Camping 2.0

The woods is where I had all of my adventures as a kid. Either blazing new trails or simply going to my favorite spots. I liked that it was quiet. I liked the idea of being nowhere and being somewhere at the same time. And I also liked the idea that while my parents knew where I was, they didn't know exactly where; it was mine and mine alone. It might sound like I must have done a lot of hikes and probably camped often too. Nope. Not at all. My parents never took me camping and I never went with friends, I don't recall even being asked or hearing about friends camping. My dad liked to be outside, but just on a golf course, on the grill or out for a run. My mom was no hermit either, though she'd prefer the beach or to sit by a pool somewhere. It wasn't until I was in college that I slept outside, and that was a music festival in Maryland and I didn't sleep so much as my body said 'enough.'

So when we moved back east, I decided that my boys would get to experience camping and, through it, the joys of the woods, exploring their surroundings and maybe even finding their own cool spots tucked between the trees. We took our first camping trip this spring, and it was to say the least a very eventful inaugural trip, which I wrote about here.  Since then I have wanted to get back out with the boys and hopefully the Mrs, to try it again, but to do so a little closer than last time.

The Mrs found a good weekend for it, one that worked with her erratic schedule, and luckily there is a beautiful state park that offers camping only fifteen minutes from our house. So we went...and we also brought our dog.

Though we didn't have a clear night, it rained a bit, it was still a good time. We roasted hot dogs and marinated chicken breast over the fire, we made s'mores and we read stories. We watched the boys wrestle like maniacs in the tent (later discovering that they just tracked dirt all over our sleeping bags, pillows and sleeping pads). While the Mrs went to bed when the boys did, I sat out with the dog to watch our first camp fire go out. When I went to bed, the boys were still awake, though barely. The Monkey was using the Mrs' ankles as a pillow and the Little Man was laying his and his brother's sleeping pads. In five minutes, all I could hear were the crickets, a few other campers getting to bed and two little snores from the boys.

I think that sleeping in a tent takes some getting used to, at least for me and the Mrs. We have sleeping pads, but the 2.5" of inflated air is nothing compared to our king bed. We both woke up several times through the night (thankfully, to the pitter-patter sounds of a small shower on the rain fly) and when the boys let us know it was awake time, we both groaned and body's creeked our way up and out of the tent.

The Mrs is a coffee girl (I don't care for the stuff), so I had to come prepared with coffee. There is an art to making coffee well, I learned that I do not possess this skill naturally. But with not-so-good-coffee in hand, the Mrs was ready for the morning. Since I had seen a beautiful green clearing in the woods from our campground, I thought it would be fun to go explore and see what was there. The Little Man wanted no part of it, but the Monkey was all too happy to join me and the dog for a short romp. When we got there, it wasn't much to see just a clearing in the woods. The Monkey, however, thought it was pretty cool as he ran around chasing the dog for a few minutes. Had it just been he and I, we would have kept exploring. He even pointed in the woods away from camp and said 'go, dadda', but we had planned to take a short hike as a family on the trails so we headed back.

The Little Man whined the entire hike (only a half-mile round trip and mostly flat or downhill) and the Monkey wanted to be carried for the short up-hills and put down to hazardously run down the downhills. By the end of the hike, we were all ready to pack up and get on home. I think we were all happy that the drive was only fifteen minutes.


Camping, for us, is going to be a learned behavior and perhaps a few tweeks will be needed to enjoy it more. But for a first whole family camping trip, it was still fun. I am starting to get to know my boys better for who they are and what they like and dislike. You'd think I would have that down pat being that I spend all of my time with them, but they are becoming more and more their own little individuals everyday. One day they might be afraid of something and the next day it's no big deal. I just hope that in time they can both learn to love occasionally getting lost, be it in themselves or out our backdoor, and truly understand the great Dr Seuss line: "it's opener there, in the wide open air."

 

Huzzah To Fall!

Summer is over and that makes me happy. The cool weather of fall has returned and winter not far behind it. For me that means many things: beautiful cold morning runs, colorful foliage all around, aside from my runs I won't sweat, fall camping, driving with the windows down and of course school is back in session. What's not to love?

All summer long I have been looking for activities to do indoors: go to the children's museum, go to the Natural History Museum, let the boys play on the tractors at Lowe's, go to the movies and embarrassingly enough even go to the mall. It's not that I despise the longer days, the lush forest or summer holiday festivals. I actually love all of those things. But like me, my boys can sweat in a snowstorm. They don't care if they sweat, they're four and two. But I carry an extra t-shirt (and sometimes two) in the car every day of the summer if I know we are going be outside. I do this so that if we go out to eat, I won't look like a drowned rat.

I know that my dislike of the summer season is not a popular one. Anytime it comes up or I mention it, people's eyes pop out of their heads and they gasp as if I had just smacked their mother and kicked their dog. Summer is like a religion, and I understand why. We grow up looking forward to our breaks from school: fall break, winter break, spring break and the creme de la creme, the longest of the four, summer break. 

