The Don't Fall Mantra

As I fell to the sidewalk, the only thing I could think of was us telling each other: "Don't fall."

My wife Amy and I have been sharing that mantra with each other for the past few years when we go for workout walks and mountain hikes. We feel healthy and are in pretty good shape, although I won't say "for our age". That's too limiting. Last year we bought matching shirts that said "A Little Fit / A Little Fat" that were a big hit at last year's Wharf to Wharf. We're older parents now with teens in tow and grateful we haven't had many debilitating injuries. Our kids are grateful, too. 

I had knee surgery in 2014, which put an end to my running days. That was because of a torn meniscus that proved to be worse than the MRI showed. I had fallen a few times on runs prior to that, most likely damaging an already tearing meniscus. I recovered and moved on to walking and hiking. No bike riding, though. We've tried but just never became a biking family.

Last year Amy rolled her ankle on a hike. She was sore but thankfully wasn't out of commission too long. Second to "don't fall" is our rule of never taking your eyes off the road or trail we're walking on. Especially mountain trails. That's what she did, and her foot slid off a root she didn't see to anticipate adjusting her footing. 

In 2017, I did have a bizarre infection health scare that I never fully understood at the time or since. One that put in the hospital for night and left me with an awkward and painful healing process. Our kids were much younger then but old enough to be worried. It certainly sucked but I eventually recovered. 

Otherwise, we've each had other physical tweaks in our necks, backs, and knees. We recovered nicely from each of those, taking care of ourselves and not pushing it when we couldn't or shouldn't (except me at times unfortunately). Each time our kids remind us to slow down and take care of ourselves. I'm six years older than Amy and I was 42 when our oldest Beatrice was born and 44 when our youngest Bryce was born. When I look back at one of the earliest posts on Get Off The Ground about being an older parent, I have to smile. 

The question is – do Amy and I worry about the fact we're older having children? Not really. I mean, yes, I imagine what it will be like, banking on the fact we'll be in pretty good shape mentally, emotionally and physically – along with having contingencies in place just in case. But no, we're not that worried about it at this point.

So, here we are. We've made it with falls and all.

"Don't fall." The words collided with my other thought in that moment -- How did I lose my balance? After walking our dog Jenny thousands of times over the past six years, I had never lost my balance. Until I did. 

I had reached down to pick up Jenny's poop, just like the thousands of times before that, and instead of standing back up cleanly, I spun slowly and fell to the sidewalk onto my right side. I tried to break the fall with my hand holding Jenny's leash, but it didn't work. I'm lucky I didn't break my wrist trying. I felt my ribs compress upward and inward. It hurt. A lot. 

I laid there for a moment, still holding the leash, and Jenny just stared at me, waiting to finish her walk. I stood up and was able to walk. The right side of my ribs were sore, but all my limbs were scrape free and intact. I finished the walk and told Amy what happened. A week later I went to get an X-ray that revealed I had a hairline fracture in one of my ribs. But two weeks after that I was healing just fine. 

"Don't fall." The words continue to haunt me because now our kids are on me about it. And sure enough, less than three weeks after that fall, on one of our mountain hikes I tripped and strained my right foot under my big toe. The part where you push off when walking, running, or jumping. I don't run anymore, and I don't jump much, but I do walk. And play the drums. 

I'm recovering from that now, but damn. It's like I need all the automated warning alarms built into our fussy EV. And even though my family thinks I'm still fussier than the car, I need to do better job of embodying the "don't fall" mantra and watch where the frick I'm going. All the time. 

Where The Cool Kids Are

There's only one way in and out while driving a car. You can walk in and out, but that wasn't going to help us or them in that moment. Plus, we had the art teacher's number and she had ours in case of any emergency. Later, my wife Amy said that she would've gotten out the car and walked if we wouldn't have been to get to our daughters. 

