Views from Mountaintops and Valleys

I’m not one to quote Richard Nixon, but he said one thing that has stuck with me ever since I heard it many years ago. On the day he resigned he gave a goodbye speech to the White House staff. Everyone in the room was very somber, and even Tricky Dick looked like he actually had a soul.While trying to comfort those who were disillusioned because of how things turned out, and reassure those who worried for him, he said, “Only if you have been in the deepest valley can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain.”Perfect.I’ve thought of this the past couple of days as my kids get ready to celebrate the last day of school—which is Friday—and the promise of a long summer yet to come. They’re at one of those peaks upon which it’s easy to enjoy the view. What could possibly be better than being a kid and knowing that you don’t have to go to school, that the weather’s going to be warm, and that there’s tons of fun to be had?Truth be told, they’d probably enjoy the last day of school no matter what they had to do to get there. I mean, who doesn’t like eleven weeks of staying up late, playing, and just being a kid? I’m thirty-seven years old and that sounds damn good to me!I don’t know whether they’ve thought about how much they should appreciate the summer—I suspect not—but I’ll probably try to explain it to them.I’ll remind them what it’s like to get up at 6:40 in the morning, and have me come into their rooms and turn the bedroom light on, and how difficult it is for their eyes to adjust.I’ll remind them how hard they’ve worked for the past nine months, and how every single day after school they had to do homework or read, even though they’d just spent seven hours in school.I’ll remind them of those cold days in January when they had to bundle up just to go out to the van, and how their hands bled because they were so dry, and how their ears were cold, and how they had no recess for weeks because the snow was above their ankles.They would have appreciated the summer no matter what, but after I get done talking to them they’ll be so glad that it’s summer that they’ll turn to my old routine during summers in high school: go to bed late and get up early so that the days are long and summer seems even longer.The American educational system has become so quantitatively driven in our surge toward higher test scores, and more science, and more math, and more classroom time, and more, more, more, that I think we’ve forgotten that sometimes kids just need to be kids. That’s what summer is for.And my kids will be kids this summer.But I’ll also be sure that they realize how great the view is from that mountaintop. Friday I’ll remind them that not every day can be May 22. But May 22 is that much sweeter when we have to endure August 12, and December 5, and January 24. They’ve made it through the valleys. Now they get to enjoy the mountains.Lest you think this is just a lesson about the last day of school, think about how it applies to your own life. Chances are it’s been a fair number of years since you experienced first-hand the excitement of the last day of school. But no doubt you’ve been to the mountaintop in other ways. You’ve enjoyed the view. You’ve marveled at what’s before you, and doubted that it could get any better than that.And you might be right. That view might be gorgeous. It might be the best thing you’ve ever seen. But unless you’ve been in the valley, unless you’ve looked around and seen only darkness, and sadness, and hopelessness, unless you’ve looked ahead and realized that you’ve got a huge mountain to climb, you don’t fully appreciate that view.Eventually, summer arrives though. You make it to that mountaintop. You look back at what you’ve done and maybe you’re surprised. Maybe you don’t even remember how you got there. Maybe you don’t remember how you overcame the challenges along the way.You remember that valley though. And now that you’re on that mountain, the valley seems awfully far away.PREVIOUS POST: My Daughter Came to Work with Me TodayIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: It's Eat Whatever You Want Day!+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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My Daughter Came to Work with Me Today

I brought my daughter to work today. It wasn’t Take Your Child to Work Day or anything. My wife planned to volunteer at my sons’ school, and I had crap to do at work, so my daughter came with me. She’s four-and-a-half.It was awesome.As a dude I don’t feel that neverending battle that so many women feel: Family/work. Family/work. Family/work. What to choose? Why do I have to choose?Nope. I didn’t give birth to any of my four children, so society has decided that I can just go to work everyday and not feel bad about leaving them behind. For some reason they’re not able to take care of themselves as soon as they come out of the womb, but why’s that my problem?I’ve got a penis. It’s not my problem. It’s my wife’s problem.I’ve worked full-time our entire