Two

There are certain times in your life when you realize things 

aren’t what they used to be. A moment of clarity or awareness that is not necessarily a bad thing, but more of a realization that you’re not the person you were months or even years before.

This moment of clarity struck me as I was driving to Fred Meyer at 7pm on a Wednesday to purchase Dora the Explorer wrapping paper. “Yes,” I told myself. “Things have definitely changed.”

It was just about five years ago that I was living alone in my own little bachelor pad, not far from downtown Seattle, worried about pretty much nothing but myself. I didn’t have to tell anyone where I was going or what I was doing. I didn’t have to put the seat down and I certainly didn’t have to get up in the middle of the night to help someone else go back to sleep. As exciting and manly as that sounds, there’s one big problem… I was alone.

The fact is, even though I was wandering around a large department store looking for gift wrap emblazoned with the greatest Hispanic voyager since Coronado, I was happy to do it. In fact, I didn’t even think twice about it. You see, on Wednesday Finley will be two years old. And that’s a pretty cool thing.

It seems like this time last year, I was expounding on how much she had developed in 12 months. And at the risk of repeating myself, these past 12 months have been pretty amazing as well.

Last March, she was only about a month or so into the whole walking thing and now she sprints around the house like a mad woman, jumping onto the couch or into our arms with a giggle.

Last March, she could say “Momma” and “Daddy” and maybe a few other things. Now, she’s putting sentences together and let’s us know what she wants, when she wants it.

She’s also developing a personality… She scolds me when she doesn’t want me to mess with her books or toys and can turn on the charm when she wants something. She can be silly and funny and an instant later, turn on the drama and the waterworks if she doesn’t get her way.

She can be grumpy and cranky and bratty but turn around and be loving and kind. She always tries to share whatever she has with us… whether it’s toys or food or kisses, she can be very thoughtful.

The bottom line is that she’s a toddler. And all of the emotions and ways to express herself – right or wrong – are going to come out. It’s our job to help her find her voice (hopefully a fairly quiet one) and help her understand how to make the proper choices. I know that seems a little heavy for a two-year old to deal with – and it is – but it’s all about the basics. She can and will figure out the tougher things as she gets older. We’re just here to point her in the right direction.

I’m excited to see what the next year brings. I know the biggest thing will be how she'll continue improving her communication skills, which will help us understand what she needs.

I’m also glad that we’ll finally be leaving the age of months behind us. Yes, we can refer to her as 2 years old instead of 18 months or 20 months. Too much math for me, thanks.

So, as I reach the party section of the store and amaze myself at my knowledge of kids cartoon characters and correctly spot the backpack-sporting girl and her monkey with the rain boots, I can feel glad in the fact that as much as my little girl has learned in the past two years, I’ve learned quite a bit, myself. The bulk of which relates to the fact that standing in line at night at a checkout stand with Dora the Explorer gift wrap is a much better life than living alone in an apartment.

I’ll Tumble For Ya

There’s this thing that happens to you when you are witness to the birth of your child. 

 A thought crosses your mind that you would do ANYTHING to keep her safe. Of course, when you think that thought, you don't really think you’d ever have to follow through with it. At least you hope you never have to. This past Friday, I not only learned that I WOULD do anything to keep Finley safe, I learned that when the time comes, you don’t even have to think about it.

We had a little after-work get together with our company at a local roller rink. A chance for families to hit the hard wood and skate away the end of the week. We decided to give it a shot and after a few minutes of watching all of the other kids on the floor, Finley agreed to put on some skates.

After we strapped on the wheels we guided her out to the rink. I must say, she took to it rather well. She was a little scared at first – which was to be expected – but it didn’t take her long to get the hang of it and get a little more comfortable.

Of course, at her age, she’s really just walking more than gliding, but the fact that she was out there as other kids zoomed by was just fine with her. In fact, she got to the point where she didn’t want us to hold her hands… she wanted to go on her own. One of us was right there in case she lost her balance, but we really didn’t need to worry… she was doing just fine.