For a few forever moments we weren't sure what was going on until we got close enough to make the turn. What we saw was a police action going on just a few blocks away, which is why the traffic was so slow. Amy told me to make an illegal left, which I did, so we could skip the backup where the streets were blocked ahead of us. Otherwise, Amy would've called the teacher, got out and started walking, while I figured out how to wind around and double back. 

Thankfully we didn't have to do that; we still got to our children on time to pick them up. The art class was held outside at one of our lovely community parks, primarily due to COVID-19 concerns. Once we got there, our daughters Beatrice and Bryce told us there was scary situation that happened while they were there. A woman, most likely homeless and mentally ill (we assumed based on their description), was yelling and wandering around too close to where they were. In the general vicinity there are quite a few people experiencing homelessness, living in tents and campers, with many in desperate need of mental health services.

"She kept saying things about God and Jesus," Beatrice said. "But like she was mad."

"Yes, it scared us," Bryce said. "So we moved."

The art class teacher told us that our girls wanted to move away from the yelling woman, so they did just that until she left the area. 

"That's exactly what we want them to do," Amy said. "It's definitely part of our safety plans."

Prior to this incident, we had already talked with the art teacher about our Kidpower safety skills and plans, including some of the following:

• Moving away and checking first with their adults if they are on their own before they let a person or an animal they don’t know well get close to them (or thinking first if they don’t have an adult to check with)
• Moving out of reach if something or someone might be unsafe
• Making a safety plan for how to get help everywhere they go
• Checking first with their adults before they change their plan about what they are doing, where they are going, and who they are with, including people they know
• Understanding that the safety rules are different in emergencies where they cannot Check First
• Yelling and running to safety if they are scared
• Using self-defense skills to escape and get to safety in an emergency

Our daughters know these safety skills quite well, so we were proud to hear that they used their voices and said they wanted to move away from a seemingly unsafe stranger. This is so important as they spend more and more time on their own, heading headlong to teenage-land and going back to in-person school after a year of distance learning. That in turn will lead to more opportunities to potentially experience harassment and bullying from people they do know, and eventually dating angst. 

I read recently that around the world, almost 1 in 3 women have experienced physical or sexual violence at least once in their lifetime, according to a new report released by the World Health Organization. Also according to the report, intimate partner violence was the most prevalent form – and it starts early. Nearly 1 in 4 girls and women who'd been in a relationship have already experience physical and/or sexual violence by age 19. I've been a harassment, domestic violence and sexual assault awareness advocate for many years, and I worry about statistics like these, but we also don't want our daughters living in fear, or us for that matter, which is why we review our safety plans every week in our family meetings.

We are the safetyists, after all, and living our lives being calm, confident and aware is where the cool kids are.

A Life-Lesson Letter for My Daughters

Dear Beatrice and Bryce,

I’m writing this letter for your future selves to read, to talk about a very serious subject for when you’re both young adults. 

Your mom and I hope you never experience what too many women, and men, still experience in the world every single day – being harassed, bullied, sexually assaulted and/or raped. Whether by a stranger, or more likely, by someone you know. A significant other, a supposed friend or family member, a classmate, a neighbor, a co-worker or a boss. Unfortunately, the list goes on and on, multiple iterations of the same tragic story. You may even have friends who have experienced one of the above. 

Yes, I said it was serious, and we hope we’ve helped arm you with the awareness, confidence, safety skills and courage to not allow anyone to overpower you because they want to. Especially because you are women, and especially by men (although women can harass other women, too).

It can all start simply enough, with someone bugging you repeatedly that’s demeaning to you over time, who attempts to put you in your place, that you’re not good enough or smart enough, and never will be. Or, someone who pushes you to do something without your consent because they say they like you and think you’re attractive. When it’s repetitive harassment and/or physical assault, it can eat away at your psyche, your very heart and soul, until there’s nothing left but chronic fear and unhappiness, depression and the rock bottom of self-worth. 

