C'mon Now, What Did Holland Ever Do To You?

Maybe I'm tuned in to it more because I am an avid Oranje fan, but ever since the Netherlands and Spain beat their respective opponents to ascend to today's World Cup Final match, I have noticed a subtle, yet visible, anti-Netherlands strain going around the web. Again, acknowledging that fans tend to be more cognizant of their teams being picked on, I don't understand why exclaiming "VIVA ESPANA!" so easily leads to the next statement: "Spain deserves to win" and or "Holland doesn't deserve to win".

To either of these statements, I ask "Why?". From what I can gather, there are two answers from the various quarters I have surveyed. First, Holland has been to the final twice and hasn't been able to deliver, therefore they don't deserve to win. In my humble opinion, this is baloney. What this says is if you are the loser you do not get a chance to redeem yourself. Is this ancient Rome where throngs of blood-thirsty spectators call for the execution of the unfortunate losers (as cool as that would be)? Honestly, this is so irrational that I don't know how to comment on it. The cornerstone of competitive sports is there are winners and losers. The heartbreak of losing is almost as important as the glory of winning. And when a team that is down in the dumps for so long - a la Boston Red Sox or Washington Redskins - finally makes it back to the Big Show, rather than cheer them on as the Comeback Kids, we're supposed to turn our noses up at them because they've squandered their chances for greatness? I've never heard of such a thing.

Second, Holland deserves to lose because they've been lucky. This is garbage. The Dutch side is the only team to win every single game in this tournament (so far). They have done it by playing proficiently and with passion. They have talent and chemistry, the latter of which frontrunners Brazil and Argentina sorely lacked. I will concede the victory over Brazil was lent mostly to a Brazilian meltdown via Felipe Melo's own goal and subsequent temper tantrum. But, can't we concede Spain, for example, owes their win over Germany to NOT playing the German side which dismantled Argentina 4-0? This is an elimination tournament. EVERY win is owed somewhat to luck.

As Americans, we have quite a bit in common with the Dutch and have also benefitted immensely from their contributions to our country. Three out of five boroughs of New York, for example, have Dutch names. New York can also thank its pre-eminence in world finance to the Dutch tradition of commerce. And the Dutch came to our aid during the American Revolution.

These aren't reasons to root for Holland, but neither are the above reasons to root against them. The bottom line is both of these two teams deserve to win, as they have made it to the grandest stage in the world. They both play the game brilliantly and, at 95 minutes, this has been the best game in the tournament. I'm just happy to see my team in the final for the first time in my life.

Go easy on the Dutch and call a spade and spade: you're rooting for Spain because you like their sexy headbands.

The Jumparoo Incident

Awhile back, I read this absolutely heart-wrenching article about what happens when a parent forgets a child in the backseat of the car. To anyone with any level of human compassion, this article would strike a nerve. To a parent, this article is your worst nightmare in text, but it also serves as a valuable reality check. We're all subject to slips of the mind and, as this article points out, your memory doesn't prioritize forgetting your child versus forgetting to pick up the dry cleaning. With all of our responsibilities, we are tired and distracted and, well, sometimes we're gonna screw up.

That said, I had two thoughts when I finished this article, in the following order: first, it would never be me and second, oh crap, it could TOTALLY be me. So, I took this as an opportunity to remind myself once again that having an infant daughter means you have to be checked in at all times when she's in your care. The days of wandering around the house on a Saturday afternoon and plopping down wherever are long gone. Unless she's snug in an Exersaucer or Jumparoo and you're only stepping away for a minute, you are with this kid engaging her.

But, sometimes you get so tired. Like this morning. You hear the cries at 5:10 AM. "Oh God," you say to yourself, as you stumble to her room. You light up when you see her smiling, kicking, and lifting her arms to be picked up. But, you're so freaking tired.

So, you pick her up, change her, see if she wants to go back down, but she doesn't. So, you feed her. And lately, just on weekends, you have discovered that if she gets up extra early, like today, after you feed her, you can put her in the Jumparoo, lie back down, and get, like, 20 extra minutes. She'll start to cry because, well, she's overtired and you'll put her back down and get another 45 minutes to an hour after that.

It's all going according to plan...yes...zzzzzzzzzz... An hour later, you wake up. Nothing. No jumping, no music from the Jumparoo, not even any crying. The sun is up high now. You look at the Jumparoo. She's in there. Motionless. Head to cocked to the side. "Oh God!" you exclaim. "Grace!".

"Is she OK?" Rebecca asks. We whisk her up, the stupid thing making a monkey sound as you pull her out. She whimpers a little bit and nestles into the crook of your arm. Of course she was OK. She was tired because she got up an hour early and passed out in her Jumparoo. But, all I could think of were those parents who realized they never dropped their kids off at daycare or the sitter. I was so angry with myself and felt like I let Grace down.

