As you can all see, despite the best of intentions, I have been incredibly lax in getting posts up.

Life keeps moving at such a frenetic pace and it is becoming increasingly difficult to keep up. The fact is, if I can’t post every day, it just doesn’t make sense to keep the site up.

So, the site Portland Papa will be going away.

However, I will still be posting Portland Papa stuff over at what is becoming a bit of a hub site for me at Posterous. I will still share thoughts about parenting in Portland, but it will co-mingle with other things going on in my life and work. I invite you to subscribe to the site.

I will also stay fairly active on Twitter as well. Sometimes, it can be said in 140 characters or less.

So good bye for now — but I’ll see you on the other side.

2) How to get the kid to sleep through the night.

3) How to make it easier to get the boy in and out of the car seat.

4) How to fly across the country with the boy (but will find out soon enough).

5) How to change a diaper with my eyes closed.

6) How to keep spaghetti off the child’s head.

I had just turned 5.

As it all was going on, I really didn’t have much of an idea of what was going on. I think I had an inkling, but the brute force of understanding was 17 years away. But, in my earlier years, it was clear that there was something going on. I was, at times, mercilessly teased but managed to deflect that ire because I was often the “life of the party” even that early on. I never really let it get to me but rather understood that my life was very different than other kids.

I can’t even imagine what my mother went through. I just know that from where I was sitting, she worked extremely hard and did everything that she could for me and my brother. I know that she wanted to create as “normal” a life as possible for us. I honestly don’t know how she did it.

Though I didn’t like it at the time, we ended up moving to New Jersey from Minnesota in 1981. In retrospect, that was probably the best decision that could ever have been made. We were close to family and it was really fun to have them around. They were (and are) a highly supportive bunch and I don’t think I appreciated it as much as I really should have. I love them dearly, but I was one with a bit of wanderlust.

Through high school and college, I kept myself so busy that I was really numb to it all. I honestly thought that, quite simply, my life was just going to be different and that seemed fine to me. I never really gave it much thought. I had just about every minute of every day packed and that’s what I was used to.

Then, college graduation arrived.

I graduated from the University of Denver in 1991. I decided to stay in Denver for the summer and take a couple of months for myself — then hit the job search hard in August. I was waiting tables and made some pretty darn good money. But I also was networking like a banshee so that I could tee myself up well later in the summer. I used the “drop your biz card for a free lunch” fishbowl as my personal pre-LinkedIn LinkedIn. I was still focused and busy. At the end of June, I found myself with a few days off.

And that’s when it really hit me.

I was alone, reading a book and listening to some music and, for some reason, my thoughts wandered to my father. I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t deflect it like I had in the past. I was open, vulnerable and thought about all of the things I thought that I had “missed.” 17 years of ignoring it had finally arrived. I was out of excuses and all of that stored emotion came out. I cried harder than I ever had before. And it felt like it lasted forever. What I realized was happening was that, for the first time, I was willing to let all of this in — and out. At that point, I felt more cleansed than ever but also knew that it was time to embrace the pain much more than I had. It was a sad moment — but it was also incredibly liberating. It finally felt OK to honor how I was feeling.

In the fall of 1991, I visited Oregon for the first time and fell instantly in love with it. Portland felt like home. And, since I still had the aforementioned wanderlust (and since I was still young), I decided to move out here. I arrived on January 5th, 1992. There were times that I still felt glum about my father. Instead of letting it fester, I worked on it. I talked it out. And it was amazing how much it helped clear things up for me. Again, it was OK to feel this way.

The next time I fell in love was 1996 when I met my wife. We were married in 2000 and I knew that we would have a family at some point. It was exciting, but some of those feelings crept back in. I had doubts. I wasn’t sure that I would be a good father. I wasn’t sure if I would do it “right.”

In 2008, Ollie arrived and every single ounce of doubt disappeared. In an instant — poof — it was gone and my natural inclination took over and it was clear that fatherhood was definitely for me. I loved it the second that it began and I love it more and more every day.

But, thoughts still go back to my dad on this day. I know that it’s natural to think about the things that I might have “missed.” I miss my dad, but I didn’t miss anything. This is what life and the universe had decided for me and my family. A friend of mine, who lost her father in high school, mentioned that the pain of losing someone never heals, it just changes. It’s true. But, that pain is also replaced with the knowledge that I have a loving family here and out east, great friends and support at just about every turn.

Yes, it is a sad day. But I think it’s more important to look at the light — that brightness that is today. The past can never change. The present and future can be anything that we really want it to be.

And mine is filled with as much love as I can fit in.

These milestones remind me about how much I cherish and value what could only be called the “process” of parenting.

What’s so fun about talking to these new parents is thinking about my own path with Ollie. I remember that first month well (even being horribly sleep-deprived). I reflected on eight months, where he was continuing to do new things just about every day. I loved thinking about his first birthday party and how he had taken his first wobbly steps a month earlier.

I also caught myself saying, “oh yeah, I remember that. Just wait until they get older.” I swore I wouldn’t say that but I did. But, I think the perspective I was coming from was one of empathy and love. It wasn’t a warning but more sharing the celebration of the milestones that our children achieve almost daily.

