Musically Inclined

Parents, especially new parents, tend to dream big for their kids. I’ve got a few friends who’s kids are pretty much going to Washington State. There are parents out there who are trying to groom the next Albert Einstein. And, there are plenty of kids out there who are getting more than a little pressure to become the next Tiger Woods or Kristi Yamaguchi.

Inasmuch as I’d love to see Finley take interest in a sport or two, my real desire for her is to discover and enjoy music. I’m not saying I want her to be a violin prodigy or have a string of sellout rock shows, I’m just hoping she can learn to understand the beauty of it and maybe even learn to make her own music.

A few weeks ago, quite on her own, she surprised Heather and me with a little solo. We didn’t even know she new any songs, but sure enough she was, in her baby language, singing a little tune. Heather thought it sounded a bit like “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and we started singing it to her.

Immediately, her eyes turned to saucers and she began clapping. We had connected with her on the musical level. And we’ve continued to connect in the time sense.

It’s not hard to deduce that she’s probably getting a ton of musical exposure at daycare, but as I began to think about it, I realized there’s a little more going on at our house than you might expect.

We really noticed her ability to sing while we were in Pennsylvania. She would walk around Mama and Bompa’s house singing the tune to “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star” (which also happens to be the tune to the ABC song). It’s definitely her favorite tune of the moment and she sings it whenever she remembers.

It started to dawn on me that her ability to know this song made a ton of sense. Because of all of her musical toys, I would say a good 90% have that tune playing on them. She has an “Aquarium” that hangs on the side of her crib – it’s a lit-up music box – and the first song that plays to her at night is Twinkle Twinkle. Her piano, her musical frog, one of her pull cars – all Twinkle Twinkle. She’s just figured out how to copy it.

But it’s much more than basic recognition. She really enjoys music. Especially when we sing to her. It’s becoming the sound to soothe the savage baby. She loves it when we sing, clapping her hands and grinning a big toothy smile.

In fact, the Finley top three is “Twinkle/ABC,” “Itsy Bitsy Spider” and “The Wheels on the Bus.”

I’m just glad her recognition of the songs comes with a big smile. And if the song ends before she wants it to… she’ll let you know. She’s a big fan of repetition, but at that age, they all are.

So, maybe this is just the beginning of a very musical life and maybe she’s just happy that Momma and Poppa know the songs she knows. Either way, music makes her smile, which is what it’s supposed to do. And that’s all I can ask.

Finley Tour 2008

One of the things you learn very quickly as a parent – especially when the kids are very young – is that you are basically just the road managers and chaperones for this little rock star.

It’s true. You may have created this little wonder and may even be slightly responsible for all the little cute things she does, but when it gets down to it, you’re left off stage to watch the show from the wings.

It doesn’t matter who you’re going to visit or what relationship you have with them, even your own mother will knock you down to get to the kid. All you can do is make sure they are cleaned up and dressed well. Once you’ve arrived at the gig, you might as well just check out the food.

But that’s okay. Soon enough, the kid won’t be quite as cute or endearing and fall from the charts as the next baby boy band pulls for everyone’s attention. If you’re lucky you’ll get to see relatives every two or three years and get a little attention. But that’s what reunion tours are all about.

We just went through the rock star experience on a trip to Pennsylvania to visit Heather’s side of the family. Finley Tour 2008 – The East Coast leg – kicked off on a VERY long Saturday of flying from Seattle to Erie, PA. It’s a long story, but in a nutshell, we had one airline push us back for mechanical difficulties and we spent a few more hours in Philadelphia – because of weather – than we wanted.

And before we had time to recover from jet lag, the following day found us celebrating Father’s Day showing off the Diva to Pennsylvania kin. You’d think they’d never seen a baby before. Then again, we were hanging out at Heather’s grandparent’s house in Spring Creek Township (pop. 872), with most folks coming from the nearby metropolis of Corry (pop. 7,000). At any rate, the Finley show was in full effect and our little star did not disappoint.

I wasn’t too sure how well she would do with so many people giving her so much attention, but she was able to put together some moves I had never seen before, including a few little dance moves that had the crowd rolling. Then it was “Good night, Spring Creek” (around 7:30pm) and the starlet was whisked off stage to her private pack-n-play.

Of course, after such a busy start to the week, she settled in to life in the country, warming up to her great grandparents and her aunt and cousins who couldn’t get enough. She was in a good mood all week and was even able to say a few words including “Mama” and “Bompa” – the pet names for Heather’s grandparents.

All in all, we had a relaxing trip and after a few tears and another weather delay in Detroit, we were on the final 4-1/2 hour leg of the tour. After entertaining much of the last few rows of the plane, the Finley entourage returned home, safely.

So, as we re-adjust to West Coast time and settle back in to our quiet little life, far from the white-hot spotlight of Spring Creek we know we’re just energizing our batteries for the next trip the big cities of Montesano or Oak Harbor – and all stops in between. And as long as she has Momma and Poppa as her roadies, I’m pretty sure our little rock star will continue to shine for quite some time.

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.