Into the unknown

Can you imagine a world where virtually everything you saw was new?

I'm not talking about a place where everyone has the latest car, the latest cell phone or a world where retro clothes mysteriously vanish. I'm talking about a world you have no idea what anything is, where everything you see is something you not only have never seen before but something you could not even imagine. Like MIT's Media Lab center. But with less pocket protectors.

Every time you open your eyes, you see something you never knew existed. Not only that, every time you touch something you feel something you have never felt before. And almost every time you move, you do something you have never done before.

I don't know if I would be amazed, excited or terrified. Possibly all three all at once.

Taking Reese around town or for a walk around the block is such a joy because something as mundane as a water fountain (the kind everyone used to take free sips from at school or at the park before we decided to buy it in a bottle) is as mystical to her as MIT's "Bar of Soap" would be to me (by the way, I love how the MIT guy says it's a "relatively simple system." Sure, simple if you go to MIT or CalTech buddy!). Reese could have stayed and explored the water fountain for probably 30 minutes if I let her. Maybe even longer.

Every day objects like a fire hydrant or so foreign to her, she has to stop and examine it. What is this huge yellow object? What does it feel like? Why is it here? What do these bolts do? What does it taste like? (Point of clarification: I have never let my daughter actually lick or otherwise taste a fire hydrant. She has, however, licked a "Stop" sign post. Briefly. I stopped her as soon as I saw her do it. I don't think she swallowed too many diseases. We'll keep an eye on her, though, just to make sure.)

I think an adult's trepidation with the unknown is because an adult has felt pain, unwanted surprise and, unfortunately, grief. We know not everything is gentle. We know sometimes objects and creatures scratch, bite, sting, electrocute, maim, dismember, suffocate, and potentially eat other objects (i.e, your hand, leg, face or torso). If we have not personally felt it (especially the eating of our face or torso), we have heard about it or have seen Animal Planet enough to be tentative about new and unknown objects.

A toddler has no such fears. The unknown is not a chance to get hurt, but a chance to learn and experience something new. It is a refreshing way to look at the world around you - a chance to learn. And it is a way I think more adults need to look at the world, and others.

Fantasy Leagues make everything better

My wife and I actually do not fight very much. Part of it may be we are so agreeable, but part of it may be that she is always right and I am always wrong and I have no problem acknowledging that fact and she has no problem reminding me of that fact. (Kidding! My wife and I do not fight that much because we generally both like the same things - music, movies, restaurants, vacation spots, etc.)

One of the few areas we do disagree is reality television. She likes them because she has a very stressful job and she claims she needs mindless shows to "turn her brain off." I believe reality TV is the downfall of civilization. Every time I nudge her in the ribs about the absurdity and pointlessness of watch other people play out pretend real lives in front of the camera, Amy counters with what she views as just as useless a waste of time on my part - fantasy football.

I can remember in the early-'90s, publications like Street & Smith and Athlon Sports would have advertisements for fantasy football (those ads are still there, by the way). I had no idea what it was or how to play. I was interested, though, and wondered what it was all about. I remember asking my dad if I could get whatever package the ad was selling. It was one of those futile attempts kids know are a futile attempt but ask anyway and then have the nerve to be surprised/hurt when the request is denied. It was not until I had a job with a sports magazine in 1999 and I joined forces with two co-workers to finally enter my first fantasy football league. I believe our team was "Three Amigos." The league was run by a bartender and the draft was held on the deck of the sports bar. This was 1999, before NFL.com was even around, I think, and before Yahoo and ESPN ran Fantasy Football leagues. Everything was by paper. How primitive!

There are few firsts in your life that you will always remember. I have no clue what my first airplane flight was from and to. First song I slow danced to? Zero idea. But the big things - the really important things - you remember the first time. My first fantasy football pick was Brett Favre. It was an incredible and important lesson - don't pick Favre as your fantasy QB. Favre can be an exciting and entertaining player to watch and cheer for, obviously having fun and the wherewithal to underhand flip a pass to a running back when a linebacker is screaming right toward his head, but he also has the tendency to throw a pass into triple coverage and get intercepted when either another receiver is wide open or simply throwing the ball out of bounds is a better choice.

