The day after Christmas, we said goodbye to each other at the Greyhound station in downton Knoxville. That was 48 days ago. That was the day I became a non-resident father.

We all have our good days and our better days. One constant is that I miss my truest of true loves. I still cry every day because I miss her. I know she misses me too.

I wonder what kind of litmus test it is if you’re doing something you never thought you’d be doing. I never thought I’d be separated from my child and her mother. I always swore up and down I wouldn’t repeat the mistakes made by so many couples. I vowed to make it work. I thought I was better than everyone else and immune to the pitfalls faced by blended families.

I spent a lot of time and energy being angry at Renee and Austin. Anger is a very effective mask to wear when you don’t want to feel pain. Sometimes, when asked, “so how are things going?” it was my cue to launch into a vitriolic diatribe.

The relationship that Renee and I have is evolving. We will always be mommy and daddy to this beautiful little girl, but we are living separate lives. We recently had what amounts to the “seeing other people” talk.

Forging Ahead

I chose the name “21st Century Dad” for my blog because I wanted to embody what a father is in the 21st century. Fatherhood today is a new paradigm too. Fathers share more of the parenting duties. Fathers today are more involved in their children’s lives. Many fathers today don’t live with their children. I don’t know what the exact statistic is, but split custody, visitation, and child support are commonplace today. I’m still a 21st Century Dad.

How many blogs continue with their originally charted course? Obviously, my life hasn’t taken the course I had hoped for, but I’m not complaining. There are  opportunities at every potential turn in life. This relief from the day-to-day responsibilities as a resident father is affording me great opportunity.

The Sand Mandala

My thoughts return to the first time I learned what a Sand Mandala is. An intricate pattern of colored sand is laid down by Tibetan Buddhist monks over several weeks. Upon its completion, the Sand Mandala is ritualistically and methodically destroyed.

You don’t know what you need until you don’t have anything. I still have too much stuff. eBay and craigslist have been helpful here. Here I am, in the midst of dismantling the life I have built for the past 35 years.

This is just as much a spiritual journey as it is one of financial rehabilitation. Some of this consumerist detritus can be converted into cash. Video games, photography equipment, electronics, and supplies for projects conceived but never even started only weigh us down. One tenet of Buddhism is that our attachment to material things is the source of our suffering. Only when we release that need, do we find enlightenment.

Of course, when I first learned that about Buddhism, I thought, “no way I’m giving up my Commodore 64!”

Fighting the Clutter and Winning

Sentimentality conspires against us. It makes us hold on to things and squeezes us out of a harmonious relationship with our home. It is our experiences, thoughts, ideas, and feelings that make us who we are. Do we really need to validate those things by holding on to physical objects that only takes up space?

Ironically, I feed someone else’s urge to purchase things as I offload items through eBay and craigslist. I’m selling instant and temporary gratification to alleviate the ill effects of my own journey. The extra cash is nice. It’s the last gasp of usefulness I will get from these items. Their potential energy has been pent up, buried within clutter and disarray. This last release keeps the lights on at home another month. It buys a bus pass. It buys groceries.

You don’t know what you need until you don’t have it. The packrat defends his ways by recounting the few times he needed an item that was recently discarded. The only thing I ever needed by holding on to things was more storage space.

This isn’t loss or destruction. It’s liberation.

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Our Little Girl Turns 1 today!

You’re my precious little angel. You are my truest of true loves. You’re only going to be a baby once, but you’ll always be my baby girl.

One full year has passed since the journey began. Whew! It really does go by in a flash. From her incredible birth story to where we are today, I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. The incredible speed with which time passes after the birth of a child is offset by those times when she is crying, screaming, and inconsolable. That’s when time stands still. I love everything about this little girl, even those times when she is crying, screaming, and inconsolable.

Part of the festivities include a portrait of her in a traditional Korean hanbok. The dress she is wearing in the photo is one that is worn on a girl’s first birthday. You can see more photos of Twilli in my Flickr photostream.

A New Father and a New Man

I often say that I was born on August 7th, 2007 too. The birth of your first child changes you forever. My daughter’s role as my spiritual advisor continues to expand. No matter what happened in my past or what the crisis du jour is, my daughter is there for me as a reminder of how precious life is. She is the reason I want to be the best dad and the best person I can be.