marriage. I’ve taken a week or ten days off each time we’ve added another kid to our family, but after those few days I go off to work just as before and my wife is left to nurture, feed and enlighten this new person we created. All I have to do is show up at work and collect a paycheck.Who got the easier end of that deal?Now, before you think that I’m some absentee father who thinks that I don’t have to be involved in their lives because I bring home the bacon, let me set you straight. I love my kids. And I don’t mean in that 1960s emotionally detached father sort of way.I mean I really love my kids. I love being around them, I love spending time with them, I love listening to them, I love talking to them, I love tucking them in at night, I love cutting my sons’ hair and braiding my daughter’s hair. I love them, and I can’t imagine how much less-rich (emotionally and spiritually I mean, not financially. Those damn people are moneysuckers) my life would be without them.But as involved as I am in their lives, I can’t help but think of the sacrifices my wife has made for them. She earned her teaching degree ten years ago and hasn’t worked full-time since because she’s been growing or taking care of our kids.Her body completely changed while she was having kids, and then when she was done having kids she changed it again so it’s even better than it was before kids.She went about ten years without a decent night’s sleep. If I go four or five hours without decent sleep I’m punching my pillow and kicking the foot of my bed. She somehow managed to nurse and care for a brood of kids without punching them, or stabbing me as I slept soundly right next to her.Anyway, I kind of felt like today was one small step toward a tiny, miniscule, almost not-even-noticeable sort of redemption. My wife wanted to do something, and I brought my daughter to work with me so she could do it. Granted, the something that she wanted to do was for two of our other kids, but hey, at least I was able to help a little.So I threw some books and markers into my daughter’s backpack and off we went. (In interest of full disclosure, we also brought her Kindle, which she used to watch YouTube videos for a little while. Sue me.)It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a good day at work!She colored. She “read” books. She drew pictures. She had me write out cryptic phrases she needed to know for some game she was playing like “Buried treasure” and “Don’t dig deeper.” She marveled at how the building I work in looks like a princess castle. She complained about how many steps she had to climb. She ignored strangers who said hi to her and complimented her on her curly hair. She ate an orange, a cookie and a bag of chips as a mid-morning snack, and then a bagel for lunch.I got some work done. Sure, we wandered around a bit when I should have been working. And maybe the lunch hour became a lunch hour and fifteen minutes. And maybe her laughter was a little louder than it should have been in a workplace.But who cares? I got to spend the day with her, and not even sacrifice a “sick” day or a vacation day. She got to see where I work and meet new people. And my wife got a one day respite from having to provide for her every need.I wouldn’t trade today for anything.PREVIOUS POST: Motorcycle Gang Wars Seem Silly to MeIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Warning: It's Wife Appreciation Day!+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Motorcycle Gang Wars Seem Silly to Me

I don’t mean to trivialize the deaths of nine people, but I just can’t take this whole motorcycle gang war in Texas seriously. I’m sure it’s serious business to them, but as someone who’s never been on a motorcycle, in a gang, or at war, it all seems rather silly to me.Minus the dead people, of course.In case you’ve been on a news blackout the past couple of days—which is an idea I thoroughly endorse, by the way—let me explain. This past Sunday two rival motorcycle gangs had a mega fight/gun battle that resulted in the deaths of nine people, hospitalization of eighteen, and the arrest of 170.That’s a lot of leather and bad facial hair!I’m sure the scene around the brawl was scary. Any time you get that many burly, angry, sweaty dudes together it’s not going to be a pleasant environment. But the whole thing just seems so juvenile that I can’t take it seriously.Let’s start with the gangs. Apparently, the whole thing went down after one gang’s animosity toward another gang just boiled over. Sounds serious, doesn’t it? But the two gangs are the Bandidos and the Cossacks.The Bandidos sound like some cartoonish motorcycle gang you might see on an old Looney Tunes episode. Speedy Gonzalez might chase Sylvester the Cat, and old Sly might be right on his tail, finally about to catch him for once, when the Bandidos show up and ride their motorcycles right over Sylvester, leaving tire marks on his body.It’s hard to take anyone seriously when you think of them doing battle with Sylvester the Cat. They might just as well have called themselves