After we put her down in her crib (she slept for another hour after that), we put it in perspective and had a little chuckle. This isn't the first time we're going to make a mistake. The bottom line is we're doing the best we can and, in my opinion, doing a damn good job. Rebecca is an amazingly patient, compassionate, empathetic mother and I'm not the worst father. This little episode didn't bother her in the slightest. I've been told things like this are going to be immensely harder for the parent than for the child. Next time, though, I'll just wait to get back in bed until Grace is back down in her crib.

Letting Go, Episode 1

On the second night, we were still whispering. I tiptoed across the room and whispered a question to Becky. Also in a whisper, she began to respond and then, her train of thought interrupted, asked me in a normal conversational volume, "Why are we whispering?"

"I don't know," I answered, at the same volume level. I looked at the empty bassinet, and then at the screen on the video monitor, which showed a black-and-white Grace sleeping happily in her crib down the hall. I looked back at the bassinet, still propped up to alleviate Grace's reflux, which was now more askew than usual, tucked further back in the corner with the lamp awkwardly shining its full payload down on it, illuminating every bit of the inner bedding.

After 11-plus weeks, we had our room back. We could converse. We could have both lights on. We could put the white-noise on at our leisure. Heck, we could even watch TV. I'm supposed to be relieved, right? So, why is my mind congested with the thoughts of summer camp, cars at 16, and even college? Why, alongside the joy in seeing my little girl grow up before my eyes, do I have this gnawing little pain in my heart?

Parents always tell children that "the hardest part of being a parent is letting go." This usually follows some epic battle between parents and child, the parents stubborn and reluctant to let the child do something he REALLY wants to do because they feel it's "too grown up." Certainly, I don't regard Grace's graduation from bassinet to crib as "too grown up," but I was more reluctant than I ever thought I would be to let it happen, despite 11 weeks of lamenting the inability to watch TV in my own bed. When I saw that little face on the video monitor, however, and not in the bassinet in full color, my heart sank a little bit. "Oh my God," I said. "This is what I've always heard about, but never understood; this is the pain that accompanies letting go."

Children grow up; I've learned to accept this inevitability. I was, after all, a child myself once and, despite my undying belief as a child that I would never grow up, I have (sometimes, I think, unfortunately). But, it never occurred to me how difficult it would be to accept, nee let, my children grow up.

I don't want to appear as if I am bemoaning my daughter's milestones. I am going to celebrate and look back with a bursting heart on that first word, those first steps, school plays, dance recitals and all the rest. The delight all of these occasions is going to bring me is impossible to deny. Equally impossible to ignore, however, will be the little heartaches each of these occasions are going bring. Because with each step she takes forward, this little blank slate gets something else written on it.

I know that she will always be my baby, but she won't be a baby for long. I guess the heartaches we get from watching them grow up are destiny's way of reminding us who they start off as and not to let them stray too far from our hearts. I know in a matter of days seeing her in her crib will not seem strange and the bassinet will probably be put in storage. But the intervening time will better acquaint me to yet another heartache that accompanies parenthood.

Letter to Senator Lieberman

Just in case you haven't heard, our Dear Leader wants to keep his soak-the-rich surtax on "Cadillac" plans, but his buddies in organized labor are getting a free pass. Inexcusable. So, I had to write Joe.

Dear Senator,

I am reaching out to you today due to my ever-growing trepidation concerning the health care bill. While I have had concerns from the get-go, I had always said that I was going to reserve judgment until I saw what impacts, positive or negative, this legislation was going to have on my family. One facet that has always concerned me, however, was the proposed surtax on "Cadillac plans".

I am not at all against paying taxes. I consider paying taxes a civic duty and an investment in our infrastructure. In fact, I feel that the only way for there to be sustainable health care reform is for everyone to pay their fair share for it. If that were only the case, however.

Today, I read in several news sources that the President now wants to keep the surtax on "Cadillac plans", but union members (who presented the biggest hurdle to this) will be exempted. I find this bargain with organized labor to be very troubling and short-sighted. To be clear, I have one of these "Cadillac plans" and I'm not some corporate big-wig with a mansion in Greenwich. I make $X a year and my wife is a stay-at-home mother. Why should we be punished because my company is generous enough to provide us with a decent health plan?

I understand the populist posturing the President has to do to curry favor with his constituencies and I even understand your Capitol Hill colleagues' motivations, as out of step as they are with mainstream America. But, they are not just soaking the rich; they are punishing middle class Americans like my family, my friends, and my coworkers. They are only either going to cause our employers to cut back on the quality of plans they are willing to provide or they are going to stick us with an extra tax we can ill-afford. I implore you to do everything in your power to make sure this provision never comes to fruition.

Thank you very much for your time and your service.

Sincerely,
Matt LePage
Stamford, CT