Dethroned!

Congratulations to George St. Pierre, the new welterweight UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) champion. Saturday evening "Rush" displaced Matt Hughes, who possessed that title for the better part of the last 4 or 5 years. Oddly enough, at the previous UFC event (#64), Rich Franklin in the middleweight (< 185 lb) division was also dethroned after holding the belt for over a year.

It was probably about 13 years ago or so that I started watching the Ultimate Fighting Competition. My friend Shawn and I would rent them on VHS, then eat two PB&J's and a big glass of milk each while watching them. It was a tradition of sorts. Back then there were little or no rules, no weight classes, and some of the participants were little more than bar brawlers, and hardly anyone knew about it.

The event itself has come a long way since those early days, and now I know that the UFC is actually part of a much larger sport called mixed martial arts (MMA). Today it's sanctioned by numerous state's athletic commissions, there are clearly defined rules and weight classes, and the participants have been training for the better part of their lives in multiple martial arts disciplines. And thanks in no small part to The Ultimate Fighter reality series on SpikeTV, the UFC event has grown fairly popular here in the U.S. Maybe there's hope for the manliness of America's men after all.

Worlds Apart

Conversation with my brother from Sunday evening when I called him on the phone:

Steve: "Michael!"

Me: "Hey brotha! How's it going?"

Steve: "Good. I just got in a fight downtown and I'm being held"

Me: "Wait, what?"

Steve: "They know dad and Uncle Larry though (both cops in Orlando for 20+ years), so it's all good. Can I call you back in a little while?"

Wow, how different our worlds are. My brother is 11 years younger than me, in college and single. I love the stage of life that I'm in and certainly don't wish to return to my college days (Engineering was a tough major that left way too little time for fun), but there is still a small part of me that is somewhat jealous of him. Not of the non-married aspect of his life, but of living life a little more dangerously.

I remember going to clubs and walking around downtown with friends, or even with Amanda when we were dating, and feeling a little on edge. It felt like anything could happen. You might bump shoulders with some punk walking the other way and exchange challenging stares with him. Someone might act or say something inappropriate to Amanda. We could walk down an alley where the risk is there to get jumped or mugged. Any number of bad things could happen, and to some extent I liked that feeling, and maybe miss it a bit.

Life is full of so many responsibilities and challenges now. It's certainly not boring, but it definitely feels much safer. Also, there are so many reasons now not to get in trouble or risk getting injured or killed. Steady job, family and kids, and all that.

Well, at least I periodically go to a seedy bar to watch UFC events. It's not much, but it's something.

Possibly Promoting the Power of Plural Prayer?

NOTE: I started writing this on 11/3.

My daughter Emily has regularly been extremely fussy in the evenings. She usually has about a 2 hour stretch each night where she cries or fusses (not quite a cry, just ticked off grunts). If you switch holding positions, she might be comfortable/consoled for a few minutes before it starts right back up again. Sometimes these episodes start at 9pm, sometimes at midnight.

Well, when you're shuffling her from up on your shoulder, to lying in your arms, to sitting on your knee, to whatever the hell other position you can think of. Then trying to pace the room (movement sometimes helps) and/or bounce her a little bit (but not too hard, despite your frustrated instincts). Making the shusshing sound too, hoping she doesn't wake up her brother who has been having a hard time getting to sleep lately (teething perhaps?). And if it's one of her late shifts, then you're thinking about how damned tired you are now, and how tomorrow work will suck so incredibly bad because you'll be tired beyond what even the strongest coffee can remedy, while still trying to be productive.

Of course, I've been praying through those moments, for patience and for wisdom to know what the problem with Emily is and how to best take care of it, and/or for God to heal her if something is causing her physical discomfort, or to help her to feel emotionally comforted if that's the problem. But nothing obvious has really resulted from these individual prayers.

But the first time Amanda and I prayed together over Emily, she slept pretty soundly and for a slightly longer duration. This occurred for several evenings - no results from individual efforts, but improvements when we pray together.

So, is the problem just too big to be solved by an individual effort? The Bible definitely identifies some situations that require more spiritual effort than others (Mark 9:28-29). It also seems to indicate the the amount of power that God grants you is directly related to the degree of your faith (Matthew 17:16-20, many others). Or is it just that God is trying to teach us and guide us to act more as a team and pray together, especially for our children?

Update: In the days since this blog entry was started, we have started making a habit out of praying for our children together before putting them to sleep. For that outcome alone, I guess I'm grateful for the struggle.

What A Difference One More Makes

Today Amanda had a baby shower to attend in the afternoon, as well as time scheduled in the evening to get coffee with another woman from church. In both instances I watched the kids, and both times Emily cried for most of the time with me not able to figure out how to console her. In addition to that, I was trying to deal with Lucas crying because he couldn't sleep (first for a nap, then for the night).