The Tweety Birds.And the Cossacks aren’t much better. I wonder if they know that the original Cossacks are people in Russia and Ukraine known for their horsemanship and military prowess. Maybe they do and that’s why they chose the name. However, every time I hear it I just think of Olya Povlatsky, Kate MacKinnon’s Russian woman character from Saturday Night Live who talks about the bizarre struggles and challenges of life in her Russian village.I’m no idiot though. I can make fun of the Bandidos and the Cossacks from behind a computer screen, but I wouldn’t say any of this to a motorcycle gang member’s face. Although I do have to say, some of them don’t seem as imposing as I expected.Like this guy. He looks like that quiet kid who sits in the back row of math class and pretends to be dumb even though he knows all the answers. And this guy, who I’m pretty sure is just Michael Myers from that Love Guru movie. And the guy who can’t even grow a full beard.There appear to be a few celebrities in these motorcycle gangs. Isn’t this guy Jake “The Snake” Roberts from wrestling fame? How about Wolfman Jack? And tell me that this isn’t Elmer Fudd.But really, what’s with all the dudes with the gigantic heads?I might be scared of this guy. He looks pretty mean, but it’s hard to be too scared of anyone who spends that much time making sure his beard is neat.The craziest thing of all is why the two gangs are mad at each other. It’s all about turf. An actual turf war! I thought turf wars only existed in 1980s movies about inner cities, but no, they’re alive and kicking in Texas.The Bandidos think Texas is their turf. The Cossacks think they’re big enough that they can challenge the Bandidos. Hence the bad blood.So you’ve got a few hundred grown men fighting over their territory. And just what does it mean to control a piece of turf or territory? Do they get to build on the land, or skim some tax money, or plunder the natural resources?Nope. They get to wear the Texas bottom rocker, which sounds more like some wrestler’s finishing move than a reason to start a gang war, but I’m wrong again. The Texas bottom rocker is actually a patch with the word Texas on it.That’s it. That’s what they’re fighting about. The right to wear a Texas patch on their gang’s vest.It could be worse though. They could be real barbarians and fight over a woman. Like her.PREVIOUS POST: Observations on Birthday SeasonIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Warning: It's Wife Appreciation Day!+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Observations on Birthday Season

I’ve been thinking about birthdays quite a bit recently. I celebrated my birthday a few weeks back, and we’re heading into birthday season around the Baker household with all four of my kids’ birthdays falling within three-and-a-half months of each other. This past Tuesday both of my nieces celebrated a birthday.I don’t obsess about birthdays because of growing older. That’s a bit surprising considering my never-ending fixation with time and how quickly it passes. But lately I’ve been thinking about how unique our birthdays are for each one of us.I just turned thirty-seven years old and we celebrated with birthday cake, presents and a fantastic dinner. The kids gave me those homemade cards that I love so much, and my wife made sure that I had the small presents (chocolate covered peanuts, a book from the kids about why they love me, and a new pizza stone after my other one broke) that I much prefer over any expensive, extravagant piece of stuff.I got the first piece of cake. The kids hugged me and told me Happy Birthday a couple dozen times each, and with so much exuberance you’d think we were celebrating their birthdays. My four-year-old daughter helped me open my presents. We all enjoyed the day, but I was the complete center of attention.But the fantastic thing about birthdays is that they’re the only day of the year that it’s acceptable to be a selfish adult. Plenty of adults are selfish throughout the year. And 364 days of the year we look at those people and think, “My God what an asshole!” But if it’s their birthday then all of a sudden we think, “Well they can be like that because it’s their birthday.”I’ve always thought you can tell a lot about a person by how they celebrate their birthday.There are those who don’t even acknowledge their birthdays. I suspect they’re either from Puritan ancestry, or think that by not admitting that another year has passed that they’ll somehow slow the clock on their lives.There are those who go out of their way to inform everyone they encounter that it’s their birthday. This is the annoying person at work who wears a Birthday Girl pin just so people will tell her Happy Birthday. She’s starved for attention and probably has quite a bit of sadness in her life the rest of the year.There are those who turn their birthday into an excuse to take a vacation with their family and get away. They’re the ones who like to celebrate, but don’t need a bunch of people showering attention on them.And I