Exclusive Interview

As I mentioned last week, the girls were out of town visiting Heather’s family in Pennsylvania. So, since it was a pretty quiet week, there wasn’t much for me to write about. Then I had an idea. I figured it was time to sit down and get that coveted first one-on-one interview with my little diva. I was able to record and upload our conversation in the file below, but I also transcribed it for you lazy folks. I think you’ll get some insight into the complex world of Finderella.

Daddy Poppa

What is your name?

Finley Ella

Finley.

DP

How old are you?

FE

Two.

DP

What is your favorite color?

FE

Orange.

DP

You like orange? Why do you like orange?

FE

(mumbles)

DP

You don’t know? What is your dolly’s name?

FE

Baby Ellie!

DP

Who is your favorite princess?

FE

Ariel!

DP

When we go to the park, what do you like to do?

FE

Feed duckies.

DP

Feed the duckies?

FE

Yeah.

DP
What is your favorite food? What do you like to eat?

FE

Noodles!

DP

What is your favorite toy? Do you have a favorite toy, right now?

FE
(mumbles – sounds like “pancakes.”)

DP

What?

FE

(pa-cay)

DP
Pancakes?

FE

No. Pancakes are to eat.

DP

Oh. Pancakes are to eat. What’s your favorite… What do you like to play with?

FE

Toys.

DP

What kind of toys?

FE

A ball!

DP

A ball is your favorite?

FE

Yeah.

DP

What is your daddy’s name?

FE

Momma.

DP

No, what’s Daddy’s name?

FE

Daddy Poppa.

DP

And what’s Momma’s name?

FE

Momma Mia.

DP

That’s right. And, did you just go on a trip?

FE

Yeah.

DP

What did you ride on?

FE

A airplane.

DP

On an airplane. What’s your favorite TV show? What do you like to watch on TV?

FE

Ariel.

DP

What is your favorite book?

FE

Poky.

DP

Poky?

FE

The Poky Little Puppy.

DP

Do you like to wear shoes or sandals?

FE

Shoes or sandals.

DP

Do you like shoes or flip flops, better?

FE

Ariel flip flops.

DP

You do flip flops?

FE

I have Ariel flip flops.

DP

Oh, you have Ariel flip flops. That makes sense. What color is your favorite Popsicle?

FE

Orange.

DP
Orange? You like orange, huh? Where are we going to go this weekend?

FE
Daddy on a airplane!

DP

No. We’re not going to go on an airplane. What are we going to go on?

FE

A special airplane… A big boat.

DP

Right. Do you know where we’re going?

FE

We going… Mommy and Daddy on the boat and Uncle Dan…

DP

And who else?

FE

And strawberries.

All Quiet

It’s funny just how loud Finley is.

I’m not necessarily talking about volume. Although a lack of volume control is something she inherited from her mother’s side of the family. I think when I mean loud I mean it as a constant hum. Kind of like when you’re on an airplane. There’s the sound of the engines, and after a while you get used to it. And if you’re like me, when you land, things seem a bit louder after all that buzzing in your ears. Maybe things aren’t louder, they are just a bit clearer.

At any rate, Finley – like all kids her age, I’m sure – is non-stop. I’m not saying it as a bad thing… I actually like the fact that she can consciously fill in the quiet gaps of her life with songs or words or something to keep her from getting bored. AND, it’s a great way to keep tabs on her. If it’s been quiet for a short time, she’s either fallen asleep or into something.

But just like anything, you don’t really notice all of this until it’s all gone. You see, Heather and Finley left Saturday for a week-long visit with Heather’s grandparents and cousins in Pennsylvania. And I have to tell you… The silence is deafening.

As much as I enjoy the private time and the quiet, I guess I’ve gotten used to the sounds those girls make. There’s no little patter of feet as they run from room to room getting this or playing with that. There’s no call to one of us for a Popsicle or to come play on the bed. There’s certainly no crying or scolding. But most of all, there’s no laughing.

And as I think about it, all of those noises are what make up the feeling of home. It’s the sound of family. Without it – without them – the place is so empty.

Even at bedtime, I find it hard to sleep properly. As a parent, there’s always that part of your brain that is actively listening for the slightest cry, cough, or call from the little one down the hall. I’m sure I’ll be fine, but it’s much harder to turn off that part of your mind than I thought.

And the mornings certainly aren’t as nice. There’s no little person climbing onto the bed and yelling at me to wake up. I have to rely on a more archaic, less loving alarm, these days. There’s no one to kiss me bye as I leave for work and no one waiting for me when I get home.

All those things – as little as they seem on a daily basis – start to pile up as missing when you’re all alone. I know it’s only been a couple of days since they left and as the days go by, I’ll get a little more used to them being gone. But I’m glad it’s only for the week.

