1. If you work in a school kitchen and introduce your seven year old son to some of the delivery people, you may find him telling the milkman all about his lactose intolerance.

2. When your husband quits his job and the next day he tears his calf muscle and needs an MRI and a walking boot and physical therapy, then two weeks later your son gets an ear infection, and a few days after that you get a sinus infection that requires five antibiotic pills that cost $178.00, you may find out that your husband’s former employer didn’t give him any grace period and instead canceled his health insurance the DAY HE LEFT.

3. And you may find yourself wanting to tell everyone you know what a horrible, greedy, downright nasty company for which your husband used to work.

4. Then you may consider using your blog for evil purposes.

5. Twitter and Facebook too.

6. If you spend months considering whether or not to have your hair shortened, and you finally muster the guts to have five inches cut off, it’s possible no one will notice.

7. Except for your husband.

8. And he knew you were going to get your hair cut.

9. If your family gets Super Mario Bros. for the Wii, you may find it brings about some extra-special, family bonding time.

10. Or, maybe everyone will just yell at each other a lot.

11. The DVR is the best invention ever, especially when you’re using it to fast forward through American Idol.

12. But, then you might get spoiled and think you can fast forward through your laundry.

13. And then you will be sorely disappointed.

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I originally took this video of my son because I wanted to document how his cold was making him sound like he was a seven year old with a pack-a-day habit.

As you’ll see, it morphed into something else. Stuff like this is likely why he has been labeled a class clown. This, and because he spends his lunch period saying, “eyeball” to the amusement of every first grader at his table. Why “eyeball” is hysterical, I will never know. He gets that part of his sense of humor from his dad. I know this because his dad is the one who taught him an entire song about diarrhea.

Also, don’t be intimidated by my purple “Buns of Steel” aerobics step in the background. My buns are steel. Steel like Jello.

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This is me from the April issue of Ladies Home Journal magazine. That’s right, I’m officially published.

Sure it’s only 150 words, and it’s pretty much the last page in the magazine, and in this picture I look like I’m straining under the weight of 25 pounds of meat, because I AM, and the roast on top kept rolling around, and all that balancing and lifting made me look like I need a laxative, and they edited out the burners on my stove, but not my flabby arms, and I look as pale as Eddie Munster, and people at work didn’t even recognize me because I wasn’t wearing my glasses. But, it’s Ladies Home Journal, people!

And, at the very least, my kitchen was really clean for about 20 minutes.

If you want to pick up a copy, it’s the one with Brooke Shields on the front. Which is kind of awesome, because now Brooke and I are like this. I gave her tips on posing.

Why was I in the magazine? Why was my kitchen clean for once? The back story is here. And, when you’re done reading that, go read these.

Being Michael’s Daddy, Suburban Scrawl, World of Weasels, A Look on the Random Side, Code Monkey Daddy, Double the Fun, Real Men Drive Minivans, Beautiful Wreck, Half Past Kissin’ Time, D is for Dad, Nuclear Family Warhead, Joeprah, Big Bad Daddy Rant, Dear Mr. Man, The Busy Dad Blog, Get Off the Ground, The Devoted Dad, Knee Deep in Kids and Surprised Mom.

Because if not for them, I wouldn’t have been juggling that roast.

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This is the day that I often refer to as my daughter’s adjusted birthday. Today was her due date. Unfortunately, she decided to arrive in December.

She was in the hospital for 35 days while she grew from just over two pounds to just over four. Believe it or not, I look back at her days in the NICU as a beautiful time. She had amazing care and the nurses encouraged our bonding. She rested, she ate, she snuggled against my bare chest and we became a family.

Best of all, we had primary care nurses, also known as having, “continuity of care”. That means that we had the same two or three nurses all the time. The hospital ensured that there would be a solid relationship built between the caregivers and the patients. Those nurses knew us, they knew our daughter and they became part of our family.

When my son was born seven weeks early, he was too sick to stay in the NICU at the hospital where he was delivered. He was immediately swept away, across town, to Children’s Hospital…just in case he needed emergency heart surgery.

In that NICU, they had recently done away with the use of primary care nurses. Apparently, the bonding that was going on between the patients and the nurses became too hard if the sick, little babies would pass away. I can understand that. I have watched a baby die. It is unbearably painful.

But, there is stark contrast between the memories of my daughter’s infancy and my son’s. I couldn’t help but feel that there were complete strangers caring for him. Because there were. Every single time I walked in, there was someone new. They didn’t know me, they didn’t know my baby, they didn’t build any kind of relationship with him whatsoever.

There was no bonding. We were not a family.

And I hated it.

During that painful time, I could have never anticipated where we would be nearly eight years later. My tiny daughter has grown into a typical eleven year old and my medically fragile son has come farther that we ever thought possible.

Because, in addition to a lot of work at home and in therapy sessions, there has been something even more meaningful to their development.

There has been continuity of care.

My children attend a very small school. There is one class per grade and every teacher knows every student. The vast majority of parents know each other and I would venture to say that just about everyone who enters that building knows my son.

I am working at the school so that I can be there for my boy if he should need me, but I am certainly not the only one looking after him. Day in and day out, there are many parents, teachers, aides and even students, who watch out for him as well. That stability and the formation of these strong relationships have helped my kids excel.

There are more bonds than I can count. We are a family.

And I love it.

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