My Daughter's Father

Home sweet home?

My Daughter's Father — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 23:30:00 GMT

I live roughly 45 miles from Maddie. While it's a heckuva lot better than the 1,100 miles when I lived in Denver, it still isn't close enough — especially for her.

About two years ago, Maddie often talked about me moving in with her. While it was incredibly sweet to hear her talk about us as one big, happy family — the way, I suppose, she sees it and wants it to be — it was also quite funny, and I would share the stories of the different scenarios with her Mom whenever she'd bring it up.

On the drive from picking Maddie up for Thanksgiving last Wednesday night, we passed a string of semis and she asked what was inside. I explained there could be any number of things, from clothes to school supplies to food, that the trucks were moving things from one place to another. I even mentioned they can move people — well, their belongings, anyway.

This seemed to pique her interest and she took the line of questioning further. "Do people ride in the truck?," she asked. I told her no, a moving truck or van would generally meet the homeowners at their destination. And then I made my mistake.

I had noticed, when pulling up to her house earlier in the evening, the neighbors next door had their house up for sale.

As an example, I told Maddie if I were moving into the house next door, the movers would load up my furniture, etc., I would tell them where my new home was, and then I would drive the Jeep and meet them there.

The subject changed entirely.

Maddie told me that, in fact, the next door neighbor was moving and that I could move in if I wanted to. "You'll have to wait until they move out," she explained, "but then you can feel free to move there!"

I chuckled to myself. "Feel free." How do 7-year-olds learn to talk like that?

She went on about how great it would be for me to live next door, that we could see each other every day. Anytime I wanted to see her, I could just walk over. It wouldn't take very long.

"There's just one thing," she added.

"What's that?"

"I'll have to tell my Mom."

Indeed.

Holiday Haggling: Sometimes things fall into place

My Daughter's Father — Tue, 25 Nov 2008 21:45:00 GMT

There are few things I loathe more during the holidays than hustling about, rushing from one family scene to another, inhaling an endless stream of lunches and dinners while tacitly acknowledging my loved ones as I excuse myself and race on to the next culinary pit stop.

Though my folks divorced when I was seven, I still remember this time of year as a time to relax, play and enjoy my time with my family. And, of course, eat until I can't move. Save that last bit, it isn't quite the same anymore.

This Thanksgiving, Maddie and I have been given a reprieve. Her Mom called to let me know they're staving off the madness until the weekend.

I'd geared up with anxiety over how things would play out Thursday; rarely is it this easy. Of course, I get Maddie often — that is, often for a single father. And having her in my home is my joy.

But my heart is filled and I am warmed when, together, we visit our family, when she gets to run and play with her cousins, when her aunts and uncles and grandparents and great-grandparents get to love on her and ask her about school and, well, just be together.

It's going to be a good holiday.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Holiday Haggling

My Daughter's Father — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 18:04:00 GMT

It's that time of the year. Not the decking of halls and spiking egg nog and turkey hangover time, though that certainly is upon us.

No, now is the time for that wonderful holiday tradition of bartering with Maddie's Mom for time with my daughter.

It has become an annual rite of passage, one that invariably brings about some level of animus and always heartache, the latter usually exclusively mine.

Of course, almost all families have to deal with this; few of us are so fortunate as to have everyone centrally located.

But Maddie's holiday visits stretch nearly 250 miles through five cities. She doesn't travel that much in a single day, but even over the course of a long weekend, that's a lot. One of the many things I cannot stand about Maddie growing up in a split family is how much time she spends in the car.

A major tenet, I've learned, of the single father is compromise. Not the kind where Mom gives up something and I respond in kind, but the variant of compromise where she tells me how things are going to be and I can either get upset and argue, which gets me exactly nowhere, or I can give up the argument and bend over the barrel, 'cause that's where I'm going to end up, anyway.

Maddie's Mom, I must say, isn't a complete hardass with me. We get along now better than I ever imagined we would, especially given how we really feel about each other, and our ability to get along for Maddie's sake is likely our greatest victory. That there were very few to begin with doesn't diminish it.

But she is also very comfortable in her position of power. She knows she holds all the cards and plays them when it suits her.