think that we can also tell a lot about a person by whom they celebrate their birthday with. I always look forward to the birthdays around our house because I know that our family is going to be together and we’re going to have fun. There’s no greater excitement for a child than a birthday. If it’s their birthday, great, if not, that’s only a little less awesome.On what day is it more important to be surrounded by those who love you the most than the special day specifically devoted to you? What’s a party without the people you care about most? Although if you’re one of those people who are year-round selfish, you probably don’t care who’s around you that particular day because it’s all about you every day!So if you don’t celebrate your birthday, I’d suggest you start. You don’t know how many of them you’ll have left, and it’s the only day of the year that even a complete stranger will shower you with well wishes. Just don’t be obnoxious about it!And if you’re one of those selfish people who think every day is your birthday, you should know that most people think you’re a jerk.I hope your next birthday is a great one, and you take the opportunity to think about what’s really important in your life. You shouldn’t have to look far.They should be right by your side.PREVIOUS POST: It's Too Late When It's GoneIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Warning: It's Wife Appreciation Day!+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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It's Too Late When It's Gone

Next week is David Letterman’s last show. That sort of snuck up on me. I knew he was leaving, but I guess I didn’t realize he had so few shows left. Earlier this evening I was reading about his last show and it occurred to me that I should have been watching his show more regularly.I’m going to miss him.This happens to me quite often. I’ll be reminded that something’s ending, and then I’ll think, “Damn, I wish I would have enjoyed that more when it was around.” It happens to all of us, I suppose.I feel this most acutely every October. Although I love that time of year because of playoff baseball, it’s also the time when the weather really begins to change. Most October days we’re just as likely to see temperatures in the 30s as we are in the 70s. And inevitably, on that first day that I wake up to frost on the grass, I think, “What happened to all those warm days?”Then I think back to this time of year. Mid-May. Things are really starting to heat up temperature-wise, and everything’s blooming and the school year is almost complete, and the thought of the warm months to come make it seem like we’ve got all the time in the world.And we’ll take advantage of it at first. I’m already thinking about spending Friday evening at the park with my kids, running around on the playground, walking around the pond, trying to spot fish, and hearing my kids giggle uncontrollably as they roll down the small grassy hill. Since it’ll be warm we’ll stay out until after sunset and as we walk home one of my sons will mention how it’s so dark that we can barely see the house.Then there will be nights around the fire pit, and afternoons at the beach, and visits to the zoo, and picnics, and maybe a drive-in movie or two. The kids will get tan, and other people will complain about how hot it is, and the quiet of afternoons that are still, and thick with humidity, will be interrupted only by the hum of air conditioning.We’ll be certain that summer will last forever.Until it doesn’t.We’ll be so sure that it will last forever though, that one day in July we’ll choose not to go outside because it’s just too damn hot, and what’s wrong with staying in and having a video game day anyway?And I’ll take the kids to the park after work and instead of staying until sunset—which can put us there until after nine o’clock near the middle of June—the kids will complain that they’re bored, that they were just at the park yesterday, that they’ve seen the same fish for three or four days, and besides, who wants to roll down a hill when it’s so muggy outside?Don’t even get them started on mosquitoes.They want something different, they'll say.The calendar will turn to August, and they’ll go back to school, and we’ll enjoy the summer again for a little while. Suddenly, normal bed times and staring out the window while the teacher explains a math lesson will make us realize that the summer’s over, and we’ll be so afraid that we didn’t make the most of it that we’ll go back to spending as much time outside as possible. Except now we can only go outside after school and on weekends.Before we know it, that frosty October morning has arrived. And we’ll try to fool ourselves and act like we’re excited for cooler weather, and pumpkins, and falling leaves, but really we know that we’ve got one fewer summer in our lives.Then we’ll miss it.Just like Letterman. He’s not even off the air yet, and I wish that I would have watched his show more regularly. By this time next week, he’ll be retired and his show will be in the past. Something that was, instead of something that is.