After one or two times around we took a little rest, and then it was back out on the wood. This time, I had my skates on and was guiding her around on the outside edge of the rink, where the slow folks go. She wanted none of it. She loved seeing all the kids go speeding by and wanted to go toward the middle – the fast lane, as it were. And as she kept angling toward the center, I’d keep steering her back toward the outside. After a bit of my redirection, she began to get frustrated and fighting me. But I had to put my skate down and get her back to the safe, outside lane. Finally I decided to scoop her up and take her to the wall. That was my first mistake.

Picking her up wasn’t such a good idea because not only was she kicking and screaming to go where SHE wanted to go, but it also threw me off balance a bit. I didn’t have her up very high, just a few inches off the ground. And as we were reaching the safety of the slow lane, she finally flailed enough to send us both to the ground.

A few months ago, I got a small taste of what it means to keep her safe when she started to take a tumble down the stairs outside or condo. As I said in the blog after that happened, sometimes things happen so fast you just react. And that’s what happened, here.

Obviously, she was a bit closer to the ground than I was and didn’t have far to go and in the long run she just sprawled a bit and didn’t get hurt. She was crying, mainly because she was mad at me for keeping from the center. As for me, well, that was a different story.

I realized right away that unless I did something, I was going to land right on top of her. I could just imagine breaking her little hand or arm. My first instinct was to push her away from me, which I did. This was how she ended up sprawling on the floor. But as the momentum of the fall continued to take me toward her, the only thing I could think to do was to make a sort of protective shield around her and basically force my hands and knees to take the brunt of the impact and roll away over her. Sounds like a fairly athletic move, doesn’t it? Maybe in slow motion.

In the split-second it took to figure this out and execute, I’m sure I looked pretty uncoordinated. But, it worked. I missed her completely, taking most of the fall with my right knee and arm. We weren’t going THAT fast, but even at a slow pace, gravity can cause pain.

One bruised knee later, I can look back on this little adventure and laugh. But it makes me think that I really would give up my body to keep her safe. Sure, I wasn’t diving in front of a bullet or stopping a train, but I like to think that in my own way, I was Finley’s superhero for a quick instant. I may not have a medal on my chest but I do have a little bruise on my knee that doesn’t hurt as much as it probably could.

Testing 1, 2, 3

The human brain is an amazing and interesting thing. Some 

scientists call it the last frontier… the one place man has yet to really explore and discover. It’s hard to imagine all the things our minds do on a daily basis… all the calculations and conversions, deciphering and decisions and movements and moods we take for granted.

And for all the great and wonderful things our brains can do, I’m sure the most baffling thing of all is trying to figure out the reasoning behind why a toddler can look you straight in the eye and do the thing you just told her a hundred times not to.

Somewhere in the development of the brain, around 18 months and 2 years, a little switch turned on inside her head and said, “It’s time to start testing them. They still think everything you do is pretty cute, so as long as you keep making those precious faces and smiling when you are in trouble, you’ll be okay.” And for a few months it worked.

It’s like the old idea of the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other. Except the angel is caught in traffic or the devil has the angel tied up in the back and is giving the orders:

“It’s very simple to drop some food or a cup over the edge of the high chair tray and down to the floor. Just don’t forget to smile when you do it. After all, Momma and Poppa are right there to pick it up and put it back. So, why not do it again… when their backs are turned? And when they stop picking it up… cry your lungs out. Let them REALLY have it. Then you’ll know you’ve got them where you want them.”

It’s almost like we shouldn’t tell her what’s wrong or right… but that isn’t realistic. But I wonder where we would be if I told her that the wall is the perfect place to use a crayon or that climbing up on the TV cabinet is acceptable behavior? Or, sure you can run around the house with that super ball in your mouth. Where would we be? Cleaning the walls with one hand while bandaging and giving the baby Heimlich with the other.

So, we have to lay down the law. And the toddler is a rebel, man. No regard, whatsoever what the man says. The toddler thinks he or she is James Dean, to cool for rules and always on the run. They’re mini-criminals, really. Trying to stay out of the reach of the long arm of the Mom and trying to avoid getting thrown in the crib, timeout mat, or whatever jail can hold them.

Finley’s rap sheet speaks for itself: Unauthorized phone grabbing and button pushing, slamming of doors, climbing up and on coffee tables, climbing on couches and altering artwork on walls, as well as the previously mentioned extraneous cabinet climbing, food and plate dropping, and various crayon abuses. And those are the offenses we know about.

