Finley’s Turn

Those two people who think they are in charge are too busy having a cold and getting ready to go on a vacation, so I decided to take over this blog thing for this week. It really isn’t that hard. I see my daddy pushing buttons on the computer thingy all the time, so I figured I could give it a shot.

They keep telling me that this week I will be 15 months old, whatever that means. Why can’t I be a year or a year and a half? What’s this obsession with counting every week and month until I’m two? All that time figuring out how old I am takes away from time that could be spent making my food.

The lady – we’ll call her “mommy” – is a pretty good cook. I especially like anything that is cut small enough for me to shove every single piece of it into my mouth. I just like the way she acts when I do it. I have to keep those people on their toes. I have to remind them how easy they really have it. So, every once in a while I’ll throw a piece of food on the floor or cover my body in yogurt. It’s funny watching their faces… and it’s supposed to be good for my skin, anyway.

So far this place isn’t too bad. I have a lot of toys that keep me pretty interested and if I get too stinky, they clean me up pretty good. That’s another place I have to keep them on their toes. There’s no fun in just laying there, letting them change me. I have to wriggle around. It let’s me see how good they really are.

Sometimes I get to visit other people. I don’t know them too well, so I don’t get overly friendly. That is, unless they have something to give me. Just last weekend I went and visited my daddy’s mommy and she had this dolly stroller. That was pretty neat. I went all over the whole house as fast as I could. Then all these other people showed up and kept trying to talk to me. I think they all need to learn to talk a little better. I couldn’t understand a word they said. It’s like when I go visit my mommy’s mommy. So many people trying to talk to me. At least there, some of them are closer to my height.

When we’re not going to visit big people, I get to go to school. It’s lots of fun there. I get to run around and get dirty. There are other people my size who like to run around and get dirty with me. They like to feed me and give me clean pants too. It’s just like being at home, but there’s a lot more noise. But, by the end of the day, I get pretty tired of those other kids and when I see my mommy or daddy come to pick me up, I’m ready to go home. Mostly because I know they will give me more food.

I like my home because it all belongs to me and I can do whatever I want. Mommy and daddy like to try to keep me from doing certain things, but I know this: I will figure out how to do those things eventually, and I mainly do it to make them chase after me. It’s lots of fun.

I think I’m training them pretty well. They feed me regularly, keep me clean and they kiss me all the time! They’re finally starting to figure out how to play, too. The daddy one makes funny voices when we read books and the mommy one tickles me, so I think I’ll keep them around for a little while.

I know that soon they will figure out what I’m trying to say. It’s so hard to get them to understand me. Usually, I just want some food or juice. But a lot of the time I’m trying to tell them thank you for all their hard work. The truth is that even though they are new at taking care of me, they are doing a pretty good job. I can’t wait till they figure out that most of the time I’m saying “I love you.” Because I do.

Alright, I have to go. I haven’t heard from them in a while. I’d better cry or something and maybe I’ll get another kiss. Bye!

Growth Squirt

It’s amazing what you discover about your kid when you spend more than just a few hours a day with them. Five days a week, I see Finley for maybe an hour or so in the morning before she’s off to daycare. Then when she comes home, she’s maybe up for another two or three hours before it’s bedtime.

Of course, we spend our weekends with the munchkin, but this past week, we got to spend 24/7 with her while we were on vacation and really began to notice how much she’s growing from a baby to a toddler.

There’s little doubt that the biggest reason for her growth is from all the time she spends with the kids at daycare. Finley recently moved up from the infant room to the toddler room and watches those big kids’ every move.

The most noticeable change we’ve seen is in her mobility. She started walking at about 10 ½ months and just a little over three months later, she’s moved on to running and much to our dismay, climbing. And it’s not just pulling herself on to the lowest ledge… That would be too easy. Our little monkey has figured out how to put toys and other objects against higher objects to help her “step” up to the next level.

We got home from vacation and were unpacking when out of the blue, little Miss Shortstack was standing on the coffee table with a little help from her princess couch. And just earlier this evening, I watched as she pulled one of her push cars over to the entertainment system so she could climb up to get closer to Mickey Mouse on TV.