Others Who Share a Birthday With Twilli

As a die-hard hockey fan, I’m pleased to know Sidney Crosby shares a birthday with my little one. He was born on 8/7/87, hence, he wears jersey number 87. Today is a significant milestone birthday for Mr. Crosby too. Twilli will enjoy some juice in a sippy cup. Sid the Kid barely missed drinking form Lord Stanley’s Cup this past spring. Today, he is raising a pint or two, or three or four or five…

Twilli has an affinity for metal objects. They hold her attention and sometimes find their way into her mouth. She likes metal. Bruce Dickinson, lead singer of Iron Maiden, also celebrates today. His impressive vocal range earned him the nickname “Air Raid Siren.” We get to hear our little air raid siren when daddy extracts inedible objects from her mouth or when the magic boobies are not there when she wants them.

Ernesto Brown, a reader in Miami, has a daughter who shares a birthday with our Twilli. Happy birthday to you too.

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Some of you already know that Portnoy has not been doing well. At the vet’s recommendation, we were planning to have him put down after a few days, so we could say our goodbyes. Fortunately, he wasn’t in pain, just feeling “blah” all the time due to anemia. I was afraid that I would find him curled up in a dark and quiet corner of our house. My fears were confirmed on Tuesday.

Portnoy and his litter mates were abandoned at a construction site. One of our friends took them in and found new homes for each of them. Portnoy found his way into our home and our hearts in November of 2006.

Portnoy is named after Mike Portnoy, the drummer from Dream Theater. I have been a fan of the band for over 15 years, having seen them in concert multiple times. I have even met Portnoy’s namesake on a few occasions. He was always friendly and outgoing, just like the cat named after one of progressive rock’s greatest drummers.

Shortly after bringing Portnoy home, we arranged for a checkup with the vet. This is when we learned that he has the feline leukemia virus (FeLV). At first, we were admonished for taking such a cat in, but the vet fell in love with him too. We were told that his odds of surviving the first year were slim. He lived to be almost two years old.

Portnoy loved to groom himself

Kittens are fast little buggers. They’re hard to catch. He seemed to teleport from one part of the room to another, so we called him “Teleportnoy.” We started appending names and words with “noy.”

• While Renee was pregnant, I called her “Pregnoy.”
• When Twilli would go on her serial breastfeeding binges, we’d call her the “Nursenoy.”
• Portnoy started off as the smallest of the three cats, but grew to be quite large. Sometimes we called him “Biggernoy.”

One question we often got was, “does he complain a lot?” Most people know the title of the Philip Roth novel, “Portnoy’s Complaint,” but don’t know the story. It’s one of those quips that get diluted with repetition, just like the E.T. references I endured all through grade school. Those who actually know the story got a hearty laugh when I said, “no, he doesn’t complain, but we were sure to get him neutered.”

This is especially difficult for me since Portnoy is the first cat I’ve known since he was a little kitten. I never had pets growing up, but got introduced to James and Boo when I met Renee. I call them my “step-cats.”

Renee thought a kitten might allow Boo to call upon her maternal instincts. Instead, James took on the parent/mentor role with Portnoy and they became best buddies. James and Portnoy slept at the foot of our bed every night.

Portnoy enjoys his nap.

Portnoy will be missed. He was such a great cat.

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Every expectant couple hears, “it goes by so fast.” Sometimes it’s followed by, “take lots of pictures.”

To commemorate the milestone, I used to set up the whole Strobist rig and dress her in a nice outfit. I haven’t done that this month… or last month. The number of photos I take of Twilli is on a downward trend. Maybe I just get a higher percentage of “keepers.”

Our video coverage has been spotty. It will have to step up soon. Twilli is quickly approaching the day she will take her first real steps. Just like we were ready with the “baby bag” during the last month of pregnancy, we must keep a video camera in a high state of readiness.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve neglected my family duty by not taking more photos. I have more digital imaging horsepower at my disposal than most of my peers. Now I realize I’d rather have a few great photos of my children than a bunch of mediocre ones.

