The Miracle of Birth

As anyone who knows me will attest, I have a soft spot for animals. Well, the traditional, domesticated ones anyway. Sometimes I swear I'm like that chick in the viral facebook vid who starts crying during her online dating video when she thinks about cats.

Anyhow, we have three cats at home and a dog and if I had world enough and time, I would probably have many more. This past winter, we set up a shelter of sorts for a couple of strays on our front porch, complete with a large plastic bin with a small hole cut out so they could get a bit of shelter. I would feed them and make sure they had water, but they were obviously strays and didn't want any part of human contact.

Knowing my feelings for animals, my wife decided a few weeks ago that we should take in a pregnant homeless cat. She's not a stray, mind you, but homeless. If you meet this cat you'll see she's easily the most friendly feline you've ever seen. This cat was definitely someone's pet at one time.

A friend of my wife apparently found this cat outside her house and she took it to the vet, but for whatever reason decided she couldn't keep it. The cat was supposed to live outside, but that didn't last long. She now takes up residence in my back room, which is basically a porch, but with walls.

When she arrived we were told she'd be having the kittens within the week. Three weeks later she seemed in no hurry to squeeze them out. But today, finally, she began having kittens.

I know my wife plans on giving away both the mother and the kittens, but I've been dropping hints about keeping mama. I doubt we will, but that's okay. I'm sure it won't be long before another lost soul finds their way to my house. And I'll be happy to have them for as long as they'll stay.

My Little Big Boy

Leyton is all of two years and eight months old. Last night marked the latest in a series of milestones for this young man; he slept in underwear instead of a pull-up. I am happy to report that all was dry this morning. This is awesome. I'm sure there will be accidents to come, but this was a huge first step for him and I wasn't sure if he'd even be open to the idea of sleeping without a pull-up. But he was excited to go to bed in underwear like a big boy and he came through once again. This kid has been a rock star since the day he was born.

I am told that twos are terrible, but that hasn't been the case with him. Leyton has far surpassed every expectation anyone has ever put upon him. When he was born, the doctors said we'd spend six weeks in Columbus as he recovered from surgery thanks to his gastroschisis. Instead, Leyton blew past every milestone, suffered no set backs, and went home in 24 days.

I don't know for sure, because I am his dad afterall, but it seems to me like he's advanced for his age in terms of his speech and his reasoning. How can you tell, as a parent, if your child is beautiful or if you just think they are because you love them? Not a day goes by that I'm not amazed by something he does or says.

Recently, Leyton learned a knock-knock joke. In true two-year-old fashion, he tells it this way: "Knock Knock" (who's there?) "Banana" (banana who?) "Poop! Pee!" He thought it was hilarious. Then he comes to me and says "say knock knock", so I did and he said who's there. After he said banana who, I said "poop" and he said "nooo... Orange, apple, and pineapple. And Grape!" So we went through the whole joke again, with me telling it. When I delivered this new punch-line, he smiled widely and said "Good!" as if to encourage my learning of the new joke.

Leyton is tiny. I think he weighs all of about 25 lbs. Amity is only 15 months old and she is close to the same weight. He's small, but he's always been an independent boy. I suppose this is caused by the amount of time he had to spend without being held and sleeping in his enclosed box in the hospital. He never slept with Valerie and me. He also never caused much problems in sleeping through the night and he's never given us grief about going to bed when we say it's time. In fairness, none of our kids have been a problem in that regard.

I think it's difficult for a child to forge out his own identity when he has three siblings, especially so when he's the third of four. But Leyton hasn't ever seemed concerned about that sort of thing. He'll play on his own or in groups and while he is a bit territorial about toys or where he thinks he should sit, he's truly been a blessing to raise. He is a happy boy and he melts my heart every single day. He might not have been in the plans, but I couldn't imagine myself without him.

I'm so very proud of the way he's developed and I know I owe a ton of credit to Valerie and also to Sebastian and Lillian for setting the examples for him to follow. He's a remarkable little guy. And more than that, I think I would think he's remarkable even if I wasn't his dad.

Being "Daddy"

I am not a great father.

There are far too many times where I show far too little patience with my kids. The kids are wonderful; each different, but each loving and caring and smart and happy and fun. And I don't allow them enough access to the dad they deserve. I am working on it. But I do feel shame that it's something I have to try to do. Shouldn't it just be natural?

I am not a terrible father.

I love my children. I attend to their needs. I put their wants and needs before my own. I have eliminated friends, hobbies, and parts of my lifestyle because my children are a much higher priority. This seems like something that shouldn't have to be mentioned, but sadly I know a "father" or two that haven't done these things and continue to keep their children lower on the priority list than I do with mine.