I can’t even explain her fascination with her laundry hamper. She tips it over, crawls in it and rolls around like she’s having a seizure. From the outside you can’t see her, so the hamper takes on a life of its own, like it’s some sort of misshapen and spastic muppet. It’s pretty darned funny.

Then there’s the communication aspect of her life. Don’t get me wrong, crying still rules the roost around here, but she’s now beginning to point at what she wants… Her little index finger outstretched showing us what she wants. If we’re lucky, she’ll add a Finley word to help explain what it is. We were wondering if the term “manamana” was her name for her binky, but I’m beginning to think it means “I want.”

She’s a bit more selective with “dada” these days, too. It’s fairly clear she knows it’s me she’s talking about when she says it. And “mama” is used more frequently around Heather. She understands what “ni-ni” means, too. When she’s playing near the floor, she’ll often lay down and look up and say “ni-ni,” as if she’s about to take a nap.

But there are a couple of big things she’s beginning to do that are making me realize just how fast she’s growing. The first is she is starting to understand the word, “hi.” She’ll pop around the corner and say “hi.” She’ll say it when you pick her up, and if she’s in a really good mood, she’ll see that we find it funny and repeat it and throw in a smile, because she knows we’ll get excited. She knows how to play us, for sure.

The other thing – my favorite – that’s she’s beginning to do and understand, is give kisses. I’ll be holding her and say “Give daddy kisses,” and she’ll lean over with her little mouth half open and peck me on the cheek. For my money, there’s nothing better in the world than that. We’ve taught her how to blow kisses, too, but I’m not sure she really understands what she’s doing… It’s more of a play move at this point. But that’s how she’s learning.

Just like the rest of us, she’s associating learning and fun. Which is why daycare is so valuable to her, right now. It’s also why we need to keep teaching her while having a good time… while she still can. I’m not sure when learning got boring, but I’m hoping we can keep her excited about education now. It’s a lot more fun to sing the ABC song than it ever was trying to learn the periodic chart of the elements.

So, until that time, we’ll keep watching her develop and help her as much as we can with as much fun as we can put into it. And, if my little squirt decides to give me a kiss on the cheek along the way, I won’t complain.

Cinnamon Rolls and Yankee Dimes

This past weekend we went for a walk. But unlike most of our normal walks around the neighborhood, this weekend we joined ten thousand of our closest friends in the annual “Beat the Bridge” race for diabetes research.

Okay, so we didn’t exactly race in the big 8K run, but we did take part in the 4-mile family walk, which took us from Husky Stadium up and through the campus of the University of Washington. I am still recovering from a case of hives that set in, but I should be okay.

We try to go for walks whenever we can, but getting involved with something as big as this was a new thing for our family. Part of the reason we decided to sign up was because my company designated the Beat the Bridge race as one of the charity events it chooses to support throughout the year. Allyis covered the cost of entry for me and encouraged us to bring more family members. We ended up donating a bit more money for the cause and, in the long run, had a good time on a great day.

The other reason – and probably the MAIN reason – why I really wanted us to go on the walk was for the memory of my Grandma Moore.

There are really only two ways a little kid knows what diabetes is. Either they have it themselves, or someone in their family has it. And in my family, it was my Grandma. She lived with us when I was little and I would watch as she gave herself insulin shots every morning. I remember asking her if it hurt and her telling me, “A little. But it’s worth it.” It sure was.

You see, Grandma Moore was pretty much the only grandparent I ever knew. Her husband died right before my mom was born and I only met the Dickey’s once, when I was seven or so. So when the other kids talked about going to see their grandparents, I actually liked the fact that my Grandma was already here.

Some of the best memories of my childhood are filled with her. I can remember coming home from school to a house that smelled of cinnamon and seeing a big glass of milk waiting for me next to the largest cinnamon roll you ever saw. I can remember her working for hours and hours, crocheting a new afghan for someone in the family. And I can remember how soft she was when I curled up in her arms. But my favorite memory was when she would ask me to give her a “Yankee Dime.” I think it’s a Southern term for a kiss, but for my Grandma it was always a kiss and a hug. She never seemed to stop asking for them and I never seemed to run out of them.

My Grandma Ella Moore passed away right before my 16^th birthday and I remember wondering if I’d ever love anyone more than her. It turns out I wound up with two loves of my life. I met Heather and together we had Finley. Finley Ella.

