A Not So Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Subway

I was walking to the subway holding and hugging my now three year old daughter recently, when I heard a man walking by us say, "Black women are the best!" The man walked by us and smirked while making this comment. He had most likely assumed that my daughter was the result of a union between a black man and white woman. It certainly seemed this comment was aimed toward us.

I leaned into discomfort and said to the man that if he had something to say, don't say it under your breath.  Tell us to our faces. That's right. I told this man "us". Tell my daughter to her face that her parents shouldn't be together. He looked quite shocked that I said something. He actually apologized and said he meant nothing against my daughter. I could certainly look at this as a moral victory. However, it didn't feel as good as I would have liked.

I knew to expect these types of comments or looks, being a black male married to a white women. But, I'm tired of this. Don't bring this attitude to my daughter, who represents a bond made of love. The argument against my union is that I have turned my back on my race. I believe this is a cope out. I am a proud black man. I have worked my entire adult life to support and empower children, specifically children of color, and especially African-American children. If you spend 30 minutes with me, you know my heritage is one of the first three ways I identify. I am convinced that people need to focus on their own (ahem) stuff, and let me focus on my own. 

Eventually, I will have to talk to my daughter about racism and prejudice in much more detail. I am not sure about all the aspects of this inevitable conversation, but I do know the theme will be to stay true to herself while honoring her multiracial heritage. We can't avoid these comments, but I can empower her to know there is nothing wrong with her family. Nothing.

My Idol: How My Daughter Inspires Me

I am not Matthew McConaghey. I am not my own idol. You might be surprised who my idol is. My idol is my three year old daughter. How could a three year old be an idol of someone who is almost 40 years her senior? How could someone who can't care for herself inspire me? Oh, let me count the ways.

She expresses love, a lot. 

My daughter truly has unconditional love for me and her mother. She tells us this without prodding or training. She loves me and expresses this often. We don't do this nearly enough as a society, and it has certainly inspired me to show my love to my wife and child as often as possible.

She is willing to forgive.

She doesn't hold it against me yet when she is disciplined or told no. And she is especially forgiving after some rest. Hopefully, her eventual loss of an afternoon nap doesn't change this too much.

She is resilient.

She recently endured a trip to the hospital. Not only was she unfazed by being in an ambulance, but she handled having an IV put into her hand, more than once! She is taking a soccer class where she is the only girl. She initially was taken aback by that. Then, she decided that the actions of the boys should not ruin her enjoyment. Since this will not be the only time she will be "one of" or "the only", it is important that she has these experiences early. Thankfully, she handles them well. In addition, if you ask her why do we fall down, she will answer, "To get back up." Yeah, my parenting is totally influenced by pop culture. I also quote Aaliyah. "Camilla, if at first you don't succeed, dust yourself off and try again." And Uncle Jay. "Camilla. Get. That. Dirt off your shoulder." But, I digress.

She is willing to try new things.

Especially food!

She has strong observational skills.

What she notices is remarkable. She recently noticed a mistake in her Doc McStuffins book. I have read this to her dozens of times since we bought the book, and I never noticed it. Adults just don't seem to notice the things three year olds do. It is certainly a reminder to not take so much for granted. 

And, she said this. "You're not like the other dads. You're brown. But I'm brown, too. And that's good. And we love each other. And we have happy faces."

So, my daughter at age 3 is my idol. I am not ashamed to say this. Simply put, she is a model of kindness and is the type of human being I aspire to be. Here's hoping my daughter at age 16 is still my idol. :)

Absolute Fear: My Daughter's First Trip to the Hospital

My daughter developed a fever on a Tuesday night in March and unfortunately maintained this fever into that Wednesday. For those of you with children, you know how tough it can be seeing your child sick. There has been nothing more frustrating for me as a father than listening to my daughter cough repeatedly and struggle sleeping. My daughter is a beautiful bundle of energy, spirit, and thoughtfulness on most days. When she is sick, she is straight up miserable, lethargic, and rude. I went to teach that Wednesday with my mind clearly elsewhere, which thankfully my students did not notice. My daughter clearly had not improved, so we decided she needed to go to the doctor's office on Thursday. My wife, as she often does, uncovered through research what was causing this problem: pneumonia. Camilla's doctor gave her a treatment to clear her lungs and prescribed an antibiotic. I was convinced that she would shortly be on the road to recovery. She usually bounces back rather quickly. But, that was sadly not the case. My daughter stopped eating and fought me tooth and nail on consuming liquids. This was something different. She was turning down food that she loved. She even started to say she didn't want to improve, which made this so scary.  In addition, my daughter was to celebrate her birthday with some of her friends in a few days. She was so excited about planning this glorious event right down to the Batman cupcakes. But, she started to say that she didn't want to have a party. Yes, this was definitely something different. 

