So Bridget, Jacob, and I have all started back to school. For Bridget it is the same routine she has been used to the last two years while I was home with the little warrior. For me, I have to admit after the first day I was seriously considering leaving education and finding another job in the world of paint. Of course, this was a normal feeling after so many changes that had become comfortable and welcome - as the main caregiver the last two school years.

I returned to fourth grade (a new grade level for me), a new school, and the thought that I most certainly will not be seeing as much of my son as I had grown accustomed. It was culture shock for that first day.

After an almost full week (four days because of Labor Day), I am back on the bike so to speak. I feel comfortable, confident, and pretty secure in the assumption that I can do this for the next 24 years or so. I’m back.

Jacob, on the other hand, is in a world of hurt. The first few days were fine for him. My mother watched him everyday until he began nursery school on Wednesday. That’s when the castle began to crumble.

The first morning I dropped him off and he seemed eager to go - after months of saying “that’s your school” as we drove by it all summer long. I brought him into the school and we met Ms. Monica, one of the teachers. She seemed very kind and Jacob was okay with a hug and a kiss goodbye from me. He didn’t cry - or so I thought.

I left and arrived at school ten minutes later. I taught all morning, with thoughts of him in my head, and then I received an upsetting email from the woman who cares for Jacob the three afternoons he goes to school. She said he cried almost all morning and was asking to go home. I was so disappointed and heartbroken to hear that he did not enjoy his morning. The rest of his day was more blissful, as he really likes Gal and staying with her for lunch and a nap.

I arrived home that afternoon, after picking Jacob up at Gal’s, and I spoke with Bridget about what happened. We both agreed that CHANGE is hard. I had survived mine the week before, and he was going to survive his. We sent Jacob back on Thursday and Friday morning.

Each day he cried when I left (I’m the lucky one who gets this job - since I start my day ten minutes later), but he also stopped crying shortly after I left. I am okay with that for now. The big picture of socialization and learning is much more important than a few tears.

The hardest part in all of this is that as a parent we all have to let go a little. At two and half, Jacob is more of a person than ever. To keep him isolated from the world could be tougher later on. So he will go to nursery school - whether he likes it or not.

Hopefully he will like it more in time. We think he will. Of course, for now we will have to put up with, “I don’t want to go to school anymore.”

I know what you mean, brother. I know what you mean.

Resist. Multiply. Don’t cry when your kid does.

Our president made CHANGE the center of his campaign. I have talked about it much lately, too. It is an inevitable thing. We cannot avoid it. Change comes to us all in many forms and many connotations. In less than two weeks I will embark on yet another change in my life. I’ve seen numerous changes to my life in the last two years, and perhaps the best has been the addition of Jacob into it. He is an absolute joyful son and each day with him has been a blessing.

Now the hard part is coming….letting go a bit. In September I go back to work full time and Jacob will be enrolled in nursery school three mornings a week. The rest of the time he will be with my amazing mother and another fantastic woman, Valerie, a mother of four boys, all grown. Of course, my mother-in-law will help plenty, as well. She is terrific and Jacob loves both his grandmothers so much. This was the best we could do for the first five months of the school year. Bridget and I wanted to ease the little man into school and also allow him to keep his nap schedule. Again we are lucky to have great support - even if we have to pay for some of it.

CHANGE is upon us all in many good ways, but I know I will feel a huge pang of sadness at letting go of the best two years of fatherhood - staying home with Jacob. I have bonded with my son and he has done the same with me, but I somehow feel he will be more resilient. Ironic, isn’t it? He’s two and a half and I am thirty one, but he is better equipped at letting go. How did that happen?

The newest and best news I have to offer is that Bridget and I are expecting again. Yes, it’s true and you can feel free to send a congratulations our way if you feel inclined. That CHANGE will be here in February. Until then, Jacob will be telling all who will listen, “I’m going to be a big brother.”

Resist. Multiply. Accept CHANGE because what is the alternative?

A buddy of mine from way back just opened his own restaurant in the town I grew up in. Jacob, Bridget, myself, and my parents all got lunch there today. The food is excellent, the prices are low, and the service is top-notch! Check it out here.