Like every other kid, I too salivated for summer. Summer was when school was out, when we took trips to the mountains or out to the Thimble Islands off of Connecticut, when I could chase lightning bugs on the golf course where my dad liked to drink, when I would go to camp and when I could basically lounge around and do or not do whatever I wanted. But back then, I could run around in the heat and humidity and it didn't matter. I don't think I sweat then like I do now, and if I did it never affected me.

But that was 25 years ago. Yeah sure, I used to go to the beaches in the summer as a teenager, but frankly, that's where the girls were and that's where my friends went. And yes it was fun, but my sweat glands had not turned into tipsy cauldrons of salty refuse yet. They were still normal then. Now I'm almost 35 and I notice when a trickle of sweat beads on my brow and even more when I feel the river go down my back, and that's just when I lock my front door. Furthermore, I don't chase girls anymore, I'm married. Nor do I go where my friends go. Sure, we still go to the beach, but I am the trench digger for the boys which is like a grave digger with a good view and shallower holes. And when we're not at the beach on vacation, it's playgrounds for us. For some reason, park designers try to capitalize on sunshine and not shade. So the boys and I are forced to submit to the heat when we do venture out in the summer. And like me 30+ years ago, the boys don't seem to mind sweating up a storm. But someone has to keep up with them and make sure they stay hydrated. I'm like a damn waterboy now!

And when we do go to the park, I am flummoxed at the people in long shirts and pants in 95+ degree heat and 99% humidity. How are you not drenched? What is wrong with your skin? Do you not drink water? Were you born in a steam bath? And when I have had the chance to make conversation with such people, they tell me 'it's not that hot out' and that 'this summer has been cool compared to others'. How can you say that to a guy in shorts and a t-shirt with a sweat-V from his collar bone to his groin...front and back?!? And it's not like I am some tubby, inactive schlubb. I run 20 miles a week, yet I sweat the same amount standing still on a playground for an hour as I do running 6 miles in the same time.

Even more so, it's all the "summertime" pictures that I see from everyone. Kids in the sprinklers, at the community pool, out at the beach, eating ice cream in the sunshine. Meanwhile, my summertime pictures are of my kids in front of the oven while I bake peach crumb cobbler, or sitting in the dark at the movies, or playing in the tee pee in our basement. It makes me feel like a hermit, and I guess I sort of am. I am the Summer Grinch.

I shared my sentiments in the description of one of my photos posted last week in Instagram, and while the picture was good, I got few likes. I'm certainly not a popular IGer, not by a stretch, but I think there were only 3-4 likes. I am certain I could have gotten more if I had applauded summer and talked about how awesome that time of year is and how I will miss it, but that would have been BS. The one comment was: "I'm the same way and felt the same. Huzzah to fall!" (thanks for a title @katemshepherd).

Yes, you have to rake leaves in the fall. And yes, I sweat a ton when I rake leaves. But if I stop raking for 20-30 minutes, I'll stop sweating too. If I stop doing yard work in the summer, the faucet never turns off, it's a constant drip at the least. I'm simply over summer and was on the third official day of summer, and not just this year but every year. So I survived another season, and I'll survive a ton more. But when we see each other, just don't tell me that it's not that hot and we'll get along just fine.  

Last Week According to @toliveanddiaper: Week 3

From top left (clockwise):

- A small sampling of the Biltmore Estate's Gardens. My suggestion, if you have kids who are older (7 and up), the Biltmore is a must see. If they are younger than 7, don't waste your money. Their is too much to do and too much to see, and an hour or two isn't worth your money or your time.

- We got the boys custom superhero capes, as you can see here, even superheros need a break.

- Baloo the wonder-dog, you may remember him from such films as Up. He really enjoyed the beach, i think he may still miss San Diego.

- Some of the delicious beers of Asheville, aka Beer City.

- The Lucky Strike water tower in Durham, NC.

- The Monkey (aka the Taz) loves swings more than any one I know. The Little Man will get up and swing for 5 seconds and is done, but not the Monkey, he could do this all day. Assuming you will push him all day.

- The Little Man just had his 4-year old birthday party and one of the favorite gifts was this firefighters water pack with hose. We drew burning building and burning robots on the driveway for him to "extinguish". Needless to say he was pretty pleased with himself.

- Sunrise on the Blue Ridge Parkway just outside of Asheville. 

- This is one of my no-no pictures from the Biltmore. They have strict rules about taking pictures of any kind inside the home. I was able to get this picture and one other, the other was my favorite, but somehow I deleted it while eating barbecue...don't ask. But this here is the 1700# wrought iron chandelier hanging in the grand staircase...all suspended by ONE bolt. If you ever make it to the Biltmore Estate, take the Architects tour for an additional $17 (though I hear their is a 2-hour super tour that gives you access to just about everything, all to the tune of $150 per person).

Cheers!