After Amanda got home from her coffee time, I washed the dishes while she nursed Emily. It was at that moment that I recalled how it used to be when there was only Lucas to watch. If Amanda had something that she wanted to do or somewhere to go, I would lean back and say with confidence "Sure, go ahead. I'll be fine. No problem at all. Knock yourself out." I was the master dad, an expert without equals. As soon as Lucas was born, I could handle him all by myself, all day long too if I had to. I just needed his momma to provide the nourishment that only she could.

Now I've had both kids by myself a bit though, and Emily is much more challenging than I remember Lucas being. I also have to be concerned when she's crying that she'll wake Lucas up too. And it's pretty damned tough when they both need you at once. Who do you take care of first? Someone's going to have to be crying, maybe even darned near screaming while you handle the needs of the other child.

The next time Amanda asks if I could watch the kids while she goes off and does whatever, I can picture myself whimpering "don't leave me". It's much, much harder with two kids.

The Other Side of the Scale

On the other end of the spectrum from the previous post titled "What Were We Thinking" is a recent conversation that I was having with some co-workers. One of them brought up Hugh Hefner's (the founder of Playboy) age, and the fact that he still has numerous women on his arm and walks around in his bath robe.

I recently saw a picture of him in the news with three women at his side, and as I recalled this image during the discussion, my initial thoughts were not of admiration or envy, but more accurately of pity. I must admit though that I was actually a little surprised at this. Shouldn't I be jealous? I mean, I can certainly appreciate the attractive appearance of his arm decor. But I couldn't deny that in all actuality, I think a man who is 80 years old and still living the life of a 20 something or 30 something man is kinda, no really pathetic.

Basically, from all outward appearances he lives life primarily to fulfill his flesh. His whole existence (or at least the way it's portrayed) centers completely around lust. Sure, there is a worldly flesh part of me that finds his lifestyle appealing. But I know that ultimately I would never be satisfied with such a simple and meaningless life.

I'm not saying that my thoughts are always 100% pure, or that they never stray from the focus of my wife. But I can say that it is my intention for that to be the case. In other words, I hope to grow and actually mature as I get older. I aspire to overcome my flesh and sinfulness, to be first and foremost a good husband and father. Heck, maybe even a great one.

So thank you Hugh for your inspiration, for demonstrating what I absolutely don't want to be.

Just for the fun of it, I thought of some other immature celebrity life-long bachelor retards: Billy Bob Thornton, Jack Nicholson, George Clooney

Here are some cool, family-oriented, long-term married celebrity men: L.L. Cool J, Will Smith, Mel Gibson, Sting, Tom Hanks, Tim McGraw

What Were We Thinking Again?

Now that we have a newborn and a toddler, there have been more moments that ever before when I remember with great longing the way our lives used to be before children. I miss the freedom to travel, to eat out, to relax, even to simply go see a movie. I miss staying out late because we didn't have any reason to be home (such as putting the kids to bed), and because we could sleep in on the weekends. I miss feeling well rested from actually getting a good night's sleep, going running together, working out at the gym together, and hitting the occasional nude beach together. I miss the financial benefit of both of us having decent careers and the associated dual income.






Back in the day - on vacation in Tennessee.







But Lucas has the most precious smile and the brightest brown eyes I have ever seen. He makes my mouth and my heart smile in ways that I would have never known, that only your own child can show you. His readiness to dance, and act silly demolishes my adult tendencies to be overly restrained and concerned about what others think of me. He makes me feel manly in a whole different way, as a father who now has the responsibility of not only protecting and caring for someone else, but also setting the example of what being a man is all about. And the importance of this is so potently evident as he is already watching and mimicking my every action.

Emily is still at that early stage where she's certainly cute, and I cherish the occasional smile I get while I'm holding her. But she can be so darned fussy and difficult, more than I ever remember Lucas being. And as small as she is, that voice can pierce your soul like nails on a chalkboard.

Whatever the pros and cons may be, it's too late to turn back now. So I guess we'll have to continue growing, learning, and maturing. Not to mention depending on God to grant us wisdom, grace, and patience, as we definitely have been praying for these things more since becoming parents.

One of the Worst Things to Happen to a Man

I came across this picture and caption on the USA Today homepage. I cannot imagine the way this man feels at the time this picture was taken.

Although it breaks my heart to see/read, it also helps me to appreciate how blessed I am and how easy my life is, in comparison to so many others in the world.

Note: if you can't read the text next to the picture, then make sure you are viewing it full size. You may have to click on it again once the picture is in your browser window.