(By the way, it seems like Anna Kendrick might have performed this song on Letterman's show just so I could include it in this post. Do yourself a favor and click on it.)I try to stay away from quoting song lyrics here, but if these lyrics from Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi don’t sum it up perfectly, I don’t know what does:Don’t it always seem to goThat you don’t know what you gotTil it’s goneThey paved paradiseAnd put up a parking lotAt least it’s only mid-May. There’s still time.October may never come.PREVIOUS POST: Do You Even Think About What It's Worth?IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: What I Believe, Crash Davis Style+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Do You Even Think About What It's Worth?

Late last night I turned on American Pickers. Why it’s so interesting to watch a couple of guys pick through other people’s junk is a mystery to me. But when I’m in the right frame of mind, I can sit and watch for hours.At the beginning of last night’s episode Mike and Frank visited some dude in one of the Carolinas that had five buildings to hold his collection. (Funny how on this show the people with tons of junk are called collectors instead of hoarders. I suspect there is a difference, but also that there’s a fine line between the two.) They emphasized that the man was a master at bargaining and wasn’t going to let any piece (they always leave off the last two words of that phrase: “of junk”) go without getting a fair price for it.Right away Frank pulls something from the piles of stuff and asks the man what he knows about it. The man obviously doesn’t remember where he got it, but since he’s been “collecting” for so long and has so much stuff, he makes an educated guess. Frank offers $150 for the piece, and the man hesitates at first, but then accepts.Nothing about the exchange was remarkable except for the item. Frank had just paid $150 for a round mirror, maybe ten inches in diameter, that looked like it had just come from some truck stop gas station bathroom that hadn’t been cleaned in decades. Had anyone asked me what that mirror was worth I would have guessed five dollars. Maybe ten since it had a swivel arm with which you could attach it to the wall.Yet Frank and the Carolina dude both agreed the item was worth $150. And actually, Frank thinks it’s worth much more because he’s going to sell it in his shop for probably twice that much.Who on earth is going to pay $300 for this mirror?And that got me thinking about worth.While I might shake my head in disbelief that the mirror is worth $300, I only do so because it’s not worth it to me. No doubt someone who knows more than I do about disgusting bathroom mirrors might take a look at it and happily pony up three hundred for it.“What’s it worth?” is the basic question of our economy.Yet, even though all of us make decisions every day about whether something is worth a certain amount of money, how many of us actually put any thought into the worth of non-financial decisions?When you bite into that candy bar, is the flavor worth the needless sugar and calories you’re putting into your body? When you stay up late to finish watching that movie, was it worth the sleep you gave up? When you sat in your car and waited for the person in the second space in the parking lot to get into their car and leave, was the close proximity of that parking space worth the time you spent waiting and the exercise you’re not getting by walking a little farther?If we make hundreds of decisions about the worth of things each day, why don’t we think about worth more often? Most of the time, aren’t we just making these decisions without even thinking?It’s easy to say that something’s worth it, but what does that mean? What is it worth? Time? Effort? Sacrifice? Pain?These questions are easily answered when it comes to finances. The mirror’s either worth $300 to you, or it’s not. It’s easy to imagine the $300 you’re losing in exchange for the mirror.But how do you quantify whatever you’re losing to get something else when it’s all abstract? Something’s only worth whatever you’re willing to give up to get it. And if we’re constantly making choices (do I want to watch a show or read a book, sleep in or watch the sunrise, make a frozen pizza and save time, or make a pizza from scratch and have it taste better) that require evaluating the worth of something, would we make different choices if we thought about worth more often?It’s easy to say that something’s worth something, but unless you’ve stopped to think about what you’re giving up to get what you think you want, you don’t know if it’s worth it or not.And if you wouldn’t waste $300 without thinking, why are you making other decisions without thinking?PREVIOUS POST: Where's the Energy in Darkness?IF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Somewhere Among Millions of Options, Perfection+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Where's the Energy in Darkness?