Part of me is sad that Finley never got to meet her namesake and that Grandma never got to meet Finley. But, I know that my Grandma lives on in me and through me to Finley. I’ll pass along Yankee Dimes and tell Finley about cinnamon roles the size of my head. And, hopefully, we’ll continue to do walks for diabetes or for whatever charity we can.

Luckily, Finley is a very healthy little girl. And I want her to understand that we can use our abilities to help others in need. Even a 4-mile family walk is a little help. Every bit we do will help some little boy somewhere get to spend more time with his grandma. It may be little, but it’s worth it.

Seeing Spots

It came out of nowhere. Tuesday morning, we shipped our fair-skinned babe off to daycare, just like any other morning. Three hours later, Heather calls me at work.

The daycare had called to request that Heather come pick up Finley because she had a rash. Okay. Babies get diaper rash. It happens. Apparently, this was more than the average diaper rash. It was suggested by the school that she take Finley to the doctor right away.

An hour later, Heather calls me as she’s leaving the doctor. First of all, the doctor doesn’t know what it is, but the little girl has spots all over her body. The doc thinks it might be an allergic reaction, so we have to go pick up some Benadryl. But if the Benadryl does nothing, we’re supposed to bring her back. So, I’m thinking it can’t be THAT bad. She was fine this morning. What could have happened in three hours? Apparently, a lot.

By the time I got home that afternoon, my little angel looked more like my little cheetah. Her entire torso was covered in red splotches. It looked like she had been rolling around in poison ivy, the poor thing. But the weird – and good – part of all of this, was that she felt fine. It looked like something that would have her itching like crazy, but she didn’t. She just went about her business like things were normal. No fever, no overly-runny nose, nothing. Just these strange, red splotches. The Benadryl didn’t do anything, so that canceled out allergies.

The worrisome thing was, they looked like the measles. The doc said they weren’t, but they sure looked like it. But again… no fever, no messy nose… NOT the measles. Not only were we stumped, but so were the doctors.

The next morning we were back at the doc’s office, and were reassured that the measles were out of the picture. All they could figure is that it was some sort of viral thing and that it would clear up in a couple of days.

Now, I have all the respect in the world for our friends in the white coats. And I figure hundreds and hundreds of kids have been through the clinic we go to. But to not have a clue as to what was going on was a little disconcerting.

I try not to worry too much in these situations. Heather does plenty of that for the both of us, and I guess it’s my job to be the strong one. But then again, Heather does plenty of that for the both of us, too. This time, I was a bit worried.

I guess I figure that kids are going to get sick… a lot. And I’ll wipe some noses and clean up after a vomiting session and feed some baby Tylenol and do Daddy things that help them get better. But when even the doctor isn’t sure what’s going on, I get a bit nervous. Because I KNOW I can do all of those daddy things. I have control. I don’t have control over a mystery virus and I don’t like it.

And, sure enough, by Friday, her torso was almost completely clear and the spots had moved to her arms and legs… A sure sign they were fading away. By the weekend she was back to being our fair-skinned angel.

It was all just a very strange episode that reminded me I can only do so much. I can’t control everything that she is going to go through. I know bumps and bruises and cuts and fevers and viruses will come and go. I can’t stop them. It doesn’t mean I have to like it. But, I have to deal with it. I can only worry and wipe and bandage and feed and hug. And that – in the long run – is plenty. In fact, it may be the best medicine out there. It’s a prescription that Doctor Daddy has ready, anytime.

Crocodile Tears

Every once in a while I peruse through the past blogs. It kind of gives me an idea of where we’ve been and it helps me make sure I don’t repeat anything! But there is one thing I’ve noticed about my blogs that I decided I’m going to have to make clear, in THIS blog. Despite the emails of shock, dismay and denial I will surely receive from her grandmothers, little miss Finley is not the perfect child. I’m sorry to say it’s true.

Most of my blogs deal with her successes and triumphs. We’ve heard about her first bit of rolling, her first playing, her first food, her first tooth… and so on. But beneath this glossy exterior, lies a tiny little volcano who is the epitome of the only child.

Don’t get me wrong, I love her more than anything and she has really been an absolute joy of a child… so far. But, the reality is that, just like any of us, she has her good days and her bad days. Most of her days are good. But when they are bad, even the Momma steps away from the baby.