Ain't No Party Like A By Yourself Party

I just returned from my SAHDcation (what I like to call my solo vacations) this year, all of which was spent in Asheville, North Carolina going on runs, walking around the city, enjoying the great breweries, sitting by the French Broad River reading, driving the Blue Ridge Parkway, eating amazing meals and generally getting lost in thought and sometimes the lack of. I went alone, no friends, just me. And sure it was lonely for the first 24 hours. The little voices and screams that I come to be irritated by so quickly, I almost longed to hear. And the Mrs, who is always asleep before I go to bed, was not next to me when I woke up. But I got busy, even if "busy" was doing nothing more than enjoying a delicious brew in the sun and reading a book. The batteries were set to charge.

When I got home, I was happy, I was relaxed and I was ready to be "Dadda" again. But while on my trip, a few of my stay at home Dad friends were texting me to ask me how I pulled it off. Specifically, how I got the Mrs on board with such a thing. That's when I realized that maybe I have it even better than I thought and that maybe I can help shed some light on why some extended time to oneself is priceless and necessary.

When I left my last job in sales to be a stay-at-home Dad, my boss told me that while he thought what I was doing was stupid and that he'd be surprised if I lasted a year, that I must make sure to take time to myself. To get away from the family and just have time to and for me, be it with friends or solo. That just 4-5 days away could be the difference between straight-jacket-cushion-walled-room insane and triple-bond-in-your-underwear happy, not just as a Dad but as a husband too. He couldn't have been more right. We tend get caught up in the things we feel we have to do, or should do, far too much and we forget about the things we want to do. We plan family vacations and weekend trips to spend together. We have to have babysitters, back up babysitters and backups for our backups, just to get a date night out with our spouses. There is always an itinerary: a go time, a nap time, a bed time, a lunch time and a snack time, and that can be taxing. I feel that I get to a point in the year when I start becoming a less effective parent, that I give in or blow up more easily, and I know then that it's time to get away.

I took my first SAHDcation two months before the Taz was born. The Mrs was not pleased with me, not even a little bit. She was fairly busy at work, feeling very pregnant and I was about to leave for four  and a half days to NY to see friends, drink and eat like a king while she had to juggle everything at home. Now, before you start calling me an asshole. I did do a ton of proactive work to ensure that back up day care was secured for three days, sitters were notified that we may need them and were more or less ready to help if called, pet sitters were hired to take care of our animals and I left the fridge fully stocked with anything the Mrs could need so she did not have to resort to her specialty, cheesy toast (melted cheese on toast, in case you were curious). But when I say she wasn't happy with me, I mean we fought about it. Her argument was that I should wait until she was on maternity leave in two months, but I was certain that she would need me more than ever at that point, with a two year old and a newborn. When she said goodbye to me the morning that I left, it was not a happy one. I don't think we even kissed.


Aside from the icey send off, the trip was great. I did what I wanted, when I wanted. It was great to have adult conversations with all adults and no interruptions besides waiters asking how the food was (delicious) and if we needed another round (I am feeling parched, so yes, by all means). While I love the guys in my Stay At Home Dad groups, we naturally talk a lot about our kids. And while this can be therapeutic, sometimes it's just nice to talk about something else. Above that, there were no nap schedules to follow, diapers to change, baths to be given or bed times to be fought over. It was wonderful. Of course, I stayed in touch with the Mrs and the Little Man by calling every night to say hello and to see how all was going.

And as it so happened, the Mrs' work schedule relaxed over these days as well, by pure luck, but nevertheless her work schedule was not as hectic as she originally thought it would be. She was able to enjoy the weekend with the Little Man and no extra help besides the pet sitters were needed. I remember when she picked me up from the airport she immediately mentionned how happy and relaxed I seemed. And I was relaxed. I was happy. But more importantly, I was ready to get back to being "Dadda."

I became a stay at home dad almost three and a half years ago. It's one of the best decisions we have made as a family. Sure, it has had some ups and downs and still does. Sure, the Mrs and I have had spats over whether it was the right decision as I would be melting down from the sometimes seemingly never ending solo hours with the boys when she is working 80+ hours/week (and weekend) for five weeks on end. But at the end of it, I do love my time with the Little Man and Taz. Though just like any job (and yes, being a stay at home is most certainly a job), you get tired and need a reboot. As a stay at home, we wake up at work and go to sleep at work. When we go on family vacations, we are in essence, at work while our spouses are getting away from their jobs. Just as our working spouses need to get away from their bosses, coworkers and daily grind sometimes, so do I. I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm just laying it out there.

Some parents I have spoken to about this say that being a parent means giving up yourself and your interests until your kids are old enough to take care of themselves. I'm sorry, but that's a load of bullshit. Sure, you have to put some things on hold. You can't stay out until all hours of the night anymore. And you have to watch your mouth (luckily my kids can't read yet). But parenting isn't about what of yours that you must sacrifice, it's about how you balance everything; and the time away is like hitting the tare button on the scale.

