Posts Tagged ‘Hailey’
The Chicken Dance
Among all the titles parenthood bares ‘referee’ suits me. More specifically a Hockey ref. I often find myself shouting, “Hey! (A loud ‘hey’ is my whistle), that’s two minutes for high sticking.” Or “Hey! Two minutes for roughing.” Or “Hey! Two minutes for instigating.” Hockey refs are physically and emotionally tough too. Sometimes I’ll take an elbow while breaking up a tousle or get popped with a flying ‘puck’ if I’m not quick enough to move out of the way. Just as a Hockey ref would, I attempt to let the ‘game’ unfold unimpeded, interrupting only when the balance between fair competition and unjust play needs to be defined and resolved. Determining that equivalence is a delicate and dynamic aspect of the job, inaction may bring jeers and boo’s from the ‘spectators’ and exacting unfair punishment may harbor resentment from the ‘players.’
This past week, while at our school districts’ learning center playroom, a mechanical dancing chicken that, of all things, plays the ‘chicken dance’ song sparked a ‘dance’ between Olivia and Hailey. Coincidently this is the same ditty that blares at some point during every NHL game in our town. The toy bird was at the epicenter of the brawl being stretched tug-of-war-like and spun as the girls used gravitational momentum to fling one another off the chicken. Fake feathers were flying everywhere all while its’ tune playing, “da da da da da da da… da da da da da da da… da da da da da da da…daa daa daa daa.” The result of this ugly battle involved screams, laughter, tears, hydrogen peroxide and a few band-aids. Although I think the chicken got the worst of it.
Instinctively, I wanted to jump in between them and stop the fray but when they started giggling and laughing it reminded me of myself when I play Hockey. I’ll be battling for the puck, in the corner, along the boards or in front of the net chuckling and hyperventilaughing the whole time. Some of my teammates find it obnoxious and irritating, they think I’m not competitive enough or serious enough. “It’s not like we’re playing for the Stanley Cup,” is my repartee. I like to play recreational Hockey for several reasons; one, because it’s fun, two, for exercise and three, to healthily alleviate stress.
First born, Olivia is the one who has to figure things out, toys, puzzles, games, rules of conduct and then must be a good role model and teacher to Hailey. Olivia cares about the affections and well being of people close to her, “are you happy daddy?” And when I come home from ‘playing with the other daddies,’ she meticulously scans my body for injuries, “do you get any boo-boo’s daddy?”
Being the second child Hailey has scrapped for everything since conception and has dealt with; a womb that had just been vacated, stained bottles, collapsed nipples, frayed clothes that hadn’t even been stored, worn toys with failing batteries, soggy edged books, half-soled shoes, even her teachers at preschool are hand-me downs. She is a competitor, “watch dis (this) daddy!” Probably doesn’t help when Kim and I say things like, “first one inside the car wins!”
Back to the crazy dancing chicken: Looking-on, I realized they weren’t fighting over the toy; this is something they always do. They argue and grapple over everything and nothing. It could be an object or a word or an idea, it doesn’t mater. Digging deeper I couldn’t help but think maybe they constantly fight to gain Kim’s and my attention. This is probably true but there seems to be something more involved going on between them and I never saw it until ‘the chicken dance,’ Olivia and Hailey fight because they trust one another with their emotions and feelings; letting it all out, battling, arguing, laughing and crying in the same instant without trepidation, assurance that they truly love each other.
Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 11/02/06
Screams of Passion
Elizabeth Rose is three weeks old and has colic. She cries, she fusses and she fidgets. She has the quiver lip, a gaping mouth howl and an ear splitting screech. Her body stiffens, her legs thrash, and her arms riffle. She is having a fit in my lap right now. Three to four hours of screaming a day which is about half of her waking hours keeps Kim and I rabid, barking at each other over trivial stuff.
On the flip side, Elizabeth Rose is the sweetest, cuddliest, cooiest, already saying “da” iest, little bundle of amazement. She makes heart-warming smiles and has the cutest most perfect spiral of life belly button. She is observant, intensely she focuses on the multi textured brightly colored C-shaped link together toy things that I rattle in front of her. Today while in her hand-me-down portable swing, she clutched and pulled down those same linky-chains that Olivia had draped around the top of the swing.
Kim and I have different styles to deal with the crying bouts. Kim gingerly scoops-up Elizabeth Rose tenderly swinging, swaying, lightly bouncing, digging a path throughout the house while shush, shush, shushing her. Kim will change Elizabeth Rose’s position, pat her, rub her, sing to her, and hum to her. Kim exhausts every effort for hours at a time attempting to sooth Elizabeth Rose.