Most of the little eruptions center around not being able to hold, open or reach something. That, of course, is typical for someone of her age. She doesn’t know how ask for help or figure a way around the problem. Instead, she screams about it. And it’s downright amazing how quickly our little princess turns on the waterworks.

The good thing about her little tantrums is you can tell the difference between her cries from when she’s really hurting or upset as opposed to just wanting something. The bad thing about her little tantrums is if she gets on a roll, it’s hard to get her to stop.

Let’s say she really, really wants the remote control and you really, really don’t want her to have it. Well, you’d better come up with an alternate or “fake” remote pretty quickly or it’s all over. It’s even worse if she already has the real remote and you take it away. NEVER take anything away without a plan/backup or else you are doomed.

The mouth flies open, eyes are squeezed shut and the crocodile tears start flowing. If she’s particularly upset, she’ll pause for a good ten to fifteen seconds between cries without breathing, which usually leads to an increase in volume of the next scream.

Most of the time, we can appease her with distraction, but if we get caught with our pants down, it is pretty much the end of the world. One time we were in the car, coming back from Costco. She did not want to be in the car and she let us know it. The only way through it was to drive faster. I was certain that if a cop pulled me over, I could just point to the backseat and get an escort the rest of the way.

These days, we can kind of anticipate her waterworks. We know she’ll probably have some sort of fit while she’s eating. Especially if she doesn’t get her food as fast as she think she needs it. We know she doesn’t like the fact that we’ve gated off the kitchen and put locks on the cabinets and drawers. But even more recently, we’ve begun to notice that she’s becoming needier. She wants to be around her Momma a lot. And when Momma goes into the kitchen or bathroom – where little ones are not allowed – it can lead to drama.

As much as I hate to hear her cry, I know I have to just let her go, sometimes. Like I said, we can tell if she’s in pain or not, and I would never let her cry if I thought she was hurt, but when the tantrum volcano blows, I have to keep my distance until the lava cools a bit. As much as I want to, I can’t go rushing in and fix everything for her every time. She has to learn to fix her own situation.

I know she’s still little and it will probably be some time before she understands that concept, but I’m not going to consciously spoil my kid. It’s hard enough that she’s the only granddaughter on my side of the family. AND it’s hard because she is my little girl. But, I’m putting faith in the idea that a few more tears now will result in a few less tears, later. Talk to me in about thirteen years to see if that theory works.

For now, we just have to let the tears roll. That isn’t to say that I won’t try every silly trick in the book to cheer her up. Because I want her to think back on her childhood as a happy one, with a Poppa who wiped those crocodile tears away and made her laugh. And when it’s her turn, she’ll do the same for her little volcano.

Daddy’s Home!

There are a few things a dad has to come to terms with when he has a daughter. For instance, you just have to deal with the fact that 99 percent of everything she has is pink. You have to understand that you WILL be forced to wear some sort of frilly hat or scarf and drink fake tea and eat imaginary biscuits. And you have to realize right away that you will never get her hair right, now matter how hard you try. There is really no way around these facts. So you just shrug and watch sports on TV.

There are other things you have to understand as well. Things that are most likely passing fancies that you hope will change as she gets older. The main one that bugs me the most – And it really doesn’t bug me too much, just enough to mention – is the fact that Finley is quite the Momma’s girl.

When we have Poppa-Finley time everything is fine. She wants me to play with her and brings me books to read. She tugs on my pant legs when she wants something and plops on my shoulder when I take her to bed. But when Momma walks into the room, I’m yesterday’s news. And who can blame her? Momma is much prettier, smells better, is way softer and her face isn’t scritchy.

It’s that baby-mommy bond that blows it for us dads. I’m sure it happens with boys, too. And I’m also sure things start to even out a bit as the kid gets older. But for now, I’m John Edwards to Momma Obama.

But it really isn’t so bad. Because it makes all the little moments we have together all the more special. And just this past week I had one of those special little moments.

It was one of those movie moments you envision when you realize you are going to be a daddy, but I had pretty much forgotten about it until it happened.

