"Let Them Eat Cake"

by Troy Foster

We celebrated Henry's birthday this week.  He turned four.  In so many aspects, it was just like any other four-year old's birthday.  A magical day of excitement for all.  Like any other four-year old, his birthday has been a big and anticipated moment for several weeks.  So much so that fights between Henry and his older sister, Lily, would result in Henry's retracted invitations to his birthday party.  And, moments later, Henry would sweetly and softly tell Lily (and others) that "you are invited to my birthday party" - as the highest compliment and most precious sign of affection.  Thankfully, you could receive multiple, equally meaningful invites - without having to go through any disinvites - a painful process that Lily (and Luke) endured many times a day.  (I was only removed from the birthday list once when I told Henry that he needed to go to sleep.  No dummy, he quickly realized that I would be pivotal to any celebration, and was invited again, with much less enthusiasm, however.)

Also, like most four-year olds (to be), Henry had coveted many "things" for his birthday.  Though throughout the year, parents often hear the "I want that for my birthday," the requests noticeably intensify in the weeks leading up to the actual day.  Virtually every commercial ended with the request - seemingly less about the particular toy, book, or other thing - and more about the fact that he was about to get something very soon!  And, again like most, Henry never really cared what the actual gift was, or how many there were.  He was just happy that it was his birthday.

There were also differences.  Stark differences that we are able to forget, or really deny thinking about, for most of the year.  But not on his birthday - certainly not this one.  Unlike most four-year olds, Henry can't eat foods (except for bananas, grapes, and black beans).  So though most celebrate with cake or their favorite meal at their favority restaurant, that's not in the cards for Henry.  It's easy to overlook how involved we, as a society, are with the cake.  From the selection of the cake, the favorite character to top it often more important than the flavor, to the delivery of sweets to the classroom - the dramatic lighting of candles - ending with a song that unites everyone in celebration of our birth - of us.  It's a big deal.

An even bigger deal, I think, if you can't enjoy it.  In years past, Kristen and I have done other things to make the day extra special.  We made a cake out of non-edible things.  Last year, we went to the local cafe and asked them to put a candle in a banana, and come out and sing "Happy Birthday."  Both were big hits.

This year, we knew very early on, that it wasn't going to be so easy.  In prior years, he was either the youngest or his younger brother was a baby.  Not this year.  Eli could eat a whole cake if we let him.  So, Henry had been asking to "try a taste of special birthday cake" for months.  As with a lot of things, Kristen and I hatched a plan - without even saying a word to one another.  Henry was going to have cake this year.  Was it responsible?  Good parenting to give cake to your child who is allergic to virtually every ingredient in birthday cake?  (And trust me, we have looked, but can't find any cakes with black beans, bananas, and grapes.)  Were we weak parents or doing something more for us than our little boy?

Without any in-depth discussion, we both agreed that his auto-immune disorder was the least of his worries (never thought I'd write that - maybe that's why Kristen and I don't verbalize it).  Having foods that he's allergic to would create long-term problems for his digestive track.  Long term.  This wasn't something we could worry about.  Because he also has a degenerative form of mitochondrial disease, the doctors told us to think of Henry as an 80-year old man - a shortened life span, but unpredictable.

So, we focused on short term.  I got a cake mix to make chocolate cupcakes (he asks for chocolate a lot - which may have a lot to do with our tastes) - with pirate cupcake holders - and sprinkles.  Kristen went and got store-bought cake - with with heavy icing.  Henry asked "Do I get to have cake?"  Our affirmative answer almost brought tears to my eyes before the words left our mouths.  Henry lit up, and started running around.  It meant so much to him.  So, we put candles in, turned out the lights, put him at the head of the table, gathered around, and sang "Happy Birthday."  Henry blew, with all of his might, to put out the flame atop his "4" candle, insisting that he needed no help.  But he did.  He was having a lot of breathing issues this week, and breathing treatments weren't helping a bunch.  He didn't notice that I blew with him, standing from behind.  Though Luke did, he winked at me and didn't say a word.

Then, we dug in.  Just like at any other four-year old party.  Henry kept smiling.  No one said anything when we saw that, though he had cake all over his hands, he had simply taken two licks of icing.  He had taken the cupcake wrapper off of the cupcake, discarding the untouched cupcake and cherishing the pirate holder.  He knew, at some level, that eating the cake and cupcake would make him sick to his stomach.  But, he got to "eat" cake - just like any other four-year old.