I am there when I say I will be there. If I tell them I'll do something, I do it. I am consistent with my message to them and I do my best to explain why I don't want them to do certain things, or why they have gotten in trouble. I think it's important that children learn from their mistakes and they cannot do that if they don't know why what they did was unacceptable.

At the same time, I'm probably too controlling. I often don't allow them to have enough fun because they're too loud or I'm annoyed by one (or more) of them. I am not a great father in that way. I haven't been nearly as accessible as they need me to be.

My kids are tremendous. I am so very proud of the way they have each developed into little people. They are all very smart (what parent doesn't say that?), they all have wonderful and frequent smiles on their faces. Yes, they do things that unnerve me, but that's more my problem than theirs. They are just kids, just trying to be accepted and loved, just trying to live.

I know this, but it's easy to allow it to slip my mind. I do love the kids and I do accept them fully. But I also ask and expect too much from them for their ages I think. The oldest is only six, even though she's mature well beyond her years. Sebastian is a wild one at times. He always needs to be showing off for whomever is near. I wish he would understand that he's seeking the wrong kind of attention, but I can't seem to get through to him.

Last night, he decided to venture into the basement and play with some paint that had spilled down there. He knows full well he's not to go down there, but he did anyway. A short while later, he wanted to go play in the sandbox, but I told him he couldn't since he went and played in the paint. This is really the first time I have taken a privilege away from him and he didn't throw a fit about it. I told him why he couldn't go play in the sandbox and he seemed to finally get it; that his actions have consequences and that if he wants to do these things, he must refrain from doing things he knows he isn't allowed to do. There was no fight about it, he simply accepted what I had said and we all moved on. It was refreshing, really.

Sunday was Fathers Day and my wife took the kids shopping to each buy me a gift. Then she had each child create a card for me. The kids took turns bringing me the cards and then bringing me the gifts. They were so proud that they had gotten those things for me. It was truly a wonderful morning.

I have been giving a lot of thought to myself lately and how I can improve as a husband and father. I think my wife would agree that there have been positive changes in my outlook and my general demeanor of late. I have noticed it, so I hope she and the kids have as well. It's a funny thing; when you allow yourself to have a little more fun and not worry so much about controlling every little detail, the world is a better place. I know I'm lightyears ahead of where I was a decade ago as a person and I hope this evolution of me continues. I see they way other dads interact with their kids (both good and bad) and I think I'm learning and implementing things as I continue to grow.

I think back to five years ago. I was certain I didn't want to have kids. Boy was I wrong. The kids are the best part of my life and my life is better now than it ever was. No, Valerie, that doesn't mean I want more; four is plenty, but it means that I understand how much their lives can be improved if I allow myself to enjoy them more than I have.

I read a story today about Chad Cordero announcing his retirement from baseball. The powerful thing wasn't that he couldn't ever recover from an abused right arm and make it back to the big leagues, it was that he had lost a daughter to SIDS. The story, found here, was so emotional for me that I couldn't finish it. I cannot imagine how painful it must be to lose a child and I regret not having been more open with my own children to this point.

You never know when your last day on earth might be, or when it might be the last day for someone you love. It makes no sense to fret over small stuff and hold back your affection with anyone, let alone with children. The only thing they want is to be kids. When I am able to show them the constant love I feel for them and allow myself to enjoy their every moment, only then will I be a great father.

I'm getting there; I can feel it, I notice it. But I am not there yet.

I'm Happiest When

I was on twitter this morning, as I am every morning, and I noticed that the hashtag #imhappiestwhen was trending. It struck me as odd, as hashtags that trend are usually rather dumb. This one could be as well for most of you, but given my recent "slump", it got me to thinking.

I suppose I should give some back story here. Lately, I've been in an awful rut. I don't know if I'm depressed in the clinical way, but I'm definitely down. I used to kinda of enjoy my jobs (both the real job and the writing), but now I don't enjoy any part of it. Nothing has changed with either job, but my reactions to them are 180 degrees from where they used to be. As a result, I've shown less patience at home with the kids (something I struggle with anyway) and it's lead to some friction with my wife as well.

I'm not in any way disagreeing with her assessment (she even noted how little attention I give the dog lately - I hadn't noticed that); I have been in a foul mood and I can't come up with a good reason why. I suppose if I'm honest with myself, I can point to the waiting game I've been playing with Proctor & Gamble. You see, I was interviewed there and have made it into the hiring pool. Getting a position with them would literally be a life-changing event. I would start at roughly $15,000 more per year than I currently earn. The problem is that there are no promises that my name will ever get pulled from the pool, much less any guesses on when it would happen if it did. So for the better part of six weeks now, I've just been waiting for the email or phone call that tells me I'm in. Until it comes, I haven't really been interested in living my life.