After a return trip to the pediatrician on Friday, we were told that our daughter needed to go to the hospital. Her breathing was far too fast, and she was dangerously dehydrated. What came next was the most surreal part. To go to the hospital, we were required to ride in an ambulance. Very scary. I was literally feeling multiple emotions: sadness, anger, and confusion. And fear. Fear that this had become serious. Fear that our daughter could be lost. Fear no parent wants to deal with at all. Fear certainly hit my wife as well. I had to make a call about who would ride with Camilla. After viewing my wife's tears, I knew it had to be me. My wife needed a little space from the situation, so she would drive our car to the hospital. I knew that I had to be the rock this time, especially for Camilla. But, my daughter was so amazing and unfazed. I truly admire her resiliency. As we waited for a room in the ER, Camilla had trouble keeping down liquids and was spitting up, as she calls it, far too often. It was obvious that an IV was in her future. As we finally moved into a room, I thought about two things. How much these two ladies brought to my life? And, why were there so many cops in front of some of the ER rooms? Yikes! Anyway, we were hopeful that a night on the IV would help Camilla bounce back. In addition, we had to give her pumps of albuterol every few hours, which would hopefully clear her lungs. With all of this, and two uncomfortable chairs, it basically meant a long, painful, and sleepless night for my wife and me. I'm not sure how Jack Bauer does it. (Cue 24 clock ticking sound.)

Day two was a good one. Camilla had bounced back! Her breathing was good, and she was holding down food and liquids. We began to see our daughter and her spirit return. What a glorious sight to behold. What we learned was that she was hit with a devastating one-two punch of pneumonia and RSV, which is a respiratory illness. 

If dealing with this trip to the hospital and Camilla's illness wasn't enough, there were other knuckleballs we had to attempt to hit.
1) The fact that Camilla has proven to be susceptible to respiratory illnesses means that she might just develop asthma. 

2) With Camilla's birthday playdate coming up on that Sunday, I had to reschedule. Poor Camilla apologized profusely for being sick and ruining her party. Thankfully, all of her friends were able to attend on the alternate date. 

3) My father was in town. The same father I have not seen in about 35 years. I was certainly open to seeing him one on one. However, he wanted to meet my family and have me meet my half brothers that I did not know existed until a few years ago. Heavy stuff. Probably not the ideal time for me to deal with it, but you don't always have a choice. I did contact my father to try to meet, but by the time we connected, he was on his way back to Syracuse, NY. 

So, there was all that as well. I started to look around for mountain lions, Sherry Palmer, and Chloe, because it just started to sound over the top to me. 

Camilla continued to improve and was significantly better by Saturday night, although, she had to endure a second IV being placed into her hand that left her crying more than I have ever seen her cry. (That was really hard to witness. Really hard.) I was able to leave Jenelle and venture home, and we both received much needed sleep. We were able to leave midday on Sunday. Camilla  would celebrate her birthday at home! (Her first movie was in order.)

I have never doubted why I am married to my amazing partner. But during times of stress, you learn so much about a relationship. Honestly, Team Camilla rocked the house. We stayed focused, determined, and strong. When my wife needed support, I provided it. (Seeing our child loaded into an ambulance will do that to you.) When I needed help, my wife came to my rescue. (Having your child say she wants to stay sick did it to me.) We helped guide our daughter through this very challenging, exhausting experience. We truly compliment each other. Such a team. 

I am now convinced that this experience will have a lasting effect on me. Just recently, Camilla had a runny nose, and she said she was not sick, which is how this all began last time. I was very real with her, reminding her about the need for rest. I reminded her that we would like to avoid the hospital and keep going to school, classes, and playdates. The best way to do that, I said, was to rest. You know what? She listened and went to sleep shortly thereafter. Perhaps she remembers the sheer pain of the IV being put into her hand or the awkwardness of being in a hospital. I know I do.

Thankfully, this is a story with a happy ending. The main reason for this being the doctors and nurses who helped my daughter. It started with our pediatrician and ended with the help of some wonderful nurses. We are lucky and blessed to have received such quality care. Even though some of them perpetuated gender stereotypes, huzzahs still go all around. Just hoping I don't see those people again any time soon.

(Camilla celebrating her birthday.)