July 2010

You are two, Mathbaby.

You were reading before you were two, when you were 1.30 years old really. I am very happy with that.

You make great jokes.

When asked what is your name you say, with that cute grin "you" or "her" along with your other names. You will say "mommy, mommy" then get a big grin and say "wife". You discovered that your mathmommy has other names, like wife.

You had a fun birthday party. It was bug-themed. I tried to do a Mariposa Butterfly Fairie theme, but that didn't happen. We had fake butterfly wings .. I hope to someday give you working ones. You have wanted to fly (or be a bird) since you were 3 months old.

You opened two of your presents and were done. I love that you are not materialistic in that way, although you could likely own 20 more blankies and not have enough.

Your Godmother in NM is sick. She might be dying. We will know in a while. If she is doing better, she can meet you. If not we can go to say our goodbyes. She is a truly amazing woman, and the world is a much richer place for her having lived in it. It would be richer if there were a 10 million more people just like her in it. I spent several hours trying, and can not think of a single person that she has ever done wrong by - isn't that amazing. I can think of dozens that might have legit beef with me in the last 12 years, my friend Dave, my sibs, my mom ... I try really hard to do right by everyone but it just doesn't usually work out. I can not think of a single person that she hasn't done right by. Her name is Suzanne, and her husband is Sam.

I can't aspire to be that kind of person, but I hope you both aspire and succeed.

We now go out to the park to fly a kite. I love you mathbaby. Math-toddler now. *sigh*
You grow big so fast!

Good Moments, June 2010

Hello there Mathbaby,

You have gotten bigger. You are almost 2. You have a huge vocabulary. You communicate effectively. You have started inventing games like "hide and seek". Although others invented them, and you are re-inventing the wheel, it is amazing.

Here is a picture of you trying to write. You see your mathmommy and I writing and you want to. Your "squiggles" are amazingly like a script. You have gone through "your baby can read" and you know some words. You write letters, but you do not understand how they make words.

You are an explorer and a thinker

Some of the better moments with you have been:

• Being a "food friend" and exposing you to new, and wonderful tastes. You have more culinary courage than most 10 or 20 year olds that I know.
• having you show me and you to mathmommy with our hands in our pockets. You are so very delighted to have pockets like your mathdad.

I love your sense of humor. You learned that mathmommy and mathdaddy have different names. You will say "mommy, mommy" then smile with your impish grin, and say "wiife" because you hear your mathdad call her that. That same humor made you call yourself "you" for a while. When asked what your name was instead of saying "mathbaby, mini, or cute" you would get that same grin and semi-pause, then say "yoou".

So we are reading "outliers" by Gladwell. How do we maximize your opportunity? How do we match it to your capabilities? How do we teach you to work, as Gladwell says "very (very) hard"? Where should your 10,000 hours go in order to make you a world-class master? What should you be a master of?

I love you and I hope you have a great June.

Love, Mathdad

January 2010

Hey there Baby girl. I love you.

I have this picture as my desktop. I look into your trusting eyes... for a season I have the chance to build up your heart, and ... I work 1200 miles away from you for 5 days a week. I'm wasting this once-in-your-lifetime once-in-my-lifetime chance to be there for you.

I want to be a good daddy for you. Part of it is keeping you in food, shelter, and out of public schools. Public education in the US is a victim of "the brave new world" and the best way to destroy the potential hidden in youth.. in you. They keep you dumb. You pick up all the bad habits of your peers. Those same (dumb) peers take rulership over you as a teen and force you into all sorts of bad habits including hating your parents, education, drugs, promiscuity, ... darkness. *sigh*

Baby I miss you. You don't cry anymore when I leave on the airplane, your eyes just look sad. You are getting used to living without dad. I think that, if it isnt interrupted, that is a precedent that can last a lifetime, and touch a lifetime for the worse.

December 2009

Hey There mathbaby,

You say "beat that" often. I say back "you can't beat that." I delight in you.

Our friends suggest that we record your cute voice, because as you get older it should change. One friend with a teenage daughter says "soo skinny, soo angry!" - it would be sad if you went that way. I hope that I can be properly proud of you as long as you life.

So enough about tomorrow, what happened in december?
You saw horses, (insert picture) and went to zoolights (insert pictures).

You loved the first third of your presents, then didn't want to open any more. You were sad that we made you open the rest - you wanted to play with what you had. You are wiser than the other 330 million Americans who make Christmas a celebration of avarice, and a festival of materialistic greed. In your innocence you put us all to shame and show true greatness. I hope that your heart is

November 2009

Kiddo, you are the best.