When the week is up, I’ll be the one waiting for them to come home with kisses and hugs and I guess I’ll have to get used to all that noise, again. It’s a tough life, but I think I’ll get by. As long as the home is filled with the sound of family, things will be just fine.

Independence

The past few weeks have been pretty good for a small girl named Finley.

We spent a few days at Lake Chelan, where she discovered the fun of boating and became a more confident swimmer. She got to play with her Nana and auntie and cousins and loved every bit of it.

Then the following weekend, we took a trip to “The Great Wolf Lodge.” This is a giant hotel, with an even more giant indoor water park, complete with restaurants, shopping, and even a Starbucks for Momma. It’s a pretty great setup and we spent most of our wet time in the toddler play area, watching Finley enjoy and adapt to the toys and apparatus.

She’s always been a fairly brave kid. I mentioned, some time ago, about my desire to have her be my eventual rollercoaster partner, since Heather won’t have any part of it. So, extra time on swings and tosses in the air at home have been a staple of her play routine as early as I could get away with it. But, there are certain situations – especially with people around – where Finley tends to get a bit shy before she tries out something new or tricky.

So when it was time to get her to climb up the stairs to the little toddler water slide, she was a bit apprehensive and one of us had to help her up and really talk her into zipping down and splashing into the foot of water below. But – as with anything – the more she got used to it, the easier it was for her to do it on her own.

In fact, she got to the point where she was very vocal about how she didn’t want us to help her do any of it. This is something we’ve been noticing for a little while. When she wants to do something by herself, Finley is fiercely independent. Unfortunately, in some situations, she’s not as agile or dexterous as she thinks she is and her moment of independence becomes very frustrating.

Now it’s pretty normal for a two year old to get a little frustrated when she can’t quite get a shoe on or get a toy to work the way she wants it. What’s hard for us is that she won’t even let us help her when she gets in these situations. It’s almost like our offer to help makes her even more upset.

The key in these situations is to try to distract her with another activity or else you’ll be battling a writhing, screaming beast when you try to get that shoe on the correct way. Needless to say, she’s a very stubborn little girl. We won’t say who she gets it from.

Lately, we’ve been noticing that it’s not just the basic things she’s becoming picky or independent about. Even the usual routine is beginning to change. And the Daddy is getting the shaft.

You see, she has become such a Momma’s girl that she rarely wants me to do anything with her or for her. Changing a pull-up, “No. Momma do it.” Reading books at nighttime, “No. Momma do it.” Now that I think about it, maybe Momma is getting the raw deal. I mean, she doesn’t want me to change her pants, feed her, or even put her to bed. Momma gets to do all of it. Of course, being the stubborn one, Heather won’t let that go on too long. But for now, I’m only needed when Momma won’t let her have something. Apparently she thinks I’m the one who will help her out. Unfortunately for her, I’m on the Momma’s side and am just here to reinforce the law Heather has laid down.

The scary thing is that this is probably just the beginning. It stars with wanting to put on her own shoes and will eventually become taking the car by herself and going on a trip with friends. We can’t say “no” to everything. But we can be stubborn, in a loving way.

I’m all for doing things on your own, but to her dismay, she’ll find out that we love her so much, we want her to be safe. And the tears will flow and the doors will slam. And it will be very hard to have her mad at me. I’ll get over it. Because I’d rather her be mad at me than in some sort of trouble or seriously hurt.

But until then, I’ll offer my help even though she doesn’t want it. And I’ll probably never stop offering. Okay, so maybe I am a bit stubborn.

Lake Chelan 2009

Back from vacation on Lake Chelan in central Washington. We had a great time and I'll post some photos, below. We're off to the "Great Wolf Lodge" NEXT week, so my blog will be late, yet again. More pictures and such from that trip, when we get back. Hope all is well with everyone.

One Tough Day

So it looks like I jinxed myself with my last blog.

There I was, trying to explain how hard it was to watch Finley suffer from a sore throat; not knowing that brewing under that tender esophagus was something much more sinister.

The good news was that the sore throat definitely went away. The bad news was that the fever reappeared Monday night and into Tuesday morning. Plus, she was tugging on her ear… From experience, this told us it was time to go to the doctor and see if she had an ear infection (We’ve done this routine twice before).

So, after a dropper-full of Tylenol, we headed out to the pediatrician and one of Finley’s least favorite pastimes… letting someone look in her ears. And after holding her down during the dreaded peek into her ears, it was determined – to my surprise – there was no infection. They told me to watch her temperature and keep with the Tylenol.

Then, as we were settling her down for bed, Heather discovered something. Finley was having trouble moving her head, because her neck was so sore. She also discovered a tiny lump on Finley’s neck, under her ear. Finley wasn’t a big fan of us checking it out, which told us it was tender.