That first foray into fantasy sports was a special time for the 24-year-old me. The Three Amigos overloaded ourselves with stats and analysis of whether the best defense/special teams was a smarter pick than getting a No. 2 tight end. We printed out reams and reams of paper and color-coordinated highlighted our favorite players, using position-by-position lists as well as overall value of the top 300. I probably studied more intently for that first fantasy football draft than for any college final. I certainly prepared myself more rigorously for the draft than for the written portion of my driver's license test (which I, embarrassingly, had to take three times).

There are many theories why fantasy sports are so popular. Some say people want to feel in control. Others say people want to feel smarter than actual general managers getting paid to make player acquisitions. Still others claim it's just a watered-down version of gambling. And yet still others say it let's people have a deeper and broader appreciation of all teams in a league. The validity of such theories may be open to debate, but I think all of those miss the true point of fantasy sports - you are competing against other people for money/prizes/trophies/t-shirts/bragging rights/whatever.

Whether it is an actual touchdown by a wide receiver for your favorite team or a touchdown for your fantasy team, the whole nature of scoring signifies winning and losing, winners and losers. Why else would they keep score if it wasn't about winning and losing?

I remember when I worked as a photographer for ABC news in the Palm Springs area. We would be on location for hours for some stories and could not leave. For those of you who do not know Palm Springs, it is an artificial town in a desert, kinda like Las Vegas, but on a smaller and older scale. To be stuck at one place for hours on end ended up being fairly boring a lot of the time. Even if you are just waiting for the next newscast in 30 minutes, you're only really working about 90 seconds at a time. To pass the time, my reporter and I would start throwing rocks at objects to see who got the closest or who could hit it. A simple contest, sure, but it satisfied my need to pass the time as well as my need to show my athletic prowess (as much as throwing pebbles at a discarded soda can 30 feet away shows anything except people litter).

I do believe there is something innately hardwired in a man's brain to prove his dominance over other men. Men need to know and show they are better than other men. I truly think it is a primal, natural, Darwinian aspect of men to fight, compete, showoff. this is not to say women cannot or do not have the same urges, but I think it is more pronounced in men. And there are plenty of women who are more competitive than men. I can think of a few of my wife's friends who are cutthroat board game opponents.

The same aspect of giving people points adds a whole new dimension to simply watching football. Instead of primarily caring about the San Diego Chargers, I will now watch the Detroit Lions play the Minnesota Vikings to see how the Lions defense/special teams does.

This simple aspect of points very well could change my relationship with my wife. I have stumbled upon Reality TV Fantasy League. I may not have my own team, but at least I now have a way to watch these insufferable shows without rolling my eyes in contempt every 30 seconds. I can now jump off the couch, point to the TV and scream, "Ashley and Constantine had an open-mouth kiss! That's 10 points!"

I'm sure Amy will be thrilled at my new-found past-time.

Game changer

Lew Alcindor (now Kareem Abdul-Jabbar) was so dominate at UCLA, the NCAA created a rule in 1968 banning slam dunks in an attempt to somehow level the playing field. The result? Alcindor started using a sky hook, which is harder to defense than a simple dunk.

Pitcher Bob Gibson mowed down hitters with such ease in 1968 (22-9, 1.12 ERA, 28 complete games, 268 strikeouts) that MLB recognized the problem was Gibson had an advantage because he threw down at batters from a raised pitcher's mound. In 1969 Major League Baseball decided to lower the mound from 15 inches to 10 inches, in hopes to "increase the batting." That year Gibson went out and showed that he could probably strike guys out if he pitched uphill (20-13, 2.18 ERA, 28 complete games, 269 strikeouts).

Lawrence Taylor was such an amazing pass-rusher in the NFL, offenses changed because of him. When you see offensive tackles standing up with one foot back before the ball is hiked, that is because of LT. Before he arrived, all offensive linemen usually put one hand on the ground and had their feet relatively square. Because LT was so fast, tackles were being beat with such regularity and quarterbacks getting smacked with such velocity, linemen tried to gain any advantage they could. By standing up and having one foot back, the lineman is already in a pass-blocking position. That fraction of a second could mean the difference between a touchdown pass or Joe Theismann's broken leg.

These are what we call game changers. Nothing is the same after game changers.

Thursday, I took Reese to the Children's Museum and had to do some other errands. As a result, we were not home for her to take a nap. She slept a little bit in the car, but no more than 30 minutes. Considering she takes about a 2-hour nap, I knew she was still tired when we got home. I put her in the crib and closed the door knowing she would eventually fall asleep, even if she did fuss a bit at the beginning.