Thanksgiving dinner shouldn't be too much trouble this year, other than Maddie having to travel a lot.

It's Christmas that always causes problems. Maddie, per Mom's suggestion, believes Santa only visits her Mom's house. And until Maddie ceases to believe in Santa, she won't be awakening in my home Christmas morn.

Maddie will be 8 in January, so I'm hopeful this year will be the last.

Maddie's grown up decision

My Daughter's Father — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:37:00 GMT

One of the more difficult aspects of parenting, I've found, is helping Maddie appreciate all her blessings.

The girl wants for nothing. Every Christmas is a lottery jackpot; you'd think Santa tired as he reached her tree and decided to just leave the whole bag. Her Mom told me last year that she was rewrapping a couple gifts from the previous holiday she found that still had tags.

Despite her overflowing closets at her Mom's and my house, Maddie persists in asking for a new toy every time we go to a store, which, I suppose, is any child's wont. Mind you, she never gives me any grief when I tell her "no" - as far as I can remember, she's never thrown a fit for not getting something she wanted.

Maddie had some scratch from her last visit from the tooth fairy, and her Mom asked that I take her to the store this past weekend so she could spend it. As we were walking to the Jeep, her step-dad acknowledged Maddie has a hard time saving.

Ah, an opportunity.

Maddie's really big on the Littlest Pet Shop toys and took a long time deliberating over which one she wanted when we went to the store later that night. I suggested she could hang on to the money and after she got some more money down the road, she could put it all together and get something then.

She went with the pony.

On our drive home from the store, Maddie asked what I thought about her choice. I told her I thought she should have saved her money, that she already has a lot of the Pet Shop toys and there was surely something bigger and more expensive that she'd want down the road and that saving her money would help her get it.

The girl agonized for hours. I could tell it was really weighing on her - oh, the stress of being 7 - and I asked her every once in awhile what she was thinking about.

"It's a really hard decision," she told me.

Finally, Maddie decided to return the toy and save her money for another day. This was a big step. For a child to sacrifice immediate gratification - something with which even adults have tremendous difficulty - to do something responsible and sensible is a great moment of maturation.

I was so impressed.

On the phone with Maddie

My Daughter's Father — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 04:08:00 GMT

As the father of a child who doesn't live with me, one of my favorite parts of the day is catching Maddie on the phone and talking about her day. It isn't always fun — sometimes she doesn't feel like chatting, and there are days when getting any information out of her is like pulling teeth.

Tonight was a good night.

After discussing math class and what she had for dinner and movie night at school tomorrow night — where she'll see Kung Fu Panda for the second time — we got into more serious matters.

Maddie has, for some time now, been taking increasingly bolder steps in experimenting with her sense of independence. She has her own room at my house and about a year ago decided to affix to her door a note requiring any comers to knock. When I bypassed protocol one afternoon, my exasperated 6-year-old exclaimed, "Well, I guess my sign doesn't work!"

Last Christmas I bought for her a door bell which hangs from the knob and has a small dry erase board on which to write notes. And I've made a greater effort to respect her privacy; I hope in doing so I provide for her an example of how to respect others.

On the phone tonight, Maddie told me she had created a new sign for her door at her Mom's house. She read the sign to me:

"Warning: Don't come in 'til you knock! If you are a boy and don't knock, you are in trouble, Mister. Don't think about it!"

What a riot!

Sharing history with Maddie

My Daughter's Father — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 03:52:00 GMT

It's an amazing time to be an American and the father of a young child.

As a journalist, I have an insatiable appetite for information and spend copious amounts of time consuming it. What's worse, I'm a big time politics junkie. I can't begin to imagine how much time I devoted to the election, both in following it and being a part of it. And I've relished every minute.

The best part, though, has been bringing Maddie into it, explaining to her why this is such a big deal and helping her understand why democracy is such a vital part of our great country.

It has been difficult. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to try to explain why the possibility of a black man becoming president was such a transformative concept for the U.S., given our history of slavery and segregation.

