Memorial Day Weekend

So, it’s Monday night and this family is tired. We spent Saturday at my dad’s to do a few chores on his property and have a family BBQ. Sunday was a birthday party, and today we spent the morning at the lake for a picnic.
Needless to say, I’m spent. So, instead of a bunch of words, I’m going to put up a bunch of pictures. I’ll be back with my usual musings next week, but enjoy the pictures of the weekend.

Universal Daddy

It’s never easy spending time away from the family. 

Even if it’s just a weekend, I find myself missing saying goodnight to my girls. I don’t get to read books in funny voices or get hugs and kisses before bedtime. It’s funny how used to those things you get.

I guess that after doing the same routine every night, it gets engrained in your head. So much so, that I have many of Finley’s favorite books memorized, and probably didn’t even know it. It makes sense, though. When she finds a book she likes, she sticks with it for a LONG time. And since the books are rarely more than ten pages long, they’re pretty easy to memorize. But I didn’t realize I had these stories in my brain until this weekend, when I went away with the old gang for a concert/campout in central Washington.

It was an all-day concert featuring some old bands; The Doobie Brothers, The Allman Brothers, and The Dead. And as is par for the course at these all-day shows, there were plenty of families on the lawn, enjoying the music. We happened to pick a patch of grass next to a family of three, including a 19-month old blonde girl with pigtails. Go figure.

And as the afternoon rolled on, I found myself playing peek-a-boo and talking to her parents about toddlerhood. Kaylee, it turns out, is also a big fan of Winnie the Pooh and had her Pooh and Piglet dolls with her. Bonus points.

Of course, this all just made me miss my munchkin more and more. I found myself looking at the time on the phone to see if it was dinner time back home or how much longer she had to play until bedtime. Like I said, you get used to that routine.

Eventually, as the last band played on, the sun went down, and Kaylee started running out of steam, her mom worked on putting her down for bed. They had a little kid tent and some blankets, but like any kid – especially mine – she just didn’t want to give up the fight and go to sleep.

So, my dad instinct kicked in and I started asking her about what nighttime books she had at home. When I found out she had “Goodnight Moon,” I started reciting it word-for-word. Kaylee was pretty amazed – not that I knew the whole book from memory – but in her 19-month old brain, she probably thinks she’s the sole owner of that book.

Needless to say, she was a bit mesmerized by all of this and calmed down to the point that her mom was able to put her in that little tent. Just a few minutes later, she was sound asleep.

Now, I’m not saying I’m some sort of baby whisperer because of this little episode. Any parent knows that their kids react differently to different techniques. It’s just that I was able to strike a chord in the brain of this little one.

It’s not a miracle, just a bit of experience with my own little blonde pigtailed girl. But it’s good to know that there is some sort of universal language out there amongst the toddlers. And if you can find that Rosetta stone and speak that language, they’ll listen.

Plus, there’s something about how kids listen better when it’s not their parents talking. Just because I can recite “Good Night Moon,” doesn’t mean Finley will calm down every night. It takes a few more tricks up the sleeve when it’s your own kid.

All I know is that even though I got to help one little blonde fall asleep, the one closest to my heart was still very far away. Which meant that tonight’s reading of “Goodnight Moon” to Finley meant a little bit more this time around.

Goodnight stars. Goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere.

Three Big Words

Finally. I’ve been waiting, patiently, for two years and two months. And Friday it finally arrived. 

What was it? I’ll tell you, in a moment. You see, there are a few things we dads secretly long for from our children.  If we have boys, we want a strong left arm and/or a good backswing (for golf or tennis or guitar or all). For our girls, we might want those two things as well, but we tend to lean more toward good grades and utter devotion to the dad. These are all things we want to come naturally. Sure, we could help mold them, refine them, but you want to see these things appear early on.

But for me, there was one more little, itsy bitsy thing I wanted to have happen. One little, slightly selfish request from my daughter, that I couldn’t prompt. Something she had to derive on her own. And on Friday, she delivered.

It happened in the morning, after she got up and I was getting her dressed for daycare. As many of you can relate, two-year olds don’t stay perfectly still during a scheduled pit stop. So, like any other parent, I have to find a way to keep her from wriggling off the changing table, while swapping the old tire for a new one. My usual weapon is silliness. I try to make her laugh or have her sing along with me… anything to keep her from focusing on getting away. A distraction technique, really.

This morning I chose a silly voice and not only did it work, I got a nice surprise in return. She giggled, sighed and said the three big words I’ve been waiting for… “You’re funny, daddy.” A chorus of angels arose from the crib, confetti filled the room and crowds erupted in applause. Actually, I just gave her a great big kiss, but that’s what it felt like.

For a guy like me, who tries to find the funny in pretty much everything I do, I longed for the day when my daughter would not only recognize humor, but acknowledge it… me.