I was reading in our bedroom with the door closed when the handle started to jiggle. The door swung open and Reese stoop there with a big smile and said, "Hi!"

I was in shock. How did...but weren't you...what the hell just happened?

Reese figured out how to climb out of her crib!

Attempting to put her to bed that night was an arduous task. She kept climbing out of her crib every time we put her in it! She was obviously tired and needed to sleep, but she realized she didn't have to do what mommy and daddy wanted. Her exhaustion eventually overcame her independence and fell asleep.

Yesterday I converted her crib into a day bed. I was fearful she would try to climb out of the crib and fall and hurt herself. Even though she had accomplished the task without incident the night before, I was afraid something bad could happen the more tired she got.

The daybed idea made it easy and safe for her to get in and out of her bed, but also made it easy for her to stay out of her bed.

Last night Amy and I took turns trying to put her to bed. It lasted about three hours. And Reese woke us up at about 5 this morning (because she could) and fought taking a nap again.

There were points I thought were game changers with Reese. When she could roll over. When she could sit by herself. When she could stand. When she could eat normal food. When she could open any drawer in the house.

But this really looks like a massive game changer. This one is going to be hard to top. For awhile, anyway. I'm sure Reese will find a way to surprise me with some new skill that forces Amy and I to change the way we parent.

But like the sport greats mentioned earlier, you can change rules in an attempt to level the playing field, but history shows that those changes rarely matter. Which means, Amy and I can change all we want to try to slow down Reese, but it probably will not matter.

c3p0 in diapers

Depending on who you ask, there are anywhere between about 6,500 to 7,000 languages in the world right now. Also, about 1,000 to 2,000 are only spoken by a small group (1,000 people). So a conservative number of languages currently in circulation is approximately 4,500. Unless you are c3p0 from Star Wars ("I am fluent in over six million forms of communication..."), that's a lot of languages.

Children learn languages quickly. Very quickly. Time magazine senior editor and writer Jeffrey Kluger says a baby is born with zero idea of what language is, but by 18 months kids have a working vocabulary of 50 words. By 3 years old, kids can say about 1,000 words. By 6, the number of words is 6,000!

If you drop me in the middle of Moscow and leave me there for six years, I seriously doubt I will have 6,000 Russian words at my disposal when I leave. However, if the whole family moved right now to another country for six years, Amy and I could go to Reese as our personal interpreter!

Right now Reese can say a lot of words and even put a couple of words together in a rudimentary sentence (she has been saying "All done" to signify she's finished eating for some time now). But I wonder how much of her vocabulary is recognizable to other people and how much is a product of me being around her all the time and therefore understanding what her babble means?

Could you understand what "a-wha, a-wha" means? I'm still not 100 percent sure, but couple her words with her actions and it's a pretty good guess "a-wha, a-wha" means "I want." But I could be wrong.

There are two things I wish I knew. One is how to play a musical instrument. The other is to be bilingual.

One reason children learn languages so easily as opposed to adults is children's brain are different. The part of the brain that deals with learning language is huge as a child and stops growing somewhere around by the time most get to first or second grade. After more than two years of high school Spanish, I doubt I knew 1,000 words (but I don't how much you can blame my brain, my lack of effort or my truly idiotic Spanish teacher).

Right now, Reese is a verbal machine, babbling all day long with splattering of fairly distinct words and phrases. And then there are words she knows but can not say yet. For example, when we hear/see an airplane, I will say "airplane" and Reese will smile and point to the sky. If you say "airplane" and there is no airplane flying, Reese will still point to the sky and look around for an object up above. She knows the word "airplane" is associated with something in the sky. She may even babble some noises with the pointing of the sky, but I think it would be hard to distinguish "airplane" out of her verbiage.

Amy and I have often said Reese knows what she's saying, and once she realizes we don't know what she's saying, she will decide to speak English instead of speaking "Reese."

Maybe the only person who can decipher Reese's toddler babble would be c3p0.

Fear of being *that* family

We are only a week and a half away from a much-needed family vacation to Hawai'i, but I'm not too sure how relaxing it will be.

Oh, I know being on the beach with my family will be great, especially hanging out with my parents and sisters since I don't see them much anymore. And playing with Amy and Reese is always a good time.

I'm more concerned with getting to and coming from the islands.