If you let it. You don’t have to let it, though. Ever. Whomever is doing it do you, you can use that Kidpower Mom taught us all those years ago and say “Stop!” Then you throw away those intentionally hurtful words and actions and you get yourself in a safe space. Whether at home or at work, you do not have to accept it, even when it’s enabled by others around you who say “but that’s just the way he/she talks to others; it’s the way he/she expresses love; he/she doesn’t really mean it; don’t take it personally; just deal with it, because that’s life and you need this job.”

That’s all bullshit. Sorry, but it is. And no matter how much you think you like someone, if they bully and harass you, or try to force you to do something sexual you do not want to do, then it’s time to get out, to get away to safety. You have the power to say “stop” and “no” – even if you first say yes.

This also means reporting it if it’s at work or calling it out if you have friends or people you work with who are experiencing it. Or reporting it to the police when it’s a crime against you or someone you know. Don’t try to hide it because you’re ashamed or look the other way when you witness it elsewhere, because someday you could be in a situation where you’ll need the support of others to help shine a light on it. Looking the other way is one of the ways that empowers abusive behavior.

This isn’t easy to do and standing up for yourself and others can sometimes come with heavy social, emotional and psychological costs. You could lose the very people you thought were your friends. You could lose your job. You may want to quit your job. You could be fearful of intimacy for a long time to come. You could be socially chastised by those who support the very individuals who have harassed you, and this is a life lesson I want to share with you both. 

You probably don’t remember, but years ago I was on the Santa Cruz City Commission for the Prevention of Violence Against Women (CPVAW). Your mom encouraged me to apply for the commission, because I had already been an advocate for violence awareness and prevention. 

This commission was all about preventing sexual harassment, sexual assault and rape in our community and holding those accountable who perpetrated such activities. I was only one of two men on the commission during my tenure. I learned a lot and was proud of the work we did and even served as chair during the last year I served. 

But then our commission got swept into local politics, something we never intended to happen. There were five women – three city staff employees and two city council members – who had come forward and filed multiple workplace harassment complaints against two other city councilmembers, both men. And one of the five women was also the city staff coordinator for our commission.

The city paid for an investigation that did substantiate there was in fact a pervasive pattern of workplace harassment and bullying by these two male councilmembers, along with a contingent of their supporters who worked with and for them. While the investigation concluded that there wasn’t any gender bias in these workplace harassment complaints, all who came forward were women, and none of the complaints were found to be false. 

Now, imagine multiple city council meetings where men and women in our community repeatedly blamed and shamed the women who had come forward, accusing them of the wrongdoing, that is was there fault that these two male councilmembers were being accused because they just wanted the men removed from office. Their supporters were vocal about various conspiracy theories of why these women had come forward in the first place, that it was all political in the end. And that because one of the men were black, it became about race as well. 

But that wasn’t the worst of it. Our commission experienced the same community backlash because the majority of us continued to stand by the five women. We pushed for what’s called censure, a public reprimand of the two councilmembers, but one in which the council majority didn’t pass. 

We were still berated over and over again with hateful rhetoric. That we were wrong to support these women and that we should only support women who are sexually assaulted and raped. That we should leave workplace harassment and bullying for the workplace itself to deal with. 

We were also literally threatened that they would “come after us” if we continued to support the women who had come forward. Especially me, being the only male and the chair. The Commission for the Prevention of Violence Against Women being threatened with violence because of women coming forward about workplace violence. Can you believe it? Egregious and absurd, but it happened.

The harassment continued online, and sadly, one of the two accused councilmembers wrote slanderous posts on his Facebook page about the commission and me personally. 

But even after all of that, all I could think about after being threatened by them was you two and your mom. Would my family be in danger now? Would they continue to harass us incessantly like they did to those women and their families who had come forward? 

What if either of you had something happen to you someday and then you come forward so those who hurt you could be held accountable, and this was the hateful backlash you received? That it was all your fault? Because there was no way those you accused could do something like that?

No wonder so many who are harassed and abused or worse don’t come forward. Also note that false reporting happens only about 2%-10% of the time, and that’s probably high because of those who actually don’t report. 