The worst part is that all during the (literally) four months of the process to this point, I had been able to maintain the mindset that I have a job, I'm comfortable, I don't need this position. It was done as a defense mechanism more than anything else, I suppose, to protect me from getting too high on the idea, only to crash down if/when it didn't happen. But with the spot now within sight, I haven't been able to control my emotions. I want this job and until I get it, I'm having difficulty remembering that my life must go on and that people are depending on me to be myself (even as much as my usual self is a bit of a drag).

Do I know that the waiting game is what's brought me into a depression? No, of course I don't. I hope that's the root cause, but I can really only speculate. I don't feel good physically. I have very little energy and even less motivation. The human mind is a complicated place and as much as I am able to analyze what's wrong with a certain baseball team, I cannot find success in analyzing my own life and righting what is wrong. It's just tough to do when you're not quite sure what the problem is.

Look, I don't really do a ton of introspective thinking. Perhaps that's one of my many flaws (and perhaps that's why I can't ever really improve as a person). I talk about being more patient or changing my outlook, but I find it so much easier to not do those things. It's easier not to be great. That's a piss-poor attitude, but it's one that, if I'm honest with myself, I've taken for the vast majority of my life. Until that much is changed, I'm not sure I'll ever be the husband and father that I should be. That does scare the hell out of me and you'd think that thought alone would be enough to kick myself in the ass, but it just hasn't happened. I worry that it never will.

People will look at this and think I just don't care enough to put in the effort. There's no way I agree with that take. I don't know what it is, what's causing the issues I'm having, but I haven't been able to get out of my slump.

I really don't have stresses that any normal person doesn't have, so apart from the waiting game, I can't see any reason why I've been anything other than myself; yet I have been.

So what's the answer? When I try to finish the sentence "I'm happiest when..." I can't come up with a great answer, at least not an honest one. What that tells me is that I really am depressed right now because I know that I have several aspects of my life that I ordinarily do enjoy a great deal. Over the past few weeks or months, those aspects have been far less enjoyable. Nothing has changed externally, apart from the P&G thing, so I can't find any other reason than that to blame for my lack of interest in life.

I guess all I can do is hope that by traveling within my own head I have found a clue as to what is causing me to withdraw. Today, I am making a concerted effort to take greater pleasure in my daily activities. I do think that my mood has improved today, to a degree at least, and I am noticing myself being a bit happier (I guess that's the right word). I know they make pills for people who are going through what I am right now; several members of my family are on them. I don't want to join their ranks. I want to feel better, but I want to do so on my own. Hopefully, this writing I have done here will be a step in the right direction. Maybe by getting it out of my head in on to a screen, I'll be able to break out of my funk and get back to being me.

Because as much as I do have flaws, I know I'm not unhappy with my life. It just looks like I am and it feels like I am. I'll do my best to change the way it looks and hopefully I'll be changing the way I feel at the same time. I'm sorry I can't explain it better, baby, but I do love you and the kids more than I've been able to show. I know there's a problem. I hope I can find the answer. Stick with me.

On LeBron and the Finals

Look, I'm not really a basketball guy, and especially not an NBA guy, but the playoffs generally find me at least catching some of many of the games. I also live in Ohio, so I'm in the midst of all the anti-LeBron venom that spews from these parts. I will say, however, that almost none of the people I associate with seem to be all that upset with him. In my estimation, those people you see on ESPN, being interviewed by Mark Schwartz while scarfing down their food at the Winking Lizard, are not representative of the general feelings of Ohioans. But I suppose if I were being interviewd for a SportsCenter piece, I might play up my feelings just a bit as well. There's your 15 minutes, people, enjoy it.

Now, I'm not saying that I am a LeBron fan in any way. I never have been, nor ever will I be. For starters, I despise all sports teams in Ohio, so disliking him (and the Cavs) was natural for me. Yes, the guy is gifted, but so are Kobe Bryant, Tim Duncan, Deron Williams, Blake Griffin, etc. I don't like those guys, either. I am a fan, and as such I am irrational in my likes and dislikes of certain players for no given reason. It could be because they play for a team that once tormented my favorite squad, or that they went to a college I don't root for, or whatever. LeBron falls on the side of dislike. The Decision didn't change that for me. For the record, I do like Dewayne Wade and Chris Bosh, just not LeBron (or Mike Miller, or Udonis Haslem).