I’m the first person awake in the morning in my house. I get up before everyone so I can get ready and then wake everyone else so they can get ready. It’s been that way for as long as I remember.Most of the time the morning routine is…routine. However, every once in a while there’s a surprise. Like yesterday.My sons—aged ten and eight—share a bedroom. When I wake them in the morning I sit on the edge of the bed and talk to them for a couple of minutes while they become accustomed to the light. I always like these few minutes of the day, even though they’re not usually too talkative at 6:40 in the morning.But yesterday when I woke them up, my ten-year-old asked me, “How do you get energy out of darkness?” I thought that either I was half asleep or he was because he made no sense.I asked him to clarify.“Well you get energy out of light from the sun. But what about darkness? How do we get energy out of darkness?”I thought about it for a moment, and then tried my best scientific answer. “Well, darkness has no energy. That’s why it’s dark. If it had energy it’d be light, like the sun.”My son wasn’t deterred. “But what if there’s energy in the darkness and we just don’t know it. We have to figure out how to get the energy out of the darkness.”He was adamant about it. I asked why he wanted to get energy out of darkness if we already knew how to get it out of light. “Well I have a plan for this amusement park, and it’s closed all day, but then as soon as it gets dark out it comes alive. So I need to find out how to get energy from the darkness so that the amusement park can run itself at night.”Holy cow! The dude had an entire rationale for why he’d been thinking of getting energy from darkness. I suddenly felt like a mental sloth and woefully inadequate as a father. My ten-year-old had bigger thoughts before seven a.m. than I’d probably have all day.His brother wasn’t having any of it that particular morning though: “Don’t ask me, I’m only nine years old,” he said, rounding up the two months remaining until his birthday.I had no great explanation to give my son. I’ve thought about it since then, and I wish that I knew how to get energy from darkness, but I don’t. If I did I’d probably be working in some lab somewhere right now instead of typing a blog post on my couch. My son didn’t seem too disappointed that I didn’t know how to get the energy. I suspect he’s already on to the fact that I don’t know everything.However, the more I thought about his question, the more it seemed to apply to everyday life. How do we get energy from darkness?I’m not talking about literal energy or literal darkness. But there are figurative comparisons that could be made using the energy/darkness idea.I’ve read that when some people are in a deep depression they literally cannot get out of bed to do anything. They have no drive to do so. Isn’t whatever therapy is used to help people in those situations sort of getting energy from darkness?Or even if we think of situations less extreme than that, things that we all deal with. We all go through tough times, or have bad days. Sometimes it can get a little overwhelming. Perhaps it would help if we just asked ourselves how we could get energy out of those dark times.Often dark times are dark because they’re out of our control. If we could control those times, we wouldn’t let them be dark. But while we can’t control the darkness, maybe we can control the energy. Maybe we can find something interspersed within the darkness that can provide a spark, an inferno, that will help carry us through the dark times.And eventually the darkness lifts and the sun returns. Then the energy becomes easy to find. And if we’re smart, we’ll store some of the energy to help get us through the next period of darkness.Because it’s never easy to find energy in darkness.PREVIOUS POST: The Two Great Moms in My LifeIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: Professional Video Game Player is a Thing+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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The Two Great Moms in My Life