We were driving home (in the Jeep, go figure) when I started into the conversation, and I quickly found myself stumbling. I couldn't figure out how to describe slavery so a 7-year-old would comprehend. And, more importantly, I started to worry about how she'd react. Maddie's an incredibly sensitive girl, and I felt it would be hurtful and upsetting to her. So, I stopped.

I spoke with my brother last week and explained my conundrum. He, having recently married a woman whose son is just a couple months older than Maddie, had the same discussion with him recently. He had explained that there was a time when blacks were forced to work for whites, but they didn't get paid. "That sucks" was the boy's response. Quick and easy, and he got it … essentially.

A day to remember

We have early voting here in Indiana, so I took Maddie with me to vote the Saturday before the election. The line was about and hour and a half, but I brought my laptop and she watched Ratatouille with another little girl while we waited.

It was a great moment. I took Maddie in the booth with me and showed her how the machine worked; we selected our candidates, and she pushed the red button to cast our ballot. She seemed pretty excited about it, and I hope it's a day that stays with her forever.

Detailing our country's at-times sordid past can wait for another day. For now, I'm just thrilled that Maddie will grow up having no idea why a black president is out of the ordinary.

Can't win for losing

My Daughter's Father — Mon, 20 Oct 2008 19:53:00 GMT

The day Maddie's Mom and I decided we just could not go any further, the day we amicably agreed — one of the few times that ever happened — it was in Maddie's and our best interest to separate, was the first day from which I was always going to lose.

I would give nearly anything to have Maddie live with me. "Nearly" because the one exceedingly narrow avenue I had to wrest my daughter from her Mom was one I could never go down: A custody battle. I knew from that first day the only way to ensure my daughter's happiness and the peace between her Mom and me was to be amenable to Mom's policy dictation.

Clearly, duking it out to have Maddie would only serve to cement alienation and hostility, and that was a price I simply could not afford to pay. I remember the nastiness between my folks, mostly from my father, when they divorced — I was 7 — and the indelible mark it left on me not only forged how I feel about them, but also surely helped set the course that led to the unhealthy relationship I had with Maddie's Mom.

I could not do that to Maddie. She was only 2 when we split; she doesn't remember any of the animosity between her parents, and on the rare occasion there is some now, it never happens in front of her. She is the happiest, most well-adjusted kid I know, and I'm certain that would not be the case had I opted for the other path.

That doesn't mean I'm happy. This sucks. This hurts in ways I could have never imagined. Despite witnessing my folk's divorce, I never learned about the agonizing sense of loss — my brother and I were not our father's priority.

Since Maddie and I usually just get weekends together, it's often play time. That's great, and we always have fun together, but it also means that we aren't interacting in ways we would if we lived together. I'm usually not making her clean her room or do her homework or the other things that Dads do. I have done some of that lately, but it steals from me the little bit of time I get to spend with her. Even when we are together, I feel like I'm losing with her.

I try to maintain perspective, though it isn't easy to do. This situation, this life I've carved out for us, isn't right, and no amount of rationalizing and putting a happy face on it is going to get back all the moments I know I've missed, I know I'm missing right now. Because Maddie isn't here.

MDF: At long last, back to our story

My Daughter's Father — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 22:11:00 GMT

This post has been an extremely long time in coming. I’ve opined and gone on work-related tangents for the last couple of months and have completely lost sight of why I began writing here in the first place. Thus, I've included an excerpt from my original post as prelude to refresh the memory. For my newer readers, the post about meeting and falling for Maddie's Mom will explain a lot.

And, of course, thanks for reading.

I've wanted children as long as I can remember. Okay, since I was about 12, but really, when you start wanting to have your own child at such an early age, isn't it essentially a lifetime? I had been especially drawn to babies, in a nurturing, loving way that I couldn't explain nor understand then, though I now recognize as vicariism, a catharsis for that which I lacked as a child.

But when Maddie's Mom called, crying, to tell me I was going to be a father, it wasn't the joyous occasion of which I had dreamt.

Mom (I'd prefer not to name her, so Mom will have to suffice) and I had, at that time, been dating for about three years, which was probably about two years too long. We met in college and had a lot of fun times together, but trust and honesty issues plagued our relationship and dug a hole from which we could never recover.

