Aloha!

Aloha and greetings from beautiful Poipu Beach, Kauai. Today is day three of our seven-day trip 

to the Garden Isle. Unfortunately, I can't post any pictures through this hotel computer, but I can relay the fact that we are all doing well and enjoying the sun, the beaches and a little island rain, now and again.
We had as good of a flight as you can expect, when you plop a toddler into a 767 for five and a half hours. She slept for a little under an hour during the first half of the flight and managed to have only a few little outburst/cries during the duration. The really good part was that we were kind of in the "toddler" section of the plane and there was a little girl behind us and one in front of us who were much louder than the little miss. So, all in all, she was quite well behaved, which is all we could have really asked for.
On the downside of all of this, is the fact that all of our biological clocks are a bit messed up by moving three hours West. So, as I write this at 10pm on Monday night, it's actually 1am back home. We are all doing much better with this, but the past two days were a little rough... especially for Finley.

Considering how important her nap schedule is, it's understandable that a three-hour push back made things a little difficult for her to handle. She was a bit more irritable than normal and leaned a bit more toward the "terrible twos" realm than we would have liked. But, now that she has been able to get her naps back on track, she's a much more enjoyable and pleasant baby... Which makes us much more enjoyable and pleasant parents!
One of the great things we have discovered, here, is how much she really loves the beach. When we went to Mexico, she was only nine months old and didn't have too much exposure to surf and sand. She couldn't walk just yet and was relegated to the pool for her swimming fun. Now, at 18 months, she is walking and running and it looks like we have a little mermaid on our hands.
She loves the way the waves run up on the beach and instead of running from the sea foam and water, she runs TOWARD it. Of course we're holding on to her the entire time, but she's definitely a water baby.

Some of the best images - and I'll be sure to post them when we get back - are of her and her Momma sitting on the sand screaming with joy as the water races up to get them. Except for all the sand we have to scrape away from her crevices, it's a pretty enjoyable scene.

We also have been having fun digging in the sand and utilizing all of the tools in her little sand 

shovel and bucket set. Of course, Daddy likes to build the castles and Finzilla likes to smash them to pieces. That's just the way it goes.

So, we're here on the south-end of the island for two more days before we head to the north part and three days in a place called Princeville. There are a bunch of beaches along the way and we hope to try and see as much of the island as the mermaid princess will allow.
We'll have lots of pictures and maybe a bit of video to share when we get back, so here's hoping you are all well and we'll talk to you soon, and maybe we'll be a bit more tan than usual as well!
ALOHA!

If the Shoe fits

So I guess I’ve been in a bit of denial for quite some time. Is it still considered denial if you don’t know about it? 

Anyway, just about two years ago, I went with Heather to her second ultrasound. This was the one where they were going to tell us if our baby was a he or a she. I have to admit, I was hoping for a girl. I’m pretty sure Heather was, too. So when the technician confirmed there was no stem on the apple, we were pretty excited.

And for the past 18 months, I’ve been doing pretty well being the daddy of a girl. But to be fair, I don’t think there really is that much difference, at this point. Seriously. When we go out, she gets her hair in pony tails and wears the occasional dress. But for the most part, the only difference in her pajamas and daily wear is that the hue tends to lean toward pink.

All the development – the speaking, the walking, the learning – is not at all gender-based; a book is a book, not a girl’s book. And for the most part, even her toys are pretty generic. Sure, she has a doll or two, but she really doesn’t play with them any more or less than any other toy. Unlike the current political scene, you wouldn’t be able to point out sexism at our house. And I guess that’s why I was in my unknown shell of denial.

The role of being the Daddy of a girl hasn’t actually set in, yet. And this has nothing to do with “the talk” that will be completely handled by Heather. I’m really not sure when it is supposed to set in. I’m not sure when the whole thing will click and I can say to myself, “Yep, she’s a girl.” But one thing is for certain, Heather is trying to make that happen faster than I would like.

I suppose that makes sense, though. She’s probably the polar opposite of me. She’s probably thinking “Let’s go. Let’s get the girl-thang going!” And she’s been working on it since that little fuzzy picture gave us the news.