And it was such a spontaneous thing. I hadn’t coached her on it or practiced it with her. No, I didn’t want to cheapen the moment. There was no performance enhancement going on, with my girl. She just came to the conclusion on her own and I can pretty much say she not only made my day, but my week/month/year.

As I think about why this was such a big deal to me, I find it interesting that we put so much emphasis on our kids’ firsts. First words, first steps, first tooth… And then it all becomes so mundane. Maybe it’s just because I’m a first-time dad, but I am amazed with pretty much everything she does.

Sure, her first steps were fun to see. But now as I watch her run through the house and navigate obstacles and jump on to cushions, I find it amazing how well she carries herself. When she said “Da Da” we clapped. Now she’s turning words into sentences, with her own special brand of emphasis. And I am astounded.

I know that as time moves on, I will get used to her moves and her speech to the point where it will be frustrating when she won’t want to go anywhere or won’t want to tell us what happened. But for this brief point in time, I get to watch her body and brain develop right before my eyes. And I get to help shape it.

I can teach her how to take care of herself and introduce her to a world of books and music that will expand her vocabulary and the ways she can express herself. And that’s really what being a parent is all about, isn’t it? We get to help create the next generation. Whether she’s some sort of artist or thinker or whatever she chooses, I can help her get there. But that seems a little much to put on a two-year old, right now. For now, I’m fine with her thinking I’m the funniest man alive. She’s my biggest fan and that’s all I need.

In this corner…

My daughter can be a pill. There. I said it. 

Now the grandma’s can write me nasty notes about how perfect she is. But we all know that secretly they are thinking to themselves, “HAH! Payback time!”

It’s not that she is actively TRYING to be a pill. There is no pre-meditated pilling going on, here. I’ve pretty much decided that most of what she does is reactionary; She wakes up, nobody is there, she makes noise. We go in to get her, she gives us love, she wants down. She sees food, she wants to eat. It’s all reaction.

So, when something doesn’t go her way, she does what most two-year olds do best… She cries about it. Actually, you could say that about all of us, but for a little kid, crying is the first and most trusted weapon in the war for what they want. And that’s something we learn to tolerate as parents.

After the first few little tirades you start to get used to the writhing and the simulated “end of the world” wailing. But the little ones are smart, I tell you. They adapt. They figure out pretty quickly that if the crying and the screaming isn’t working, they have to move on to another approach. Unfortunately, for our girl, that leads to hitting.

The hard part isn’t telling her time and time again that hitting is naughty. The hard part is that she thinks it’s funny. So, after time and time again of telling her that not to hit… to be nice… she developed her own little workaround. She would get to the point where she would smack your arm and then immediately pat it, nicely and say “Be nice.”

And as we continued to remind her not to hit, it seemed as if she began to tone down her violent tendencies… That is until a few weeks ago.

I went to pick up our little angel at daycare and in the little report on her daily activities, there was a note saying she had pulled the hair of the other kids AND one of the teachers.  Now, it’s hard for any parent to think their kid could be “the bad kid.” After all, she never pulled our hair at home. But when I asked Finley about it, she got all shy and quiet on me. Perhaps it was just a bit of guilt and shame. I tried to get her to tell the teacher she was sorry, but she was obviously uncomfortable, so I didn’t push it. I waited until we got home and tried to talk to her about it, but all she had on her mind was playing.

So our dilemma becomes trying to enforce a rule or a punishment or even just trying to discuss a problem with a kid so little, she would have a hard time keeping her attention on you for just a few minutes. But try we did. Explaining how it hurts others and how you wouldn’t want anyone to do that to you. Who knows if it really sunk in? The fact is, she hasn’t pulled hair since. She’s moved on. This past week we learned that our little trouble maker is kicking and throwing toys at her teachers. Good times.

I have to admit that it’s a little frustrating because she such a sweet girl, normally. And it’s because she’s normally so good, that leads to a theory of why she’s acting the way she is. Just a few weeks ago, the daycare folks decided to move Finley out of the one-year old toddler section and into the two-year old toddler section. And this was fine with us.

We figured that she was getting bored with the little kids stuff and was ready to do some advanced learning. Which is probably true. But what I think is happening is that she went from being the oldest kid in one area to the new and youngest – and maybe even littlest – kid in the other area. She’s uncomfortable. And when she’s out of that comfort zone… different teacher, different kids, different toys and behavior… she lashes out. If my theory is correct, the more comfortable she becomes in her new situation, the nicer she will be.

In the meantime, we have to have our time outs and talk with her about what it is that she’s doing and how she can be a big girl by being much nicer. And that goes for all of us.  It’s only natural to lash out when you’re feeling uncomfortable in a new situation. Many of us can deal with it and move on. But there are some out there who never got the talk when they were little. And that’s the last thing I want my daughter to be… one of those people.

She’ll get there. It just takes time and patience from everyone, including us and the teachers at school. For now, it’s just a matter of laying down the rules, sticking with them and making sure she learns as she goes. Besides, I’d rather spend my time reading to her than being her punching bag. That’s just me.