I was interning in New Orleans when the news came; Mom was back in Indiana. Our relationship was in disrepair when I left for the South, and had we not gotten pregnant, I'm certain we would have broken up that summer.

Now, on with our story ...

Maddie’s Mom and I had an on-again, off-again relationship for, well, nearly the whole time we were together. The overwhelming force of our attraction to each other created a passion we could not wield, and it would inevitably lead to our undoing.

To say I mishandled most things regarding our pregnancy would be a gross understatement; in a land of fools, I reigned supreme. It’s stunning the mistakes I could make when my immaturity, insecurity and selfishness collided with one of the biggest moments in my life.

I didn’t trust her, and I’m sure she didn’t trust me. When I left for New Orleans in May 2000, I was fairly certain it would be the end of us. Going away for three months and becoming subsumed in a different life would have made it far easier for me to cut the tether and free us from the ridiculousness that often defined our love affair.

So, when she told me she was pregnant, I did what any loathsome *** would: I questioned whether I was the father.

Yeah … let that sink in for a minute.

Understand, I wasn’t seeking to walk away from her or my child. I had wanted to become a father for as long as I could remember, and there was never one second that I felt anxious or scared about having a baby, even with her, despite all that was wrong about us.

The insecurity and mistrust in our relationship had simply become undeniable parts of our dynamic, things that we could not put away. Questioning her was not so much a willful act but an uncontrollable certainty. And she saw it coming.

And that christened our journey into parenthood.

Juvenile industry largesse: A brief rant

My Daughter's Father — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 00:58:00 GMT

We've progressed in society; it's now perfectly acceptable that our children take a back seat to how we feel our personal desires and sense of self are being met.

Perhaps I'm naive. I wasn't born with a silver spoon dangling from my lips, and I was never used by my folks as a living display of their brilliant fashion sense.

Which is why I don't get some of the ridiculously overpriced and completely unnecessary products at the ABC Kids Expo in Las Vegas. I appreciate free enterprise and the great innovations that spring from folks trying to make their way, but come on.

The most egregious of these was a new company that designs fashionable baby blankets, ostensibly to show friends and passers-by how hip and trendy Mommy is. Balloons and bunnies and teddy bears lost out to garish, sparkling paisley print. Soft cotton, the bedrock of swaddling since before the manger, has given way to silk brocade.

And you can engender a budding lack of self-esteem in your baby for a mere $180.

The company's site states the blankets were created with "today's fashion-conscious mother and baby" in mind and appeal to "moms who only want the best for their stylish babies."

Fashion-conscious babies. Thank God Maddie missed out on that stage.

Some "It's about time" innovations highlight Kids Expo

My Daughter's Father — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 23:26:00 GMT

Ever see something new for parents and think to yourself, "Why on earth wasn't that around when my kids were little?"

The ABC Kids Expo showcased several hundred vendors selling just about everything you could imagine - and some things you shouldn't. I mean, I'm certain they're wonderful, but there's something odd about a mannequin gazing intently into her laptop while strapped into a hands-free breast pump.

Understand, I didn't have the time or opportunity to see every booth at the convention; I'm sure there were plenty of other amazing contraptions I missed out on. And, I'm not an aficionado on all things baby; something similar to this product may be out there already, but I haven't seen it.

Why didn't they think of this before?

One of the most frustrating aspects of traveling with Maddie when she was a baby was trying to get her and her seat in the back of the car. It can be a contortionistic nightmare, and I'd often wind up with a rain-soaked backside.

Orbit Baby, Inc. has come up with something so obvious, the entire baby seat industry should be rifling through the 'fridge for a V8. The concept is simple ... and genius.

They've created a car seat-stroller combination that utilizes a rotating dock. The car seat base, with a metal docking ring, is "permanently" secured in the back of your car. The car seat, with a mounting ring underneath, can be set in place with the baby facing you. Once secured, you simply swivel the car seat to face the front or back. See a video on the Orbit Baby system in the media player here.

I didn't actually pick up the seat; I'm guessing it has more weight to it than your average Graco. But the incredible ease of use, in my opinion, more than makes up for a couple extra pounds. Since the stroller carriage also has a docking ring, you can literally pick the seat up from one dock and plop it on another.