Fortunately for her, her judges are fairly lenient and rarely pass out harsh judgment. Only a few times has she received isolation. Most of the time she is moved from the scene of the crime, much to her very audible displeasure. Recently, one of her biggest crimes involves a plastic toy phone and the bathroom door. Whenever Heather heads in for a shower and Finley realizes that Momma is nowhere to be found, she grabs her phone and slams it against the door. And even when I tell her no, she makes a point of making sure I’m watching – and with a little devilish smile she looks right at me as she starts pounding again. I tell her I will take it away and when I do, I’m the bad cop, and I get the wail and tears. The man is really bringing her down.

In reality, most of what she does is not going to hurt her, but I’ve had to fix the hinges on one door and will probably have to re-apply paint behind the art work she likes to rearrange on our walls.

So, understanding that she’s just a curious kid, we sigh and clean things up or put things back. It’s just the way of toddler-hood. But she also needs to learn that “no” is not just a word she can say to us, but that we can say to her. Just like everything else – for the next 20 years or so – we will just have to be patient and help her to learn.

The thing is, there are really two lessons that need to be learned here. One is that she needs to understand that when we say not to do something, that she needs not to do it. And the other is that we need to – as much as we can – plan ahead a little better. Keep the picture frames out of reach and the plastic phones need to be hidden when Momma heads into the bathroom.

Ultimately, she will learn right and wrong. Hopefully, she’ll be able to make those choices without our help. If we do our job well, we won’t have to worry about. Until then, she’ll keep testing us to see what we will do. We just have to be patient and loving, but also be able to put our collective foot down, when necessary.

It’s never any fun to punish a kid, but as long as we remind her that we love her and that she is smart enough to make the right choices, we should be okay. If we can remember to do that, we’ll pass the test.

Binky Break

When you have a really bad fever, there’s a point where it 

reaches its peak and you start to come down the other side. That’s when they say the fever breaks. You don’t feel well right away, but you know things are going to get better.

The same thing holds true when you’re trying to get your toddler off her pacifier. The frustration and madness rises and rises until you have binky break. And as the days go by, it all becomes a hazy, crazy memory.

When we last left our tiny hero, she was just being weaned of her soother. The first few nights were not good. For any of us. You have to remember that this was not only the tool that helped her fall asleep, but it also helped calm her down whenever she woke up in the middle of the night. And now that the evil parents ripped the binky from her grasp, she had no way of either going to or returning to sleep… or so she thought.

The key to all of this – from Finley’s perspective – is for her to find out an alternate way of self soothing. Some kids resort to the fingers or the almighty thumb. Others talk or sing to themselves. Finley just need to find what worked for her. But at nearly two years old, patience is not a virtue… it’s not even an option.

So, she would cry and wail and call for Momma then Daddy. As I said, those first few nights were tough for all of us and after a few minutes, one of us would go in and she would instantly calm down and let us rock her to sleep. The problem with that is, WE were now the soothing tool. She was beginning to learn that if she cried loud enough, one of us would come in and entertain. And we would. And she would go down… for maybe an hour, an hour and a half.

The reality is, getting up every hour or two for two nights in-a-row gets old real fast. So we had to figure out how to adjust our plan. But before that could happen, we had an obstacle thrown our way.

To our dismay we found out that halfway through the week, one of the daycare workers had given in to Finley’s wily ways and handed her a binky at nap time. Like Heather said to the daycare folks, “It’s like giving a beer to an alcoholic.”

So, after a little hiccup, we moved into the second weekend without the pacifier. Unfortunately, Finley was still having problems letting go. It was to the point that she wasn’t able to take a nap the entire weekend and nighttime was turning into a broken record. By Monday night, we never thought we’d get a full night’s sleep again and both of us wondered if we had removed the binky too soon.

Then Tuesday night, I decided I wanted to play hardball. It was tough love time. When we put her down for the night, and she started her crying, I wanted us to stay away. Heather had a tough time with this… I did, too, actually. But I couldn’t back down. So we stood our ground and let Finley call us every name imaginable in the toddler vocabulary.

