Epic Sh!t Wednesday

I won't lie, I have another blog. I run a small business on the side selling running shoes and apparel. I typically write product reviews or talk about how my leg hurt during such & such race. But Its been awhile since I've written something that wasn't about that and I think it has some staying power on this blog also.

Wednesdays are days that are kind of different in the AM due to my wife not working on this particular day of the week and 2 of my kids don't go to their respective daycare providers. Its a bit less crazy and there isn't as much of a sense of rush around the morning. So, recently I have been getting up early (5am) and heading to the gym to get a swim in and whatever else I think I need to work on... mainly my mid-section. I get a great burn at the pool and the workout following is good, but I feel like I could do something more remarkable than just swim and do sit ups.

Enter my brain and the want to start something epic for Wednesdays... So this morning I crafted up what I have dubbed Epic Sh!t Wednesday (#epicshitwednesday) and I'd like you to join me. What I see as the impetus around this hump day event is to do something extra than your normal routine. So today instead of driving to the gym and swimming. I ran the 2.5 miles there, swam, and ran the 2.5 miles back. Its not climbing-Mount-Everest or running-100-miles epic but its a little break from the mundane weekly grind.

You get the idea...

So, I'd like you to think about this when you go to do your Wednesday activities. Have 4 miles on the schedule? Stretch it out to 5 miles or do 25 pushups after ever mile. Just challenge yourself to do a little more or be a little better than your planned exertion threshold.
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Now, here's the SFA twist to it... Why don't you try to incorporate you family into some Epic Sh!t also. Put the cell phone down, get on the floor and play with your kids. Take the kids for a walk and give your wife some downtime. Teach them a life skill like fire making or carpentry. Just think about your mundane schedule when you get home from work and crank it up a notch. When you are done, tell us about or even better tell the world about it. - #epicshitwednesday

Blowing the Dust Off

It has been quite some time since we have blessed the blogosphere with some of our original, grammatically incorrect musings. We know. You've missed us.

So why are we writing this? Its easy. We want to get to 10,000 clicks on this little blog of ours by the end of 2012. We are pretty close but need some help for you. However, we won't just post an article saying we need help, we'll put some thought behind it and some substance. Here goes.

The Suburban Father Alliance was started 2 years ago by my partner in crime and me to share some fatherly musings with friends and family. We have pumped out about 145 articles over that span which is more than 1 a week. It was fun. We got free beef jerky. Life was good.

Then I think life kind of hit us. Between the two of us we have 2 wives &7 kids. I also started up a home business selling Running Shoes and Apparel and Jamie was busy coaching, travelling for work, and other life stuff. It became less of a priority (for me at least, I won't speak for Jamie). Either way I don't think either one of us was getting the satisfaction out of it that we once got. In other words, the beef jerky had dried up.

Here's where we need your help. READ. THE. BLOG. We have made a concerted effort between the two of us to pump some good stuff out before the end of the year. Around the New Year we'll re-evaluate and go from there.

So, in the meantime: Read early. Share Often. And get ready for the best blog about fathering you've ever seen.

The Half-Marathon of Parenting

I did it! I did it with no tears, very minor amounts of bribery, and I accomplished it before my wife did. I successfully put all 3 children down for bed with no assistance while my wife was celebrating not being pregnant anymore. I really don't know what else to compare this accomplishment to. I mean its not like climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, but then again its also no easy task. So given the time of the event to occur (roughly 2 hours of alone time) I will go ahead and compare it to my recent half marathon finish. While this may seem like a novice task for you seasoned veterans out there. Let me at least try to build the credibility of this up before you don't acknowledge it as a huge win.

This is how it feels.

I love my 3 kids all dearly, but to sum them up quickly my  kids are as follows: Emotional 5 year old Girl, Volatile 3 year Girl, and Hungry 1 month old Boy.  The dynamic kind of works like this. The 3 year old almost runs the show in the house. She is the wild card. A large girl that weighs about 3 lbs less than the 5 year old and a propensity to pull hair and hit the 5 year old when the parents are out of the room. The problem is the 5 year old just sits there, takes it, and cries. Meanwhile the 1 month old is one of 3 things (along with the percentages of time throughout the day): 1) Awake and calm 10%, 2) Awake, Crying, Hungry 45% 3) Unconscious 45%.

As you can see there's essentially a 50% chance my little dude was going to be awake, hungry & crying for the 2 girls' departure to dreamland. the planning involved to accomplish such a task is tough. Not only do you have to focus on the little guy but you need to make sure the older ones are worn out enough to sleep, but have calmed down enough to be ready for bed. It was about 2 hours or playing, bouncing, shooshing, & correcting, but it happened. The 2 girls faded off to sleep with little intervention from me. Well, the 3 year old has the equivalent of restless leg syndrome in her entire body and it takes her about 30 minutes of flopping around in bed and asking for candy before she dozed off. Regardless, they didn't cry and it was magical.

I think I even surprised my wife when she came home and stuff was cleaned up. I rule.

Anyone have any amazing single fathering stories they'd like to share? Leave them in the comments or contact us and we'll let you blog about how awesome you are.

If this were a buddy cop movie, I'd be too old for this crap

When I was in high school, I was an avid soccer player. In this context, by "avid" I mean that I played a lot, not that I was good. I was blessed to go to a school small enough they couldn't cut people, and by the time I was a senior I was a starter, a captain, and All-Ohio (Academic, anyway).

Anyway, since then, I've largely stopped running (and moving when possible) so I'm a little out of shape. About 2 years ago I answered an online ad for an indoor soccer team needing a goalie. I didn't play goalie (or "keeper" as some "football" snobs call the position) for my high school team but had played a few games in the net for a club team I was on, so I thought it would be a great way to get back into it slowly (as goalies obviously move less than other players).

I bought some shinguards, some cleats, and some gloves, and played for about a year. My team was great, in all fairness, considering some of them were really, REALLY good at soccer. It would have been very easy to get frustrated with me (as I'm barely, BARELY adequate). I had a great time, but didn't get into great shape. After about 6 months I told them to look for another goalie, as I just couldn't commit to the hour every week (I am, after all, a bid-ness man first and foremost). Shortly thereafter they found one, and I enjoyed some much needed time off.

A few weeks ago the team reached back out to me. Apparently after I left they hopped up a division (not surprising since they had a real goalie) and then their new goalie got hurt so they dropped back down a division. As all of them are in average shape, they're perfectly content running all over the field and NOT having people kick things at their heads as hard as possible. Suckers. Anyway, I missed the game (which is a huge contributor to success) so I jumped at the opportunity generated by the injury of my replacement.

Since coming back we've had three games, and we've won all three. It took me a little while to remember the rules, and to get my sea legs back, but this week I was pretty awesome for a thirty-something fat guy playing out of position with a bunch of youngsters who started out better than I am. So I'm having fun.

I'm also painfully, painfully sore. Both wrists are messed up and the first three steps after any period of sitting are sort of half-leaning forward. But I made some great saves, some great drop kicks, and nobody has cussed me out since I came back.

If this is what winning feels like, call me Charlie Sheen.