If I'm fortunate enough to have another child, this is at the top of the baby shower list.

Now, if they'd only invent something to pick up the pacifier from the floorboard ...

ABC Kids Expo not my normal convention experience

My Daughter's Father — Mon, 29 Sep 2008 00:51:00 GMT

The ABC Kids Expo in Las Vegas was a completely new thing for me. For one, I'd never been to Las Vegas. And while I've been to major conventions before, they were "guy" shows - guns and cars.

The woman-to-man ratio was completely reversed from my previous convention experience (a fact about which I do not complain). Of course, the wares at a juvenile industry expo are geared for safety, but the conventioneers are far more deadly than their gun show counterparts.

For gun and car shows, booths are usually manned by guys in their mid-40s to 50s, graying, hairy, with beer guts covered in black shirts. They eye everyone suspiciously and will get their crack-back butts out of their disintegrating foldout lawn chairs only if they're certain you're going to buy. Every stall has a TV and they're usually tuned to something akin to Walker, Texas Ranger.

At ABC, it was a bit different. I've been a lot of places, seen a few things. I've been to the rodeo a time or two. And I've never been surrounded by so many attractive women. And they were sharks. You could not walk an aisle without someone darn near dragging you into her booth and turning you into a Kool Aid-drinking believer.

That's makes for a difficult time when you're working the show and can't spend time with everyone who tries to catch your attention. It got to a point where I would, at times, either show a tunnel vision intensity, or pretend to peruse, well, something in order to assure my assailants I could not be disturbed.

ABC conventioneers really were fantastic. The booths were, nearly by rule, pretty and inviting. These folks have their routine down and they do it very well. There were several times that I was snagged by someone when I really didn't want to stop and, upon taking a look at their get up, acquiesced and was surprised by how well they could sell - and often surprised by how some products sold themselves.

Case in point: Bruz Wear. These folks have put together something so obvious, it's amazing no one's ever done it before. And maybe they have; I just haven't seen it.

Bruz Wear, conceived because one of the creators' kids has a blood disorder that prevents clotting, is kids' clothing designed with padding in the areas kids most often hurt themselves when playing, especially the knees. The protective threads are also cute and, I suppose, fashionable - the padding look like patches.

When the Bruz Wear rep asked me to come check them out, I wasn't expecting much. I was so impressed with their line, though, I encouraged Babytv.com to do an editorial piece on them. You can find that video in the media player here.

I might not have been so easily persuaded were it not for the fact Maddie's legs tend to look as if her Mom and I have been beating her with ratan. It's almost as if jumping on her knees and shins makes her feel good. I cringe everytime she wears shorts and dresses and practically beg her to stop, well, whatever it is she's doing. She gets a kick out of it all.

Crossing the child threshold

My Daughter's Father — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 02:50:00 GMT

I love picking Maddie up. Whether it’s been a few days or four weeks – as was the case when I finally got to see her this past Friday – I’m always eager for that moment when she runs to me, jumps into my arms, and squeezes the life out of me.

And I love the car ride home.

As I’ve said before, many a probing and deep conversation has been had in the Jeep during the commute from Noblesville to Muncie … or any drive, for that matter. Catching her at the tail end of a full week of second grade brings, obviously, a lot of decompressing, and far more pontificating than I would have expected … before I became my daughter’s father.

This Friday’s conversation was one I’ve been waiting on for awhile. I wrote on it recently and had a feeling this might be the year the ‘fairies’ of Maddie’s life might fall away.

As we walked to the Jeep after several minutes of hugs and kisses, Maddie showed off her most recent loose tooth. I teased her about getting it out, using anything from twine to pliers to popping her in the mouth (yes, Dad can joke about that in a way that makes her laugh her butt off), but she was having none of it.

Then that watershed moment happened: Maddie floated the idea that maybe, just maybe, there isn’t a Tooth Fairy after all. I sat quietly, a huge grin stretching across my face, and listened as Maddie worked it out in her head. "How can the fairy carry money when the money’s bigger?," she asked. And the tooth? "The tooth is as big as the fairy," she said. “It’s true.”