While I’ll always stand by all the work the commission did back then, at that time I had had enough of the harassment and bullying and had to step down. It adversely impacted our family life and my work life (again, you probably don’t remember how stressed I was back then, but your mom does). Of course, my personal woes were nothing compared to anyone who’s been victimized repeatedly, sexually assaulted and/or raped. 

My dear daughters, I implore you to always believe those who come forward and help be a voice for those who struggle to find theirs. Sexual assault and rape are horrific crimes, but don’t discount all other forms of controlling harassment and bullying just because they’re not rape. Many times, it’s this very behavior that’s a precursor to other forms of abuse and violence and can have just as much of a lasting traumatic effect. I grew up with domestic violence and sexual abuse, and so I know firsthand the lasting effects. That’s another story I’ll tell you someday. 

I’m no hero, but I do want both of you to know that my commitment to preventing violence of all kinds against women, men, girls and boys, including harassment and bullying, has never faltered and never will. I know you will continue to be committed as well. 

I love you both very much. 

Dad

Why These Fires Start

"I'm trying, I'm trying to sleep

I'm trying, I'm trying to sleep

But I can't, but I can't when you all have

Guns for hands..."

–twenty one pilots, Guns for Hands

I almost brought the nearest to me to the ground; the two pops were loud and unmistakable. I flinched and knew in my periphery my oldest daughter was on my right and my niece and her baby daughter where slightly behind me on my left. And my wife was with our youngest daughter at the other end of the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. How was I going to help them all?

I couldn't. And then I thought of part of my Kidpower self-defense training: when someone has a gun, you run. You run for safety as best as you can and get help as soon as you can. That most shooters aren't very accurate when people are running away from them, and police departments concur. That doesn't mean you won't get shot, but falling to the ground where you are can make you more of a target. And trying to fight someone with a gun pointing at you, which should be a last resort for those even with a modicum of training, could mean a quick loss of life. 

All these things went through my mind seconds after the two loud pops. But they weren't gun shots – they were just balloons popping in one of the boardwalk games. Just balloons. I sighed and then we were on our way enjoying the day. I can't imagine what it's been like for real victims of shootings and their families.

The immediate fear was palatable, though. Especially considering that only a few days earlier there was a mass shooting at the Gilroy Garlic Festival. And for the first time we discussed shootings with our children, and what to do if it happens and how to stay safe. No surprise, it scared them, but it was still a necessary conversation. 

Then came the weekend after, where two more mass shootings killed 29 people and injured dozens more. 

That's now already 32 mass shootings in the U.S. this year (defined as three or more killings in a single episode).

There have been many arguments as to why this keeps happening in America, but one clear fact documented over and over again is that there are too many guns in this country with relatively unregulated gun ownership compared to the rest of the developed world. In fact, Americans make up about 4.4 percent of the global population but own 42 percent of the world’s guns. Combine that now with growing civil unrest, resurgent racism, simmering hate and fear being stoked by some of the very leaders who are supposed to call foul and unify us, and we have perpetual societal bonfires jeopardizing the lives of our families. 

I say that because one of the many Kidpower instructors I admire (besides my wife, of course) inspired me with this analogy:

When we're literally on fire, we're taught to -- Stop, Drop and Roll -- to extinguish the fire.

But why are we on fire in the first place? What happened to cause the fire? What things can we do to prevent these fires in the future? To make ourselves safer? To make our families safer? To make our communities safer?

In light of these horrific mass shootings of late, we need to keep our fears in check and work hard to be aware and prevent these societal fires from starting in the first place, including:

• Practice skills for taking charge of your safety and your family's everyday
• Learn and practice the safety plan at your school/business
• Practice speaking up about safety to those with power to act
• Practice overcoming the “Bystander Effect" and empowering yourself and others to take action
• Help strengthen a positive social climate in your community

These being just a few of the Kidpower Safety tips for individuals and families. 

And as American citizens, speaking truth to power about why these fires start in the first place and what we can do to prevent them through legislation and law enforcement is also our responsibility. We can and should be shouting from the rooftops about reducing the number of guns in our country and addressing the racist hate and destructive anger that's driving these mass shootings of late.