Solo vacations are not just for stay at homes. Working parents need it just as much. I often encourage the Mrs to get away from it all and do something with her friends. She hasn't yet, but I am hopeful that she will soon; she deserves it. And so do you other working parents and stay at homes. So find the time, pick the place and just go. If you get back and don't feel new again, I'll eat your road map (paper maps only, please...Garmins make me constipated).

   

Last Week (and a half) according to @toliveanddiaper: Week 3

Clockwise, in order from top left:

1. The Little Man earned another medal at Rookie Sports @ the Y.
2. A long overdue night out with the Mrs at the Koka Booth Ampitheatre to see the Band Together Charity Concert with Lyle Lovett.
3. The Taz crossing the bridge.
4. Taz and Little Man's ghosts enjoying some sand time and the sand cranes.
5. Little Man aka Tony Starks aka Iron Man
6. Umstead hiking with the SAHD group.
7. Taz is now a Jedi master since we bought him a lightsaber at the Bulls game, we did.
8. A morning trail run in good ol'Umstead.
9. Green Flash Hop Odyssey Black IPA 7.5% ABV and 85 IBU...tasty!



...and as always, if you are on Instagram and want to follow me, you can find me @toliveanddiaper...

The Slow & Inevitable Death of Cool

I recently posted a picture to Facebook of my car with my newly purchased Yakima Skybox on the roof. A friend from college, who had just had his first child, commented that this was the slow and inevitable death of cool (thanks for an entry title, Brendan). It wasn't a remark on what others think of you, but more what your younger self might think of you or at least that's how I took it. He was right, in that once you have kids there is a certain youth and freedom that is lost, there is simply no escaping it. It got me thinking back to what my life was like before the Mrs and I had kids. Not just the usual stuff, such as never having to diaper anyone, the ins and outs of creating schedules you can live with and your child(ren) can sleep during or finding the right time and place to get frisky with your spouse that can last more than three minutes and without fear for being walked in on. No, I was thinking about some of the other specifics and some of the intangibles.

Tally: 100 cool points.

Before kids, I drove a manual Nissan Xterra. I loved that car. I remember when I was deciding whether to buy that car or to buy a Subaru Outback, a not so sage friend offered me some advice. He said that you're only going to be young once, so why get the glorified mom mobile? We scratched out crotches, chest bumped, grunted and then spit into a spittoon. Not really, but maybe we should have. The Xterra took us on some great adventures. It was even the car we drove our first son, the Little Man, home in. 

It was then that my thoughts on cars started shifting. I started to think that maybe an SUV wasn't the safest vehicle for kids. Then we got into an accident (with the Little Man in the car) and totaled the Xterra. We were all fine. She held up well in the accident and kept us safe. Suddenly, I needed a new car. Ironically (or maybe not so much), I bought a Subaru Outback...the glorified mom mobile...automatic...with two car seats...and the above mentioned Skybox. It's like I never even saw it coming. 

- 5 points for the car, - 4 points for the Skybox and - 1 point for the kids toys and books mess that is my backseat. 

Current tally: 90 cool points. 

In my BC life (before children), I used to go out, and not just on the weekends. Wednesday was just as good as Friday. Weekends were almost entirely spent at my friend's house on the boardwalk of South Mission Beach, San Diego: people watching, enjoying cheap beer, partaking in the ganja (marijuana, to you non-initiated), throwing horseshoes and jumping into the ocean just to bring my core temperature back down to comfortable. I rode my bike most of the time and carried some cash and my ID, that's it. Fundays weren't just for Sundays back then and they started at 10/11 AM and ended around 2/3 AM the next day, but not before a breakfast burrito was gobbled up before passing out falling asleep. If it was a weekday and you showed up to work with a little hangover, chances were that you weren't the only one, and if you were, you could just close your door. 

Now I get out for runs by 6:30/7 AM most mornings and I'm in bed by 10 PM. I stopped going to the beach, just too many issues: parking, drunks, nap times and now we live hours from any beach at all. If I was to smoke pot today, I'd probably just fall asleep, eat all the kid's Fig Newtons or have an anxiety attack...and perhaps all three. I haven't been to a party without kids, or not for kids, in almost three years (the Mrs and I went to one wedding and good times were had by all, but we paid for it dearly the next day). And my wallet is chock full of crap like kids shoes store/haircutters/frozen yogurt frequent buyer cards, all of our insurance cards and kids museum memberships. I look like I am carrying a brick in my front pocket. 

- 10 points for early mornings, + 5 points for healthier living, - 5 points for an overstuffed wallet.        

Current tally: 75 cool points.

I used to watch a lot of sports and the usual mix of major network sitcoms and dramas. I didn't watch a ton of TV though, mainly because I was usually out of the house. Now I am just as happy to watch House Hunters, Property Brothers, Ellen, This Old House or Chopped as I am to watch The Daily Show, Modern Family or Happy Endings all usually while folding laundry or cleaning up the living room. I might watch one game a week, but I usually have to DVR it, avoid Facebook for spoilers and watch it after the kids go to bed. Either that or I am reading a book, updating the blog or spending far too much time admiring friends on Facebook who are traveling abroad or just having a delicious meal in a not-so-kid-friendly establishment. I now find it weird not to see a crayon in pictures of dinner tables. Yep. I'm there.