I love listening to her mind work. Apparently she and a friend (or several friends, I wasn’t quite sure), had discussed the veracity of the Tooth Fairy, and they had come to, well, not quite a consensus, but very close to the decision that it probably doesn’t exist.

What’s more, she didn’t pull me into it. Didn’t even ask. Perhaps these are things only peers can understand.

They say the darnedest things.

As we cruised up I69 on our way home, Maddie gave me a rundown of her soccer schedule the next few weeks. One is October 4, very close to Halloween, she thought. I explained that, no, Halloween isn’t until the end of the month. Didn’t mention the date.

“Wow, that’s 27 days!,” she blurted.

We sat silently for about five or six seconds, both thinking the same thing, though I didn’t realize it until what she said next.

With sincere incredulity, Maddie exclaimed, “How did I know that?!” I laughed, and she laughed, and I complimented her on being smarter than she even knew.

And I realized what remarkable new terrain we’re on. Maddie’s always been smart, but she’s crossed the Rubicon, she’s made that amazing leap from having to always work hard to learn and understand to the point where her brain works for her.

It’s fascinating to be a part of her life, to hopefully help her grow, but also so incredibly satisfying to witness her taking all the pieces that have been provided and put them together in ways that make sense to her and allow her to make sense of those things she doesn’t already understand.

It’s also raised the bar for me. It’s a challenge I relish.

I know I promised ABC Kids Expo posts – and they are coming, along with video posts on Babytv.com – but I hope you understand I was excited to tell this story. Expo stories to come.

And, as I always feel, thanks for reading.

For Kid Conventioneers, it's Las Vegas, baby!

My Daughter's Father — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 14:55:00 GMT

I don't know about you, but the first thing I think when I hear Las Vegas is biodegradable burp cloths.

At least, that's what's in my sleep now — whirring and beeping Cherry Masters belching ecofriendly diapers.

That'll happen when your first trip ever to Las Vegas is spent mostly on the floor of the ABC Kids Expo, the "Juvenile Industry event of the year," as it's touted on their Web site.

When your convention covers nearly three quarters of a million square feet in the LV Convention Center South Hall, that claim — hopefully — is not as hubristic as it may seem.

The Babytv.com crew and I descended into the 110º sauna for days of talking, selling, interviewing, video shooting, glad-handing and grab-assing … and that was just to get a shuttle from the airport.

Over the next couple of posts, I'll try to relate, to the best of my cloudy recollection, some of the simple solutions, amazing innovations, and downright ridiculous largesse that comprise a national convention aimed at helping you be the smartest, greenest, bestest parent you can be.

Okay, they want to move product. But it's still pretty interesting stuff.

Mothers, I need some perspective

My Daughter's Father — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 12:54:00 GMT

I am the father of an intelligent, funny, charming … just beautiful in every way 7-year-old girl.

Her happiness is everything to me and I will do all within my power to raise her so that she is never impeded by man-made obstacles (pun intended), so she knows no "glass ceiling" which would prevent her from fulfilling her dreams.

I'm also a complete sociopolitical geek. I spent last week in Denver and I'm probably the only person who asked to get my picture taken with Gloria Allred.

I'm happy for the Republican party that they've made it to the 20th century and chosen Sarah Palin to join in on the campaign for the White House. But I'm also realistic, and I see this for what it is — a transparently desperate and cynical attempt to reach out to those ardent Hillary Clinton supporters still struggling to accept her defeat and reluctant to throw their support behind Barack Obama.

This seems to me incredibly insulting to Democratic women, suggesting their concerns regarding the leaders of our country are based on plumbing ahead of issues. What's more, despite the stable of venerable women in his party, John McCain chose the beauty pageant contestant, a woman who is so far off the political radar that she's literally near Siberia.

Watching Rudy "Noun-verb-9/11" Giulliani Wednesday night, it's almost hilarious to listen him feign disgust with the news media, as if legitimately questioning Palin's dearth of bona fides is evidence of sexism. Where was his outrage when a man, I'd assume a Republican, held a sign at a Clinton speech which read, "Iron my shirt."? Where, Rudy, were you when McCain laughed at a man asking, "How are we going to beat the b****?"