Tell Steve that Dean sent you…

Today I went back to my former school - one in which I spent two years before Jacob was born and I began my  journey into parenting as a stay-at-home papa. I had not visited this whole entire school year for any number of reasons. The number one reason probably was that I was not going to go back to the school. Instead I was starting fresh in my former former school (yes, I know I wrote that twice). So I guess you could say I was a little bit over being around elementary school teachers.

At any rate, I decided last week that there were a few people who I wanted to visit with Jacob. I sent an email and made my plans to venture in and basically say “goodbye” to those that I valued and valued me. Most people there I had lost touch with - probably because I was a guy in a school with almost 100 percent women, and probably because being a stay-at-home dad is not really the most popular decision a guy makes. Whatever the reasons, I was out of touch and out of time (I can see Hall and Oates getting their lawyers ready as I write that last line - YIKES).

So I made my decision to return to the school that I was not really going to return to in September. See you in whenever….

Of course, two days before I made my trek back, a hard knot started to form in my forehead, above my eye brow with no place to be hidden, as a result. I looked in the mirror to see what was brewing and sure enough it was an enormous, hideous, disgusting ZIT! Oh crap, I thought. Just what I need on my head before I go and see all these people. Thanks. Thanks for nothing.

What I did next, I know I should not have done, but I had to do it. You know how it is. It is not like you are free from guilt here, either. You’ve all played around with the ZIT as it begins to form. You’ve all done a little digging, a little squeezing, and a little pinching. Don’t try to deny it. I did the same thing that all of you have done way before me. I played doctor. I thought I was doing myself a service, but in reality I made things a hell of a lot worse.

I tried to pop it. I tried to squeeze the huge, monster-sized, pea-shaped disaster that had formed above my eye brow with no place to be hidden on my almost clear face. I took both thumbs and I really layed into that s-o-b. It did nothing. It did not move and squirt out anything except a thick, yellowish liquid. My head ached, and the ZIT stared back at me - now red and very pissed off. I could feel its heartbeat in my brain and I began to panic. I took tweezers and an pin and poked it. Nothing changed. Well almost nothing. The ZIT changed. It grew angry and more annoyed at my prodding fingers. It turned purple with a yellow center. I swear it looked like something out of the movie “Something About Mary”. Gross. Yuck. Ack.

I came downstairs from my lab (the bathroom) with a piece of tissue stuck to the wound. Jacob asked me, “What’s that, daddy?” I told him it was a boo-boo and Bridget just shook her head. “Why did you play with it? You knew this would happen.”

She was right. I knew and I did it anyway. I thought this one would be different. This one would yield to my hands and break open as I applied a little pressure. WRONG. No change here - except from bad to worse.

Thank god for a clean shower - spraying hot water on an open sore. Thank god for neosporin. Thank god for two days of not picking at it before entering my former school.

The day finally came and my ZIT was really gone for all intents and purposes. Of course, in its wake, was a scab the size of a dime. At least I had replaced it with something more disgusting.

When will I ever learn? Zit happens and we should leave it at that.

Resist. Multiply. Pop ‘um if you’ve got ‘um - or not. Enjoy this clip:

I discovered a copy of an awesome book entitled, “Rhinoceros Tap” in our home bookshelf tonight. It is a great story to read to your toddler because there is a fun CD that comes with it. There are 15 songs that go along with the story and I found it especially entertaining for me and for Jacob. He was dancing and bopping his head to the music. I highly recommend it.

The book also has a second section with sheet music and the full lyrics - so talented people like Bridget can play the piano and sing the songs to Jacob the Dancing Warrior.

Listen to the songs here.

Resist. Multiply. Buy this book!

So this morning I gave Jacob a bath. This has become a daily necessity since he gets so sweaty the day before while playing in the warm soon-to-be summer sun. Today he struck me as particularly smart when he said, “Look, Daddy, I swim like a fish!” Sure enough, he was laying on his stomach, kicking his legs like a little swimmer.