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Every expectant father is told that it’s a profound, life-changing experience. I thought, “well, duh! Isn’t it obvious?” No matter how much you know and how forthcoming all your male friends are, there are still surprises. You can read The Expectant Father, scour the internet, and talk to every man you know with a child. Fatherhood is definitely one of those things you learn on the job.

Everyone knows you change. Some of those changes happen right away, as if switch was flipped. Other changes take longer.

Some changes happen immediately. This is the revolution.

• You pay closer attention while driving. South Florida drivers are among the worst in the US!
• Your routine is shattered. Everything you’re used to doing is suddenly different.
• You feel this incredible rush of unconditional love for your child.

Other changes come gradually. This is evolution.

• I’m becoming much more interested in health and wellness.
• Making healthier choices when eating is much more important.
• I’ve lost interest in caffeine, nicotine, and alcohol.
• Anything risky (financial, personal, physical) is evaluated more carefully before engaging in it.
• I’ve always had a passing interest in ecologically sound practices. That level of interest has increased.

There is an overall shift in your thinking, your attitude toward life, toward people, and toward the world. There are some choices that I never thought I would make:

• We followed our friend Caroline’s advice to use a midwife. I always imagined a hospital birth. I’m so glad we chose natural childbirth instead. If you are expecting, I urge you to consider using a midwife.
• Renee and I weren’t even aware of infant potty training until she stumbled across the concept after Twilli was born. Now we are semi-successful practitioners. We’re using about half as many diapers now.
• Renee remembers when her brother was in cloth diapers. Those memories aren’t pleasant. Now that we are doing infant potty training (or elimination communication), it’s apparent why cloth diapers and IPT/EC go hand-in-hand.

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He was living with his grandparents when I first met Renee, so there was an opportunity for us to behave like a childless couple for a little while. When Renee and I first realized we were in it for the long haul, I encouraged her to tell me as much as possible about him.

One day, Renee shared some key facts about Au-Teen. My response was, “I’ve known this kid all my life!” That’s when my doubts were cast aside. I knew this blended family thing could work.

Somehow I knew it was important to learn as much as I could. Being a step-parent has a new layer of difficulty. It’s like getting a new video game, chucking the manual aside, skipping the training mode or tutorials, and jumping in at the medium or difficult level.

I didn’t want to be the stereotypical stepfather. I spent a lifetime bucking stereotypes. Why stop here? When the plans were finalized to become a blended family, I was ecstatic. I knew I had to step up my own level of accountability. I would face the challenge of becoming a better man every day.

Renee and I spent almost a year together as a childless couple. We enjoyed the time immensely. At the end of May 2006, it was like she gave birth to a fully-grown 12 year old boy!

Most 12 year old boys have 4 years of life experience repeated 3 times. He is going to leave tasks half-completed or totally neglected. That’s what they do. He’s going to prefer video games and comic books to something an adult would consider more intellectually nourishing.

It wasn’t smooth sailing like I had hoped. The difficulties I have with Au-Teen aren’t unique to a stepchild. He’s a very normal and very healthy teenager. The almighty “T” is running through his veins. Playing the XBox ranks a little higher on his list than scooping the litter box.

We’ve both made conscious and unconscious efforts toward bonding with each other. I played the original Mortal Kombat before he was even born. Now he and I enjoy some virtual sparring. I did it when I was younger, and now I’m introducing it to him. He’s not much of a sports fan, but he does like hockey now. He couldn’t tell you too any player’s names except Olli Jokinen, but he never turns down an invitation to a Panthers game. He thought it was a big deal when I let him wear my jersey. Au-Teen has picked up the guitar and he’s progressing nicely. I want to believe that I had something to do with sparking his interest in it.

Renee is a full-blown advocate of attachment parenting. It places a lot of demands on her. Naturally, I end up taking care of many of Au-Teen’s needs. I drive him to karate class and Civil Air Patrol meetings. He gets free guitar lessons from me. Our music tastes cross over much more than it does with Renee’s. I remain the lone country fan in the house… I still have Twilli, heheheheh.