A couple of times Heather started to go in, but I had to remind her of the big picture; 1. She’s not hurting, she’s just mad. 2. She won’t remember this. Now, I know that seems a little cold, but in the grand scheme of it all, you have to remember that change doesn’t come easy.

And sure enough, she eventually gave up and fell asleep. I’m not saying I didn’t feel sorry for her as she slowly realized we weren’t coming in. And I’m not saying I don’t want her to think we won’t be there for her. But, in this case, it isn’t about what she needed... it was about what she wanted. And that’s the big thing to remember with kids. You may seem like the worst parent in the world to them at times, but as long as you are putting your foot down for the right reasons, you’ll be helping them in the long run.

And that’s when we had binky break. She slept through the night without much trouble and each night since has been better and better. The next night she only cried for about ten minutes. The following night, five. And every night since… not at all. I’m not saying we’re out of the woods just yet, but I feel good about the direction we’re going.

The best part of all of this is that in the morning, when she wakes, she’s still happy to see us. That toddler short-term memory is a good thing. It’s like sleep erases the bad thoughts of us from the night before. And that’s getting better, too. She’s not so mad at us when she goes to sleep. It’s all a part of a routine… a NEW routine. One with out a binky.

The thing is, as I stand back and look at the big picture, it’s all about a routine… for all of us. She was used to her bedtime pattern and so were we. And just as she had to learn to live with out the soother, we had to learn that it wasn’t going to be easy. Change isn’t easy, but change is good. You just have to remember that it all gets better once you reach your own binky break. 

Two Little Words

I wish I could say that Finley is the perfect child. 

I wish she never disobeyed or had tantrums. But then again, she’s a toddler. To be honest, she really is a good kid for the most part. I think the problem is, we’re so used to her being good that when she is naughty it seems out of control, crazy bad. And the other problem is that she’s so rarely naughty, I think we get caught off guard when she goes off.

The real hard part is that at this age, she’s not trying to be naughty. She’s not motivated to do bad, she’s just testing her boundaries… and ours, for that matter. When we tell her not to bang her spoon on her plate, she doesn’t keep doing it to try and break the plate. She keeps doing it to see how long she can go before we stop her. And when we do, it makes her mad and she cries. But sometimes, it’s hard to remember that. When she’s banging on the plate ALL THE TIME, it can start to grate on even the most even-tempered parent.

The thing to remember in all of this – if you can stop and breathe and remember – is that she’s just learning about good and bad and naughty and nice. This means she doesn’t know when she’s gone too far or is pushing Momma and Poppa to the edge.

Case in point: Thursday night Heather had to stay late at school, so I picked her up and brought her home. Not so bad, right? Except I had a conference call with clients in Asia and Australia that included a five-minute part I had to lead. I thought I was good to go. I set her in her high chair and had her favorite foods at her disposal. Things were looking good until right before my turn to talk. That’s when she started this long, loud whining noise. And she wouldn’t stop. So here I am, presenting to a world-wide audience while the Finley siren is droning on in the background. I’m sure anyone on the call who is/was a parent completely understood, but to my dismay I wound up absolutely furious.

I’m thinking it was maybe a bit of built-up tension of me trying to be the good, understanding Poppa for the last 23 months. And there was probably a bit of embarrassment from what happened in the phone call. Neither are an excuse, but I am happy to say I took my frustration out on one of my bed pillows and not my daughter. And as soon as my little 5-second tantrum was over, I couldn’t help but laugh. Because it really must have been pretty funny.

So, I straightened up the pillow walked over to Finley, gave her a great big kiss and said, “I’m sorry.” She probably had no clue why I said those two little words. But it didn’t matter. I knew why. Because for a split second – and I know this won’t be the last time – I was more concerned about how I looked to my clients than I did to her. She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t mean it. She just wanted attention.

Obviously, next time around I will do a little better in the planning and not put myself or Finley in that situation. One that was ultimately doomed to fail, anyway. Maybe that’s why I was so mad… because I probably knew it was going to happen.

But my story isn’t over just yet. You see, Finley is not just testing us on what she can get away with… she’s testing us on HOW we deal with it. And don’t ever think that kids aren’t watching and paying attention. They are a lot smarter than you think.