I believe this is a terrible miscalculation on McCain's part, and he may lose more women than gain from it. Clinton's supporters want a woman in the White House, but they want their woman. They're unlikely to help an incredibly unqualified Republican whose values are anathema to their own pioneer this last leg into the "boys club."

(An aside: I must admit I have a profound new respect for Cindy McCain. Her introductory bio last night revealed a depth and humanity I had not expected. Good for you, Cindy Lou.)

I'm all for Dads staying home with the kids. If I didn't live in a state where mothers aren't completely assured of custody — and if I were willing to create an untenable level of friction between Maddie's Mom and me — I would have done all I could to have my daughter with me every day. Those who know me know I've given up a great deal for her.

But I was completely floored today when I heard CNN's Soledad O'Brien actually ask, "How can they tell her to put her family first and not go for the vice presidency?"

Umm … what?!

Maybe I'm too old fashioned, but I can't even believe someone, especially a woman, would ask such an absurd question, let alone even think it. I realize, and fully support, that all woman want their own success, that they want to pursue their own dreams and endeavors beyond family, beyond motherhood. But perhaps history has passed me by; I thought there was nothing more sacrosanct to a mother than being a mother.

So please, mothers, help me with this. Am I way off base? Is this where we are in society, where mothers are now expected to cast aside their families in pursuit of a "greater calling?"

The Olympics: Can't always love them

My Daughter's Father — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 21:45:00 GMT

Note: I do apologize for my absence these last two weeks … if, of course, you’ve noticed. I spent last week in Denver for the DNC, and I’ll have plenty to blog about that soon. I wrote this post a little while back; I hope it doesn’t bother anyone to take a step or two back before pushing forward.

As the worldwide games have drawn to a close, and tests and examinations of birth certificates and such draw out potential cheaters from the pantheon of champions, I'm reminded of the unknowns in competition, the things beyond a competitor's control that might eventually lead me to discourage Maddie from certain arenas of sport.

I refer to judged competition: Gymnastics, figure skating, synchronized water dancing (which on its face is ridiculous, but is very enjoyable to watch) and the like. Things that aren't decided on the field, but by a cohort of funny-colored jacket wearing "experts" schooled in the art of scoring a triple Salchow.

Of course, even in sports where the winner should be obvious — Phelps touches before Cavic, case closed — officials can weigh in on the matter. The most obvious of these offenses to the spirit of the games is the gold medal tilt in Munich '72 between the United States and Russia, where the USSR was afforded as many do-overs as it required to score the last basket and steal victory from the American hoops squad.

In fact, that is the only egregious example I can produce in a non-judged sport, though I suppose there are others.

I can stomach cheating competitors, if only because their transgressions invariably come to light and they tend to live their final days in ignominy. Marion Jones and Ben Johnson eventually lost their medals, and though the record books currently place Hank Aaron second, I've little doubt many ardent baseball fans view Barry Bonds as the true home run king.

He Kexin, too, could possibly lose her gymnastics crown.

My fear, though, is that Maddie could devote herself to one of these sports of beauty and grace, only to have her greatest athletic moment ripped from her hands, and her heart, by some fool too ignorant or biased to dole out a proper score.

Now, I'm not saying I envisage Maddie as a 2016 Olympian. I'm just sayin'.

I'm no gymnastics connoisseur, but I know failure when I see it. The vault competition between Alicia Sacramone and Cheng Fei was one of the two most ridiculous examples of judging injustice in these latest games, the other being the uneven bars debacle that should have awarded golds to both Nastia Liukin and Kexin instead of resorting to a convoluted and absurd tie-breaker system that would just as fairly be done by a coin flip.

In the vault, Sacramone, though not flawless in her execution, stuck her landing. Fei took her turn and, with her first attempt, landed on her knees! If you missed it, I'll let you take a guess at who took finished ahead.

I have great respect for Sacramone and Liukin. They were both screwed in favor of the Chinese and still comported themselves with dignity and honor, representing their country far better in defeat than many do in victory.

But I'd far rather Maddie get the hit to push across the winning run than perform her heart out, then pray that some rube gets the score right.