Early Christmas

Yesterday marked Finley’s 10-month birthday. And in celebration, we had a big family get together, where we exchanged gifts. No, not really. We, in fact, celebrated Christmas a bit early with my family. It turned out that my nephew, who lives in Hawaii, was able to sneak home a little early, so in order to have the whole family there at the same time, we moved Christmas up a bit and it just happened to be the same day Finley turned 10 months.

Now some of you may be thinking that if she’s 10 months old on December 16, that would make her 12 months on February 16^th, not March 11^th, which is her actual birthday. It turns out, when you’re keeping track of babies that just like during pregnancy; everything is in weeks, not months. And since several months have a little more than four weeks in them, it throws things off a bit.

This means that when Finley turns a year old on March 11th, she will actually be just over 62 weeks old. Those of you who want to do the math can add 10 weeks to every year of your life (a month and a half) and figure out how old you REALLY are. I’m not sure this works when trying to prove you can buy alcohol, but it’s certainly a conversation starter.

At any rate, this weekend, although a bit premature, was Finley’s first foray into Christmas festivities. Of course, this meant that Momma was prepared with a little outfit that turned out to be several little outfits once we showed up to my sister’s house. Sandy, it turns out, just became a grandma in October and when she realized not just one but TWO babies would be experiencing their first Christmas, she designated herself “Official Outfitter of Baby’s 1^st Christmas, 2007. “

You would think the babies were sisters instead of second cousins, but matching outfits were the plan of the day and after several thousand photographs, we got down to business with baby gifts.

Predictably, the wrapping paper and bows were far more interesting that what was neatly wrapped inside. But once the safety measures, shoplifting devices and other packaging gauntlets were breached, we were able to hand over the prizes to Finley who’s first matter of business was to decide how each and every gift tasted.

Once the gift satisfied her palate, we spent the next several moments showing her how to play with the darned things. We really should have known better, because all of her toys, now matter how big or small, loud or quiet, colorful or bland have three main purposes:

1. To be tasted.
2. To act as some sort of drum for her to beat on.
3. To be knocked over again and again.

Anything beyond these basic principles is really just an added bonus.

For instance, she received a neat little farmhouse from our friends in Portland, Tony and Michelle. It has a little barn door that plays “Old McDonald” whenever you open it. She doesn’t quite yet know how to make it play music, but whenever one of us sets the song off, Finley bops her head and then her whole body along to the tune. It’s pretty funny. And even funnier if she hears music when she’s pulled herself up to standing. Then the knees and the rear get into the act. But the thing she’s learned to do, that I find most fascinating, is that she’s beginning to play catch with her old man.

She has this little plastic ball that’s been a chew toy for her for quite some time. The other night, I wanted to see what she would do when I got on the floor with her and rolled it her way. She immediately got the idea and in her pre-toddler way, attempted to roll the ball back to me. There were actually a few times where she rolled it to me perfectly, and as I told her “Hooray!” for each time she tried to push the ball to me, she would bop her head back and forth and smile. She could tell it was a game and she could tell she was doing it right.

Now I know that it’s not exactly catch and really just a tail and a slobbery tongue away from being considered “fetch,” but it’s the beginning of something. She knows that the ball will be coming from me and she knows she has to try and send it back to me. She’s learned the basics of action and reaction. I think that’s pretty cool.

So as we head toward the actual Christmas holiday, I know we can expect a few more toys and a few more outfits. We will have several hundred more photographs to be taken and possibly multiple wardrobe changes. I’m enjoying watching everyone watching her and seeing what I’m lucky to see everyday; this little girl who’s crawling and climbing and growing. It’s cool to see how amazed everyone is by what she’s been able to learn in just a few short months. I’m amazed every day. Not just by the things she’s learning, but by the things she’s teaching me.

It’s not only the ultimate lesson of learning to crawl and taking things slowly, but it’s a lesson in how much joy even the little things in life can and should bring. Every single thing she does makes her smile and I envy that. But then again, every single thing she does makes ME smile. So my gift this Christmas is just watching and enjoying her. It’s the greatest gift I could ever ask for.

Back in the USA

Well, we are back from Mexico and quite travel weary. So forgive me if this post winds up on the short end of things. Jet lag is a crazy thing, especially with a baby in tow! But I can safely say that Finley was a fantastic traveler on her first big adventure.

When I last left you, The Princess had just discovered the glory of the Lazy River. And, no day at the pool was complete with out two or three trips to her new favorite place. She would smile from ear to ear the entire time and do her latest noise, which is a hearty laugh, almost fake in its delivery, like she is saying, “HA-HA!” This forced laugh combined with her flailing and splashing made for quite the hilarious scene as we made our way down the Lazy River.

Of course, the trip wasn’t all swimming pools and sun. Okay, it was MOSTLY swimming pools and sun. But, when she wasn’t splashing herself like crazy, Miss Finley was practicing her standing skills as often as possible. And by practice, I mean she was pulling her self up to any and every ledge she could get her little fingers on to. But it wasn’t just standing, it was also a few falls, but her new thing is to make her way around a ledge or table with little side steps. Yep, she’s figuring out this walking thing.