TV is kind of a big thing these days. I know that TV is this big taboo in the parenting world. Some parents wear the merit badge of not owning a TV, some own TVs but don't allow their kids to watch any of it, some folks use the TV as a babysitter all the time and then there are those like me who let their kids watch some TV but not too much. I know every episode of Curious George, I know the secret words to open the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and I am starting to memorize lines from Wreck-It-Ralph. This past week at bed time, the Little Man exclaimed that he didn't like sleeping in his room anymore and that he didn't like his bed. So I stuck him in our guest room and shut the door. He wasn't happier with this situation either (the desired effect), and proceeded to try to sneak back to his room on several occasions. I warned him not to leave the room again, of course he did and so TV was banned for a week. It was awful for all of us. 

- 5 points for expansive knowledge of children's programming, -10 points for my love affair with HGTV/The Cooking Channel/The Food Network/Travel Channel, -3 points for watching DVR'd sports, -10 points for having to ban TV, + 10 points for limiting my kids TV time.

Current Tally: 62 points.

Travel used to be fun too. When we went to New Zealand in 2008, we took a sleeping pill and eight hours of the flight were gone *poof* just like that. A few cocktails, a light snack and the fourteen hour flight was over. When we planned travel it was where we really wanted to go. There was no thought of noise level, how large the rental car would be, was the furniture in the rental house white because we'll stain it, or had we checked out the list of "things to do with your kids in ______". You picked a place and you went. Voila! Even if you were a little under the weather, you took some cold meds, sucked it up, downed a drink and you had fun; rallying (i.e. if you're down, get your ass back up) was a term I took seriously and a skill I had honed over the years. You made a few playlists, read a book, did a crossword puzzle and maybe watched a movie on your computer to get through the flight. The things you didn't have were a lack of appreciation for the size of the bathroom on the plane (I never even noticed that there changing tables in the bathrooms, and now that I do, they are nearly useless as you can do the same thing on your lap) or a care for how clean or filthy the rest stop bathroom was just outside Anytown, USA on your way to Joeschmovington, USA.

Travel these days is a hassle. We have to schlep two car seats, up to four bags of luggage, a stroller, a  diaper bag, a pak'n'play, two blankies, a stuffed animal, snacks for the drive/flight, both iPads, a camera, bag of childrens medicines, Little Mans light up alarm clock and a random selection of small toys and books. Before we travel, the first thing I do is to load the iPad up with new content and usually a few full length films. If you haven't traveled with kids, the key is keeping them distracted. Obviously, the longer the better. And if something goes wrong with the iPad, then your iPhone better be the back up or some really great coloring books, toys, or snacks. Even then you are not guaranteed a peaceful adventure. 

When I flew back east in August with the boys by myself, the Little Man was taken care of as long as I could feed him and the iPad battery lasted on the flight. However, the Taz would not be so easily appeased. I was that guy on that flight. You know the one. I had the kid who would not stop screaming or crying except for occasional moments when he would take a bottle, eat a snack or if I let him crawl around on the floor (though having to be watchful as he kept trying to eat old food droppings). Otherwise it was pure hell. Of course it couldn't have been a nonstop flight, nope. We had to layover in Atlanta, thanks for nothing Delta, before getting on our final leg. Thankfully the people around me had a collective heart and literally gave me a round of applause when we reached the gate. And the kids aren't to blame. They're kids. I hate being confined to my seat, but at least I fully understand why and I can also order alcohol to get me through it. I dread travel these days. It's a love/hate relationship, but more to the latter than the prior, because even when you reach your destination, there is no sanctuary. Sure, the Mrs and I are planning a trip by ourselves, but that's for our 10 year wedding anniversary which is in three years. For now it's playgrounds, day trips, kids museums, high chairs and making sure we pencil in some nap time...that's how we travel these days.

- 15 points for the shear amount of luggage needed to travel, -10 points for our first sans kids adventure to be set almost six and a half year out from our last trip, +10 points for our tantrum diversionary pre planning, -5 points for getting applause for making it through a flight.

I'll be 35 this year. It's not old by any means, but it's old enough. I like to daydream sometimes that I would be out and about doing this and that if we didn't have kids, but the reality is that's just crazy talk. I'd be working full time, probably hating my job, saving for the day I would eventually have kids and probably getting caught up in the minutia. At this point in my life, I just wish that the bubble pod technology seen in the Jetsons was available today or that all cars came with an optional limo screen. I wouldn't use them that much. But alas, no technology or standard car option like that does exist. The slow and inevitable death of cool is upon me and so it goes. I listen to a lot of Paul Simon, particularly the older stuff. There is a great chorus in "That Was Your Mother" from the 1986 album, Graceland that sums it all up nicely:

"Well, that was your mother

And that was your father

Before you were born, dude,

When life was great.

