Five years ago, our second son was finishing up his last year of pre-school.  Our life was great, two boys, business rocking along, an easy, manageable family of four.  I was in Phoenix later that year when my wife told me that, in fact, her OB/GYN had just come to understand what it means when they say that only 1 in 1000 women become pregnant using an IUD.

He brought more risk to our family and to me as a father.  I went from having two chances to be a poor father to three chances to be a poor father.  He was an inconvenience to our quaint world here in Suburbia, forcing us to learn about a whole new crop of horrible television shows like the Backyardigans and Nora the Explorer (Little Einsteins excluded, as it is terrific).

He is, simply put, a gift to us.  He is a gift to me.  The little hands of my two older boys are a distant memory, but his slips gently within my chunky mitt.  These last couple years have been extra special, getting to hear his whispers all the time, joining him for lunch on an almost daily basis.

Thank you for coming into my life, and Happy Birthday.

Our youngest turns four-years old next week, and we’re having his party today after school.  Our area is maybe a bit above average when it comes to going over-the-top on parties, although hardly reaching the epic elephant and clown parties held elsewhere.  Probably the best kids party I ever missed was for the daughter of John Smoltz when our middle son was three or so.  The boys went to a pre-school that also included the children of Smoltz and Greg Maddux among others (and no, this was not an Eastern European academy for the athletically gifted, although…).  My wife almost got into a fight with Maddux as she was trying to leave and he was trying to get out of his truck.

Anyways, Smoltz had just had his Tommy John surgery, and his daughter was in our son’s class.  The party was at one of those kids gymnastics kind of places, and I got too busy to take him, so my wife went.  There was some sort of craft that included painting, which he had no interest in (mostly girls at the party, I think).  So as my wife recounted it, he decided to pull Smoltz into one of the foam pits and test his shoulder by jumping and wrestling with him.  Had this gone bad for Smoltz, we might very well have quickly relocated to Alaska or Prague to escape the wrath of Braves fans.

We’ve done parties at different locales for the boys (the video game place and the laser tag place among the example).  I think the funnest are the ones we wing here at the house ourselves.  There are many great websites to help in planning, but here are a couple quick hints for throwing a party for your kids (especially directed at dads!).

1. Make it co-ed Probably 95% of the parties our older boys have gone over the last six years have been boy-only parties.  I think that’s the easy way out for everyone involved, as locations and themes become much easier if only boys or girls show up.  So many activities kids are involved in are boy-only or girl-only, and I’ve always tried to push us to have co-ed parties whenever we can.  The kids have fun regardless really, and it’s a good way to broaden your own circle of friends as you invite other parents into the mix.
2. DIY parties I’m a big believer in hosting a party at your home and planning everything yourself.  It is much more work to do-it-yourself rather than showing up somewhere and plopping down your money for the Birthday Package.  I think I’ve been more connected to the birthday experience when I’ve been involved in planning a party.  The best party I threw was for our middle son’s 9th birthday.  I coerced my wife into inviting girls by telling her I would handle the theme and activities.  We invited maybe 12-14 kids, and I put on the Survivorlympics.  The kids pulled bandannas from a bag to split into tribes, then I led them through a variety of fairly stupid challenges (bird seed relay where they had to pass birdseed to each other using their bandanna, Grab the Hat where they played musical chairs by running after these totally goofy hats).  The goodie bags (the least favorite thing about parties) became a grab bag of all the stupid props we used, including these $1 gigantor leprechaun hats.
3. Give them pictures My other best thing about that party was taking photos throughout, firing them into an 11″x17″ poster I’d already designed, then printing them to give to everyone at the end of the party.  Very easy (OK, the 11″x17″ requires having a home office with a $5k copier/printer, I realize), and a unique thing to take away.
4. Give them free time Just having time to do nothing at a party can often be a great thing, although free time should be sprinkled throughout.  You don’t want kids to group up and exclude the uncool kid (especially if that is your child), and you have to be pretty careful about younger kids.  A little free time does kids good, though.

More hints later today.

My eldest is missing his soccer game this Saturday (gasp!) to go on a 6th grade church retreat for the weekend. We were asked to write an encouraging note to our children. Here is mine.

Some people think that a father’s job is to discipline children so that they don’t act up and get in trouble. Others believe the job is to protect them from all the bad people and circumstances in the world; that way, nothing bad can happen.

It’s a lot more complicated than that, and you’re just starting to see it. The job is really one where you try to equip your child with values and skills while creating an environment that gives them the best chance to be a terrific adult. Values and skills are two very different things indeed. Skills are abilities that you either have or can foster and grow, things like studying, playing a sport or instrument, and even being someone’s friend. Values are the beliefs that guide everything you do, from the very big decisions you make in your life to the quick choices that you make a dozen times a day.