She can’t go into Target without coming out with some sort of pink or flowered-covered top, pants, pajamas, socks and/or shoes. She’ll tell me what a screaming deal it was and I just nod. Of course most of these items are for 6 months to a year down the road. She’s buying ahead, you see… But at the rate she’s going, she’ll have picked out Finley’s high school graduation dress by next spring.

And yes, everything is adorable. And yes, she looks adorable in it. But if you were to ask Finley – and if she were able to answer you so you could understand – she’d say, “Forget the clothes, I’m all about the shoes!”

That’s right. Finley is a shoe freak. I’m prone to say it’s all about accessibility; she likes the fact she has the power to put them on and take them off. Heather will say it’s a girl thing. Either way, we can barely go ten minutes without Finley fiddling with the shoes she currently has on or diving head-first into the basket of shoes near the front door.

And I’m here to tell you… the kid has more shoes than I do. Not quite as many as Heather, but it’s pretty much the Imelda Marcos starter kit.

WHY does she have so many shoes? It’s all about buying ahead. She may not fit into all her shoes… yet. But she will. Or should I say, she better? Needless to say, I think we pretty much have her second birthday outfit planned out… complete with shoes.

Which makes me think… Maybe I can start buying things ahead. I KNOW I’ll probably lose a box or two of golf balls between now and next summer. Check. Oh, and the clubs I’m using will wear out in a few years, I’m sure. But we all know the truth. I’ll be snorkeling the nearest driving range pond and playing with rusty sticks before Heather lets me get in the way of the Finley shoe cartel.

So, I’ll be sitting here, in my own little Foot Locker, helping the Little Miss put on and take off all her shoes. I guess if that’s all I have to deal with – for now – for having a daughter, then I’m okay with a ballet shoe in one hand and Finley’s foot in the other.

Jack and Jill and Finley

Okay, so I took last Monday off. It was a Holiday, after all. Even though around here, Labor Day is March 10th – that’s when Heather’s contractions kicked in – I decided to take a day off. I get to, every once in a while.
It turns out there wasn’t a heck of a lot going on that last week, anyway. Finley’s speaking skills are improving and she’s reached the stage where she is beginning to mimic what we say and noises we make. Of course, some of the bigger words are more difficult, but she certainly gives it a try.
The key to all of this is that she understands US. She may not know to communicate back as well, but she knows what we’re saying to her. She knows to go get books when we ask. She knows when we say it’s time for bed. And although at times she may pretend like she can’t understand, she knows when we say “no.”
She’s also eating up every experience she can. She wants to climb and look and discover everything. And as much as that is great, it can also be scary.
For the most part, our condo is safe. There are a few things like bathrooms and areas of the kitchen we keep her away from, but most of the rest of the house has been made to be very soft.

But the other day, I had my first real scare with her. One of those things that happens so fast, you don’t have time to think, just react. And it makes you realize how much you really need to pay attention when a munchkin is around.

We have to climb a flight of stairs to get to our 2nd floor condo. 14 steps of concrete, no carpeting.

 And as scary as they are, a toddler doesn’t want to be carried down and up them. No, she wants to be big and climb them herself.
Finley has been very good about knowing that we have to hold her hands when we go up or down the stairs. She’s just too small to really navigate them that well. And she enjoys counting along as we help her.
Wednesday morning, we were headed out to daycare. I had my bags and was locking the door behind me. I told her to wait for me, which she did, and she waited about a foot from the first step, at the top of the landing. She was pretty excited to go to school and her body language showed it. She had her hand up in the air, waiting for my hand and in her excitement swung at my hand, but missed. The momentum sent her over the top step and down the stairs, in a head first somersault.

In a heartbeat I dropped my bags and flopped to the floor to grab her leg before she continued her tumble. I caught her at about the third step, and although it was a short fall, she still got a bruise on the forehead, a cut on her noise and a scrape on her arm.
As you would expect, she was not too happy and was crying pretty well. To her credit, she only cried for a minute or so and was pretty bewildered for a bit. Thank goodness, that was the worst of it. I was a bit shaken for a while and just kept imagining if I hadn’t grabbed her. But I did, and the only thing I had to worry about now, was whether or not to tell the Momma. I decided to tell her and made sure to preface not to freak out and everyone is fine before I told the story. Besides, I couldn’t very well blame daycare for the bruises!
The one good thing to come out of this whole thing showed up this morning, as we were getting ready to leave, again. 

