All in the Family

One of the good things about Thanksgiving – other than the abundance of food and family – is the fact that, for most of us, we end up with a four-day weekend. And we had some great plans made. There was a trip to the Zoo planned for Friday. There was a night out for dinner with friends for Momma and Daddy on Saturday. And there was a whole day of just Daddy, Finley and football on Sunday. It was looking like a great weekend. But you know what they say about best laid plans.

After a great get together with my side of the family on Thursday, we woke up Friday to find our little Princess not quite herself. Instead of being excited when we go into her room to get her out of the crib, she just laid there, lethargic. This is the girl who squeals your name when she sees you coming. This is the girl who can’t wait to see what the day holds or can’t wait to find out where you’ve put her morning juice. But THIS morning, she was as lively as the Seattle Seahawks’ offense.

Another sign that things weren’t right was how she passed on breakfast, including her favorites… yogurt and applesauce. Then, she just sat on our laps, not wanting to play or read. She was a bit warm, but didn’t have a fever. Finally, a few hours after waking up, she threw up. Unfortunately, as we would find out a little later, this wasn’t going to be a one-ended ordeal. 

She didn’t really throw up again, but we went through plenty of diapers, if that tells you anything. The munchkin was definitely sick and the zoo was out of the picture. She did rally a bit after a LONG nap and we were able to get some fresh air that night.

So, we were hoping that after a livelier evening, we’d have our girl back the next morning. It wasn’t to be. Saturday morning was almost identical to Friday morning and we made plans to unmake plans. Our night out for dinner was going to be just the Daddy, while Mommy stayed in and took care of the little “Sicky Dickey.” And as we were about to discover, even unmaking plans can’t help you avoid the inevitable.

I got home from dinner around 9:30 and checked in on the Princess and the Mommy to make sure everyone was okay. Not even ten minutes later, I started getting cold sweats and my stomach was having second thoughts about my meal. I was actually doing fairly well, containing the stampede, but a few minutes later I was in bed. I only wish I got to stay there. I was up every 20 to 40 minutes and finally started to see some rest around 5am. And that’s when it hit Heather.

It was tag team toilet trips for the rest of the morning and into Sunday afternoon. Of course, Finley was feeling much better, so we had to take turns laying down and keeping her entertained. Needless to say, it wasn’t much fun. To her credit, Finley seemed to sense there was something going on and did a good job of keeping herself busy. She didn’t need too much extra attention and wasn’t into some of her favorite crazy antics. She was happy to read a book or color on her own, which was good because I would be laying on the couch almost literally keeping an eye on her. It was the only one I could keep open.

The good news is that this was apparently some sort of 24-hour stomach bug and as I write this on Monday night, I feel almost normal and Heather is following close behind. Finley was a little lethargic, again, this morning, but ended up having a good day. I figure her guts are a lot newer and it will take her a little longer to get over things like this.

I will say that being sick is never any fun… we all know that. And having a sick kid is not much better. If you’re lucky you can be sick with the kid and still have one parent standing. But when the whole team gets wiped out by the same bug, it’s like someone unplugged your family.

We knew that having a kid would introduce a lot of new experiences into our lives. We’ve been able to see the miracle of birth, the wonder of walking and the joy of laughter she brings. But, I could really do without the coughs, colds and crud every month or so. I guess that’s part of the deal. All or nothing. In the long run, I guess it’s a pretty fair trade off. I’ll trade as many nights as you want, running to and from the bathroom, as long as I get an infinite number of hugs and kisses from my Sicky Dickey in return.

Finsgiving

Daddy says he is busy with only a three-day Thanksgiving work week, but Momma says he’s just a big Turkey. So, I’m going to jump in and say a few words (because I only know a few words).

At daycare they said that Thanksgiving is the day when we remember everything we are thankful for. I know I’ve only been around a year or so, but I can think of plenty of things I am thankful for.

I am thankful for Elmo and Mickey and Pooh. I am thankful for my binky, even though I only get it at sleep time. I am thankful for juice and cheese and yogurt. I am thankful for all my toys and all my shoes. 

Yes, I am thankful for my shoes. I think Momma thinks that’s good and Daddy thinks that’s bad.

I am thankful that I can help my Momma with her cooking, even though I am just eating lots of goldfish crackers with a big stirring spoon. So, I am thankful for goldfish crackers and stirring spoons.

I am thankful that when I wake up in the morning my Momma or Daddy is there, smiling, waiting to give me a big hug. I am thankful for the little kisses they give me on my neck and for the little tickles they give me on my tummy. I am thankful for the clothes they put on me and the food on our table. I am thankful for Momma and Daddy.

And since Momma and Daddy are my parents, I guess I would have to say I am most thankful for my family. I am thankful for Grandma and Grandpa and Nana and Mama and Bompa! I am thankful for all my aunties and uncles and cousins. Because without my family there would be no Momma or Daddy or Finley! And that would be bad. Because no Finley means no shoes.

Did I mention I’m thankful for shoes?