The first thing I thought was that maybe she had slept wrong and had a crick or a knot in a muscle on her neck. She was responding well to the Tylenol, her temperature was near normal, and we were hoping that one more good night of sleep would help her push through it. Then Wednesday morning hit.

In our normal routine, Heather takes off for school fairly early and I’ll get up an hour or so after that. If I’m lucky, I can get all my stuff together by the time I hear Finley starting to wake. The first part was about the same, but THIS morning I woke up to hear a screaming girl and rushed to her room.

There she was, her neck so sore she couldn’t sit up, and crying away. I gently lifted her out of her crib and was able to get her to calm down a bit, but her fever was back up. I could tell by looking in her eyes that daycare was out of the question and there was probably a bit more going on than a sore neck.

Heather checked in on her way to school and called the doctor’s office to see what their take on this would be. She had to leave a message, but they called me back fairly quickly. After describing what was going on and my theory of a crick in her neck, the nurse said it is very uncommon for kids her age to have neck problems and that I should take her to the emergency room.

We have been very, very lucky with Finley. She is now 2 years and three months old and this was the first time we’d ever ventured to an ER. I don’t want to take her there, again. Don’t get me wrong, the folks there were very helpful and it’s a very nice place. It’s just that the concept of GOING to the emergency room is probably worse than actually being there.

I suddenly had to change my mind set and get us both dressed and ready to go. And as I’m doing these basic things, I’m telling myself not to freak out… to quit thinking all these worst-case scenarios of what’s wrong with her… and remind myself that nothing has been diagnosed. I literally had to stop, take a deep breath, and tell myself to be the strong, tough daddy for a girl who was probably going to be just as scared as I was from all of this. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. But I did it.

So, off to the hospital we went. By this time, Finley was in a bit of a daze – between the fever and the pain, she was very lethargic and fragile – not a surprise. All of her usual kid energy was gone, fighting the sickness in her body. She was not my little girl, at all.

One thing I have to say is that if you have to go to the ER, go on a Wednesday morning on a nice day. Not only was there nobody else there, waiting, but the staff was in a good mood. I also have to say that for all of the things we went through in that first hour… all the poking and prodding and questions and examinations, Finley was a trooper. Sure she was scared and upset, but she let them do their job with a minimum of fuss. I think this was because of two things: 1) I think deep down she realized that anything is better than being sick. 2) Daddy was here. Which is why I had to be strong.

I won’t lie. I hated every bit of it. Not the people or the place… the situation. Two hours of sitting in an ER examination room wondering what’s wrong with your child is no fun at all. You don’t want to think bad things. You try to stay positive. It’s so hard.

Finally, after a couple of X-Rays are taken, we find out that her lymph nodes are infected. Whatever cold she had the week before somehow settled in the back of her neck and caused them to swell – which explained the fever, the sore throat, and what we thought was an ear ache. And that was it. Thank goodness, that was it.

A few days of children’s Motrin and some Amoxicillin later, our girl has returned to her normal, playful, crazy self. I don’t even mind the occasional tantrum, these days. At least I know she’s well.

Looking back at the whole deal, it seems like a lot of worry over a little thing. But, really… is there any such thing as a parent? Last week I said how helpless I felt as I watched her in pain. This time around, that helplessness was replaced by fear. Sure I was scared. Who wouldn’t be? But I had to keep telling myself that until something had been diagnosed, there was nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t easy, but it was my job.

When we got home from our morning trip to the hospital, there were two people who were exhausted. The tough little girl who was battling bacteria and her dad – that tough guy who stood over her crib as she fell straight to sleep. No, those aren’t tears in his eyes. Tough guys don’t cry.

All Better

If you haven’t guessed by now, I really enjoy being a Poppa. 

I like the hugs and the kisses, the giggles and the songs, and the tickles and the grins. Of course, you can’t always have the good stuff. There are tantrums and tears, bonks and bruises, and the occasional sickness. It’s this last point that really makes Poppa-hood challenging.

Not challenging because there are times when you have to get up in the middle of the night and clean vomit off of sheets or change super-icky diapers… that’s my job. And it’s stuff I can control. The challenging part is the stuff you can’t control. Stuff like pain.

Because I’m the Poppa, I’m supposed to fix everything. But there are just some things that are out of my control. I can’t automatically make a fever go down or make an owie go away… And that’s frustrating.

A perfect example of this happened Friday. Just after 1pm, I get a call from daycare saying Finley had a temperature of 101 degrees and needs to come home. So, I did a quick little prep… made sure she had some pajamas ready to go, made sure the shades were down in her room, and that she had a sippee cup full of pedialight standing by. Then I went and picked her up.

Normally, when I go get my Finderella from daycare she’s overjoyed at seeing her Poppa and runs and jumps into my arms. Today, she was very happy to see me; she was just lethargic and obviously sick. When I lifted her up, her head immediately plopped on my shoulder, as if she had given up trying anymore and just wanted her daddy to take her home.