We were sick for Thanksgiving, but had a great turkey-day on Saturday this year.

So I said to your mommy "Maybe she isn't feeling good and should have some Tylenol".

You came up to me and asked to be picked up with your "pick me up" hand sign.

You pointed toward the hall and said "Pease" and signed it too. I walked that way.

You pointed into the bathroom and said "Pease, Pease!" and signed it too. I went in and turned on the light.

You pointed at the medicine cabinet and said "Pease" and signed too. I opened it.

You pointed at the bottle of "Tylenol" and said "Pease".

You were a sick and miserable little mathbaby. Your nose was runny, and you were coughing.

We had that cold too. I had muscle soreness from it. You did too.

You were the cutest, most sincere little girl.

And at 17 months you knew what Tylenol was, and where it was kept.

You are so very smart.

I love you little girl. I'm proud of you.

So one of my coworkers says that reading Donald Duck adventures can be great.

I want to try it out on you - her recommendation.

Carl Barks - Donald Duck Adventures - 150 ish pages.

I will try to get some newer pictures of you here.

I love you mathbaby. God has made me one of the richest men in the world - and both you and your mathmommy are my wealth. I love you both, and treasure you both.

Month 16

You were the worlds cutest duckie for All Hallows Eve.

You had a duck-bill hat, and duck feet shoes.

We went to a local mall, and trick or treated at the stores.

They would give stickers, or candy, or high-five you.

You loved all three.

You would ask please in both word and signing please.

In the picture you are holding 2 of your 5 favorite blankies.

All of your blankies are your favorite blankie.

Toward the end you just melted down. You fell asleep in the car, and were the world's cutest sleeping baby girl by the time we got home.

You love playing tag. You love hide and seek.

You engage me less, and I miss it.

You are so desperately hungry to be a big person.

You point to all lights and call them hot.

You are still learning the difference between hot and cold.

I love you baby girl. I am at work and won't be home for a week. I miss you and your math-momma.

You cried when we said goodbye at the airport.

In a little way I long for the unhindered heart in myself that would give me permission to cry like you did. I really feel like it every time I fly away.

There is a horse doctor down the road from us. You are afraid of the big horses, clydesdales, there. You are desperately curious when they are 10+ feet away. Closer than that you grip me hard in terror, but don't quite look away.

Month 15

Hey Mathbaby,

You are asleep in the other room. More fluent in sign, but not as much of an extrovert. I have given you so much other-people that your .. extroversion needs are filled? Are you bored? I'm not an extrovert, but I tried as an act of will to enable what I perceived as yours. I think that has served me somewhat well in this case.

You are working at being a happy, well balanced, baby. You are bright, but you love the things that babies love. You love puppies, birdies, flowers. ...

I was reading books of children's rhymes and realized that if I can be a clever poet, one of my gifts, then I can make math-poems that are easier to retain. As much as its a language for me ... I want it to be an open door for you. Here is hoping it works.

My friend Austyn says that the whole car-strategy could backfire. You could love cars, but not be interested enough in the parts of them that I am for us to have a relevant bridge later on. Mathbaby - my daddy left when I was 11 so I have had a hole in my heart, and life since. I have watched where-ever I am to see what real parents do - both so I can know but also so if I don't get to have it, I can just see what it is that I'm missing out on. Baby - there is such a gap. Many kids who have parents have a hole as big as mine. They don't know it and don't have the advantage of my blatant situation to tell them of the gap. It is a shame. It is a cryin' shame.

I want to be a better daddy, dad, father, hero... to you than my father was to me. That is a really low bar because my dad was more interested in not being around, and was owned by some very unkind addictions. I want to be a better dad to you than the best dad I've ever known or seen. Its a lofty - arguably unattainable - goal.

Part of that is bridges. Connections.

I know you are going to lie to me - indicating in the language of actions that your control of what I perceive is more important to you than the truth, and that you would rather some part of our relationship was founded on a lie. Every kid lies to their parent.

I know you are going to tell me you hate me. Every kid says that too.

We will work through those. We will work around those. They are at the very tip of the crack, the beginning of the break. You serve today in a lack of vision, but do not realize what that does to tomorrow.

Please... there must be some way to connect. There must be something that can bring us together. Like a house - the boards have strength that is stronger than wind or rain - otherwise the house is washed away in the first storm. There must be something, we must find something, that brings us together with a strength that is greater than what so often tries to and successfully does tear families apart.