I’m not sure if I should be glad she’s figuring out or not. The tough part, right now, is that as she’s literally taking baby steps, she’s also taking baby falls. For the most part, I think the crying is more about the frustration than it is the pain, but every once in a while, she takes a pretty good tumble and winds up with a bump or bruise on her noggin.

It’s tougher on the Momma than it is on me, but a crying baby is never any fun. I’m from the school that she has to take these tumbles to learn how to fall properly or catch herself or just be more careful. It all drives Heather nuts, and every time gravity asserts itself, she’s either gasping or lunging to save the day. But Momma and drama kind of go together.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want her to get hurt, either… I’ve had a couple of diving saves myself… But, as long as there’s a safe place to land, I think she can handle a drop to the ground a few times. She’s a tough kid and pretty much made of rubber at this point. But like I said, a crying baby is never any fun, so I find myself inching a bit closer to the babe as she does her acrobatics.

That being said, one of the best parts of our trip home from Mexico was seeing Finley standing up on our laps, gripping the back of the seat in front of us and beaming her cute little smile at all the passengers boarding our flight. She made quite a few friends on the way home, and actually managed to stay in a good mood and keep awake on the first of the two flights.

After a hurried but smooth trip through customs and baggage re-check in Dallas, we boarded our final flight for a four-hour ride home, not knowing if she would keep her good mood streak alive or flip out in baby rage. Luckily for us, she decided to sleep… the ENTIRE flight!

We found our seats and prepped for whichever mood she decided on. Momma gave her a bottle as we left the ground, and she was out. Simple as that. We were lucky enough to have an extra seat in our row, which happened to be the perfect size for our sleepy traveler. Two time zones later, we landed in Seattle with a happy baby and memories of a great first family vacation.

So, now that rain clouds and wind have replaced the sun and sand, we can look back at a very successful trip with the baby. Heather and I are hoping to get her used to traveling so that she can grow up as a responsible and wise traveler. The way we look at it, Finley just had her first trip in a great big world that is hers to travel whenever and wherever she wants.

Hola de México

Greetings from south of the border! We've ventured to Puerto Vallarta for our first family vacation, and I must say, the little girl is quite the traveler. I thought I'd write a real quick note about our trip so far. I'll put up some pictures, next week.
We weren't sure how she would do on the plane, but we were prepared, just the same. Prior to our departure, Heather and I put together little bags of goodies for our fellow passengers. The "gift bags" consisted of ear plugs, mints, gum, aspirin and a granola bar and included a little note that said: "My name is Finley and I am 9 months old. This is my first trip on a plane, so please be patient with me and my parents. My mommy and daddy would like to offer you these treats to thank you in advance. Have a nice flight!" It was a good move.
Finley was actually very good. Our first plane left early enough in the morning and we were lucky to be able to get an empty seat in our row where she could lay down and sleep a bit. It was pretty much the same on our connecting flight from Dallas to Puerto Vallarta. She had a bit of trouble with her ears on the landing, but it didn't last very long at all. She gets that from her daddy.
Once we landed in PV(as the kids call it), we made our way to our resort, the Grand Mayan. Our rooms(Heather's mom is joining us on the trip), which are huge, are connected by a main living room and kitchen. That living room is now under the rule of Princess Finley. We threw together some cushions and other pads to create a play area for the little one. She spends her time going back and forth, crawling and climbing on anything she can get her little paws on. And as much as she likes that, she loves the pool even more.
We haven't had the chance to get Finley to a big pool, yet so we weren't sure how she would do. It was a little cold on her feet and legs at first, but once she got in she absolutely loved it! We bought a little infant pool floatie that she sits in. It allows her to float safely in basically an innertube with netting. You would think it was the greatest thing she'd ever done. The best part is the "lazy river." This is a water path that's 2-3 feet deep and goes in a meandering loop around the resort property. It has several air jets along the way that shoot up from the floor and create a constant current. You can grab an innertube and just go around and around if you like. It's not super fast, but it moves pretty well. Finley is crazy about it.
The first time we took her in it, she just cackled the whole time. She can kick and splash and zip along next to momma, poppa and nana. AND, when she's done, she's so wiped out, she nods off for a few hours. So, we've all been enjoying the sun (lots and lots of baby sunblock!) and fun and really enjoying relaxing away from home.
We miss all of you, but you understand if we don't come back right away! I'll have much more in my next blog, but I thought you would like to hear how things are and how well Finley is doing on her first big trip.
From our little sunny part of the world to yours, we hope all is well and we will see you soon!

Thankful

Well, it’s nearly that time of year where we make like a Turkey and stuff ourselves. For me, Thanksgiving has always been about spending time with the folks you used to spendevery day with. Heather and I are both lucky enough to have immediate family members within a few driving hours of us, so the holidays aren’t the only time we get to see family, but they are still very enjoyable.

We usually have fairly small, family Thanksgivings, because both of us have uprooted families. My parents left the dusty panhandles of Texas and Oklahoma for the clean Washington rain. Heather traveled in a Navy gypsy caravan and wound up going from Pennsylvania to Whidbey Island just in time for her high school years. So, for both of us, Thanksgiving was about immediate family… Mom and dad and the siblings. And as time has gone by, the parents who left a family behind now have a larger family, here. Which means Finley is fortunate to spend her first of many Thanksgivings with Aunts and Uncles and cousins.

