The Joy of Waking Up at 3:14 AM

Like the memorable line in the story of The Grinch, it started out low and then it started to grow.

"Mommy ..."

I looked at my Fitbit watch through one very bleary eye.

3:14.

"MOmmy ..."

Maybe it's a dream. Maybe this isn't real.

"MOMmy ..."

Maybe she'll go back to sleep?

"MOMMY!"

I was up. Bridget, who conveniently is a very heavy sleeper, was dead to the world in a small ball on her side of the bed. I stumbled over Oscar on my way to Annabelle's room. I realized it was Wednesday and I had to get up for work in a few hours.

"What is it, hun? Are you okay?"

"I want to sleep in your bed," she said.

"Sorry, kiddo. You sleep in your bed. Why do you want to come with us?"

"I don't know."

Let's pause here for a second. This, traditionally, has been the tough part for me. My darling daughter has woken me up in the middle of the night for no good reason. I'm not happy. I'm someone that likes/needs a good night of sleep. And, unlike my care-free 3-year-old, getting back to sleep in the middle of the night isn't quite as easy for me as it used to be.

So, how should I respond? In the past, through different tough stretches of sleep deprivation (we've had our share), I've been frustrated, stressed, and annoyed. I hate to admit it (although that's part of what this blog is for, to be transparent), but I've patted her on the head and rushed back to my warm bed. I've stomped back into our bedroom room so that my sleeping beauty of a wife (and she is quite beautiful) can share my pain. I've waited out the "Mommys" or Daddys" until silence returned to the house.

This time, I took a deep breath and counted to four.

"You can't come in our bed, but what if I lay with you for a few minutes?"

"Okay," she said.

I climbed in, put my arms around her and pretended to close my eyes. Then, she put her arms around me and I smiled. I looked at Annabelle and had one of those "she's going to be 16 in like two minutes" moments. Then, two more thoughts: Why do I avoid this stuff sometimes? It's just one night of sleep, you wimp! We laid together for about 10 minutes and I asked if she was okay. She nodded her approval.

"Sweet dreams," I said.

"Sweet dreams, too," she replied.

I crept back into bed, read for a while, and eventually fell back asleep. It took a while and I was pretty tired when I woke up around 6 and told Bridget what she missed. She said she was sorry she slept through it.

Secretly, I'm not. And I hope it happens again tonight.

'She Probably Won't Be a Star Soccer Player'

It was a throwaway line, really. One of those things that someone adds to the end of an explanation as a way to lighten the mood. It was harmless.

"She probably won't be a star soccer player."

Our pediatrician, whom we love, said this about Aurora at her one-year checkup. I'm not sure I'll ever forget it.

Aurora, that sweet little set of cheeks up in the photo, has always been a little behind. She was born six weeks early, sat late, crawled late (really just started!), and will walk late. Probably.

We knew this was a possibility and maybe even likely because of Aurora's prematurity. We assumed she'd catch up by the one-year mark because that's what everyone said at the time. She hasn't. She's close, but she's still a bit behind.

"Yes, she has something we call low muscle tone," the pediatrician began. "It's not bad or anything. She'll be fine. It's just that she probably won't be a star soccer player."

I didn't tell Bridget at the time (still haven't actually, so she's probably just learning this now), but that moment was one of my toughest thus far as a parent.

The truth is I don't need Aurora to be a star soccer player. I mean, I'd like her to be because I love sports and soccer. (I've written about this before.) But if she never kicks a ball into the back of a net, I'll be just fine.

What bothered me the most was that there was a door that might be closed to her.

I'm not naive enough to think my daughters will be the best at everything they do. Or even the second best. They'll be good at some things and not so good at other things, but I want, more than anything, them to have the opportunity to try to be the best at everything. I want them to be able to put their minds and hearts into something and succeed at that thing.

That attitude may seem selfish and perhaps a little bit callous, depending on the reader. That is not the intention. I realize that some kids never have that chance to walk across a soccer field or any field, for that matter. Some kids are born with physical or mental limitations. Some develop those limitations as they grow.

Aurora may develop limitations, too. In fact, there's a chance she'll never catch up. That reality is unlikely, but it's possible.

And that's one of the hardest things about being a parent. You have this thing (or things) that you love more than you could ever imagine and, for a lot of their lives, you're stuck on the sidelines watching and hoping. You have no control.

Understanding and embracing that lack of control is something I need to work on as a Dad. So what if she won't be a star soccer player? Maybe she will be! Or maybe she'll at least be an average soccer player. But if not, she'll be a great painter. Or a talented writer. Or a curious scientist. Or a captivating teacher.

One thing I know for sure: She'll be something. And, no matter what, soccer star or not, I'll be on the sidelines cheering as loudly as I can.

The Right Response to 'Dad, My Tummy Hurts.'

Annabelle wasn't feeling well. Her "tummy hurt a lot."

It was my job, on a recent weekday off from work, to figure out exactly what that meant. I found it incredibly challenging. And I'd love some advice on how to get better at it.

First, the tummy situation.

Annabelle had gone to bed not feeling her best, so we expected she might wake up at less than 100%. We were right. Bridget and Aurora were off at a physical therapy appointment (more on that next Sunday), so it was up to Dad to figure out the next step.