This time she had a firm hold of my hand and her other hand was on the rail. But she just couldn’t force herself to take that first step. She was happy to let me pick her up and take her down. Having a little fear for the stairs for now is not such a bad thing. It shows that she really is learning.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I know I won’t be there every time she falls. But as long as she can dust herself off and learn from it, I’ve done my job. It still doesn’t mean I won’t worry about her… For the rest of my life.

Who's the Boss?

According to my very scientific method of keeping track of these blogs, this particular entry is number 80. And as much as I enjoy writing these parental insights, I’m beginning to wonder if I have repeated myself in the previous 79 entries. If I have, I apologize. There are only so many ideas I can keep in my brain anymore. So, if I think I have a particularly clever anecdote and I don’t remember putting it down, I’m hoping you all are like me and don’t remember reading it!

With that said, it has recently come to my attention that my role in this whole “family” thing isn’t quite what I was led to believe. But then again, I’m basing my view of the average family on television from the 70s and 80s, so I guess I can’t complain too much. But even after realizing we probably won’t be traveling around in a multi-colored bus playing rock and roll as a family or living on the Love Boat, I have also come to realize that I – as the father and husband – am not really in charge around here.

Technically, I lost any hope or claim to that mantle during the wedding vows, but as little Miss Finley Ella has gotten bigger and developed more of a personality, I’m not even a close second.

It’s true that I get a few hours a week to go on a bike ride or go golfing, but for the most part, I’m on Finley Time. And that secretly means I’m on Finley and Mommy time. Because Mommy pretty much makes all the decisions and it all centers around Finley’s schedule. Well, that’s not entirely true. I get to choose when I get to do the dishes (kind of) and I have free reign over packing the car. But for the most part, the household is run by a 17-month old girl.

Mornings start out pretty much the same… I hear a high-pitched squeal of excitement as Mommy plops the daughter onto our bed and Finley comes crawling across the sheets like Michael Phelps. But instead of reaching for the timing pad at the end of the pool, she’s searching for my face to let me know that it is time to get up.

I eventually make my way to the couch in the living room as some sort of way-too-cheery morning fare blares on the tube. Usually it involves Mickey Mouse or the Wiggles, but it’s just background noise as the Princess of Cute holds court, waiting for Mommy to finish getting ready.

If I’m lucky, she’ll be sucking away on a sippee cup full of juice or munching on a handful of organic cereal. Then she’ll decide to bring a stack of books over for me to read to her – which at this time in the morning is really just her thumbing through the pages as I groggily come to life.

Soon, the little whirlwind has her shoes and as I help her put them on, I get a whiff of her hair. And that’s what wakes me up. Well, that and a very slobbery kiss as Finley and Mommy head out the door to daycare. Suddenly it’s very quiet… and very lonely. But that all changes in about eight hours.

You can hear her working her way up the stairs – with Mommy’s help, of course. She’ll either be giggling or counting the steps in her own language. And once the door flies open, she struts into her domain looking around to make sure everything is to her liking. On good days, I’ll get open arms and lift her for a real quick kiss. On other days, she’ll head straight to her high chair and start pulling it out all on her own. She wants dinner, and I’m just in the way.

Depending on her mood, dinner can be quick and easy or drawn out and difficult. A mess is guaranteed with both versions. And depending on the night, she’ll have a bath before she gets into her jammies and is ready to create havoc in the living room.

These days, she’s letting us know – in her own language – if we’re in the way or if she needs help. Tonight, she actually shook her finger at me and said “No, no Daddy” when I did something she didn’t like.

But for the most part, she’s a very good kid who just wants to discover as much as she can before bedtime. She’ll even give in a bit when it’s time for “nigh-nigh.” And I always get a big smooch as she heads to sleep.

And as she starts to wind down from what was most certainly a very busy day, I’m left to survey the battlefield that is the living room. Dolls and cars are scattered across the ground like soldiers and tanks. There’s just no smoking rubble… well, not yet, anyway.

