Skip to My Lou and other reasons to like The Wiggles

Not so long ago, I lived in a world inhabited by rock music and MTV. 

A place where bands like The Police and U2 pumped through my headphones and The Beatles, Led Zeppelin or the Stones blasted in my car. Nowadays, if I’m listening to Mick, he’s Mickey Mouse and he’s telling me about the “rockin’” beat he’s added to the ABC song.

Yes, my musical tastes have been forced to evolve. And for the most part, it’s not too bad. I can get into the Wiggles, because I could probably BE the fifth Wiggle. And the fact that I know the words to pretty much all of these songs helps, too. Well, that and the ability to skip to the next song at will.

But the main thing is that Finley likes the music. She’s very fond of the Wiggles, probably because they dance AND sing on the DVD. She loves to bop to the music, dancing or stepping to each song. And she recognizes the songs, too. She knows to skip when “Skip to My Lou” comes on. She knows all the hand motions to “Mulberry Bush,” and she can make the itsy bitsy spider go up the water spout. Not bad for 19 months.

The down side to all of this is that many – if not all – of these songs tend to stick in your brain for days on end. It’s no fun sitting in a meeting at work while “This Old Man” plays in your head.

And it’s a bit of a shock when I’m listening to my iPod – on shuffle – and it goes from something like The Who into “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” Which is probably why some of the newer bands got smart and started making some kids albums of their own.

Some of the more popular kids albums these days belong to the alt band They Might Be Giants. Their music was always pretty fun, anyway. So now they’re making money from their old fans AND their old fans’ kids!

But no matter who’s singing or who’s dancing, Finley is discovering that music is fun. We even got her a little microphone that plays different kid songs and if you push a little button just right, you can sing along and have your voice amplified. She hasn’t quite figured out how to do the latter part, yet, but she loves dancing around the house and singing into the mic. Of course, at this stage, she’ll only perform for us. But that’s the way Divas are.

So, for the time being, I just have to get used to lots and lots of “Hey Diddle Diddle” and hope my iPod keeps it far apart from Jimi Hendrix. Because I know that in the not-too-distant future, there will be some sort of “Cheetah Montana High School Jonases” blaring through our house. That’s when daddy buys his little girl her very own headphones.

Daddy Daycare 2

In the latter part of the 15^th century, an Italian navigator 

named Cristoforo Colombo talked a Spanish queen into a sub prime loan on a few boats for a vacation to the Caribbean. 516 years later, daycares across the country took the day off.

Which leaves this working father alone for the day with a 19-month old girl. A girl who has changed quite a bit since the last time we played hooky together. That was President’s Day, earlier this year, when she was on the verge of walking. Now she’s not only walking, she’s well on her way to talking.

That means she not only can get into pretty much anything she sets her sights on, but she will yell at you if you don’t help her get there. It’s not really all that bad, because she only knows a few words… but they’re the one’s she knows will work to get her where she’s going.

Right now, her favorite words include: up, more, no, binky, bunny, blanky, Elmo, juice and shoes.  She wants or is looking for most of those things. No just happens to be the response when we want to take those things away.

No is also the first word to be set into some sort of sentence, like “No, Daddy.” I’m sure I’ll be hearing this sentence for many years to come. Luckily, today, I didn’t hear too many “no’s.” Today was mostly following her around and either picking up after her or keeping her from getting hurt.

Of course, I was technically working, today, so I had to try to split my brain with one half on the computer and the other half watching Finley buzz around. I can see that if you are used to it, you can make it work. But if you only do it every once in awhile, like I do, it’s not so easy.

I’ve decided that a toddler is not much different than a chimpanzee. Sure the kid may be able to talk a little better and the chimp may be a bit more dexterous, but in the end they are just eating, mess-making, climbing little primates.

My monkey has figured out how to climb up onto the couch and free the pillows from captivity. Often, she does this with cookie in mouth, which leads to a stickier-than-normal drool, which finds its way to the couch cushions fairly regularly.

She’s also a big fan of doors. I’m not talking about the late Jim Morrison’s band, I’m talking about hinge-based room separation devices. She thinks it’s pretty funny to run into a bedroom and close the door. But after a few minutes, it’s not so funny because she can’t reach the doorknob and get out.

And she has this fascination with shoes. It must be something imbedded in female DNA – this shoe thing. She has to take shoes out of our front door shoe box and either bring them to us – she thinks we need them, badly – or she tries the on, no matter the size.

So, my morning consisted of chasing a monkey as it drooled, made messes and narrowly avoided smashing her fingers in the door. Then, when she decided she could sit in one place for more than a minute, I was pulled and dragged to my formal position on the couch to help her read a book. And then another and another.

And heaven help me if I didn’t follow along in the book the way she wanted me to. One thing about my little princess… when she’s not happy she lets you know. She’s got a fine set of crocodile tear-producing eyes and the lungs to match (from her mother’s side of the family, don’t you know).

Somewhere before noon I was able to feed the girl, then get her to agree to a nap. I should have agreed to join her. Two hours later, after an attempt at work and cleaning she was up again for more fun in her private zoo.

Luckily for me, Momma came home after her day at school and spirited the little one away for some outside time. I was able to pick up a bit and finish off a little more work. By the time bedtime rolled around, Finley wasn’t the only one ready for nigh-nigh. And as I look back on what turned out to be a very long day, I realized learned a few things from this go-round of Daddy Daycare:

1. I should probably just take the day off when I have to watch her
2. Chris Columbus could never have reached America with a kid on board.
3. I have the cutest and smartest monkey on the block.

Red Eyes at Night

When you have a toddler, you get to experience a lot of great things. You get to watch their motor skills really advance. 