You could also say it’s a celebration of the milestones we as parents achieve.

Our children grow. We grow right with them.

And those are always fun stories to share.

There will more of these lists — without question.

1) He can make me feel like a kid.

2) The smiles.

3) The giggles.

4) The excitement of everything around him gets me excited.

5) The hugs, kisses and love, love, love.

I’m don’t recall why or what the context was — I think it might of had something to do with cloth diapers.

Then, the issue of laundry detergent came up.

The instructor seemed to have this thing against Dreft. I’m not sure why — Dreft smells delightful. Dreft makes those cute kid clothes even cuter because they don’t smell like mom or dad’s. They smell like — well, I’m not exactly sure what it smells like. All I know is that I like it but it’s definitely just for baby and toddler clothes.

I accidentally washed a load of my stuff in his detergent once and it kind of made me feel a little weird. Don’t get me wrong — love the smell — but it’s not for big-people jeans and shirts. As I walked through the grocery store a couple of days after washing my clothes in my son’s detergent, I became self-conscious and thought that someone would walk by, take a whiff and remark, “what a baby.”

I like all of the kid-smell stuff. The laundry detergent, the bubble bath, the bath soap — even the berry toothpaste. When the lad is cleaned up, I take a big sniff. A clean kid, with this combination of smells is highly comforting to me. Of course, it is accompanied by a big hug and usually a smooch but the scent is a big part of the overall experience.

At some point, we’ll transition out of Dreft because the wee one won’t be so “wee.” And these cute odors, as my friends with older boys tell me, will become a funk that we’ll want to get out the door or into the shower. But, at this point, I’m taking great comfort in all of the smells that surround me now when our little boy is cleaned up.

There will be plenty of time for Irish Spring later.

I paused.

I breathed.

I smiled.

I relaxed.

I said, “he’s gooooooood.”

And I was so happy to say it.

You know the feeling.

A few recent songs and their associated results:

Mark Farina – “Mushroom Jazz 6″ Album
The Vibe: Silky smooth, cool, cool and just flat out cool.
The Time Of Day: Morning. Post-Cheerios.
The Reaction: Kid got DOWN. In fact, tweeted Mark Farina (@djmarkfarina) about it and he responded favorably which made dad smile.
Kiddo’s Dance Style: Grateful Dead show in Eugene in the early 90s with a little Riverdance.
Cuts That Bump: “Groovin,” “Transit.”

John Mayer – “Say”
The Vibe: It’s John Mayer. You know what you’re getting.
The Time Of Day: Early evening. Raining.
The Reaction: The boy went looking for a toy to play with.
Kiddo’s Dance Style: None.
Etc.: I think he actually turned his nose up at the song and wanted to take a nap like most people.

Jack Johnson – “Sing-a-Longs & Lullabies For The Film Curious George” Album
The Vibe: Fun, then more fun.
The Time Of Day: Weekend morning after eggs.
The Reaction: Laddie loves Jack Johnson. He kind of goes a little batty — which is fine with me.
Kiddo’s Dance Style: Hula with an extra arm swing.
The Boy Likes: “Upside Down.”

Ledisi – “My Sensitivity (Gets In The Way)”
The Vibe: Smooth jazz, upbeat like crazy with hot R & B flavor.
The Time Of Day: Pre bath.
The Reaction: Bananas.
Kiddo’s Dance Style: Rerun from “What’s Happening” with deep knee bends and a funky head bob.
Etc.: Got a couple of giggles because he likes the song.

More to come soon. These are fun.

The lad was only a few months old and we were toting him around in a cute little bunny outfit. He had yet to experience the joys of ham, walking and the annual tradition of the Easter egg hunt.

This year, we had a house full: my brother was in town from the east coast and we had friends (plus 2-year old) from Central Oregon staying with us. Sadly, the grandparents were under the weather but they still took care of coloring eggs for the first “real” hunt.

Now, when a child is 15 months old, it makes sense to not make it complicated. Therefore, it turns from an egg “hunt” to an egg “pick up.” We had two dozen eggs laying about in very easy to find places: the floor, edge of chairs and the like. We didn’t want this to be quantum physics but fun. We figured that he would pick up a few eggs, hand them on over and giggle like crazy.

However, there is a twist to this: Ollie is in his “let’s throw everything” stage.

Food? Over the chair an on to the floor. Toys? Hurled at every opportunity. Soccer ball? Tossed around the house, careening dangerously close to breaking stuff. Easter Eggs? Yep.

So, we went from egg “hunt” to “pick up” to “throw.” I’m hoping this newly minted skill of throwing an egg will come in handy someday at a family reunion or county fair — places where those wacky kinds of games will be ever-present. I also hope that he’ll show proficiency in the three-legged race.

After about the fourth egg being lobbed with shells splattering everywhere after floor impact, we called an audible and helped him with the rest of his “hunt.” He had a great time and clearly didn’t understand what the egg “hunt” was all about. But, that’s OK, it’s all part of the gig and we’re counting as yet another messy but lovely part of the journey.

And yes, we’re still finding small pieces of lovely colored shell in some odd places.