Speak up and be safe. 

Everyone Is Safe Today

If you've ever experienced it, you know painful it is for all involved. The accusation from someone you love that you've done something heinous, something you know you could never do. There's that tragic betrayed look in their eyes, the seismic tremble in their voice, their shaking hands. Your heart and soul are gutted and you scramble to defend yourself and categorically deny. And even if you're exonerated and it's only temporary, the fact that the accusation was made in the first place takes time to heal, although it never really goes away.

If you've been there, then you know what I'm talking about, because I know what I'm talking about. Of course, any accusation of sexual harassment,  domestic violence, sexual assault, child molestation -- anything accusation related to these horrible acts -- should be taken quite seriously, even if they're eventually found unfounded.

The research is clear about the prevalence of false allegations -- it's between 2% and 10%. But even with this incidence, it's the real victims, those who have actually been assaulted, have the much longer road to healing, if ever truly can. They're also the ones who are in fear of reporting what happened, due to the way we victimize the victims.

I'm a work-in-progress husband and a father today who wants to help with the awareness and prevention of all things related to sexual harassment, domestic violence, sexual assault and child molestation. When I experience my sexual abuse as a child, I couldn't tell you the exact days the incidents occurred and there was never anyone there in the moment to corroborate what had happened. It was my word against his, and I didn't tell anyone for over a decade.

And when the man (who was my first step-father) found out that I shared what happened to me, he threatened to kill me. After one public confrontation with family and friends, nothing ever came of it and no litigation was ever pursued. He has long since passed away, but not only have the memories of what happened to me have never faded, the extreme emotional and psychological abuse my mother and sister experienced from the same man have never faded either.

For those who sympathize with all the men today being accused of sexual harassment and assault and who think, "Wow, no man is safe today," I wish they'd understand the pervasive patriarchal violence that has been committed against women and children for thousands of years. This isn't a partisan problem or a greater prevalence of false allegations. These are brave individuals finally confronting the visceral memories that desperately need to see the light of day in order to heal.

As I've mentioned in another article, according to data collected by RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network), one in 9 girls and 1 in 53 boys under the age of 18 experience sexual abuse or assault at the hands of an adult.

In 88% of the sexual abuse claims that Child Protective Services (CPS) substantiates or finds supporting evidence of, the perpetrator is male (mostly parents and relatives and others trusted by the children).

And as few as one in five victims report their sexual assault, so they often don’t get the help they need.

We can be part of the solution, to work together with women to transform their communities and shift gender stereotypes, end rape culture and deconstruct the patriarchy. That’s just what we’re attempting to do in Santa Cruz with the Commission for the Prevention of Violence Against Women (CPVAW), holding a one-day awareness and prevention conference called Transforming Together on Saturday, October 6, 2018, at the Louden Nelson Community Center. For those who are local and in the Bay Area, please join us.

The very public attacks against alleged victims of sexual harassment and assault are a painful reminder of how much our patriarchal heritage protects the perpetrators. Why don't we want to believe those who are brave enough to come forward share their traumatic experiences? Why would anyone want to come forward knowing the polarizing and ostracizing assault they'll experience?

I am no longer a victim. And those who come forward take the first steps at instigating justice and healing their broken lives. However, there are so many others who need our help and our support. We need to change the misleading perception that "no man is safe today" to a new reality that "everyone is safe today." Aspirational and idealistic, yes, but that's the world we want our girls to live in, and we will do everything we can to get there. This is our #BhivePower, the very essence of our family's mission.

My Christmas Wish of Awareness

"To know love, men must be able to let go the will to dominate. They must be able to choose life over death. They must be willing to change."

--bell hooks, The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love

It was in that moment that every inappropriate word and action against women I had ever witnessed in my lifetime slithered into my consciousness and catcalled my own male guilt.

