Is this love?

I'm the father of three little kids, which makes being awakened in the middle of the night a fairly routine experience. There are a bunch of reasons this happens, including pee patrol (taking those "in training" to use the toilet), comforting a child who sees monkeys dancing by the window, administering cough syrup to the ill, and of course, changing a steamy, stinky diaper.

And sometimes it's really awful when duty calls. I could be enjoying the most resful, peaceful, dream-crazy-dreams-sleep that I've had in weeks only to be awakened by a crying toddler who peed his bed. I sit up on the edge of my bed, rest broken, dream lost forever, and think to myself, "Why?"

I guess it's human nature, but I'm struck by the reality that it's really easy to love my children when they're cute and smiley and healthy and cuddly. But it takes some work to love them when they tear pages out of my favorite book or test their new markers on the walls or wake up crying in the middle of the night because the pacifier is out of reach (the same pacifier they threw out of bed in the first place).

Love always has been, and always will be, a choice. It goes beyond emotion, beyond the call of duty, beyond convenience. And it takes some work. But when I put myself on the receiving end of such unconditional love, I'm reminded that loving my kids when they puke all over the bed sheets at 3:00 a.m. is more than what is needed. Ultimately, it's what matters.

Portland Drivers, Take 1

Look. I think road rage is a sin. A guy going ape-crazy, waving his arms and screaming obscenities at his windshield because a little old lady in front of him is going 32 in a 35 is a dark, messed up thing. It doesn't make anybody any better, especially the angry fella. He's a quadruple bypass waiting to happen.

That said, I get it. I live in a city whose drivers drive with no sense of purpose. Just this morning, I got stuck behind a guy who I figure decided to go for a drive with the sole intent of slowing down to let people in. I could just imagine him, sitting at his breakfast table, drinking coffee and reading his newspaper, when he's struck with an epiphany. "I know what I'll do today!" he thinks out loud. "I'll go for a drive and make a lot of stops so people can get in. I'll do it at intersections, freeway on-ramps, and driveways. This'll be great!"

So there I sat, completely stopped behind him on a busy street, while he allowed the minivan in front of him to pull to the curb, drop off a passenger, and pull back out into the street as he smiled and waved.

I managed to keep my cool, but was feeling pretty annoyed by the whole situation. I gently tapped my horn (O.K., maybe it was a 5 second honk), and the minivan pulled back onto the street only to resume at a speed 5 miles per hour under the legal limit.

Welcome to Portland.