A five or six hour airplane flight can be tough sledding for adults, but having a toddler is going to be an adventure. I am starting to worry how we will keep her occupied in a somewhat quiet manner for the flight. How can you bottle up a person who thinks running in circles banging pots and pans and shrieking like a banshee is a normal Wednesday morning? But enough about me, what am I going to do with Reese!

But seriously, it is a little daunting to try to train Reese to sit still for an extended amount of time. She barely sits through a book when we read to her. She likes to hold crayons and markers, but doesn't really doodle or draw, and when she does, it's only for a small chunk of time before she gets up and runs around in circles again. She will watch bits and parts of shows like Sesame Street or Yo Gabba Gabba and other kid shows, but only bits and pieces of the show. Plus, she will dance and "sing" when a song comes on, which is generally frowned upon in most airplanes (except, possibly, "Airplane" with the singing nuns or "Soul Plane" with Snoop Dogg as Captain Mack).

I have been trying to keep Reese up in the morning and putting her down for a nap at 11, which is when our flight is scheduled to depart, in the hopes she will get used to sleeping at that time and therefore sleep for most of the flight.

But I also know that nothing is certain, and the stimulus of the airport, the airplane and everything else going on would easily keep Reese awake. So I need to come up with some sort of plan to keep her occupied and somewhat quiet so other people on the plane don't look at us and groan. I don't want to be *that* family. You know, the family people complain about once they get home. "Hawaii was fine once we got there, but the flight over had a family with a little girl..."

Besides the nap (cross your fingers!), books and possible iPhone shows/games, we are planning on bringing lots of snacks. The snacks will keep her attention and keep her mouth busy with something besides "finding her voice." Grapes are key, especially still on the bunch. She then needs to pull them off and then eat them. It may seem silly, but that little extra effort means a lot. Also, crackers are handy because they take more time to soften and chew and swallow. Again, that little extra time can mean a lot.

If all else fails, I plan on ordering a couple of drinks from the flight attendant. Not for Reese, but for me!

What would you ask God? Nothing.

A friend of mine posted on Facebook, "What would you ask God if you had only one question to ask?"

Some people responded with, "What's the one thing we need to do to get to heaven?" Others went with "What is your will for me?" Another one was "Did you save (a deceased family relative.)"

If you are not religious, what one question would you want the answer to?

I don't know if there is a question I need answered. Seriously.

I like not knowing. I like figuring things out on my own. I actually enjoy making mistakes (which is a good thing, since I tend to make a lot of mistakes). Falling down and getting back up is part of the joy of life. I've rarely been the person who plays it safe. Sometimes that has not worked out so well. Sometimes that irritates other people, namely, my wife. Sometimes, though, something glorious happens, because sometimes you surprise yourself by what you can actually accomplish.

I don't want to know when I will die. I don't want to know what the future holds. I don't even want to know what it takes to get to heaven.

If I knew these things, I believe I would be a different person, and I like who I am.

Knowing the future will surely change my actions. I have rarely looked forward in life. I have tried to live life to the fullest on a day-to-day basis. Again, sometimes that has hurt me, sometimes it has not worked out so well, and sometimes that irritates people. But I don't want to pine away minutes/hours/days/weeks/months/years looking forward to something when there is so much right here and now that I need to appreciate.

I also don't want to know what is expected of me or what I need to do to save my soul or what it takes to get to heaven. I truly believe God wants me (maybe you, too, but that's between you and God) I truly believe God wants me to figure it out on my own. I think God wants me to do the best I can. Am I doing the best I can? In most respects, probably not. I mean, we all can do better, right? But I don't think God is looking for perfection. If He/She/It is looking for perfection, He/She/It will be awfully disappointed.

All I can do is try to be a good husband, a good father, a good son, a good brother, a good uncle, a good Godfather, a good friend. I think I am those things. Can I be better? Yeah, probably. But I'm still doing an OK job.

And I'm still figuring things out as I go along.

But maybe I would ask who will win this year's Super Bowl, just so I can put some money down in Vegas early.

Kidding!

Overnight transformation, or Where did my little girl go?

I went to bed last night with a sweet, happy girl. When I woke up...AAARRRGGGHHH!

Overnight my adorable, sweet, angelic cutie pie changed into a whiny, needy toddler (GASP!). Suddenly any hesitation to give her what she wants, and Reese starts whining.