I’m playing catch-up. Renee had a 12 year head start on me. I’ve never questioned my decision to be in this relationship. Maybe that’s why it’s so infuriating when Au-Teen does something boneheaded. I’m stuck with the kid. I’m glad that I am. He’s not perfect, and neither am I. We’re getting along just fine, just like a father and his son.

I’ve always been attracted to caucasian women. I never thought it was weird. It was just a matter of time before I ended up with a biracial child.

Knowing the probabilities, I still never gave much thought to the issues that interracial couples and their children face until now. After some research, I unearthed something shocking. Rob Schneider is part Filipino!

Yes, that is shocking, considering the criticism he’s received for negative portrayals of Asians and Pacific Islanders. But the real eye-opener for me was the story of Hines Ward and others like him.

I am not a fan of American football, so I knew nothing of Hines Ward. Despite this, I can assure you that my testosterone levels are high enough. For those of you who are in the same camp as I am, Hines Ward is a wide receiver for the Pittsburgh Steelers, and currently one of the league’s best at that position.

Hines Ward was born to a Korean mother and an African American father in Seoul, South Korea. The family left Korea due to the prejudice and discrimination endured by people of mixed ethnicity. Ward would not escape discrimination in America either.

One Superbowl title and MVP award later, Ward and his mother made a triumphant return to his homeland. Once shunned, they were given the red carpet treatment wherever they went. Throughout his visit, he arranged “hope sharing” meetings with multiracial Korean children and championed social change. He created the Hines Ward Helping Hands Foundation to help mixed-race children like himself.

The discrimination faced by hapas was a shock to me. I don’t have regular contact with other Koreans, so I wasn’t aware of this attitude. I socialize with an eclectic crowd that embraces diversity. The unconditional love I feel for my daughter and the warm reception she has received by all who have met her is such a stark contrast to the way hapas are treated in Korea.

I was taunted and teased throughout elementary school, but it was mild compared to what Hines Ward endured. Perhaps being “whitewashed” almost makes me a hapa by proxy. Through the Hines Ward Helping Hands Foundation (where is your website, dude?!?!), Pearl S. Buck International, and our own individual efforts, I have hope that Twilli will only have anecdotal knowledge of racial intolerance.

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I prepared as best as I could for the arrival of my first child. But there were still a few surprises that my wife, no books, and no website ever addressed:

1. Babies fart and they don’t care when or where. It’s a surprise to me that it’s a surprise. They do have all the same parts as fully grown humans, so this shouldn’t be a surprise. The first time I heard Twilli (her current nickname) fart, it caught me off guard. Most adults would turn red with embarrassment if they let one rip in some of the situations she did.
2. Diapers don’t smell nearly as bad as you think. You may have caught a whiff of another child’s diapers and thought “oh man! No way am I going to have a kid!” However, your own baby’s bodily functions just aren’t nearly as offensive. It never even became an issue; a parent must do it or else. Likewise, other bodily fluids and secretions don’t gross me out. Boogers, spit-up, drool, and diaper leaks are just dealt with as readily as you and I would deal with a sneeze.
3. I’m much more in tune with my emotions and moved to tears more easily. My wife pointed out that you could see the beginnings of teeth erupting in Twilli’s mouth. I jumped up immediately to investigate. When I first saw the little dents in her gums, a joyful eruption of tears followed immediately. This past Saturday was the first time I heard my friend Steve play his saxophone since his wife lost her battle with cancer 6 months ago. The very first note he played brought on the tears.
4. It’s not as difficult as I thought it would be. The first few weeks, our universe shrank to the size of a football. We prepared as best we could. We enlisted a large cheering section. I have a loving and supportive partner with previous experience.
5. I drive less aggressively even when the baby’s not in the car. It makes sense that you would be more cautious when your are transporting a baby. I guess it’s just switches on and stays on.
6. It takes significantly more time to get out the door. I knew about the half metric ton of stuff necessary to venture outside your home with a baby. My “baby radar” was warming up during pregnancy, so I noticed the roadies following the rock stars wherever we went. In the past, I was always punctual and usually early. If we have to be on time (like a doctor’s appointment), we cancel all of our other appointments plan accordingly.