Then he proceeded to drink the dirty bath water in the tub and all thoughts of genius were erased. Yikes!

Nevertheless, Jacob continues to amaze me with how expressive his language is getting. I read somewhere recently that the more we encourage him to speak, the more we actually speak to him and explain the world around him, and the more we introduce new words to him, the more he will gain language and understanding of his surroundings. It is an awesome thing to be a part of. I feel a certain parental pride when he speaks and speaks well. To me, it is a huge milestone and one I am happy to witness daily.

Interestingly enough, I am probably the second quietest Prescott in my immediate family (my mother being the first), and I always knew that there was a chance that he would be a talker - much like my father and brother. Hopefully he will learn to filter his speaking, as my father has not yet mastered this ability at 63 years young. Oh well, as I said before he is the best and worst of me. I only pray that Jacob is the best of me in this arena. Sometimes silence is the preferred mode.

For now, I will sit back and listen to everything the little warrior has to say to Bridget and myself. He is quite the talker in and out of the tub. Now if I could only get him to stop drinking the bath water!

Resist. Multiply. Don’t drink the bath water.

I am a lucky son-in-law. My in-laws own a beach property in Long Beach Island. As a result, Bridget, Jacob and I have many trips down the shore. Bridget’s parents are terrificly wonderful people. I love them like my own parents and Jacob is so lucky to spend quality time with them in the summer months. 

Here’s to spending time with family in a beautiful climate with plenty of positive things happening around us. I look forward to more and more Prescott children basking in the warm summer glow of endless beaches and ocean views.

Here is a recent shot from our Memorial Day visit. Look at that sky. Breathtaking and in New Jersey. Who would have thought it?

Resist. Multiply. Enjoy the sand.

I am alive a short thirty one years and I have come to learn some important, crucial lessons in the that time. I am more observant of these lessons lately. Maybe it has everything to do with the changes in my life over that last two years. Maybe it has to do with more time spent with my father and son over that span of time. Maybe it even has to do with the constant examining, and reexamining of my role in Bridget’s life, in my family’s life, and how I view myself. I am not my jeans or my Manchester United tee shirt. I am not the facial hair on my face that is not completely clean-shaven, but not completely dirty either. I am not the 7 o’clock bedtime we have set for Jacob, or the 6:30 wake up call he sets for us the next morning. I am so much more than that and I know it. The world views me the way I view the world. I guess. I hope. 

The truth is I have come to learn one thing in all this time with a great deal of certainty. I am the best and the worst of my own father. What I mean by this is actually quite simple and not at all deep by any means. DNA is inescapable. It makes us who we are. It defines so much of us before we are even who we know as “us”. The more time I spend with my own father (the amazing 80’s Dad) the more I realize in many respects I am just like him. Sure I hope that I am also a better model in some ways, but the best parts of him are also me, too. I want to keep those parts and I can only hope that Jacob will keep those parts of me, as well. That needs to be repeated - an example for each generation of Prescott man to replicate. The worst parts are probably there, too. I have worked hard to lessen their severity, however. I am almost exactly half the age of my father and with that comes a greater ability to change. When you are 63 years old - so easy it is not. (Yoda)

The point (maybe): Regardless, I am more aware of the fact that my father was my first teacher. He showed me how to be a man. The version of the man I am today has plenty to do with how he taught me - in actions and deeds, in successes and mistakes, in happy times and sad ones. Jacob is already learning these lessons from me. 

With Father’s Day coming up think about your dad and the influence (good or bad) he may have had on you. I am lucky I have a father who is terrific. He is always there for me and a big reason why I am hopefully going to be a great father, too. 

I hope this post makes sense. I hope you read it and reread it and pass it along to others. I hope I am not being too presumptuous. If I am…..well…oh well. I had good intentions. I guess I get that from my father, too.

Resist. Multiply. Enjoy this funny picture of Jacob and Bridget’s foot. That’s my DNA, son!