You get to hear them develop their speech. And you get to witness as they figure out who you are and that they like to give you kisses.

Unfortunately, there are a few of the bad things you have to deal with, too. From earaches, to teething to bumps and bruises, you become a real pro at consoling, real quick. But last week we experienced something that was new to all of us and no fun at all.

Last week we got to experience something called “Night Terrors.” We had heard about them when we were reading all the “Now you’re a parent” literature that floats around after a baby is born. I always thought it was just another term for a nightmare, but it turns out it’s much more than that.

In a nutshell, night terrors happen when a toddler is real close to falling asleep but “gets caught” between partial sleep and deep sleep and is kind of stuck in a sleep-walk stage. They’re not really asleep and not really awake and this is very, very confusing. There’s a real good description of night terrors in this article by Dr. Alan Greene.

It is not uncommon for Finley to stir loudly after about an hour or so into her sleep. Sometimes she loses her binky or rolls into an uncomfortable position. We’ll hear her cry a bit and if she doesn’t figure it out for herself after a few minutes, then we’ll go in and either pop her binky back in or straighten her body out. But Thursday night, when she stirred, she was screaming.

At first we thought she had hurt herself or had awoken from a bad dream, but she wasn’t responding to our attempts to console. She wouldn’t let us hold her and was kicking and calling out for us when we were right there. This happened all night and I don’t think Heather and I got a good hour of sleep between us. She would start to go down and the next thing you know…. She was crying and screaming all over again.

Of course, we didn’t read Dr. Greene’s article until the next day, but it pretty much explained all the strange stuff that happened. Like the fact that you can’t console a kid in this state. They are basically in a dream state and are kind of sleepwalking through this confusion that is very frightening. It also turns out that the episodes are usually pretty short – thank goodness – and are brought on by changes in sleep patterns (Such as just coming back from Hawaii). And although the explanation did a lot to help us understand what was happening and why it was happening, it didn’t help me feel any better.

Because if there is one thing I think I’m supposed to do as a daddy, it’s to be a source of comfort for my little girl. And when she won’t accept your comfort, it can be tough to take.

Obviously, she didn’t know it was us or what was going on, but not being able to help her is the one thing I dread the most. I’m so glad she’s starting to talk, so we can get to the root of the things that bother her. The last year and a half has been great, but not knowing what’s wrong is the absolute worst.

And like these little episodes, all things will pass. Well, I doubt I’ll ever stop wanting to be there for her when she needs help. Eventually, I’ll just have to learn to let her go. But, I get at least eighteen more years of holding on tight, right? Then I guess it will be my turn to be the one having trouble sleeping.

Ears to You!

So, we’re back from Kauai and actually in much better shape than I expected. Traveling anywhere with an 18-month old can be taxing. And traveling with an 18-month old to Hawaii and back is asking for trouble.

It turns out that toddlers don’t really understand much about noise and the proximity of other passengers on an airliner. They don’t get the idea that staying seated for five and a half hours is expected. And they certainly haven’t figured out that it’s much better to try and sleep on such a long flight than it is to fight it.

But, that being said, I will take the fussiness and frustration of being trapped in the seat of a 757 over the pain that comes with ear problems at 30,000 feet. And I speak from experience.

The last time I made the trip to Hawaii, I was 19. It was the summer after my freshman year in college and my folks took me and my sister to Oahu and Maui. The day before we returned home, I developed a bit of swimmer’s ear. And that, combined with genetically weak sinuses created a pain cocktail that I have yet to feel again. I’ve had some back pain, but nothing is worse than an earache in both ears over the Pacific.

My mom told me she thought it was God getting back at me for not being able to experience the pain of birth. I didn’t think it was fair he was making me have twins. By the time we landed, both my ears were shot and I was out of it for several days and pretty much deaf for a week.

This explains why I’m a little bit shaky when it comes to taking Finley on planes. I just hope she inherited her mother’s ears and not mine. And halfway through our vacation, we were beginning to think she not only had my ears, but would get to follow Dad’s footsteps for ear problems on the way home.

A couple of times during our stay in the south part of Kauai, Finley had woken up in the middle of the night, crying. As many parents know, this is a fairly normal occurrence. But when we would go in to check on her, she would be tugging on her ear lobe. I knew that it was one of two things… She was either impersonating Carol Burnett or she had water in her ear. More than likely it was the latter.

Now I know from personal experience (again) that just because you have water in your ear, that doesn’t man your ear is infected. Not yet, anyway. Sometimes it just feels clogged, like a wad of cotton that won’t fall out. And sometimes it itches. I was just hoping this was what was keeping her up and not the beginnings of inflammation.

So, after the second day of ear tugging, Heather encouraged – prodded – me to search for a local pediatrician. And after a few phone calls and confirmation that they would, indeed, be able to bill to our medical insurance, we found a family practitioner at a clinic up the road.  After a short drive off the main road and down a dirt driveway, we found ourselves checking into a large hut in the town of Koloa. As remote as this seemed, I had a hunch this guy would be just the ticket. I mean, of all the doctors we could find, this is the one guy who works in a sleepy surfer town and has probably seen his share of ear infections. I figure he probably makes his living off of setting broken bones and selling ear drops to the local and tourist surfers. And I was pretty much right.

For a $15 co-pay, Dr. Murray was able to take a quick peek and assure us that Finley’s ears were fine. He suggested a little Tylenol at night, but that he could see no reason for us to worry about the flight back.

Which brings me to about three hours in to our flight back to Seattle. Finley has just settled down and with the help of a portable DVD player and the Wiggles is about to fall asleep. Heather and I are both tired from vacation and struggling to help Finley find peace on the plane. But if the worst of our troubles is a toddler trying to escape from an airline seat, then we’re in for a happy landing every time.

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.