She was a bit warm, but not anything I felt was too terrible. The real problem was her cough. The poor thing just kept coughing and coughing and in the long run had a very, very sore throat. And as the afternoon went on into evening, her throat got worse and worse.

Right before bedtime was the peak. I could barely get her jammies on and she couldn’t keep her hands out of her mouth. My guess is that she was trying to reach whatever it was that was making her throat hurt. But that just made her more frustrated and cranky and crying certainly didn’t help.

For a very brief moment I felt helpless. She wasn’t going to fall asleep like this and this wasn’t something I could solve by rocking her. My only hope was medicine.

Heather had purchased some homeopathic cough syrup designed for toddlers that afternoon, but Finley wanted nothing to do with a spoonful of gunk. Luckily, I was able to dig up a squeeze dropper from our medicine box and was able to convince her to take it that way.

It wasn’t an immediate fix, but after a few minutes of rocking, she finally started to settle down. I knew that if she could just get some sleep, she’d get through the worst of it, and I was right. She was exhausted from trying to fight the fever and the sore throat, so once she was out, she was out for good.

The medicine did the trick for the next few days and she’s well on her way to recovery, but it was as hard on me as it was on her. Mainly because I didn’t feel like there was much I could do.

The number one thing we think about after our child comes into the world is how much we are going to protect him or her. But the reality is, there are just some things out of our reach. I wish I could take her pain every time she looks up at me with those sad eyes.

The good thing in all of this is that in some ways, as parents, we DO help take the pain away. Just being there, with our comforting arms and soft kisses on tear-stained cheeks does wonders for them… because they know they are safe and that we will try our very best to help them feel better. It’s us they run to when they fall down and it’s our kisses they want on their boo-boos.

I happen to know that those little kisses go a long way. How do I know? Because, yesterday, as I was sitting on the couch in shorts, Finley saw a scratch on my leg. She pointed to it and said “Daddy has an owie?” “Yes,” I said. “Daddy has an owie.” Then she promptly leaned over and kissed it. “All better,” she said. All better.

Hair Today

Now that Finley is two, we’re getting to the point where we have to start introducing her to more experiences that take her out of her safety bubble. She pretty much only knows home, daycare, and the occasional trip to a relative’s house. And even when we go out, she tends to cling to one of us until she gets used the person or situation.

Last month Heather took her to visit our dentist. It wasn’t a real appointment to check her teeth, but more of an introduction to the dentist and the office. Of course, she wouldn’t let go of Momma and wanted nothing to do with anything else. It’s like that when we go to the doctor. She’s fine until they start poking and prodding. But really, who is comfortable at the doctor …or the dentist, for that matter?

So, this past weekend we took another step outside of our next to take our shaggy short stack to get her haircut. Okay, so she wasn’t really that shaggy, but her hair was beginning to get a little out of control. So momma booked a time at this kiddy salon at the mall.

This place is set up just for kids. Each of the chairs are cars or planes and they have this great gimmick of handing the kids a small bucket of toys, so they’re not only distracted by a bunch of goodies, but their heads are always down, making it easy for the cutter to do her work. It’s a great idea… as long as you can get the kid in the chair. And that’s where we had trouble.

She liked the colors and the mirrors and the balloons in the place, but whenever we tried to set her down in one of the chairs, she dug clung on to us for dear life. We got one of her feet inside a seat that was made to look like a pink roadster, but the waterworks started and we knew we were out of luck. So, instead of getting her first real haircut in a car or a biplane, Finley sat on my lap, while the scissors went to work.

It really wasn’t much of a haircut. More of a trim of the ends and the bangs, but she got through it without a peep. Of course, she had her legs locked around one of mine while she dug through the toy bucket. She wasn’t going to go anywhere without me.

The thing is, we know – because she is a girl – that anything to do with her hair will eventually become something she will grow to love and enjoy. But getting to that point will take a while. Which is just fine with me and my checkbook.

Ultimately, she is going to learn to break out of her shy shell and learn to embrace new experiences. It starts with trips to the doctor and the dentist and the salon. But it eventually turns into those first days of school and continues on to the point where she leaves home for college or whatever she decides to do.

Until then – like it or not – we’re going to have to give her a little shove from time to time. She’s going to want to turn around and cling to us, but we’re going to have to help her learn to let go. And we’re going to have to let her go.

We’ve got plenty of time before some of those bigger moments in life, but in the end the message will still be the same: She’s going to have to take some steps by herself… but she can always come back when she needs to.

The truth of the matter is, I don’t mind that she wants to cling to me as hard as she can. I like knowing that she finds us as a safe place. I also know that over time, her grip will loosen to the point where she won’t need to cling to us anymore. I guess that’s the point when we’ll be reaching out for her.