If I don't drop whatever I am doing at that second to give Reese a cup, a piece of cheese, the remote control, whatever, then a total breakdown is imminent. But Reese is still at the age where a simple distraction will stop the possible meltdown.

But, unfortunately, that too will pass and I will need to, at some point, deal with a total tantrum.

And her transformation truly was overnight. Yesterday she was a dream. Today...still my darling little girl, but more of a challenge, for sure.

Time truly feels like it flies, and it has been ever since she was born.

I am a bit afraid that I will blink and she will be in grade school, blink again and it's high school, blink again and off to college, blink and I'm giving her away at her wedding.

Time needs to slow - how about full out stop? - even if that means she stays in "terrible twos" for a long time.

What would Plato do?

In a previous post, I was speculating what Reese might be when she grows up based on her personality.

It got me thinking about what my parents thought my personality showed when I was young.

My parents said when I was a kid I said I did not want a desk job, that I wanted to be outside with people. I guess being a sports journalist fit that bill pretty well. But then my parents said something that really kind of caught me by surprise. They said I was a deep thinker, deeper than anyone else in the family.

I never thought of myself as a deep thinker. Sometimes I’m amazed at how juvenile my thoughts are, actually. But apparently I think about life, death, religion, relationships and philosophy more than my sisters or even my parents.

Are there even philosophers anymore? What would Plato and Aristotle do today? I mean, besides flip burgers? I kid, I kid.

But what can someone do with a philosophy degree? The online career section of University of Florida says “Your philosophy degree will prepare you generally for any career or position which does not presuppose a fairly high degree of technical training, of the sort which would be required to get a degree in mathematics or one of the sciences.” So, apparently, you can do anything other than be a doctor, lawyer or car mechanic (even if you read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance – which really has little to do with neither Buddhism nor being a mechanic).

But there are philosophers today, people who hold a mirror up to society and force people to think about life in ways they may not have before. We don’t call them philosophers, though. We call them stand-up comedians (Mel Brooks was a “stand-up philosopher” in “History of the World Part 1”).

I always believed I was the funniest person I know, so maybe I could have been a comedian. Maybe I still can do stand-up.

But there other people today who act and think like philosophers – writers. Whether it is a novelist, a playwright, screenplay writer or columnist, writers dig deep into human relationships with the world around them.

Now that sounds like a job I could do. Wait…I already have done it and plan on continuing to do it!

Brain tumors, Frosted Flakes and Buddhism

Amy and I know three people who have some sort of brain cancer/tumor. That seems like a lot to me. According to the North American Brain Tumor Coalition, more than 44,500 people in the Unites States are diagnosed with a "primary tumor in the brain or spine each year."

The people we know with brain cancer were/are young (mid-30s) and healthy - one was a professional dancer/dance instructor and in fantastic shape when she was diagnosed.

All three people are still fighting the disease, but all three still have to fight.

What is particularly hard to deal with is one friend has a beautiful wife and two amazing children.

Amy mentioned that kids do not think of brain cancer, but rather think of other diseases such as lung cancer and heart attacks.

I never thought of those things as a kid. I only thought about when my favorite cartoon next aired, when basketball practice started and if we had enough Frosted Flakes in the house. I didn't even think about catching a cold or stubbing my toe (probably one of the reasons I stubbed my toes all the time).

I don't think kids *should* think about those things. Kids should be reckless and throw caution to the wind. That is the time to test your limits beyond proper safety limits, because that is the time when your body and mind can rebound the quickest/easiest from defeat and injury.

But such a stance makes life as a parent worrisome. I don't want Reese to hurt herself. I want her to be healthy and happy every day of her life. But that is not life. To borrow from Buddhist philosophy (or maybe it was from "The Princess Bride"), life is pain. And I want my daughter to live life to the fullest. So that, unfortunately, means she needs to experience pain.

But I don't want her to think about pain. I don't want her to worry about heart attacks and cancer. I don't want her to worry about bumps and bruises. I don't want her to worry about anything, actually. I just want her to live every day of her life with joy and love and happiness.

Pain happens. Cancer happens. Brain cancer happens. Let me worry about it. You go play and worry about Frosted Flakes.

Sesame Street vs Hoosiers

I was debating this morning what is more educational for Reese to watch - Sesame Street or Hoosiers?

Seriously.