Saturday and Sunday was our first full weekend since the removal of the binky and she had a real tough time taking naps. In fact she didn’t. Saturday was the worst. We set her in her crib and for almost an hour she cried and bounced and yelled and screamed. We would go in every five to ten minutes to try and calm her down, but she would have none of it. We were both at our wits end by the time we decided to just let her get up and play. And as Heather lifted her out of the crib and set her on the floor, Finley ran into the living room and came right up to me. With remnants of tears in her eyes, she looked up and said, “I’m sorry, Daddy.” Those two little words made every bit of frustration melt away.

Even as I write this blog, I’ve been up twice to calm her down for bed time. And as she fights sleep and says no when we ask her to lie down, I can’t help but think of the good in all of this. Not only is she learning – through us – about patience and understanding, but I just realized I’m doing something I haven’t done in a long time and probably won’t be doing in a few years. I rocked her to sleep in my arms and I liked it. She doesn’t quite fit on my chest like she did as a newborn, but I could feel her soft breath in my ear as I rubbed her back just like old times.

She’s not a baby, anymore. She’s looking to us to show her the way. And every once in a while – if we’re lucky and we look at the big picture – we’ll realize she’s showing US the way. Sometimes it just takes two little words to remind us.

Cold Turkey

It’s a sad state of affairs in America. Hundreds of thousands of kids are addicted. 

They get hooked at an early age and have trouble shaking their jones. And although it’s not really a sickness, many parents could argue that trying to shake this dependence may be one of the hardest things their kids can do.

Of course, I’m talking about the dreaded pacifier. Other street terms include “binky,” “soother,” and “nu-nu.” No matter what you call it, more than likely, it is a big part of you and your child’s world. And whether you like it or not, the time will come for that unpleasant binky intervention.

Sure, there are kids out there who never get or take the pacifier – I was a binky-free kid myself. Then again I was born in the Autumn of Love in October 1967, so I’ve always leaned a little toward the counter culture – But in most cases, including ours, the binky not only helps keep the kid soothed, but the parents as well.

It’s much too easy to get used to the rubber/plastic stoppers. Because that’s partly what they are. Whether you are in the car, in the store or on a plane, when the wail or cry starts flowing out of the mouth of the babe, you can just plug the drain and keep the sound in… most of the time, anyway.

And it’s hard to argue their importance as a soporific (That’s a big word I found that means sleep inducing). We could always count on the munchkin falling asleep fairly quickly when the pacifier was in place.

But there comes a time when you have to set aside old habits. Unfortunately for pacifier addicts there is no 12-step program, no Binky Ford Clinic, no gum, and certainly no patch to help. There really is no way to wean a little one off the soother. It has to be cold turkey, complete with withdrawal symptoms. You can expect anxiety, cravings, even fits of anger.

We thought about all of this before we made the big move to lose the pacifier. And after a few pieces of advice from friends and family, we decided the best way to enter into this cease-binky agreement, was under a mutual accord. There’s no point in just suddenly not giving her the pacifier. At her age and her level of understanding, we have to make sure she understands what’s going on. That on some level, she is helping make that decision.

For the record, we’ve slowly been moving this direction for some time. Several months ago, we made a point to only let her have the binky at bed time. So, she’s been used to not having it during the day (except nap time) for a while. It was just getting over that last hurdle that was going to be tough.

So this past Saturday, while she had a play date with Auntie Gina’s twins, Finley “gave” her binky to little Natalee. We had been explaining to Finley that Natalee is a baby and that only babies have binkies. And since Finley was a big girl now, she could give her binky to Natalee. Heather oversaw the actual transaction and Finley DID relinquish her pacifier albeit a bit grudgingly. That was the easy part.

That night as we readied the girl for bed, the inevitable question of “binky?” arose. We had to remind her that she gave it away and how nice she was and what a big girl she was. The initial crying in bed didn’t last as long as I thought it would. She actually conked out in about the usual time frame. And even though she woke up a few times in the night without her friend there to pop back in, I thought that overall it was a good night… at least for a start. We know it will be a bit rough for a few nights, but we just have to keep reminding her (and ourselves) that she is a big girl and trust that she’ll start to forget she ever needed it in the first place.