I had a work event I stayed late for one night and really wasn’t sure I would make it home before the munchkin went to bed. In fact, I had figured I would be sneaking into her bedroom to steal a sleepy kiss. But, to my pleasant surprise, as I stepped through the front door, there was Momma and baby sitting in the living room, reading a book. And that’s when it happened.

Finley looked up from her book and saw me. A big grin crossed her face as she dropped her book – ker-plop – to the floor. She stood up, and moving as fast as those little legs could move, she made a bee-line for me, with arms wide open. And that was my movie moment.

In slow motion, I saw the joy in my daughter’s eyes as she forgot everything else and concentrated on getting to her Poppa as fast as she could. I had just enough time to drop my bag and sweep her into my arms and plant a big smooch on her cheek, which made her giggle.

Now I know and pretty much expect there to be many more of those “Daddy’s home!” moments in the future, but I can tell you this… That first time will always be the best. I don’t care what kind of day you are having… the world is a better place when your baby is happy to see you.

So, I will continue shake my head in disgust when I put her pink shoes and socks on to match her pink outfit. I will make sure to ask for seconds of imaginary tea and biscuits. And I will continue to part her hair in the middle, despite her mother’s looks of disdain. It’s all worth it, because I know who’s waiting for me when Poppa comes home.

Movin’ On Up!

One of the most wonderful things about being a parent is watching your child grow and develop. It can also be quite sad. It wasn’t so long ago that there was this little tiny girl lying on my chest in the middle of the night. For a while, that was the only way to get her to sleep. The warmth and familiarity of being so close to a heartbeat reminded her of the womb and she would drift off curled up as I stared at her tiny face.

Eventually, she learned to fall asleep in her crib and although it allowed Heather and I a little more peace at night, I miss the way she curled up in my arms. It’s pretty much the same story with everything else. From sleeping to eating to bath time, the process has evolved as she has. She even thinks she knows how to read. See below.

But today marked a very big step in Finley’s walk of life. Today she moved up from the infant room at daycare to the toddler room.

Just like everything else, it was inevitable. That doesn’t mean we have to enjoy it! I’m actually okay with it. She’s walking and trying to talk and it’s time to spend her days with kids and teachers who will help her in the next process of her evolution. It was a bit more traumatic for Heather. That’s because she had to drop Finley off this morning. I’m sure it wouldn’t have been much easier for me.

It’s not like they threw Finley in with the big kids, cold turkey. The daycare powers-that-be had been gradually introducing her to the toddler room for several weeks. But today was the first full day in the Big Leagues. And right from the start, Momma saw what rookies go through.

I guess Heather sat Finley down on a little riding toy and as soon as Momma turned away, some big kid pushed Finley off. It’s the typical law of the jungle in the toddler room. Finley is new meat and will be until the next lamb enters the arena. This makes Heather more worried than usual. I’m not extremely worried, but I also trust the teachers and there’s a part of me that hopes this will make Finley tough… But not too tough.

I’m hoping that she can learn to stand her ground – or even better – figure out how to get that kid to share. I’m sure I’m asking for a lot, but it’s worth a shot. The thing is, we’re dealing with the most basic human instincts and emotions, here. And the teacher is not going to be able to see everything. It’s not like its “The Lord of the Flies” in there, but I’m sure there will be days when she’ll come home with a scratch or a bite mark.

This is a very important time for her. She’s moved up from coddling and babying to a place where she’ll have to learn the basic rules of society. It’s kind of scary when you think about it, but we all had to go through it in our own way.

Of course, there are many more good things she will experience than bad. This will be the time that she develops speech. She’ll be learning the words that will help her communicate with us and tell us how she feels. This is good because I have a hard enough time trying to read Heather’s mind, let alone Finley’s. This will also be the time she will make her first friends. In just a little while, she’ll have a buddy she will hang out and play with.

The bottom line is that Finley is growing up. And as hard as it is for us to deal with, it’s something we can’t stop. We might as well embrace it and be thankful that she has the opportunity to grow up in such a good atmosphere with good people. And maybe, just maybe, in the not-so-distant future, when the new kid comes into the room and sits on a toy, Finley will help her and not push her. That will make all the worrying worthwhile.

In the meantime, she’ll take her big steps and we’ll smile through the tears. Because as she grows, so will we. That doesn’t mean I still won’t miss her curled up in my arms.