You are the burden of my generation,

I sure do love you,

Let's get that straight"

Final Tally...who cares? I was never that cool anyways.

Last Week According To @toliveanddiaper: Week 2

From the top left (clockwise):

1. Little Man going green.

2. Taz and Little Man riding the Pullen Park train.

3. Taz. In. Space.

4. View from the top of Hanging Rock State Park

5. At the Bulls ball game with Mr. Ball.

6. Morning run to school.

7. The Taz and I just hanging out.

8. No exhaust on this old mower, though I don't plan to keep this when we can afford a larger yard.

9. Architectural instagram...it's like they knew.

And by the way, I entered this great contest at Snapknot to win either a D800 or 5D Mark III. I almost waited to buy the D800 when I bought my D700 last year, thanks to a certain someone (ahem...Jason Kirby at therightlightphotography.com) I held off. I know that entering these contests is sort of dumb, like playing the lottery, but I'd be stoked to win. Papa needs a better back up camera than the ol'D80!

Big thanks to the SnapKnot wedding photography directory for offering this great camera giveaway!

If you feel the urge to help me get a few referral submissions, that would be cool too. Just click here: http://bit.ly/15gjCEc

Dear Son, You Know How I Know You're Almost Four?

10. You make people and consequences disappear when you cover your face or close your eyes (also known as the Ostrich Effect). Just because you can't see me, doesn't mean that my evil Dad glare isn't honed in on you. Also, when you are embarassed or feeling shy, walking behind me and placing your face between my cheeks is less than enjoyable for me and potentially dangerous for you. Jus'sayin.

9. Helping out usually consists of doing things that are the opposite of helpful. Like when you take off your shoes and dump all of the sand out on the floor instead of outside. Contrary to popular belief, this does not make your dad happy.

8. You just realized that money grows on trees, and apparently Mom and I are redwoods.*

(*yup, I am now saying the same crap my parents said to me. To be released this summer: "No, I will not open the windows. I'm not paying to air condition the world", "What? You writing a book? What's with the all the questions?" and "Do you have a plane to catch? Sit down and relax.")

7. You make the most annoying sounds in the world and are never more confused than when I tell you just that, as if there is a key to the joys in the universe and only you get it. This concept will probably be in the forefront for the next eighteen years. I suppose I should just get used to it.

6. It's always an accident when you do it, but it's never an accident when it happens to you.

5. Going to a baseball game means eating ice cream and playing on the playground, not watching baseball. I am thankful for minor league ballgame prices.

4. "When are we going to be there?" is a legitimate question as soon as you get in the car and then every 3-5 miles afterwards. Yet another reason that all cars should have the option of a limo window or the Jetsons' bubble pods, can someone make that happen...soon?

3. Pulling your brothers diaper out to look for poop is a fun activity and not at all weird. I guess I should be happy you haven't stuck your finger in there yet...or have you?  

2. Having to eat your vegetables in order to enjoy dessert is an absolutely ridiculous notion. Equally ridiculous: washing your hands, brushing your teeth and not wiping your ass with you bare hand.

1. The biggest injustices of the world include such things as: I had that toy first, I wanted to wear my superhero shirt so why isn't it clean, the boy in school roars back at me when I roar at him, I don't want to take Dad's car I want to ride in Mom's car, the dog (a 60lb Golden Retriever) knocked me down when I pulled his tail and you weren't supposed to win the race because I'm super fast. The world is an awful place. Your life must be rough.

You know, buddy, Grams always tells me how she never thought I would make it to see my fifth birthday. Somehow I did. You'll be four in a month. As for five, well, let's just see how four goes.

Love you,

Dad

A'camping We Will Go

I may look like a mountain man, but I assure you that I am no Paul Bunyan. I don't own an axe. I have a golden retriever named Baloo, but no blue ox named Babe. However, I do look pretty good in flannel and I was once a wiz at Oregon Trail. So I got that going for me, which is nice.

I have never been camping in my life. Save your exasperations. Yes, I was deprived as a child. It's horrible, I know. Blame my parents.

I have been determined not to let my kids be as sheltered as I was (I kid, mom, I kid.) But in all seriousness, I have wanted my kids to be able to enjoy some of their youth camping. What's better than spending a few days getting dirty, negating baths, eating over a fire and sleeping under the stars? Says the guys who has never camped before...though in all fairness, what is better than that?

So over the last two weeks I have spent enough time in REI to earn some recognition. After walking in for the third time in as many days I was greeted with: "Good afternoon, Mr Brophy". Not everyone can say that, and now I can...so eat that Ed Viesturs. But alas I was set. Solid tent in the Big Agnes Flying Diamond 6. Great sleeping bags from Poler Stuff. A solid stove from Camp Chef in their two burner stove and just about every other accessory one could need or want for a car camping trip.