Fifteen minutes earlier the rental car driver came to the body shop to pick me up and take me to their office to get our rental car. We were having our car fixed and had to leave it at the body shop for a few days. My driver was an older man, maybe late fifties, and he had the local classic rock radio channel on.

"Right on," I said. "I love the Hippo." That was the colloquial name for the rock station KHIP.

"Me too," he said. "Gotta have my rock and roll."

"Yes, indeed," I said.

As we backed out of our parking spot, a woman pulled in and parked the truck she drove. We waited for her to get out and cross in front of us to enter the body shop office.

"She's cute," my driver said.

"Yes," I said, not really thinking about it. I just wanted to get my rental car and get back to work.

He shook his head and laughed. "You know, you can't even say a girl is cute anymore, or she'll report you. You could've done it fifteen years ago and accidentally touch her leg and she could sue you now. Crazy."

I heard every word he said with a heightened attentiveness, but didn't say anything.

He went on. "You have to be careful -- you can't even look at a woman anymore without being accused of something. It's crazy."

He laughed, but I didn't think it was funny.

"You know, many of these women coming out today were sexually harassed and assaulted," I said.

That unsettled him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

I went on. "This is pretty serious, the way too many women are still treated today. I have two daughters and I can't imagine them having to deal with this kind of crap when they're older, but unfortunately they most likely will and we'll want them to speak up and not take it."

"Yeah, you're right. I know," he said. He nodded as he drove, but I could tell he was still uncomfortable.

We both got quiet then. I felt better that I had spoken up, but it certainly wasn't anything heroic. I could only think of every time in my life when I heard another man say something derogatory about another women because they refused his advances, that women are too sensitive and misunderstand too easily, that in the case of harassment and assault it was the woman's fault and that we live in a too politically correct world where men are blamed for it all when the wind blows the wrong way. That for every woman who cries rape there's another who falsely accuses.

But I knew that was all bullshit, even when there are those who do falsely accuse. The fact is that 1 in 2 women and 1 in 5 men have experienced some form of sexual violence in their lives, and 1 in 4 women and 1 in 6 men were sexually abused before the age of 18 (according to statistics from NO MORE, an nonprofit organization that unites and strengthens a diverse, global community to help end domestic violence, sexual assault and abuse).

My driver's cell phone rang. "Hello. Yes, yes, we just left there. She needs a ride? Okay, we'll circle back." He hung up and added to me, "We've got another person needing to get a rental car, so if it's okay we'll head back there and get her."

"Sure," I said.

"It's probably that woman we saw park the truck," he said.

"Yep."

And sure enough it was. She got in the back seat, and after some friendly banter between the three of us, the car got quiet except for the radio playing. Tom Petty pleaded with us to break down.

"Break down, go ahead and give it to me
Break down, honey take me through the night
Break down now I standin' here can't you see
Break down, it's all right
It's all right
It's all right..."

I loved that old rock song, but in this moment it wasn't "all right" and the context felt awkward, as if I was the one who had done something inappropriate and felt it fill the car like warm, stinky air. Our other passenger had no idea of what had been discussed just moments earlier between the driver and myself. I wanted to blurt out how I'm all about treating each other better, about treating women with respect as equals, about how I made my own mistakes over the years and how life lessons are only as good as what you do with the learning, about how I grew up with abusive patriarchy and domestic violence and sexual assault and that's why I'm on the city Commission for the Prevention of Violence Against Women and involved in Kidpower and why I along with many others want to change the culture of victim and perpetrator and protective self-defense to my Christmas wish of awareness and prevention and a willingness to change, of ending the perpetual battle between unforgiving modern feminism and the imperialist white-supremacist capitalist patriarchy (thank you, bell hooks).

All in one breath. And then I thought better of it, because they both would've thought me crazy, and I'm sure they were already both good people deep down, even with the driver's commentary.

Instead, we got to the rental car place and then went on our separate ways. I was glad I had spoken up, though, and told my wife the same later that day.

"Good for you, Sweetie. Did you tell him you're on the city commission?" she asked.