So, in the spirit of being thankful, I would have to say the first thing on my list I am thankful for, is my family. I know that’s a pretty basic one, but it’s important. Without my family, I wouldn’t be the person I am. I wouldn’t have done all the things in my life that lead me to these past few amazing years. And there’s nothing that can compare to my life with Heather and Finley. So, thanks to my family for getting me here.

Which leads me to my girls. One of the things that makes Thanksgiving a little extra special around our home, is that it was about this time a few years ago that Heather and I “officially” started dating. I remember having Thanksgiving with my family and telling them about my “new girlfriend.” Of course, my mom needed to know every last detail, and I obliged. Fast forward, and now we’re on the verge of celebrating our first Turkey Day with our own little turkey. And that’s the second thing on my thankful list.

I can’t think of anything that feels more like a gift than the day that little girl arrived. Heather and I both knew I was in trouble from the moment we found out she was going to be a she. And it’s so true. Finley has her old man wrapped around her finger and I’m gladly wrapped. Whether it’s seeing that first smile of the day or kissing her forehead, gently, as she lays down for the night, there’s only one thing in my life to match the love I have for that little girl. And that’s the love I have for that little girl’s mommy.

I thought it couldn’t get any better, as I stood on the beach in Mexico, trading vows with the love of my life. I thought things were pretty great. I had this fabulous woman. We loved all the time we spent with each other. We had nothing but time. Then the stork came by and dropped off a package. And it just keeps getting better.

I like to think I’m a pretty good Daddy. I can be left alone with the girl for several hours and the house doesn’t burn down. I can change a diaper with the best of them, and I don’t get as wet at bath time as I used to. But when it comes to parenting, I am nothing compared to Heather. Everything I am as a dad comes from watching her. And you know what? It makes me love her even more. Last on my thankful list, but first in my heart… Heather.

I didn’t know what would happen after the baby came. I didn’t know if everything was going to be baby, baby, baby and no us. But somehow… because of Heather… it has never been an issue. There is baby time… which is 98% of the time… and then there’s us time. And all of it… Every single second… is great. I’m not saying we live a perfect life. I’m not saying we don’t argue or even drive each other batty. But there’s no one I’d rather be batty with than her.

It all comes together at the end of the day. I sneak into Finley’s room and lay a hand on her back and feel her little body breathing. Then I crawl into bed and wrap my arms around Heather and feel her breathing. And every night, I feel the same… it takes my breath away.

I Can’t Stand It

So, looking back at some of the blogs, I can see how Finley has developed over the past nine months. It’s really amazing how quickly it seems to all have happened. But the past two weeks or so have seen quite spurt in ability for our little miss.

As I mentioned last week, Finley has figured out how to pull herself up to a standing position, which is great developmentally, but a bit crazy for us. And as each day goes by, our little daredevil is becoming more and more confident with her newfound ability.

More and more often you can find her looking for the next tall thing to help hoist her up to her full 2’-5” frame. It’s just a quick crawl to a nearby barstool and with one hand grasping, she pulls herself up to her knees. After the obligatory look around for the parents – We haven’t decide, yet, if this is to see if we are watching or to see if she can get away with something – she grabs with the other hand and ever-so-slowly pulls up to her feet.

More often than not, her legs are a part quite a bit, so she has to think about her next move. Watching her face as her little brain processes what to do next is interesting; she knows she has to do SOMETHING to make this situation more comfortable, but what is it? And as if she is a rock climber on a sheer face, she slowly moves her leg to a better position then looks to see what her next move will be.

This is where things get a bit precarious. Without a net, the Amazing Finderella lets go with one hand and swings back to see if we are paying attention. And before she can lose her balance, she grabs right back onto the leg of the stool.

A few moments later, after she’s caught her breath from that first tiring routine, she lets go with the OTHER hand. Once she is met with parental approval, the hand deftly snatches the safety of the barstool leg, again.

But, this last move has tired her out and she begins to realize that she has neither the leg nor hand strength to keep this up. Her legs begin to give way and she clutches even tighter to the leg. Panic begins to set in. She looks down. The ground is at least a foot below her heavily padded bottom. A whimper of fear and then, PLOP! It’s a safe landing on the seat of her Huggies™.

Of course, there are the times where it’s not quite a perfect landing and she ends up on her side or face-plants the carpet. There is usually crying involved but I think it’s more because it scares her than that it hurts.

Most of the time she’ll gaze up at the lofty heights at which she just descended then slowly lay herself down on her side for a moment of rest and reflection. Then it’s over and up for another try.
Each attempt becomes a bit more daring. This weekend at the home of some friends, she worked her way up the side of a toy and proceeded to figure out that if she put her weight into the toy, she could let go with both hands. And as long as she kept her balance, both hands could be used to play with the top of the toy. Getting down still seems to be a bit of a concern. But once she figures out she has such a short distance to go, I don’t think that will be much of a problem.

The most interesting thing of all about her ascents is how she is learning to move her legs and feet to help with balance and position. This is making her legs stronger and, in her little way, teaching her what her legs are for. Up until the past few weeks, they were either part of some random yoga move she invented, the things that got her toes to her mouth or the place the doctor likes to stick those mean old needles.

Now, like the arms and hands before, her legs are developing into a critical part of her body. Once she learns to work all of these limbs together, she will be able to properly run away from us.