Finley the Fantastic

A few blogs ago I wrote about how I was sort of “training” Finley to be my roller coaster partner. Heather is not a big 

fan of rides like that and I want to make sure I have a companion whenever we go to amusement parks. And to help Finley become more accustomed to roller coasters and the like, I have safely been introducing her to some of the finer elements of thrill rides.

Over the course of time, she has become a big fan of swings and slides and her little bike trailer. Now it turns out that there is a bit of a side-effect to all of this “training.” It seems I’ve created a bit of a thrill-seeking monster.

It’s no surprise Finley likes to go higher and higher when I push her on the swing. She’d rather go down the big, winding slide than the little, flat, straight ones. And one of her favorite things to do after I change her diaper on her changing table is to jump into my arms. But now, she’s testing her abilities – mostly her balance – by turning our living room into one part gymnasium and one part circus tent.

The need to climb things, we’ve known about for quite some time. I was a bit of a monkey in my day, and I’m sure she gets her climbing gene from me. But it’s what she does when she gets up that takes her from monkey to daredevil.

We have a pretty good-sized couch. It’s a sectional, really, that makes the shape of an “L.” The long part is where the cushions sit and the stubbier part is more of an area to stretch out and lie. That stubbier area is now her personal trampoline. She thinks it’s pretty funny to hop up and down and then crash down on her backside. Of course, it gives mom heart palpitations, so we’re trying our best to curb her bouncing… On the couch, anyway.

So, when she’s denied her trampoline she likes to climb up onto the back of the couch and perch between the big cushions. She’ll even bring a book with her, sometimes, and enjoy a read.

But her big trick is to climb up on the arm of the couch and from a sitting position, and slowly stand up as if it were her own little balance beam. It’s one of those moments where, as a parent, you don’t want your kid climbing on the arm of the couch, but it’s so funny and cute to see her little trick. So you scold the kid while trying to keep a straight face.

The second part of her trick is the dismount. She’ll leap from the arm to the cushions on the couch. It’s much softer than if she tried to leap to the floor below! Again, she thinks it’s pretty funny – which it sort of is – but we have to keep her away, when we can.

So, since the couch is becoming more and more off limits, she reverts to her backup apparatus… the laundry basket. By day this laundry basket is where many of her toys are kept, but by night – when all of the toys are dumped out – it turns into a stage/balancing platform.

It certainly isn’t as high or as daring of a feat as the couch arm, but you wouldn’t know it by the way she approaches each stunt with her own little brand of drama. She always has to make sure you are watching and even the slightest wobble or misstep illicit a semi-surprised “ohhh” from her lips. And when she reaches the end of the feat, she holds her arms high above to signal the proverbial “ta-da!” It really is quite a show.

Luckily, in all of the incarnations of the act I have been able to witness there has only been one fall. Of course, when you are only two and a half feet tall and less than a foot off the ground, you don’t have far to go, but you can still bump your head. But that’s the risk of performing without a net. And like the trooper she is, she got back up and finished her routine.

On one hand, I’m glad she is brave enough at 20 months to try some things that test her will and her balance. But on the other hand, I hope she doesn’t take her bravado too far and wind up hurting herself. In the end, I’ll be glad if she takes the basic feeling of doing something exciting and can put it into her everyday life. As long as she enjoys what she does and can pick herself up and dust herself off when she tumbles, then she’ll be alright. And I’ll be more than glad to hang out along side for the ride… if she’ll have me.

Colour My World

We’re very happy that Finley is a big fan of books. I hesitate to say she is a big fan of reading, because she technically doesn’t read. 

She THINKS she’s reading. She babbles and points at pictures and truly thinks there’s a story going on. And, to her, there probably is. I just like the fact that she understands the concept of reading. It should make things a little easier when she actually starts learning to read.

Of course, she isn’t just into reading by herself. She still likes to ramble over, book in hand, and force herself into my lap. And lately, I’ve been noticing that as I start reading to her, she watches my face, carefully. She’s watching my expressions and how my mouth works as I read. I guess she thinks it’s my way of babbling and pointing to the pictures.

Her fascination with books doesn’t end at reading. Her newest thing has been the discovery of coloring books. She’s had coloring books for quite some time, but I’m guessing that she’s been introduced to the fine art of art at daycare. At any rate, we can’t go an evening at home without her and her little voice coming up to us and saying “color!”

But coloring at our house isn’t just a handful of crayons and a few books. Heather was smart enough to find a big plastic sheet to lay down which serves two purposes; it keeps the mess to a minimum and it’s kind of an invisible fence that keeps crayons away from being used on things like walls and furniture. Finley knows she can only color in the designated area. Well, at least that’s what we’re trying to teach her, anyway.

Rules aside, it’s fun to watch her go to work on the coloring mat. She likes to turn the pages and talk to herself about what she sees on the page and then assail the image with broad strokes of blurring crayon. And she does this while laying on her tummy, in classic kid coloring mode. I’m not sure if she learned this at daycare or if it’s an automatic kid-kind of thing.

She also does something, I think is very interesting. As much as she likes to flop on her belly and color all by herself, she’s very big on making sure you join her. She wants you to color with her. She likes to watch what you do, almost to the point where you can’t see what you’re coloring because her nose is all the way down on the page, checking out your coloring stroke. She’s very interested in how things get done and she thinks it’s pretty fun, too.

