Dem's Be Children, Agnes

I have two children. That is slightly more than one, but definitely less than three. Let me digress.

Jesse: Also known as "The Guinea Pig" for Rebecca and I. He's two now, and it's tricky to remember what he was like as an infant. I can catch glimpses in my mind of first baths, steps, and bloody lips, but most of my grasp of Jesse rests in his present state. He is a talking, laughing, crying, juice-drinking, outdoor loving, male incarnation of Rebecca. He seems to be completely different from me, but in all the most entertaining ways. He is a total boss.

Anneliese: Also known as "baby", as Jesse has a hard time pronouncing her name. She's my little girl, and not in the overly-sappy "let's get a picture frame for father's day" kind of way, but more of a "she's my first daughter" kind of way. Slightly different. She is the opposite of what I remember Jesse being as baby. She's quiet, content, and loves snuggles. And while the thought of putting her to bed causes me as much anxiety as hearing our car making funny noises, she is my little girl.

Let me contrast two types of non-present thinking, both which involve a double portion of ego with a pinch of humble pie. The first is the reflection of past athletic feats, such as the certain plays that you have completed that you were particularly fond of. One such scenario that comes to mind for myself was a turnaround fade-away in a playoff match in high school. While not game changing, that play has stuck with me as a proficient measure of my skill at the time. However, I own a copy of the game tape with that play, and upon review all I saw was a shaggy teenager who's awkward shot somehow found the basket. Humbling to say the least.

The second type of thinking is a future anticipation of certain skills that you expect to have. For example, you might consider yourself an expert knitter after having watched all the YouTube episodes from the "Nietzsche Knitters" (a surprisingly critical series of videos). However, when the time comes to put those knitting needles to work, your skills do not equal your apparent knowledge, and reassessment of your abilities comes into play.

I'm sure that as a parent, the impressive feats of Jesse's infant days were nothing more than a clumsy parent getting lucky with their kids behaving well. And likewise, my skills of parenting have nothing to do with whatever knowledge I think I possess, as what really matters is how well you act in the present.

I think I have a fear of being a lame adult because I have kids and most of my days have a very similar pattern. That is the motivation for reviving these pages. I don't want my mind to go to mush, only to be squished into a mold of thirty-somethings trying to balance marriage, family and faith. I want to be able to reflect, look ahead, and enjoy the present, all while writing with proper grammar, punctuation and spelling. Here's hoping.