Heather informs me that we’ll be eating OUR dinner in a few minutes – even when the kid is sleeping, I’m still on her schedule – and I get a few moments to breathe.

And it’s here that I realize I have no control. I am not, nor will I probably ever be, in charge. And I think to myself, “Thank goodness for that!” Because between the organization of the Momma and the busy life of the daughter, I’m just glad I fit in, somewhere. I’d just mess things up anyway. Besides, all I want is a few sloppy kisses and to smell baby hair. Sounds like a good deal to me!

Olympic Dreams

A few things tend to happen when you stay up late to watch the Olympics; 

you find yourself beginning to actually understand the gymnastics scoring system, you find yourself beginning to actually understand Béla Károlyi, and you fall asleep with floor routine music on your brain. All of which can lead to some very strange dreams.
We flash-forward to 2024, where a 17-year old Finley Ella Dickey is preparing to begin the women’s individual all-around on the balance beam. Her parents are in the stands acting like raving lunatics with every move she makes. Some high-pitched former male gymnast is describing her next move and everyone holds their breath as she dismounts and sticks her landing.
She moves to the uneven bars… It’s not her strongest event, being that she’s not long and lanky like the other athletes. She’s pretty much got the same build she’s got now – just imagine she’s a bigger version of her current self... Short but powerful. As she gets ready, mom can’t believe how much chalk she’s putting on her hands and is wondering what combination of spray-n-wash and detergent will get those chalk stains out of her shiny suit. It’s a fairly clean routine, but those pesky Chinese 10-year olds seem to always do better.

We head to the vault, where Finley has a slight advantage. 

Years of Dad throwing her in the air and tossing her onto the bed has prepared her for this moment. She runs down the path (not unlike she runs now) and yells “YAYYYY!” as she hits the springboard, pushes off of the vault table and does several twists and flips, pigtails flying in the air, then lands solidly on her feet. It’s a great vault and she leads the competition with one event left.

It comes down to the floor exercise and everyone is pleased that she has selected a Beatles song and probably even gets a few more points for her routine because it’s not some over-dramatic soap opera music like every one else plays. It’s a very solid routine and she comes perilously close to stepping out of bounds but, thankfully, mom wasn’t able to clip her toenails while she slept so she could dig into the mat and stay safe.
We all watch nervously as the last 8-year old Chinese girl does her floor routine and it looks like it might be a close finish until she faints mid-routine because they haven’t fed her for three days.

The cameras all zoom in on Finley as she hugs her coach and looks around for her parents who have completely lost it and are crying like idiots. During the medal ceremony, the whole arena stands to hear not the national anthem, but a special rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” that Finley claps to and sings along with. When it’s all done she yells “Bye Bye!” to everyone and looks at her medal, which is actually a gold pacifier around her neck. She couldn’t be any happier.

Then I wake up and go look at her asleep in her crib. My little gymnast is happily sleeping away, with no worries at all. We have quite a long time before any sort of athletics or academics start to creep in with their pressures.

 I hope she finds something in either area that she’s passionate about. Who knows? We may have a little gymnast on our hands or we may have a future doctor. And even if neither come to fruition, I’ll be cheering her on all the way… even if it’s not from the stands at the Olympics.

Animal Kingdom

One of the things I’ve been looking forward to do as a daddy is to take Finley to the zoo. I love going to the zoo. I even had a membership to the Woodland Park Zoo at one time. It’s just a great way to spend the day.

Right after Finley had her first birthday, we joined some cousins for a trip to the Pt. Defiance Zoo in Tacoma. Unfortunately, she was a bit too small to really get an idea of what was going on. Plus, her attention span was a bit shorter than it is, now.
So, a few months and another set of cousins later, Finley made her first trek to Woodland Park, last week. It was an almost perfect day… Good weather, good company but one thing was missing… DADDY! In a small bit of irony, I was chained to my desk at work, while they all got to go free. But that’s okay. There will be plenty more trips to the zoo.

Meanwhile, Finley and her cousins, Halle and Braeden, hit the zoo with full force. Mommy reported that Finley loved every bit of it… well, the parts she was awake for! It is a pretty exciting day when you go to the zoo. You can’t blame the little one if she runs out of gas and needs to hibernate with the bears.