And because she’s new at this – and most things, really – she’s not very good at staying between the lines. In fact, I’m not sure she knows what lines are, anyway. But that’s okay. I really don’t care if she stays between the lines, anyway. She’ll have plenty of time for that when she grows up.

Right now, it’s more about having fun than creating art, anyway. In her mind – and in ours - just covering the pages in color is art. She may not have the sense of the pallet of Monet’ or the flair of Dali… But for my money, I’d hang a Finley on my wall – instead of one of those hacks – any day. And I know there are a few grandparents out there who would agree with me.

This Blog has been approved by Finley Ella Dickey

Recently, I have been seeing and hearing many political ads on television and on the radio. 

Many of those ads talk about how one candidate has lied or does not have the credentials. They talk about promises made and not kept. They talk about where one candidate stands on the issues as opposed to the other candidate.

Well, I’m here to tell you, you should just go ahead and vote for me. That’s right. Vote for Finley. I’ll even tell you where I stand on the issues: 

1. Afghanistan: I admit I will sometimes stand on my Dad’s afghan, but only after I’ve hidden under it and played peek-a-boo.
2. Economy: I have a piggy bank with lots of money from Christmas and my birthday. I’ll let you borrow some if it will help.
3. Education: Read my lips… NO NEW NAPS! More recess, less nap time at school.
4. Energy: I have lots of gas to pass along, if anyone needs it.
5. Environment: I would stop the production of certain oils… especially Baby Oils and Castor Oil. YUCK!
6. Health Care: I don’t like shots.
7. Housing: I like houses. They are a good place for my toys.
8. Iran: I did and I fell down. Not a big fan.
9. Russia: Mom said I was Russian and needed to slow down. Then I fell.
10. Taxes: I think my Grandpa was born there. It's near Oklahoma, right?

People also want to know where I stand on the war. All I know is that if I hit someone at daycare, I get in trouble. And if I share with someone at daycare, everyone is happy. So I guess it’s better to try and share with someone than it is to hit them.

As far as all of that other stuff… Sure, I have been known to be a mudslinger. If I eat mud, Mommy gets mad, so I like to throw it instead. But remember this… I’ve never lied. I don’t even know what that is. I can barely speak.

But let’s get down to the heart of the election. Some of the candidates have more experience than I do. That may be true. But when it comes down to it, I am way cuter than all of them. 

Vote Cute. Vote Finley.

Now get out there and vote.

B-I-N-K-Y

As we make our way to the 20 month (which means only four months to go until we can stop using months as an age-definer), we are beginning to pass into the realm of secrecy. Well, secrets amongst parental units, anyway.

You see, as much as we love how Finley is learning and growing at a tremendous rate, we are at a point where she knows what we are saying or talking about. And certain words have the danger of triggering unwanted reactions from our golden child. So, in the age-old tradition of parents gone by, we have begun to spell out certain things, such as binky, bunny and juice.

The binky, or pacifier, is the top of the food chain when it comes to things this child wants at all moments. It’s really a necessary evil, especially at night. It helps her fall asleep a bit easier and a happy, sleeping baby equals a happy, sleeping mommy, which equals a happy, deeper-sleeping daddy.

Her bunny and her juice are other must-haves, but are much easier for her to forget than the binky. Which is what this is all about, anyway… taking advantage of her short-term memory. The less we refer to these items, the more likely she won’t need them.

Of course, this era of secrets will only last so long… as long as it takes for her to learn how to spell. But by then, she’ll most likely – and hopefully – be less inclined to freak out over these things.

It’s a sad state of affairs when you have to spell out binky. It’s like my child is some sort of crack addict when it comes to her pacifier. Which is why we are in the process of “rehab” for the binky. We can’t very well just yank it away from her, cold turkey. Nope. We have to gradually get her off of it. At this point, we’re doing our best to only let her have it for naps or bedtime. And as the weeks go by, she asks for it less frequently.

But every once in a while, she needs her fix. And no amount of spelling is going to keep her from asking in her little voice with her sad little eyes and that pouting lip. I hate to be the enabler, but I also hate to have a crazed child on my hands.

It’s our hope that weaning her off of the pacifier is a step in the direction of her becoming a more independent toddler. And by that, I don’t mean she’ll be able to find a binky on her own or just rip one out of the mouth of a smaller kid at daycare (Although I know that’s probably what will happen).

I guess, in the long run, it’s all about teaching your child how to deal with disappointment. That not being able to have a pacifier doesn’t mean the world is going to end. Of course, it’s only the first of many disappointments we all have in life. Hopefully, Finley will learn to move on from these little setbacks and discover other ways to pass time or keep herself from being bored. And, maybe that will help her deal with other disappointments. Maybe, like most of us, she’ll find creative and positive ways to move on.

In the meantime, I’ll have to deal with remembering to spell b-i-n-k-y, b-u-n-n-y, and j-u-i-c-e. That’s fine. As long as my little binky baby stays h-a-p-p-y.

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.