This Sunday, Finley will turn 9 months old. She’s gone from this little wriggling mass of skin to a fairly dexterous human child. In just the past month, she’s begun the first step of turning her babbles into words and is close to joining the upright monkeys in the evolutionary chain.

As amazed as I am at all of the things I have seen, it’s hard to believe there is even more to come. Finley is not only opening my eyes to the miracle of watching her develop, she’s opening my eyes to how truly remarkable being human is. All of the things we take for granted… walking, talking, eating… we had to learn. And we keep learning, whether we know it or not.

So, thanks to Finley, I get to learn as she does. She gets the basics, and I get to see the human brain and body in action. That’s a lot to learn in 9 months… For the both of us!

Upwardly Mobile

We saw it coming. We knew the day would get here, and now we’re doomed. Okay not really doomed, but life has definitely taken a big turn in the past week. And it kind of snuck up on us.

To begin with, Finley finally cut her first tooth. She’s got a little sharp one on the bottom gum, just to the left of center. This explains a little of the grumpiness she’s had and a few middle-of-the-night freak outs.

Secondly, our little angel has become quite the mobile machine. She doesn’t crawl in the normal sense… it’s more of an army crawl… but she can get around. Her balance has improved greatly, and she can now sit up on her own.

And within the past few days, she’s discovered a new ability that puts us dangerously close to walking… she can pull herself up to a standing position. All of these things happened within the last week and it’s not just a little overwhelming to us… it’s exciting to her.

You see, these new abilities are quite intriguing to the little miss. So much so, that she doesn’t want to go to sleep. No, not at all. In her little mind, there’s just too much to do and see, now that she can go places. A knob on a drawer or the heating vent are perfect things to go check out. That excitement, combined with the development of separation anxiety, makes nap time a much bigger chore than it used to be.

In fact, Sunday night she decided she’d had enough sleep for one evening and wanted to get up and play. Unfortunately, this was 3am. I was lucky enough to go check on her when she made the first sounds in the middle of the night. Usually, a few cries means she’s lost her pacifier and we take turns sleepwalking into her room, popping the binky back in, and sleepwalking back to bed. This night… morning… I came into her bedroom to find her wide awake, looking at me like it was time to play.

It got even better, later that morning when Heather went to go check on her after the wake up alarm went off. Instead of finding Finley awake and playing with a toy in bed, Heather came around the corner to see the Princess standing up in the crib, holding on to the side… She had pulled herself up. The problem was, she wasn’t quite sure how to get down. One can only imagine how long she’d been there.

Again, we knew this was coming. I personally didn’t think it would be this quickly! I figured I had a couple of more months of plopping her down amongst her favorite toys while she rolled around a gummed a doll or two. Now it’s all about keeping one eye on the baby all the time.

Of course this surveillance of the munchkin also leads to munchkin unhappiness. All of this mobility is freedom to her. And we’re the fascist government who won’t allow her to explore.

When she gets too close to the heater… it’s “No, no baby” followed by picking her up and dropping her into a sea of toys a safe distance away. Needless to say, she’s not a happy kid at that point.

And then there’s the bonking of the head. I mentioned before that her balance has improved… and it has. It’s just not complete. She tends to underestimate gravity and winds up head butting the floor or the occasional harder-than-usual toy. At this point, I think it scares her more than it hurts, but it’s all new to her.

That’s when I scoop her up, hold her for a bit and explain how there will be an untold number of falls and bonks in her future and that none of it hurts as much as getting your heartbroken and that I can’t be there to hold her all the time.

Of course, she just looks at me in between sobs as if to say, “I don’t care, Dad. Can’t you see I’m crying?” And I just hold her closer, make some funny noises and she’s ready to go challenge gravity once again. It’s a good thing that at her size, she doesn’t have far to fall.

Another good thing about being that little, is the whole short-term memory thing. I guess that’s why doctors poke and prod you right away… because they know you won’t remember the twenty shots to the legs and butt and come hunt them down in your adult life.

So, here we are, on the verge of having an upwardly mobile daughter in a very small condo. Where the rate of falls and scrapes begin to rise as the amount of naps dwindle. My only hope is that she does so much exploring during the day that she becomes exhausted at night and sleeps and sleeps. Then again, it’s much easier to pick her up after bonking her head on the floor that it is to imagine handing her the car keys. But that’s another day we’re doomed to see. And it can take it’s time getting here.

40

Forty. Tomorrow I turn forty. I don’t feel forty. Nice people say I don’t LOOK forty. So what’s the big deal? Is it that it’s a nice big, round number? Or is it because you’re not quite fifty, but no longer in your thirties? At any rate, it’s supposed to be a big deal.

So what’s my point? My point is that tomorrow I break the mid-life barrier and as daunting as society makes it seem, it is still a reason to celebrate. And like any other birthday, there are gifts! In fact, I’ve been lucky enough to receive several gifts early.

I got one of my gifts on Friday night when my lovely wife whisked me away on a weekend trip to Las Vegas! We caught some shows, lost some money and had a fantastic time(Heather took me to see Jimmy Buffet on Saturday night and we caught the Cirque De Soleil’s Beatles show, “Love”). And, as an extra-special gift, Heather’s mom was nice enough to come down for the weekend and watch Finley while we snuck off on our little trip.