A good mom is priceless. And judging by the number of jerks in the world, they’re also somewhat rare. Imagine how much better off we’d be if everyone was guaranteed a good mother. It’s hard to become a bad person if you’ve got a good mom. It’s not impossible, but it’s definitely less likely.I’m lucky enough to have in my life the two best moms I’ve ever seen. One helped make me the person that I am, and the other is helping to make sure that my kids aren’t assholes when they grow up.I’d feel lucky enough to have one of them. That I have them both is an embarrassment of riches.Carol Baker is my mom. She gave birth to me after giving birth to two girls. Realizing she could not possibly improve upon me, she stopped having kids after that. But she’s never stopped being a wonderful mother.She was my first friend. I have vivid memories from when I was three or four years old and singing the theme song to The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, an early 70s television show that was in reruns when was I a kid. The song was called “Best Friend” and the lyrics included: People let me tell you about my best friend. And I knew that my mom was my best friend.For more than thirty years since then she’s supported, helped and loved me in more ways that I can remember. She’s the most patient, caring, understanding person I’ve ever met. Her family has always been her number one priority, and since she became a grandmother her love has only grown, and I didn’t think that was possible.She is always there for her family whenever they need her, often at tremendous inconvenience to herself. I can’t tell you how helpful, soothing, and reassuring it is to know that whenever anyone in our family calls on her, she’s there to help. My sisters and I would have had a much tougher time throughout our lives if not for the unconditional love and assistance my mom has always provided. Unlike some moms, she has our back even when she doesn't agree with our choices.I’m an understanding, patient, laid-back person and I get those qualities from my mom. The way both she and my dad modeled kindness, generosity, friendliness and honesty also rubbed off on me. (Unfortunately, they failed at making me humble. No, actually they succeeded at making me self-deprecating.)I’ve always thought that it’d be hard to imagine anyone with a greater life than I’ve had, and my mom is a profoundly important reason why that’s true.Janine Baker is my wife. She’s also made our children the luckiest kids alive. They’ve got a good dad, but they’ve got a mother whose love for them is so powerfully impactful that it will be the single largest thing that will shape them into the sort of people they’ll become.She had her first child before she met me. When a baby girl arrives into this world to a nineteen-year-old mother and a deadbeat dad the odds are probably stacked against her. Luckily for my daughter, her mother’s singular love and devotion more than made up for the unstable circumstances surrounding her birth. My daughter’s seventeen-years-old today and she’s a genuinely good person. She should thank her mother for that.We’ve had three kids since we got married. And each time I’ve seen my wife somehow find more love to shower down upon them. I’ve never seen a person more naturally kind, loving, and patient than my wife during those all-important first few years of a child’s life.She nursed all of our children, and many times I’d wake up in the middle night, tired and disoriented, only to hear my wife cheerfully talking to a wide-awake nursing baby as if she’d slept twelve hours that night, instead of twelve hours that week. My wife went years—years!—devoting her body to her children for pregnancy and nursing. (Who on earth nurses their babies for two years? My wife does!)But the biological devotion she showed to our children is just a small part of what makes her a great mother. Her warm-hearted, selfless, endless love for our children has helped make them sensitive, caring kids who feel no embarrassment in telling us that they love us, or giving us a kiss when we drop them off for school. Her attention to their emotional and intellectual needs has helped make them smart, well-adjusted, and full of joy.I marvel every single day at what a good mother she is. She taught me so much about what it means to be a good parent, and I’m a good dad in large part because of her. I never had the experience of being a sleep-deprived dad because of her. I was never a nervous first-time dad because of her.And my kids will all turn out to be good people because of her.PREVIOUS POST: Vacations are Better Without Facebook or E-mailIF YOU LIKED THIS POST I BET YOU'LL ALSO LIKE: How to Make Sure Your Kids Aren't Jerks+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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