Bad parenting?  Poor choice?  Irresponsible?  We don't think so.  It was a big day for Henry!  Well worth whatever anyone outside looking in might think.

Father’s Day: A Couple of Unique Things To Share

When many think of Father’s Day, traditional celebratory things come to mind.  A Sunday BBQ.  Maybe a dinner or lunch out at a favorite restaurant.  And gifts, cards, and cake as a gesture of appreciation.  Those things are nice, and gratitude generally is welcome.  I always read articles around this time of year about strained father-child relationships, and the need to repair those before it’s too late.  Somewhat thematic for Father’s Day.

But for me, the time limitations are different.  Two of our sons are dying.  They have a rare condition that is degenerative, for which there is no cure.  And the rarity of the disease makes their life spans completely unpredictable.  Today, the youngest of these two is experiencing breathing problems and we’ll take him in to see if he has another lung infection.  The eldest is running around like the Energizer Bunny.  For now.

So, I have traveled (and am traveling) down a difficult road to learn two very valuable lessons.  First, being a father is the most important, precious, and rewarding honor that anyone could ask for.  And, it comes with great responsibility. Four little ones look to me (and my wife) to protect them, to guide them, to listen and assist them – through life – however long or short, however challenging or challenge-free.  Most importantly, they need without having to ask for, my unconditional love and affection.  And, they always will need that.

The second lesson is that each day with our kids is sacred.  Whatever the end result, the time I have with my boys on this Earth will be cut significantly short.  Though I still hold out hope for a cure or miracle, I don’t delude myself.  But I don’t dwell or wallow either.  We make the choice – each day – not to let that control our lives.  We live each day to the fullest.  We create memories now – rather than putting things off.  We have all of our dinners together.  We talk a lot.  We have adventures together.  And most important, we laugh a lot.  We also tell each other how much we love and care for the other.  The random “I love you’s” are heard frequently in our house – for no reason at all – other than the sincere and heart-felt love. 

A couple of nights ago, our son (Henry) wasn’t feeling well.  After laying with him, holding him for a few minutes, and talking about dinosaurs and spies, Henry grabbed my face in mid-conversation, looked up at me, and said “I love you, Daddy.”  Those moments are invaluable.

I may have fewer Father’s Days with the boys than many other dads do, but all of the days that we do have are guaranteed to be full and rich.  I encourage you all to make all of your days that way!

Happy Father’s Day.

Attention Job Applicants: PMS Talk, Snot, and Bathroom References Not Good First Impressions

Maybe they never had common sense, but in this economy, you would think that there would be a little extra effort to find it or fake it.  Not from what I can tell.  Here are the top 3 of the recent past, and a little advice to applicants:

1.  A woman started off the interview by informing me that "I am on my period," and suggested that I take her performance in the interview and double it.  Aside from lacking judgment, did she not plan on menstrating again?  I almost asked.

2.  When I asked an applicant how he was, he told me "much better after relieving myself."  Funny that he thought saying "relieving" himself instead of "taking a piss" made it fine.  As if we talk like that to people that we know well, much less strangers that are trying to assess our judgment.

3.  During her first day of training, our new administrative assistant brought in her previous month's phone bill for reimbursement.  After explaining our policy, she told me that she had never written a check before so "you need to school me on that."  When I discovered that she'd stolen a bunch of office supplies that night, I called to let her know that she didn't need to come back in.  Well, her phone had been disconnected.  Guess she really needed that reimbursement.

And, in general, I just don't understand how people dress, act, and look in interviews now.  I sound old (and maybe at 40, I am), but I remember that it wasn't ok for someone to dress like they're interviewing at a brothel - unless they were.  It didn't used to be acceptable to wipe your nose with your hand, cough without covering your mouth, or smell bad during an interview.  That's not on the checklist for getting a job.  But there must be a memo out there that I didn't get.  And, if someone responds to my "do you have any questions" softball with tell me about the culture or "no, you answered them all," I am going to throw myself out a window.  On the culture thing, our business is pretty progressive and is focused on a real work-life balance; so, I'm proud of the culture.  But when most people ask it so directly, it means "I'm not going to have to work hard am I?"  You can get the answer in a different way.

Though we truly may have answered all of a candidates questions, come up with something, something, anything.  We're asking the question to see if you care, know about us, or want to learn.  Just looking at your effort - not the substance.

To those that have or are applying for jobs in this economy, I wish you luck.  It is a tough market.  But, if you can clear the hurdles above (low bar), you are half way there.  If you still have trouble and need a job in one of the cities our companies are in, drop me a line!

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