The weather report for Hanging Rock National Park over the weekend was not ideal to say the least, with thunderstorms and tornado warnings for the area on Friday night and near freezing temps (albeit clear) for Saturday night, however I was optimistic that we'd be fine. Even as we were driving through Greensboro, getting sacked by torrential rain and watching clouds roll like I've only seen in Storm Chasers, I thought we'd be okay. Then as we seemed to move out of the eye of the storm and further out into the country, it all seemed to be getting better. That is until we reached the campsite and drove by three sites within 300 yards of our own with snapped, downed pine trees. And what was standing above our campsite like Mother Nature's own mace? A pine tree.

Have I mentioned that I have never camped before? Did I also mention that I have the Little Man and Taz in tow? Have I admitted how neurotic I can be?

A hotel was not far from my mind at this point.

After viewing six other open sites, driving around, checking out the closed visitors center, talking with park rangers, getting the inside scoop from the lovely old couple at the registration trailer, hemming and hawing, I finally decided we would stay with our original site. So I got the tent set up with a little help from another SAHD who organized the trip, our goods moved in and the stove lit up to cook hot dogs for dinner in mild winds and intermittent rain. Not bad for the camping novice I am.

While I knew that the weather would get cooler by the evening, I thought our tent would be more insulating. Not so much (and I also left the vents open...I'm a freaking genius). The temps dropped into the 40s and the Taz was in his pak'n'play and was refusing to stay under his blanket as well as the extra blanket I brought for him. He woke up four times during the night at about two hour intervals. That combined with the wind coming over the ridge every 30-40 minutes like a jet approaching from the distance and I got maybe three hours of sleep. Each time I was listenning for branches or, god forbid, whole trees snapping with each mighty gust. I was game planning for the pine tree (a.k.a nature's mace) just 40 feet away to come crashing in on us and how I would attempt to protect the boys and thinking I could somehow grab the pak'n'play, flip it over all of us in some sort of Hollywood stunt as razor sharp branches missed us all by only inches. Have I mentioned that I am crazy?

Morning came. We survived. I am dramatic.

After a good Entenmann's coffee cake breakfast we headed out to find cell phone reception, just a mere fifteen mile drive, so we could let our wives know we were alive and to also find out any updates on the Boston Marathon manhunt. With the wives nerves soothed and the second suspect caught, we headed back to Hanging Rock for a hike to the park's namesake peak.

The hike is a relatively short one at 2.6 miles (roundtrip), but mind you we have a near three year old, a near four year old, a 20 month old and it's about a mile and a quarter up steep hills. This may as well have been 26 miles. But everyone did well. The Little Man became Little Bighorn after about a half mile into the hike, as he casually bounded up the stone steps and asked to climb every rock in sight. Everyone seemed to be elated to make it to the peak. The views were unbelievable with visibility as far as the eye could see. And being that the site is called Hanging Rock, you can dangle your legs over the edge of a various number of cliffs while enjoying a snack if you so decide.

After the hike, the other SAHD and I decided that trying to get our kids through near freezing temperatures would be silly. If we were sans kids and could set up a fire, drink some beers and just hang out, things may have been different. But seeing as the kids started fighting over sharing bubble sticks while taking a trip to the nearby lake, we decided to call the trip over. There would be no merit badge for getting our kids through the night without frostbite. With only a two hour drive home, it made a ton of sense. So we packed up the cars, took a few last looks and headed home.

I learned that I am in no way, shape, manner or form an outdoorsman. However, I love the outdoors. It's relaxing. But I barely know my ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to camping. At least I have room to grow. The boys seemed to have really enjoyed the trip, though I know the Taz will never remember it and Little Man will need pictures of the weekend to potentially recall anything. As for camping again, we're already planning our next trip in a few weeks, but we'll aim for a warmer weekend and a closer destination for attempt number two. This move to the east coast seems to be getting better and better with each passing month.

Last Week According To @toliveanddiaper

(clockwise from top left)
- The Little Man proving his ropin' skills
- Taz behind bars, hopefully not tell tale of things to come.
- Me and Maddie, if you didn't know her or @thiswildidea, now you do and I got to meet her and Theron during their book tour. Such good people and creative inspiration.
- When the oatmeal chocolate granola bar wins.
- When big brother is out for nap time, Taz sleeps in his bed.
- Taz being Taz
- Camp To Live And Diaper is open
- Little Man and Taz chilling with Wool E. Bull
- Spring has arrived (center)

*follow me on Instagram, @toliveanddiaper

Take Me Out To The Ball Game...

I don't know what it is about going to baseball games that always make me feel that I am participating in something much large than myself. That by going out to any game, be it tee-ball or a major league game, you are engaging with history. It's as if baseball is programmed into our DNA. The sight of a baseball stadium makes me smile. The smell of the hot dogs, the taste of a cold beer and watching a little 9-on-9 while shared with friends and family is about as good as it gets. The funny thing is that, as far as sports go, I don't really care for baseball all that much. I almost never watch it on TV and if it weren't for listening to hours of ESPN radio everyday, I wouldn't have a clue as to what was going on in the sport.