Sesame Street is, well, Sesame Street. It is one of the most scrutinized and tested television shows ever. Academics and sociologists and other scholars have weighed the merits of having children watch the show before it even aired it's first show in 1969. The book Tipping Point by Malcom Gladwell says researchers from the University of Massachusetts and the University of Kansas recontacted close to 600 children whose TV viewing as preschoolers were monitored. The kids were now in high school and the researchers found that the kids who watched Sesame Street did better in high school English, math and science than the kids who did not watch Sesame Street. That's a pretty amazing thing. A television show had a positive lasting effect on children 10 to 15 years after watching it!

But Hoosiers is one of the all-time best movies - let alone one of the best sports movies. The values of hard work, sacrifice, humility, teamwork, self-confidence, underdog story - and the classic David vs Goliath match-up in state finals - are values everyone should cherish.

Reese is too young to really soak it all in, the TV show or the movie. I probably shouldn't even let her watch TV as much as I already do. She needs to learn to enjoy herself without outside stimulus. She needs to break away from the current dependence on electronics. She needs to appreciate life around her, not what is beamed into the living room.

But Hoosiers is a really good movie.

And she was coloring anyway.

So I watched Hoosiers.

Predicting the future.

I was talking with my sister this afternoon. She has four children. The oldest is 8. The youngest is 3.

She was talking about how each of her children are totally different. The oldest is so mature and talks like an adult (not in terms of using "R-rated" language, but rather she watches Bugs Bunny and says, "That was an interesting chain reaction."). Her language skills are truly remarkable.

But my sister does not talk to the oldest any differently than she does the other three. The oldest just is that way. It's her personality. She has a very scientific mind. She builds three-dimensional objects out of pieces of paper. My sister thinks she may grow up to be an engineer.

And the youngest is extremely creative (all of my nieces and nephews are creative). Apparently she makes up elaborate stories about how toys ended up in the backyard and what she did when she was 5 (my sister has to remind the youngest she is only 3!). My sister is convinced the youngest will become a writer.

Which got me thinking, what did my parents think I was going to do when I grow up when I was young? What talents did I exhibit when I was a kid?

As for my daughter, she is still young, but her personality still shines. She is so out-going and so friendly and her favorite word is "Hi!" So I am convinced (as of now at the tender age of 19-and-a-half months old) that Reese will become a receptionist or part of a welcoming committee. A performer of some sort, a la comedian or actress?

Blinded for life?

I feel pretty horrible. I feel like I may have blinded Reese for life.

I was preparing to take Reese to the backyard to play in her pool and with the garden hose. She obviously needed sunscreen as it was one of the hottest days of the year. But I could not find the sunscreen spray, so I used old-fashioned sunscreen lotion. Everything was fine as we played outside for about half an hour.

Amy came home and we had Reese try on clothes for an upcoming family vacation, then I started preparing and making dinner (BBQ chicken and grilled vegetables). Then I noticed Reese's right eye was irritated and discolored.

She kept rubbing her eye, and it got worse and worse. The eye started to water and looked like she was crying. The sunscreen lotion had run down into her eye, and her rubbing the eye only made it worse.

But I should know that Reese will be fine because she is one tough cookie. She slept like a rock while our neighborhood seemingly exploded through the night celebrating our country's birthday. Not even a peep while the house shook as sticks of dynamite detonated nearby.

So what's a little sunscreen compared to that?

Independence Day

Some people love Christmas. Others go ga-ga over Thanksgiving. Halloween does it for still others. But for me, without a doubt, the Fourth of July is my favorite holiday.

I like St. Patrick's Day and Cinco de Mayo, and Labor Day is right around my birthday, but nothing compares to the Fourth.

There are many reasons why I enjoy it, and the reasons have changed and evolved as I have gotten older.

First off, it is the signal of summer. People running around outside, kids playing baseball at the neighborhood park, grills firing up some burgers and dogs, shorts and flip-flops on everyone, taking a dip in the pool, sipping lemonade under a shady tree, chomping on watermelon on a park bench...it just screams SUMMER! And I absolutely love summer!

I also enjoy all things Patriotic. Give me a John Philip Sousa march, and I am a happy camper Red, white and blue is always a great color combination. And American history was one of my best subjects.