So while I was pulling for the Mavericks, one might assume it was because I don't like LeBron, but that's just not the case. I was pulling for Dallas because I love Mark Cuban as an owner, I think Rick Carlisle got a raw deal with the Pistons and is a better coach than he gets credit for, and I like seeing players finally get that ring.

Look at Jason Kidd in particular. Kidd is 38 years old and is a shell of his former self athletically. He plays very little defense, but he's become a very good 3-point shooter (people forget that teams used to dare him to shoot, leaving him wide-open all the time) and is still one of the best at running a team on the floor. Kidd has been to the Finals twice before and come up empty, but he is a future Hall-of-Famer, and a lot of guys would have retired by now rather than play on at less than the player he once was. That he finally gets a ring (and played a major role in doing so) resonates with me.

In addition to Kidd (who, for the record, I never liked, but always respected), guys like Dirk Nowitzki, Tyson Chandler, and Jason Terry have long been favorites of mine. Seeing this collection of grizzled veterans and former play-off failures come together and win a ring was a good story. That it came against the Heat, with their pre-season championship celebration, does give it a little extra something as well, I won't lie. When you start talking about winning "not five, not six, not seven" championships before you've even suited up for your first practice, I take a little extra satisfaction when you fail. Being confident is one thing, being over-the-top cocky is another. Win first, then talk.

I'm a realist I think. I fully expect that LeBron and the Heat will win their title, probably multiple titles, and soon. But knowing that for the next 12 months, LeBron will have to hear about it, will have to live with the weight of the world on his shoulders, well, as much as it makes me a bad person, I kinda enjoy that.

You know what really brought up all the venom for me? "I'm taking my talents to South Beach." He couldn't have said "I'm joining the Miami Heat"? Nope. He decided to show his arrogance to the world and when you do that, you'd better be able to back it up. In the biggest moments of games he called the biggest of his life, James didn't want any part of the spotlight. You cannot have it both ways. You can't demand the spotlight off the court and pronounce yourself a King and then shrink away when it's time for you to reign. That's what he did and until he is able to rise to the moment instead of running from it, the Heat will be in trouble.

Remembering Charlie Tuna

I got word the other day that a fellow I knew when I was in college had passed away. His name was Charles Sittnick, but everyone knew him as Charlie Tuna.

I first met Charlie when I was a bit of an immature kid. I was two years out of high school and struggling to do enough to stay enrolled in college at Bowling Green State University. Motivation is something I have had battles with throughout my life and the summer of 1998 was probably my most lazy. I had lost my job working for the school when I failed to show up a few times (can't really blame them, can ya?) and spent the rest of the summer bumming around and living off hand-outs from my Dad. Not that he was giving me much, but then he didn't know I was unemployed either. I had paid my rent for the summer in advance, so I really didn't have many bills. When August rolled around and I had to get a job (a new lease was starting and I had to pay rent again), I walked into a restaurant called Frickers and filled out an application. I was hired on the spot and began work within a few days.

The restaurant, if you're not familiar, is a wing joint, not unlike a Hooters, but without the skimpy outfits for the serving staff. If you've worked in a kitchen, especially in August, you know how hot and dirty and smelly the work is, but it was also a lot of fun and I made friends there that have proven to be the best friends of my life. Shortly after starting at Frickers, I was given a role where I would work lunch shifts in the kitchen. I worked side-by-side with Charlie Tuna.

Charlie was a free spirit if I've ever met one. He never had a harsh word for anyone, no matter the situation, and never got rattled by the fast-paced, high-pressure environment of the kitchen. I won't say that I always enjoyed working with him, but I will say that he made me a better cook and taught me to do what it takes to get the job done. He did this without any hands-on instruction though; he did it because Charlie would disappear for 10-15 minute stretches in the middle of the lunch rush. Considering that it was usually only him and I on the line, this meant I had the whole lunch shift basically by myself. There were many times that his flightiness upset me, but as I look back on those days now, I really can't fault him. Charlie wasn't hiding in the back or sneaking a smoke break, he was out in the dining room, chatting with friends of his. And if you ever met Charlie, you were his friend as far as he was concerned.

After Charlie left Frickers, he caught on as a doorman and floor-walker at Howard's Club H, a popular live music bar downtown. For the next decade, whenever I would walk into Howard's, Charlie would greet me with a smile, a hug, and usually a free cover charge. I saw his band play a few times and Charlie was a talented musician who showed the same personality on stage that he did off of it. He just loved people and being around them. It didn't matter that he was at least twice as old as the people he was around, Charlie was at home in the crowd, and always happy to be there.