But, to be honest, every day to her is like a trip to the zoo. She is a big fan of dogs and we can’t go very far without her squealing “doggy!” She knows kitties and duckys and can almost but not quite make the noise of a cow. She has trouble with the OOOO sound. She’s getting better, though. At first she was saying “Meeeeeee.” In fact, she’s becoming a big fan of “Old MacDonald.” She can’t quite keep up, but she loves listening to us make all the animal noises.

One her current favorite books is a book of animals, of course. I do my best to give the most accurate noises as Finley points out an animal. Heather just rolls her eyes, but I’m pretty sure Finley enjoys it.

But animals in a book are one thing. Seeing these creatures live and in person is another. I expect that as she gets older and begins talking, she’ll have several thousand questions about the animals as we walk through the zoo. And that’s good. It’s supposed to be all about learning, anyway. I’m hoping that as we see these animals and talk about them she can begin to realize that we, as humans, are just one piece of this great big puzzle of species.

I’m also pretty sure that, as she grows and becomes more aware of animals, that she’ll be just like her old man and want to keep some as pets. I had my share of hamsters and a rabbit or two. I might have had a fish and I most certainly had dogs. Of course the good and the bad of all of this is how attached we can all become to these pets. Which means that when they go away, there can be some very difficult but important things to discuss.

It’s interesting that for many kids, their first introduction to death is through their pets. As traumatic as it can be, it’s also an opportunity to reinforce concepts of love and family and courage. All of which are there to help us get through tough times like those.

So, can a simple trip to the zoo really spark all these feelings and heavy discussions? The answer is a whole-hearted “yes.” Because in the animal kingdom, life and death are the certain things… It’s how we deal with it that makes us human. It may be a lot to think I can explain all of this to my little girl, some day. But I’ll do my best to let her know that we can help each other cope with the bad and discover the good.

Play Now

It wasn’t too long ago that I was watching in amazement as my little girl was lying on her back, reaching up to bat at a small toy hanging from her play mat. 

She couldn’t even roll over at that time, but the look in her eye showed me that she understood what she was doing. She was playing.

It’s no surprise that as her motor skills developed, her playing became more sophisticated – and vice versa. Whether she was crawling to a ball or taking those first few steps to reach some other toy, her desire and curiosity ultimately led her to develop muscles and coordination so she could reach, pick up, grasp and even more accurately direct those things into her mouth. And along the way, she was having fun, too.

Nowadays, a typical routine is for her to walk over to the bookshelf, pull out every single book, pick through the pile and bring over the one she wants us to read. 

She may even decide to read it herself, turning every page very carefully and reading in her own language. Sometimes she’ll grab one of her many cars and either push it around the condo or ride on it a few feet.  But all of that is pretty tame, really.

I like to refer to Finley as a “stunt baby” because she purposely takes dives and falls, climbs whatever she can and pretty much does her best to mess up any type of hairdo mommy has put together.

No night is complete without seeing her running as fast as she can and crashing into a toy or one of us. She likes to flop onto her little couch or dive into the little fabric playhouse we got for her or dump all the toys out of her toy bucket and climb in to it and tip it over. And like any good athlete, she only really stops to grab a drink.

Of course all of this running and jumping doesn’t just wear HER out… Mommy and daddy are getting plenty of exercise these days, too. Whether Mommy is chasing the munchkin around the dining table or Daddy is lifting the stunt baby up and down and up and down, the whole family is getting into the Finley Fitness craze.

We’re also starting to get into another area that is more than just physical. Imagination play is beginning. It’s in the very early stages, but she’s really good at seeing more than one way to play with a toy or an object. We’re helping her discover that something like a laundry basket can be a car, a boat, a drum, a stage or even a place to hide. And she loves it. 

In fact, I often wonder why she has toys when she has the most fun with the laundry basket or even a plain old box. But then again, as she gets older, flashing lights and other cool toys will probably replace boxes and bins.

At this point, I’m not only glad she’s energetic and driven, I’m glad she lets us be a part of it. After all, until a brother or sister comes along, we’re the playmates. And that’s fine with me. I think I can handle playing with my daughter for a while… maybe even the rest of her life (or the point where she gets embarrassed, which will probably be sooner).