It was our first extended time away from the munchkin, so we did something we hadn’t done since before she was born… We slept in. That’s right. There we were in Sin City. The land of a thousand lights. Slot machines and card tables. Liquor and ladies. Randy and Heather fast asleep in their hotel room. It was glorious.

And even though we had a great time… even when we were awake… we both caught ourselves missing the one thing that I consider the greatest gift I have ever received. We missed our little girl.

I know that we’ll have to eventually let her get bigger and move out and all of that other growing up stuff. But for right now, she’s the central part of our lives and being without her is almost like being without air. It’s hard to imagine a morning without her waking up in her crib and keeping herself entertained so that when we come in to get her, she’s all smiles. Then there’s the way she sits up as I carry her around, with one hand on my shoulder and her little head whipping around to check out any and all noises that happen to catch her attention. My favorite part is when I pick her up at daycare and she’s busy playing with whatever toy is in her world. Then I call to her and she looks up and sees that it’s that guy again… That guy who kisses her cheeks and tickles her… and she smiles her toothless smile that makes me forget I’m about to turn forty.

That baby girl… the sunshine of my life… the little finger I am gladly wrapped around… That is the best present I could have ever asked for. But wait. It gets better.

Just when I thought I could never be more smitten with that kid, she goes and says her first words, “Da Da.” Now, you could argue that just making the sound doesn’t mean she knows who or what “Da Da” is. But, I’ve decided not to listen to that argument. She said “Da Da.” I’m Da Da. Case closed.

What a week it has been. My daughter says her first words, my wife takes me on a surprise trip to see Jimmy Buffet and The Beatles “LOVE” in Las Vegas. And, I’m about to turn forty in just a few hours. It’s funny how in forty years, it’s this last one that makes me realize how lucky and loved I am. I sure hope it doesn’t take me another forty to realize that again. As long as I keep hearing “Da Da” and have Heather by my side, I don’t think I’ll need to worry.

It's A Wonderful Life!

Wow! Daddy released the reigns to the infamous baby blog and Mommy gets to take a shot at it now. I don’t know though, Randy is a pretty amazing writer so I am not sure I will not do this thing justice but I’ll try!

Now where to begin…it seems like just yesterday when it all actually DID begin. Our little Finley Ella turned 8 months old on Sunday and it’s just so hard for me to believe. Other parents kept telling me that “it goes so fast” and now I believe it. I guess the most amazing part of this all is just that. Everything is sooooo AMAZING! Finley is such an AMAZING baby and Randy is such an AMAZING husband. We have this little family now and I never imagined I could be this happy. We have a really, really good life and sometimes I wonder what little ol’ me ever did to deserve all this joy! Just watching Finley grow and learn and just be a baby is so wonderful. What’s even more fabulous is watching her interact with her Daddy. They are so adorable together. As you all know Randy dotes on his little princess and she is the light of his life. I think Finley is the luckiest little girl in the world to have a Daddy like Randy. She will learn so much from him and have an insane amount of fun a long the way. I have a feeling though that Daddy will find it very hard to say no to his cute little girl. I imagine that it’s Mommy who’s gonna have to be the “bad guy” most of the time! But that’s okay. And I hope she gets some qualities from both of us. I hope she’s laid back like her Dad and has a love for life just like her Daddy does. However she will have to get her fashion sense from her mother. No tie-dye or Birkenstocks, please. And let’s not even get started on Daddy doing hair…I know Randy is a sensitive male of the 2000’s but there are just some things that need to remain a Momma’s job! But I guess when it’s all said and done the most important thing I hope Randy and I can pass along to Finley is just how very much she is loved. That she knows how much joy she brings us and how our world wouldn’t have been complete without her in it. I hope by being her parents we can help to give her a happy life, just like she is giving us. My little angel may only be 8 months old but what an 8 months it has been! And ah…..what a wonderful life, indeed!

~Mommy

Crime and Punishment

When you go into parenthood, you really have no idea how it will all play out. You can read an entire aisle’s worth of parenting books and get loads of advice from friends and family, but until you are in it, you have no clue.

It’s not like there’s any real parenting going on the first few months, anyway. In the beginning, it’s more of a care and feed operation. The baby can’t really do anything that requires the full-on parental overseeing-type guidance. In fact, I thought I had it pretty easy until about a week ago.

So far, I had been able to pick up this dad thing fairly easily. I became a master swaddler and can change a diaper with my eyes closed (when I remember to put the diaper on). The proper bottle-feeding position was no problem and my spoonwork with the baby food is going well. And the play stuff… I had that down way before Finley was a zygote. But last week, I did something that not only made me a real parent, but made me think about what’s to come. Last week, I said “no” to Finley.

I think it will still take her a while before she realizes what “no” means, but the ball has started rolling. From here on out, we have to make sure that until she can make her own decisions, it’s up to us to let her know right from wrong. And grabbing Daddy’s face with her hands and clawing with her little fingernails is wrong. Pulling on Mamma’s hoop earrings is no good, either. And until she figures that out, we have to keep saying, “no.”

This is the part of parenthood I was trying to avoid. I don’t want to be the bad guy. I want to be the buddy daddy and the fun dad. Heather is much better at laying down the law, trust me. But, it’s not fair for me to try and hog all the good stuff. As much as I’d like to have Heather take care of all of the judgment and punishment, I know I have to step up and bring the hammer down every once in a while. Besides she would whoop on me if I didn’t.