I was born and raised in Lima, Ohio before moving up to BG for college, but I still consider Bowling Green to be my hometown, because that's where I really "grew up." Your parents, if you're lucky, will give you the basic tools to tackle life, but until you step out on your own and make your own mistakes and learn how to pull yourself up from those mistakes, you don't learn how to live. I have never been one who fully embraces my fellow man. I'm generally bitter, pessimistic, and sarcastic. Charlie was none of those things. He was a man who, in a decade, I never saw in a bad mood. I can't go 10 minutes without losing my patience, let alone 10 years.

We would all do better to look at life through Charlie's eyes a bit more often. I know I would.

Rest in Peace Charlie Tuna, you touched many more lives than you'll ever know. And you will be missed.

What Most Don't Understand About Being a Blogger

In my capacity as MLB Director of Development for the Fansided Network, I deal with writers in all fashions. I'm basically in charge of scouting and recruiting new staff and I also have final say over which writers are hired and which ones are not. My "job" requires me to read writing samples to determine who makes the grade.

Now, I don't pretend to be an expert in all things writing or all things baseball, but I do feel that with my background being what it is, I have a good handle on what to look for in a successful blogger. You have no idea how many applicants get rejected out-of-hand simply because they didn't take the time to spell check their initial email to us. One thing you cannot do as a blogger is have silly, avoidable, errors. The way I see it, there are a handful of "deadly sins" of blogging and things like mis-using certain words (sit/set, they're/their/there, too/to) are a quick way to wind up writing at Bleacher Report.

More than that though, what bothers me is the "writers" who assume because they know about their favorite team, properly using the English language shouldn't matter. People, they are called "sportsWRITERS" and as such, you should expect that one of the two requirements will be writing clearly and effectively. I even had one guy plagiarize his writing sample that he sent me. I only caught it because I had happened to read the article he ripped off about three hours earlier on MLB.com. Needless to say he didn't get the job.

But you know what my biggest pet peeve is with many writers? It's the unreasonable expectations they have that their work not only deserves monetary compensation, but that the money should be good enough that they can live off of it. Seriously.

I work for one of the most aggressive sports networks in the world in terms of how we compensate our staff. Instead of a flat rate, our lead staff earn a split (50/50) of all the advertising revenue from their site. I can tell you with certainty that my haul each month is on par or better than what the guys at SBNation are making each month, and their traffic is something like 10 times what mine is. But SBNation pays a flat rate and Fansided doesn't. The result is that I make more money per visitor. That said, the money I make is usually enough to take my family out to dinner once or twice a month. No one is getting rich here.

There are literally millions of blogs in the world but only a small handful of the people who write them earn any money at all for doing so. Now, you can look at it like the Network is getting rich by using someone else's work, but you have to remember what the Network is providing to its staff. Web hosting, domain fees, site design, graphic design, technical support, not to mention accounting and legal fees associated with running the business; all of this is provided at no charge to our staff and all of it is paid for via the network's share on the revenue. Sure, you can go start a free blog on Blogger or Wordpress, but you don't get access to the resources of the Fansided (or SBN or whatever) network that can and do bring visitors to your door. You go try to get your .blogspot site accepted to Google News. Good luck with that one. But with a network, you get free exposure that sometimes can lead to bigger opportunities down the road. Though Fansided has been around for only about four years now, we have had more than a couple of our writers be offered full-time, paid, writing jobs. I just don't see many guys getting that call without being exposed to hundreds of thousands of readers.

The hard facts of blogging are this: it's more work than you think it is, it's done for little to no money at all, and it probably will never lead you anywhere in terms of a career. What I have found is that so long as you are doing it for the right reasons, blogging can be very rewarding.

When I took the gig at MCB, I had been with another network and I had been an independent blogger. I was writing for free, but I was writing because I had something to say. When Fansided approached me, they mentioned their revenue sharing deal and we discussed the rather small amount of money I could expect to make (my first revenue sharing payment covered three months and totaled $27). But I knew that the network afforded me things in terms of the back-end stuff that I was having trouble handling on my own (and I had been paying for), and that ultimately, I could reach a much larger audience with them than I ever could without.

As I told my wife at the time, "I was writing for free anyway, if this deal buys me a pizza every now and then, that's a bonus." That's an attitude I have tried to maintain throughout my tenure with Fansided.

Being a writer is not unlike being a musician or an artist. The likelihood that you'll ever earn a living with any of them is very small, but it's done because there is a draw to the creative outlet the mind needs. The written word is still a powerful thing and one that must be handled with responsibility and respect. Being a baseball writer is about more than baseball. It isn't about knowing what the infield fly rule is or about being able to decipher when exactly a player will achieve Super-Two status. Sure, those things help, but what really matters is being able to express your original thoughts in an original way and engaging the reader. If you can master that, the writing becomes it's own reward.