Meanwhile, we have ourselves a little person that continues to learn and grow. As traumatic as something like this could potentially be, it’s good to know that she understands the basics of growing up. Which is to say, we have to leave things behind in order to move forward. And even though sometimes it can be painful, in the long run it’s what makes us wiser and appreciate the things we have and the things that are yet to be.

I’m not sure that last part was about her or a daddy seeing his little girl get just a bit older every single day. Either way, it’s exciting to think about what’s ahead. Let’s just not go too fast. I have to ease into it. That little girl is a hard habit to break.

Monkeying Around

When I was a kid, I liked to climb EVERYTHING. The trees in my neighborhood, fences, walls… 

If I could get a good hand hold and a good foot hold, I was gone. That’s probably why when I was Finley’s age, my parents had me strapped to a harness with a leash.

I really can’t blame them, actually. This past weekend, I got a glimpse at why it’s so important to keep your little monkey in check… especially when you’re out in public.

Momma was at the library studying most of the day, Sunday, so it was just me and the munchkin in our little condo. Normally, we would escape to the park up the street, but it had been snowing most of the day. And even though the snow wasn’t really sticking, it was just a bit too cold for an outdoor excursion.

What we needed was a nice, warm indoor place to get out and stretch. Momma and the girl had been out to the Bellevue Square mall, the week before, and I knew it had quite the kids’ area. So, I bundled the babe up and made a bee-line for Bellevue.

It wasn’t Christmas crowd-crazy, but it was busy enough. I decided to be a bit brave and not bring the stroller, because she’s a big girl, now. I also left the diaper bag in the car on purpose, which turned out to be a good call, since once I plopped her down in the middle of the mall, she shot off like a wind-up toy.

Since I wasn’t carrying anything, I was able to keep up with her. The good news was this is just what we needed… Lots and lots of space for her to run around with no walls to hold her back. The scary thing was that I could see how easy it would be to lose a little one, if you’re not concentrating on them.

She may only be 22 months old, but Finley is a fast one. And she just goes and goes without thinking about anything except how fast she can get to wherever it is she’s heading. I had to steer her away from oncoming traffic and a few doors, but for the most part she was running with the pedal down. Finally, I was able to get her up to the play area, which is where she really let loose.

I’ve seen her play on a few toys at school and she can get up and down the slides at the park fairly well, but in this play area, she showed me how agile she really is.

To set the scene, the play area is a great big soft foam carpet in the middle of a ring of benches, for the parents. The “toys” are actually foam sculptures covered in soft plastic, which seems to be the new ultra-safe way to make playgrounds. So much for the concrete and gravel we had growing up.

In this particular playground, the sculptures have a northwest waterfront theme and there are several boats, including a Washington State Ferry and lots of faux rocks and docks for the kids to climb all over and slide down. And every one of these things was covered with kids.

At first, I figured Finley would be shy, trying to work herself into a space on one of the toys. But I was wrong. As soon as she kicked off her shoes she was up and on top of the tallest toy – the Ferry – surveying the rest of the playground for where she’d go, next.

Of course I was not more than two feet away, waiting for her to make a misstep or if she needed help getting down. I shouldn’t have bothered. She was literally like a monkey using her hands and feet to get her up and on and over and down. I guess when you only weigh 25 pounds, it’s easy to do all this, but she impressed me with her agility.

There were a few moments when I thought I could probably sit down and watch her from one of the benches, but I wasn’t sure, so I became the hovering dad. Just in case. I was never needed, but it made me feel better to at least think I was the spotter for my little gymnast.

Once or twice, she got into a slightly precarious position and looked around for me. But once she caught my eye, she knew she didn’t want me to help, so she figured her way out of her predicament.

And when it was time to go, she didn’t cry or fuss; she just let me get her shoes back on, took my hand, and led me to the escalator.

On the way home, as she was singing along to the music in the car, I wondered how many times she’s going to get into situations where I can’t help her and she has to figure it out for herself. Too many to count, probably. I guess I can only hope she’ll at least be able to look around and know I’m there, just in case. I just have to learn not to be the hovering dad. Eventually, anyway.