And that’s the great dilemma. Deciding how to punish... Deciding when to punish. It’s a whole new world in the land of raising kids. When we were growing up and you got in trouble, you got spanked. It wasn’t corporal punishment… it was a swat on the tail and you most likely did not become a repeat offender. But these days, you can’t look at your kids wrong without it being considered abuse. These days, a term like “time out” is part of the parental vernacular. These days, revocation of cell phone privileges seems to be the punishment of choice… when they get old enough, I guess.

We’ll have to learn to sit her in a corner, send her to bed and just plain sit through tantrums and tears. We’ll have to learn to read her body language and eyes to see if she’s hiding something or stretching the truth. But the most important thing we’ll have to learn is how to talk to her as we punish.

Because it’s not really just about punishment. It’s about respect. Respect for us as parents, respect for others and respect for rules. And if all she knows is frustration and sorrow from her actions, she’ll never learn how to properly respect all of those things. And she has to also learn that sometimes some rules and some people are difficult to respect and that there are proper ways to disagree and even help change things that are wrong.

But that all comes from us. We have to not only show our disappointment in her actions, but confirm for her several things. The most important thing we have to tell her is how much we love her. That no matter what rule she’s broken or trouble she’s gotten into, we love her no matter what. Then we have to explain - especially when she is little - what she did wrong and why it was wrong. And we have to help her realize the consequences of her actions and how she can either fix the problem or make sure she avoids making the same mistake again. And as we all know, mistakes are an important and necessary part of life. They are what help us learn how to be better.

I know this all sounds pretty straightforward and looks great on paper. I also know there is no way it is going to be as easy as it sounds. So, I will rely on my partner in parenthood to help me along the way. As long as Heather and I do our best to stay consistent and talk to each other, we should be okay. Well, as long as I stay consistent with Heather’s rules, we’ll be okay.

I know I can’t be the happy, go-lucky, fun dad all the time. I know I have to be strong and stand firm with my parental decisions. But I have to say, it certainly isn’t fair when I know those little blue eyes will be staring up at me with guilt and maybe even a little fear. And that’s the LAST thing I want… for her to fear me. But I know, with Heather’s help, those little eyes will look at me and learn that what I’m saying and doing is only to help her become a better person and, eventually, the great parent I can only hope to be.

Still Crazy After All These Years

My daughter is crazy. And I’m convinced she gets it from her Momma. When we last left Finley and her quest for becoming mobile, she had just about learned to roll in both directions. Well, she’s not only accomplished that ability, she’s working her way toward the dreaded crawl.

The way she does this is by flopping over onto her belly and hoisting herself up onto all fours. This part she has down. It’s the next part that is crucial to her development. She has not quite learned how to move her knees in the vital locomotion way. In fact, she pretty much does everything else EXCEPT move her knees.

She’ll flop back down onto her belly. She’ll roll one way or the other. But her favorite by far is to get up onto her tip toes and point her diaper butt straight up into the air in a sort of jackknife position. In the yoga world, this is known as the “downward dog.” In our house, it’s just hilarious.

Of course, she can only hold this position for a short time and usually flops back down. On the bright side, she moves forward about an inch… So she’s making headway. Most of the time she needs to rest after this exercise and rolls over to her back with whatever toy she’s managed to grab. At this point, she attempts to put most of said toy into her mouth and let out her shrill little scream of joy/frustration (It varies by the hour).

This continues for quite sometime. She lurches another direction. Rolls the other way. Runs into a toy or a chair, decides whether or not she can put it in her mouth then rolls another way until she sees the next toy to target. Then she launches into her crawl attempt which turns into the yoga move which ends in the high-pitched squeal.

Now she’s added a couple of new twists to her repertoire. First, there’s the new move she’s added to the end of the downward dog. Instead of flopping all the way down to her belly, she know rolls halfway onto her side with one arm holding her up and the other arm placed on her behind. She’s got one knee on the floor and the other is straightened out. It’s a very model-like pose. It’s almost like she’s asking for a photograph to be taken.

The other new move happens while she lies on her back. She thumps her legs on the ground a minimum of three times before bringing both feet to her mouth. Of course, her whole body convulses during this feat, which helps me to decide that my daughter, indeed, is crazy. And isn’t it great?

You see, in the first nine months of her being, she was folded up inside her Momma. She was yanked and pulled through a 10cm doorway then wrapped up in swaddling blankets for another 2-3 months after. Then she was confined to a small bed and not allowed to roll over at night, for safety reasons. But it’s not like she would have gotten anywhere, anyway. Her little muscles hadn’t quite developed and her best muscle was used for eating.

As each month progressed and she realized that her arms were more than a couple of things to flap around, her neck got stronger and those little legs began to squirm a bit. Suddenly, tummy time was more than a face-down endeavor. She could hold her head up and look at this world that was now beginning to come into focus as her eyes began to clear. That meant there was something to see and something to try and get to. Something these new little fingers could grab. So, she kept trying to get there.

Every day there were new colors and sounds and tastes to try. And every day she got stronger and stronger to the point that she could pull her little body toward something or roll toward something, just by changing the position of her legs. Now she knows that by getting up as high as she can, she can reach that new, interesting and possibly tasty item that has caught her attention. And that is pretty darn amazing, but not the best part. Well, not to me, anyway.