But Independence Day took on a whole new meaning for me 11 years ago. On May 1, 2000 I went to the doctor because of severe back pain. The doctor took an x-ray and right away noticed I had a tumor in my chest and my lymph nodes were swollen and pressing on my spinal cord, causing the back pain. I was diagnosed with testicular cancer. I was in and out of the hospital for chemotherapy treatments. Each treatment was progressively harder than the last. And I really started to hate being in a hospital. I was able to get out of the hospital in time to spend July 4 at home with my family. A true Independence Day for me.

There was a strong possibility I was not going to be able to have kids because of the cancer. There was a way for me to save sperm at a sperm bank, but it cost a couple thousand dollars. I don't know too many 24-year-olds who have a couple extra thousand dollars handy. (Come to think of it, I don't know too many 35-year-olds who have a couple thousand dollars handy, either!) That's one of the reasons my daughter is so extremely precious to me...I truly did not know if I would be able to have a child of my own.

The Fourth of July reminds people of the liberties and freedoms enjoyed in this great country, as it should. But for me, I also am reminded of the greatest gift of all...my daughter.

From toddler to little girl

We had a long, fun day with friends today. Reese was able to play with two friends, Lily and Reagan, and the three of them are adorable to watch.

Reese is the youngest of the three, but Lily is only 6 months older than Reese and Reagan is only 6 months older than Lily. But it's weird to see how much those 6 and 12 months matter.

Reese still looks like a baby. Well, she looks like a toddler to be more exact. Lily does as well to some extent, but Lily's face looks older. And Reagan - just older than two-and-half years - looks like a little girl!

I am so glad I take a picture a day of Reese. It is easily the best thing I've ever done. Ever. In my entire life. I love going back and looking at the pictures quickly to see her grow up before my very eyes.

The picture-a-day idea was not mine. I actually heard it on the radio. Sports radio even. Dan Patrick, formerly an anchor with ESPN's SportsCenter but now a radio host on his own, told one of his producers to take a picture of his yet-to-be-born child every day for a year because the child will change the most in that one year.

The advent of the smart phone has made that job easy, or at least the job of snapping a picture and then publishing it on the Internet right away.

I was going to stop at one year, but it is so easy and so fun and so worth while that I keep on taking a picture everyday and I keep on posting them to the Internet. The fact that family members across the country can also see Reese grow up is an added bonus. Plus, Reese's godmother said she would make a photo album every year as long as I keep taking pictures.

Done and done.

Those albums will come in handy when I will look at Reese in amazement as she suddenly stops looking like a toddler and suddenly becomes a little girl.

Water, water, everywhere...

When Reese had her check-up on Tuesday, the pediatrician said we might think about giving her swimming lessons, but warned us that swimming lessons do not decrease the likelihood of childhood drownings.

Amy has been wanting Reese to take swim lessons before we head off on vacation to Hawaii in four weeks.

When I was in college, I worked as a swim instructor for about a year. I taught babies as young as 6 weeks to roll over and float on his or her back. I also helped teens and preteens get ready for the junior lifeguard test, which is a pretty intensive test. So I have been putting off giving Reese lessons because I figure I could teach her. The only problem is we don't have a pool.

I have been practicing with Reese in the bath to get her face in the water, and she has been pretty good about that. Face in the water is a big hurdle to jump over. Many adults have a hard time with it.

Today I introduced blowing bubbles while putting your face in the water. I started off by making a funny noise while blowing air through my lips while my face was above water, and continued to blow air and make the noise while I lowered my face into the water. I blew bubble then lifted my face while still making the funny noise and blowing air. Reese thought this was hilarious! She mimicked me once, then completely forgot about the blowing air/funny noise business and just kept bobbing her face in and out of the water, then giving me a huge belly laugh.

For about a week now, I have also taken time to get her on her back while in the tub. We don't do it very long and I don't force her to float on her own - I have my hand behind her neck and the other on the small of her back - but I want her to get used to the idea of the water in her ears. Like mouth, nose and eyes in the water, getting your ears in the water is a mighty big step. Again, it is something a lot of adults have trouble with.

But ever since she was tiny (jeez, she still is tiny!) I have wanted bath time to be fun and enjoyable. Not because I'm trying to get her to like baths, or to avoid a fight in the future, but because I want her to love the water.

I grew up with a pool and some of my favorite moments as a kid were swimming. I want Reese to have the same type of appreciation and love for the water and water sports like I did.

I may not be teaching her to swim right now, but my bath tub is only so big.