It would be easier if parents could simply decide everything for their child, kind of like you were setting up a new character in a video game where you could determine everything they would become, everything they would believe. God didn’t make any of us that way; he gave us free choice. He designed you and me to decide a zillion things every day, from irrelevant things like what we’ll wear and eat to huge things like if we believe in Him, if we love Him, if we will follow His will in our lives.

As you know, I am a Christian, accepting Jesus as my savior when I was nine or ten, about when you did. My own faith has grown and changed over the last 30 years since I was twelve. It’s been difficult for me at times; sometimes I wasn’t cool (OK, almost all the time!), sometimes I was left out of things, sometimes people made fun of me. When your Mom and I were first married, we worked with high school students in Princeton, New Jersey as advisors at our church. They were so different than the kids I’d grown up with; super-smart, but most of them questioned everything and didn’t believe much of anything. We realized that just saying, “God loves you, Jesus died for you, and that’s all true because the Bible says so and I say so,” isn’t good enough.

God didn’t make robots, and you aren’t a robot. It’s OK to have questions about your faith. It’s OK if you hear something from someone and have questions about it or don’t agree with it. All of that is what it means to move from a child in Christ to a Christian. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 13:11 “When I was a child, I used to speak as a child, think as a child, reason as a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things.“ God designed all Christians to not understand everything about Him and about how to live for him; that’s what it means when he says when he was a child, he acted like a child.

Becoming a man means to become smarter about God and also to start doing the things that God wants us to do in our lives. Sometimes, I ask God to show me what He wants me to do with the big decisions of my life. In Jesus, He showed us how we should live each day: to pray and speak to God, to love others and show them compassion, to do things and serve others, to read the Bible and learn through talking about it, and to understand the only way we can come to Jesus. That way? Not doing things, but simply admitting to Him that I sin and do wrong things every day, that I am really not good enough for God to love me, yet He not only loves me He allowed His Son to die so that I could have all these sins that I commit to be erased and forgotten.

God doesn’t ask you to be the perfect Christian or the best Christian. No, He simply asks you and me this question: I love you, do you love me? If yes, show me.

I admit I haven’t really gotten used to Google Reader nor Bloglines previously (dork noted). Anyways, I had a shared EconLog site I’d never heard of which responded to a Steve Levitt post who I’ve met a few times (author of Freakonomics with one more WSOP cash than I have). It has to do with what are our goals as a parent or maybe as a father. I’ll add my own view following those of Levitt and Bryan Caplan (author of EconLog).

“I can’t believe how much I disagree with Steve Levitt’s goals as a father. Here’s a line-by-line contrast:

————————————————

[Steve] I care most about raising kids who are happy and successful as adults, even if that happens to mean that they aren’t very happy as children.

[Bryan] I care most about raising kids, who, like me, believe in enjoying every single day of life.

(CC) I care most about raising kids who become capable, caring men, are not limited by the decisions of their youth, share my values and faith, and have virtually unlimited opportunities through the choices of their youth.

——————————————-

[Steve] I want my kids to like me when they are grown up, but I also want them to do what I tell them to do, the first time I tell them to do it.

[Bryan] I too want my kids to like me when they are grown up. But I’m happy to amicably negotiate with them except on issues of imminent danger and daily routines.

(CC) I want to have a real relationship with my kids when they are grown up, but I want to have an ever-growing relationship with my wife once they are grown. I want them to respect their mother throughout their youth. I want each of the boys to strive to live up to his commitments. I hope that each of them builds a capability to be proactive in their daily life, a skill that is a strength of my wife’s and one she actively works with them on.

——————————————

[Steve] I don’t want my kids to be sissies, the way I was — I want them to be tough, and able to take whatever criticism and misfortunes the real world has to offer.

[Bryan] Laugh if you like, but I want to give me kids a better life than I had. I don’t want them to be bullied or mocked by teachers or other kids. Since adult life is far more civilized than childhood, sheltering your kids is not “delaying the inevitable”; it’s skipping pointless suffering.

(CC) I want each of my boys to define themselves less in how others see them and more in how they see themselves. I want them to choose the tougher road, to be the one to lift up the less fortunate or less accepted in their midst.

——————————————————

[Steve] I also want them to be creative, and to take risks (but not too many risks).

[Bryan] For once, Steve and I almost agree. I hope that my kids are creative, and I hope that they take intellectual and social risks. Why? Because they’re intrinsically valuable, and instrumentally profitable. At the same time, I hope they avoid physical risk-taking, because they’re neither.

(CC) I want each of my boys to be creative as they see fit, not in an area or direction I might desire for them. I’m understanding more and more that your children are each unique and won’t share the same skills, capabilities, and personalities. Honestly, I haven’t thought as much about risk taking, so put me under uncommitted there.

—————————————————-

Awkward question for discussion (from Bryan): Suppose you could have either Bryan, Steve, or CC as your dad. Who would you pick - and why? And what are your own answers?