The best part is that in those moments when she decides she can’t quite get what she wants, she takes a little rest and tries again. And if it still doesn’t work, she stops, takes a look around and has fun. In fact, she gets silly. She screams and giggles and wiggles her whole body and flops around like a seal and bumps into things. She blows raspberries and slobbers and tastes EVERYTHING. Then she squeals again and looks around for Momma and Poppa for approval.

And what do we do? We plop down on the floor next to her and make silly noises and tickle and kiss her and blow on her belly. We shake the toys and make them talk in funny voices. And it is absolutely fantastic.

It’s funny how we start out on the floor and work and work to get up on our feet so we can become adults and go to work and make money because that’s what we’re told makes us happy. But my little girl has taught me that the secret to happiness is to spend as much time as you can on the floor, being crazy with the people you love being. It’s a lot more fun and a lot less stressful.

Sugar and Spice

A funny thing happened on the way to this blog. For the first time since she was born, it really hit me that Finley is a girl. Yes, I know that anatomically speaking, I have been aware of her wiring since day one. And, she has more pink clothes and dresses than should be allowed. But, she really doesn’t wear dresses too much and after a while, you get used to pink.

The thing is, she’s got such a cherubic, chubby little face and crazy hair that UNLESS she’s wearing pink, most people would not be able to tell that she’s a girl. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just the way many babies are. They all wear generic onesies and pajamas and without the sex-mandated blue or pink of the clothes, the babies can come across as generic, too. Heck, we even gave her a name that would be good for a boy OR a girl.

But this past week, Heather did something to drive home the fact that OUR little Finley is in fact, a girl. She gave her pigtails. Well, not pigtails in the sense that she had little Pippi Longstocking braids, but with Finley’s thin, wispy hair it was enough to make her awfully cute… and awfully girly.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean to make it seem like a bad thing. I guess it’s just something that had not really hit me, yet. Finley hasn’t done any particularly girl-type things. Sure, she has a doll or two, but they’re really just stuffed things to put in her mouth. Momma has put little skirts and dresses on her, but those are just things to drool on. She hasn’t been a girl. She’s just been a baby. But now, after seeing her with her little antennae, I can tell that this is just the beginning of a long, girly road.

I’m sure those dolls that are chew toys, will soon become her friends and daughters. There will be tea parties for these friends and the pushing of daughters around in little strollers. If I’m lucky, I may get to attend a tea party or two and even get to change one of her babies.

I’m sure there will be dollhouses and maybe even a Barbie or two. There might even be kitties and puppies and ponies or even a rabbit on somebody’s birthday wish list. And slowly, but not slowly enough that wish list will expand to include nail polish and lip gloss. Of course, that’s when I will defer to the Momma for expertise.

I have no problem with building a dollhouse or a cage or habitrail. I’d probably be the one cleaning up after whatever pet we get, anyway. But, when it comes to female war paint, I’m done. Because in my mind that all leads to one thing: Boys. And I’m not EVEN ready to think about that. And I sure am glad she’s not ready, either.

It turns out I have a little bit of time before that all kicks in, anyway… Before the female chromosome begins to overpower the male. I’m not sure when, exactly, that happens… When the kid decides to head in the direction of all things girl. It might be in kindergarten, when they segregate the bathrooms (Maybe that’s why women always go to the can together). At any rate, I figure I have at least two years before I get the “Daddy just doesn’t get it” look.

So, in the meantime I can still take advantage of “neutral” fun, like tickling and kissing cheeks and singing. We can watch baseball and cartoons together and Momma and I can read non gender-specific books to her. Because, at this point, Finley doesn’t care. Well, really she doesn’t know. And that’s a good thing. As long as she smiles and giggles and squeals with delight, that’s good enough for me. And as long as when she cries out in the middle of the night, she knows we’re there to comfort her, that’s fine, too. Girl things can wait. She’s got a plenty of time before she needs to worry about being a little girl. But I’ve got the rest of my life to worry about it!

Toy Story

Here’s how dictionary.com defines “toy:”

toy – noun

1. an object, often a small representation of something familiar, as an animal or person, for children or others to play with; plaything.

2. a thing or matter of little or no value or importance; a trifle.

3. something that serves for or as if for diversion, rather than for serious practical use.

It’s funny as I look at the definitions, how the order is the exact order in which I have felt about toys in my lifetime. As a kid, my life was all about my toys. In fact, there were two things that drove me; What toys I had and what toys I was going to get. In the beginning, I liked just about anything I could get my hands on. But, as mentioned in the first description, if it is something familiar, like an animal, then it had more meaning. Which is probably why I still have the Winnie the Pooh Grandma Ella gave me when I was five.

But as I got older toys changed from little shiny things to big shiny things. Cars, stereos, TVs. All of which, in the long run, fit into description number two. Which brings us to definition three. Which is where I am with toys, today.

When Finley was born, we had no need for toys. She had no way of knowing what they were or what they did. She couldn’t hold on to them or really even see them for that matter. Which is why most of the parenting books say kids don’t need toys until about six months. So, now that we’re at month seven, her once empty toy box is now crammed with somewhat soft and brightly colored noisemakers. And that’s what they are, in their simplest form; noisemaking light shows.