"No, I didn't. But I thought about it."

Using My Wareness

"...when you move me everything is groovy..." —Train, Drive By

I just wanted her to wear something other than than the gray sweat pants. The shirt she had on was fine, the Mama had already told her it was fine, and I had told her it was fine multiple times as a negotiating tactic to get her to change the gray sweat pants and put another pair on. 

She didn't budge, though. She dug in.

"No! I want to wear these pants."

"Beatrice, we're going to be filmed today for Kidpower, and all I want you to do is to change your pants. You can wear the shirt. The shirt is fine. Okay?"

"No, Daddy! I want to wear these pants."

Think, think, think...

"C'mon, Bea. Why can't you wear different pants? What's your idea? I want you wear different pants that are darker. I'm sure Mommy would agree. Something darker. C'mon. What about these?"

We were in her room now. I held up five different pairs of pants, mostly darker ones and some with different patterns on them. Anything but the gray sweat pants. 

"My idea is to wear these," Bea answered.

The what's your idea? framework was from the girls' early preschool days and positive discipline and parenting. Instead of being authoritarian and dictating to your children about any and all things, the idea is to include them in the conversation and decision-making to empower them and literally ask them, "What's your idea?"

And Bea's idea was to wear those friggin' gray sweat pants.

"Daddy, you should pick Beatrice's favorite pants -- the black ones with sparkles on them," said Bryce, trying to give me a hand.

"Which ones are those? These?" I held up something similar to what she just described.

"Um, no, those aren't it."

"Then where are they?"

Both girls shrugged. "I don't know," said Bryce.

Think, think, think...

I picked three pair. "Bea, can you pick one of these, please?"

"No, Daddy! I want to wear these!"

Think, think, think...

"Okay, then we'll bring these three and let Mommy pick one out."

Red-faced Beatrice was either mortified, angry, or both. Probably both. Yeah, that was probably it.

Right?

"Daddy, didn't you know that those are my favorite? I told you I wanted to wear those!"

She pointed to a pair of black stretch pants I head, the ones with stars and other geometric shapes on them.

"You did?"

Does it matter, Daddy? C'mon...

"Yes, those are the ones I want to wear. C'mon, use your awareness, Daddy."

Now that was funny. Why? Because of all the Kidpowering the Mama does (what I lovingly call my wife) -- all the important safety skills she teaches to children, teens and adults alike -- an important aspect is always being aware of your surroundings, who's around you at anything given time, to stand up straight like a giraffe and look, look, look around and be aware, aware, aware.

Use your awareness, Daddy. We use that phrase loosely around the house a lot these days. 

"Yeah, use your wareness," Bryce piled on, dropping the "a".

Well, at least we had the pants thing tackled. 

"All right, Bryce. Time for you to finish getting dressed now and then we've got to go, girls."

Minutes later we're all downstairs and Bryce called out behind me, "Daddy, I'm ready."

I turned around. 

Wow. 

I giggled. Not laughed, but giggled. 

"Oh, Sweetie, I love you, but we can't keep that on your face."

"Ah, c'mon, Daddy. I did it myself."

"I know. But, no." 

I giggled again. Bryce had a big American flag bow pinned in her hair on one side of her head. But that wasn't the funny part. She had also taken it upon herself to put lipstick on. Lots and lots of lipstick. The Joker from Batman lipstick -- like the old-school Cesar Romero version and the Heath Ledger version combined. Swirls of bright pink lipstick around her mouth, with some of it actually on her lips.

Bryce didn't fight it much, because she knew it was too much and yet still very much enjoyed the act of putting it on. We wiped it off and minutes later we were out the door. 

A dozen hours later after a rare late night date night for me and the Mama watching Train in concert, a dear friend who was watching the girls and had texted Amy a picture of the girls hugging and smiling. She showed it to me as we waited to exit the concert parking lot. 

And there was Beatrice, wearing those friggin' gray sweat pants. Because that was her idea. And then there was me using my wareness, because sometimes I can. Right on for Daddy.