This is the last official month of my two year tour of duty taking care of Jacob and being dubbed the primary caregiver. I am trying my best to enjoy each moment, but it is hard to realize that a situation that I have come to know and love is coming to an end. Like I have said in past posts, everything must come to an end.

Easier said than done.

With change comes uncertainty and maybe even a little nervousness. Though I am excited for the future - for the prospect of greater independence and social maturity for Jacob - I remain a little sad that I will not be there for every moment. I guess that is reality. That’s the natural order of things. I will have three months of painting to come to terms with it.

Side note: Recently, Jacob has really developed a great sense of communication with Bridget and myself. He is talking so much and expressing so much lately. It’s pretty rad. I am happy that he is so expressive and that he understands even more when he is spoken to by either Bridget or myself.

Additional Side Note: Last weekend Bridget and I threw an awesome party in our backyard. We had plenty of food, drinks, and good music for our guests to enjoy. The forecast was bad, however. Earlier in the day I asked two of my buddies to come by and help me put up a tarp to ensure that wet weather would not ruin the festivities. Jacob had a ball running around the backyard while we managed to hook up this tarp.  It did rain, and the crew that remained latest stayed dry under our tarp. Good times. (Flip cup - a popular college game - was a main attraction and a trip down memory lane for many of us.) Only one casualty of the party - the back steps broke under the weight of one of my buddies. They had rotted and have since been replaced by a competent handy man my father is friends with. Jacob thought he was a real life “Handy Manny”.

Back on track: Life is short and it is important to cherish the good times. I plan to have some more friends over this whole summer and enjoy the company that they bring. I plan to enjoy my son and my current situation as long as I can. I will always be his father and he will always be my son, but that dynamic is an ever-changing one. That’s cool with me.

Resist. Multiply. Play some flip cup.

So today I made the trek back to the town that I taught in for six seasons before Jacob came along. It was with trepidation and some excitement that I entered the new building (an old building I had previously worked at to start my career) and entered the principal’s office. Like a kid in school I was full of nervous anticipation as to what was to come next. The truth was that I had manipulated the situation to my favor. I had in fact waited patiently for a chance to change schools, grade levels, and perhaps even myself. After two wonderful years at home with Jacob, my time is nearing an end in this capacity, at least.

Recently I wrote a piece about wrestling where I tried to eloquently make comparisons about life in terms of six minutes (the length of most wrestling bouts) and how small an amount of time that really is.  Life is the larger event and the more substantial or meaningful piece in the time equation. Live it well. Basically what we all know is that time waits for none of us. It does not stand still and it certainly does not know how to expand to give us more of it. Simply put, my time with Jacob is and always was working as a count down and not the other way around. After two excellent years at home with the little warrior I am beginning to realize that reality.

Nevertheless, I will not complain or feel sad about the fact that next year at this time I will be completing my first year back in school. I have to move on and so does Jacob. Life is not meant to be lived standing still. It is important for me to journey back to teaching other children, and it is equally important for Jacob to begin his adventure in school. Next year he will have his grandma (my retired mother) looking after him two days a week and the rest of the time he will be tearing it up in nursery school. This is all part of growing up. Jacob is ready and so am I. (I think Bridget is ready, too. We’ll see when we get to that first day of school. Tears are expected for sure.)

So after a few minutes of talking with my new principal in my new school with a new mindset beginning to unfold, I quickly began to switch gears and transition back into a life I knew so well before Jacob ever entered the equation. This time I am wiser, stronger, more seasoned; despite two full years away from the game. Being a parent has and will continue to make me a better educator. I look at everything differently now and I think about my experiences at home, knowing that I can make a strong difference in the lives of my students. I also realize how important time with my family is. I cherish it and I always will put Bridget and Jacob first before any school work or situations related to school. 

There is no room for sadness on my part. I am lucky. Not many dads get the chance to do what I have done. I am thankful for my time - even if it seems to be speeding up lately. I have more of it, I remind myself. It will change in a few months, but what doesn’t change? Life is like that and Jacob will learn that someday, too. What’s crucial is to enjoy every moment along the way.

Resist. Multiply. Take time to enjoy your family.