In the store, I pore over the different toys to see what sort of educational value they hold. I’m sure that as she gets older, some of these toys will hold true to their enlightening ways. But for now, toys in Finley’s world need to have flashing lights, music, voices, or be able to be chewed on. A toy that falls into all of those categories is a a bonus.

We’ve got the “smart” toys. Those are the ones that have a voice explaining what’s happening in English, French and Spanish. Most likely, this includes the name of the color that is currently flashing and/or whichever letter in the alphabet is also flashing.

We’ve got a rabbit that laughs and is very descriptive about its ears, nose and feet. And there’s a turtle that asks our Little Einstein™ to press the appropriate colorful, lit-up shape on its shell.

And then there is what I refer to as “The Space Capsule.” The actual name is “Excersaucer,” but it is more of a cockpit surrounded by every single sensory stimulation device known to man. Basically, the subject is lowered into a padded seat that dangles them mere centimeters above the floor of the capsule. The seat is designed to spin, so that our subject can experience a full 360-degrees of sensory overload. The full-circle dashboard contains objects of silly design, supported by springs or any number of pliable and stretchable stands. These objects, of course, are meant to be chewed and slobbered on and make some sort of sound, battery-induced or not. This toy… this capsule, is the ultimate kiddie distraction.

And that’s what toys are. They’re diversions. Some have practical and educational purposes. Many kids develop a love for building and design from playing with erector sets and Legos™. And there are those kids who turn a fascination with toy musical instruments into a career. But, in my first run-through as a toy-buying parent, I am beginning to see toys as not much more than battery sucking, song repeating, tripping hazards.

The makers of these toys are geniuses, of course, because they know what they’re doing. They know that the more noise the toys make and the brighter the lights are, combined with a song repeated over and over and over, will not only drive the parents nuts, but send the kids into a gleeful spasm. And that’s what it’s all about.

We will gladly suffer the same song over and over and over for days if it keeps the kid happy and distracted. As long as the baby is holding on to a musical teething ring or enthralled in the capsule, we can throw a load of clothes in the laundry or wash a few dishes. In this way, distractions are good. We can get things done when the kids are distracted. Then, once the baby is in bed, mom and dad can cuddle on the couch and watch TV.

Air Finley

Last Friday was Finley’s six-month checkup. Like all the other checkups before, it consisted of the weighing and measuring of our little girl. And, like all the others before, it ended with a few needles finding their way into her little legs. To her credit, she took the shots like a champ and only cried a little bit.

Other than the promise of health via immunizations, the more notable news from the visit to Dr. Zimburean was related to the weight and measurement department. Finley weighed in at a healthy 17lbs, 10oz (80^th percentile) and measured 27-1/8 inches long (90^th) percentile. The latter measurement caused Dr. Z to comment that “she is very tall for her age.” Very tall for her age?

So I start calculating. If she’s 2 feet 3 inches at six months, and she’s grown a little over an inch each month, then she should be nearly three feet tall when she turns one. And, according to more outrageous daddy math, THAT would mean by the time she’s 15, she’ll be easily 6’-3” – 6’-5” tall (Give or take a few feet, but that has nothing to do with this ramble).

Suddenly visions of the WNBA begin to enter my realm. Of course, this flies against my Team USA softball plans and her pro golf career. But, it’s a little more realistic than my goal to see her be the first female quarterback in the NFL. Then again, at 6’-5”, she would have no problem seeing over the offensive line. Peyton Manning is 6’-5” and has a name that could work for a girl or a boy, too.

Of course, the shoe deal she gets will only help her modeling career. But, that’s only when she has time from her charity work and when she’s not busy saving lives at the hospital or saving the planet from greenhouse gases. And, if her momma had her way, there would be a ballet career and possibly a country music tour to throw in.

Ask Finley in a few years what she wants to be when she grows up and my guess is she would choose something along the lines of a princess/veterinarian. And, like all of us, those ideas of career goals change. I was going to be a detective and an oceanographer. No doubt, solving underwater crimes involving sea creatures. I changed my mind to journalism and pretty much stayed with that for most of my life.

It will be interesting to see what Finley will become. I’m sure there will be a few things she’ll try and decide not to continue. I have piano lessons and wrestling in my past. But there are also the things we dabble in. The things that we may not have seen all the way through, but still resonate in our lives. There’s all the time I spent in boy scouts and my five years in band. There’s a year or so in martial arts and the semester I spent in choir in college. And although I may regret not getting my Eagle Scout or a black belt, I apply many of the things I’ve learned from all of those endeavors into my life. And that’s really what it’s all about. Experience.

Finley may not like basketball. She may even hate it. She might not want to learn how to throw a curveball or work on her putting. She may care next to nothing about leading a receiver or laying down a bunt and that’s okay. I just want her to try it. Just once. She may find joy in sports or she may decide that it could ruin her nails. As long as she tries.

In the long run, I just want her to experience as many things as possible. If ballet trumps baseball, then so be it. If she’d rather dance than dribble, that’s okay too. She can do anything she wants and I’m here to let her know that. That doesn’t mean I won’t buy her a glove. And it certainly doesn’t mean she won’t play catch with her old man in the backyard when she’s home from saving the planet.