Is she really fine? Do I call the doctor? Do I take her to urgent care? With a 3-year-old, I learned, those questions are really hard to answer.

"Annabelle, do you think we should go to the doctor?"

"Yes," she said.

"Are you sure? The doctor isn't fun, you know. It's not like Daniel Tiger. It's a lot of waiting. Are you sure you have to go?"

"Yes," she said. "My tummy hurts."

"A lot or a little?"

"A lot."

"So on a scale from 1-10," I began, "with 1 being no pain and 10 being so much pain, what would you say you are?"

"Yes."

At this point, I figured the smart thing to do was to at least call the doctor and explain the symptoms. They'd help me. So I called and left a message for a nurse to call us back.

In the hour between my initial call and the nurse's call, as you might guess, Annabelle started to feel a lot better. Her tummy was "fine and didn't hurt much anymore."

"Are you sure? We can go to the doctor and get it checked out," I said.

"No, I'm okay." (That's when we snapped the picture above.)

The nurse called and I smoothly explained the situation:

"So, I think, basically, um, I think we're fine now. I called because my 3-year-old said her stomach hurt a lot and she was having some issues yesterday. She's had some symptoms (sparing stomach-related details here) in the last couple days, but says she really feels much better. I just didn't know if I should bring her in or not bring her in or what ..."

"Okay," the nurse said. "You just want to look out for (stomach-related details) ..."

"Great, thanks," I said. "Hey, listen, I'm not sure if you can help me, but do you have any advice on how to reason with a 3-year-old? She's a really good communicator, but it's not like she can rationally think about whether she should make a trip to the doctor. I feel like I'm flying blind here."

"Yeah, that's tough," she said. "The FACES pain scale is a good tool. Maybe try that."

The nurse was incredibly nice and helpful, as nurses tend to be, and I thanked her for her advice. Now I'm wondering if you have any. Annabelle, aside from pneumonia and a two-day hospital stay a couple years ago, has been a pretty healthy gal. I realize that won't always be the case and I'd like to get better at knowing when to choose option 1, 2, or 3.

Any advice on how to respond to 'Dad, my tummy hurts'?

Five Useful Things I've Learned in Five Years of Marriage

Friday, Bridget and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary. And we celebrated with a frozen pizza, some asparagus, and a couple miniature Peanut Butter Cups. Take that, romance!

Before you call the Sad Police, we're doing a real celebration next weekend. No, not Paris, like the photo above, but some time away for just the two of us. At least that's the plan. Plans have a way of going awry when you have a young family and live in New England.

For example, we had planned a nice dinner out Friday night, but we ended up with the round cheesy delicacy (Newman's is actually pretty good, if you're in the market for one) because of the stupid snow. God, I hate snow. It's so stupid and awful.

Anyway, that whole "plans often go awry" is something I've learned several times in the last five years. But it's far from the only thing I've learned. So I thought I'd step back, take stock, and share five useful lessons from our first five years of marriage.

One note, before we dig into the list, is that we're admittedly early in our marriage, depending on your perspective. I don't pretend to know anything about being married for 10 years, 15 years, or 50 years. I hope to someday. But I do think I know a thing or two about being married for five years. So here goes:

1. Reactions are more important than actions. Bad things will happen in a marriage; they are inevitable. Milk will spill, diapers will blow out (if you have kids), and tragedies will sneak up on you. On top of that, there are things about your partner that will annoy you. One of you will be cleaner. One of you will like to sleep in. And so on. These things will happen and, mostly, they are beyond your control. But you can control your reactions. Those reactions, which are hopefully empathetic and compassionate, can go a long way toward making a marriage happy.

2. It's okay to go to bed angry, sometimes. I think we've all heard the opposite of this advice several times in our lives. Five years ago, I would have subscribed to it. (We can talk through anything!) Now, I think the advice is wrong and potentially harmful. Space is good sometimes. Sitting with your thoughts is good sometimes. Yes, you should always communicate, but not until both partners are ready to have a conversation.

3. Compliments are critical. More than likely, your spouse is the most important person in your life. That's certainly the truth for me. Your spouse's opinions, even if it's not always obvious, matter a great deal. And a thoughtful, well-placed, "Hey, you really look nice today" on a rushed weekday morning can make all the difference in the world.

4. It's important to try new things. We're all products of our lived experiences--this is the way my family does holidays, these are my favorite foods, this is how I spend my free time. Staying true to yourself is, of course, important, but marriage isn't a time for being stubborn or bullheaded. Had it not been for Bridget, I wouldn't like brussels sprouts, banana peppers, or yogurt. And I wouldn't love my dog, because I wouldn't have a dog. I've found that flexibility is better than firmness.

5. Marriage is hard. Duh, right? Well, maybe not. A lot of us (myself included) had a vision at one point that included finding the perfect person, building white picket fences, drinking lots of expensive wine, and letting the soft wind gently tickle your hair. So far, except for the first item in that list, that hasn't been my experience. (We are getting a new fence this spring, though.) Marriage takes time, effort, and attention. To me, it's like a big project at work. (Sorry, ladies. I'm taken.) If you ignore it or think someone else will handle it, it's probably not going to succeed. You need to work at it and nurture it. How? Communicate. Be spontaneous. Inconvenience yourself. Put in the time.

Above all, it's about picking the right person and then growing with that person. I'm so lucky I did. And that I am.