While in San Diego, we went to roughly four to six games per year over the ten years were there. The Padres are notoriously awful, but the stadium is the draw. It's right downtown with plenty to do before, during and after the game. If you have kids, I would wager that there is no better major league park in the world and certainly no better weather to enjoy it in. Petco Park is truly a special place. There are no banners there...at least none that anyone cares about. No real superstars have been a part of the team since Tony Gwynn, though I guess closer, Trevor Hoffman, could be added to the short list. And more often than not the fans are for the opposing team. Maybe that's why I enjoyed it so much though. Since I don't care who wins and I have no ties to any baseball team, it's just getting outside and watching live sports.

Now that we have moved to Raleigh, we had to take advantage of the local minor league triple-A team, the Durham Bulls (if you are interested in the history of the team, check this out). And yes, this is the same team made famous by the 1988 Kevin Costner film, Bull Durham. That was, of course, filmed in the old stadium, Durham Athletic Park (DAP), which still stands and acts as the stadium for the North Carolina Central University baseball team. 

The Bulls have a beautiful new stadium. Great choices for beer and food including Foothills Brewery which carries a great pilsner and IPA (Torch and Hoppyum, respectively) and Rita's Italian Ice (I truly enjoyed introducing Taz and the Little Man to what was such a childhood staple of mine). There is a playground behind the right field stands. Across the street is the American Tobacco Historic District, which is filled with businesses, restaurants, bars and tons of room for the little ones to run around (helpful tip: a great spot to tire out the kids for a little while before the first pitch so you can watch a little of the game before the kids are ready to go again). Beyond that, the organization goes out of its way to make these games not just family friendly, but family fun too. Between most innings, a kid is picked out and brought down to participate in some sort of game on the field while the crowd cheers them on.

Taz and Little Man hung tight for three and a half innings before dragging me to the playground. I even got to explain some of the aspects of baseball to the Little Man. I don't think he gets much if any at all of the positions, the games rules or its quirks, but he genuinely seemed to enjoy watching the home run we saw and that probably had more to do with watching the giant bull in the outfield blow smoke out of its nose. I can't blame him, it was pretty cool. The Little Man didn't make it a full inning without asking to go to the playground or asking to get some ice cream at least twenty times, but he's three, so I wasn't expecting to talk about ERAs or RBIs. Taz on the other hand was mesmerized by the game play of the first inning and half, though after that he seemed more content yanking on my beard, pointing at random things and trying to wriggle free of my grasp.

During the time we were there, I kept reminding myself to stay in the moment and not get carried away by the usual stuff the boys do to set me off. And for the most part it worked. I really enjoyed our time there. It felt almost ritualistic to be doing it, especially since this was our first time sitting in the stands and not on some grass beyond the outfield with limited views of the games. No, this was as close as we've been, just the boys and I. I have fond memories of most of the games my father took me to as a kid, from spring training sessions to games at the old Yankee and Shea stadiums. While I've never had much of a desire to check out every major league ballpark, for some reason this game got part of me thinking about maybe putting something like that on the bucket list and to do so with my boys. As for this game, I've got the images stored away in my head forever now and I can't wait to get them out to another game.

Do You Want Some Color?

Last weekend, I had a great opportunity to be a part of a shoot for the Color Mania 5K. What is Color Mania, you ask? Color Mania is a short, casual, easy terrain race; this is not Spartan or Tough Guy so taper your cross fit induced runner rage. But what Color Mania lacks in distance and difficulty, it more than makes up for in family fun and colorful messes. In short, it is a 5K (3.1 mile) course with four color stations where ten race volunteers squirt colored cornstarch at you as you run by and either attempt to out run the volunteers or embrace the color. Unless you specifically tell the volunteers at the station that you don't want to be colored, you will end up looking like a walking rainbow by the time you cross the finish. I've run a lot of races over the years and I have not seen more smile or more fun being had than at Color Mania.

I know this isn't my usual type of post, nor is it the typical event I shoot. But what I loved about it was the color. I am always encouraging my clients to show a little color for their shoots. Most people are hesitant to do so, thinking that the color will take away from their images, when in fact it can actually serve to bring more life to the photographs. I realize that getting hit in the face with neon colored cornstarch is more than a step beyond what most people would consider their most colorful outfit, but just imagine this race with muted colors and khaki cornstarch...not as exciting, right?

The other aspect of this that made me want to post this was to encourage families and couples to think outside the normal realms of family/couple photography. Instead of colored cornstarch, we could set up a shoot of you having a paint fight. Instead of a shoot in your living room, we could plan to do it while your family ran a 5K or family fun run mile. Instead of going to the playground, your family could take a hike. Perhaps there is something else you have been thinking of doing with your family but just haven't done it. This isn't to say that we can't find and photograph the beauty in our day-to-day goings-on, but simply to say that if we step outside of our comfort box some amazing things (and consequentially, great photos) can happen. I would be more than happy to capture those images for you!

Spring is here. Just in the past 4 days the trees have come into bloom. The weather is getting warmer. It's time to get back outside! I'll see you there.