My approach is more of a cave-man style. When Elizabeth Rose’s high-pitched noises start to emanate I will grab her and check her basic needs. Sniff first then look in the diaper and take action if necessary. I’ll ask Kim when the last time she was fed and take care of that if need be. I’ll try the Boppy Sling and occasionally that will suffice. I’ll carry her around the house football style. But I can only take fifteen to twenty minutes before I give in and lay her in her crib and let her cry herself to sleep or until an hour or so passes and Kim will eventually pick her up and run through all of her bag of tricks.
Kim and I are cagey colic veterans. Hailey, once known as Hailey Wailiey, had colic invetro. Yes, I know that’s not possible, but that’s what I tell everyone. It did seem like from the moment Hailey was born she started crying and didn’t stop until she was six months old. From six months until two years of age Hailey was super sensitive and a read-every-parental-guidance-self-help-book-from-the-library challenge. She still has irritability issues, for instance the stitching on her socks must be lined up just right, if not she will get upset, yell at anyone within earshot, peel the sock or socks off, refuse assistance and is irate until she gets the socks on just the way she likes. If I attempt to help, I must quickly dodge a flying shoe or shoes. I have a saying that I have been drilling into her head for a long time to counter her irrational sock-hops, “Hailey, Sweetie, there are lots of little bumps in life. You need to get used to those little bumps.” I have come to realize that control is her motivation for the majority of her out-busts at this point in her life.
Elizabeth Rose cry’s hard, but her colic pales in comparison to Hailey’s six month long scream-feast. In fact, Kim was so shell-shocked by Hailey’s everlasting emotional storm, it took me over two years to convince Kim that it would be impossible to bear two children with colic. There goes my credibility.
Down With The Sickness
Occasionally we receive illness warning notices from preschool via backpack-mail that will read something along the lines of; ‘flushing rotavirus’ or ‘scratch out lice,’ a few weeks ago ‘spot the chicken pox.’ Over the past four or five weeks, we tallied six doctor visits. Super-germs have infected my family.
The first in this latest rash of pediatrician visits happened to be on a ‘daddy day.’ Both Olivia and Hailey were ill. Olivia had a full blown ear infection, her ear-tube was obstructed by dried-up gunk and the excess fluid behind the blockage became infected. The previous evening she howled throughout the night, “my ear!” so I got out the thermal thermometer took her temp, it was a bit high. Then I got out the opti-scope checked her eyes, her nose, her mouth and her ears, “yup it’s her ears.”
Hailey was being checked-out because of a nasty cough she had been rasping for a couple days. Her lungs were good, ears good, throat and nose a bit irritated but no soars so her diagnoses was a bad virus and there was nothing we could do but ‘wait it out’ and let the thing, ‘run it’s course.’ I hate when doctors say that.
By Friday night, Hailey’s body temp hit 103 degrees. I gave her a cool bath and a dose and a half of Motrin which help a bit. Saturday morning I took her back into the doctor’s office. Same prognosis, a virus and possibly a different one. No medicine, no magic pill to make my baby girl all better or to make Kim’s and my anxious frustrations disappear. That night and Sunday day she had been vomiting all over the place. It was bad. Kim couldn’t clean it up fast enough and Mimi (our dog) kept attempting to help with the cleanup angrily repulsing Kim even worse. So I was trying to keep Mimi out of the toxic zones and at the same time hurrying Hailey to the bathroom aiming to consolidate the mess. By the time we would arrive at the bathroom she’d be finished heaving, marking a trail behind her, Mimi whimpering to lop it up, Kim chasing us toting paper towels with a squirt bottle of Clorox Cleanup endeavoring to swiftly sanitize and Olivia wanting to play along too thinking it was some strange game of follow the leader. This happened several times and I’m not even sure what I would have done if we made it to the bathroom in time anyway. The sink? The tub? The toilet? The toilet being the obvious choice however that would contradict the multitude of times I have explained to Hailey not to stick her head in the toilet.
Monday Kim stayed home from work with Hailey and took her to the doctor again. (If you’re counting, we’re up to three doctor visits). Still no real relief, no magic elixir. “Have her drink plenty of fluids and get plenty of rest.” Resting was not a problem; Hailey remained feebly comatose all day as Kim scoured the entire house attempting to take revenge on the microscopic germs. When I got home from work the house smelled of bleach, Clorox and Pine Sol, pleasantly burning my sinus cavities.
Kim’s TLC stopped the vomiting however by Tuesday’s ‘daddy day,’ out of repetition, I taught Hailey a new word, it was grimly humorous watching her expression as I gingerly pulled off her pull-up and she inquisitively inspected the damage, “(dia)rrhea?” My poor baby girl could barley sit down her inflamed diaper-rash was horrible. Olivia was such a good helper, retrieving fresh diapers, soaking cool wash cloths to lay on Hailey’s forehead, checking up on Hailey making sure her drink was full and she was covered up with a blanket. Wednesday I stayed home from work and it was more of the same although Olivia went to school and after we dropped her off, Hailey and I managed to stop at the store re-supplying our sicky essentials of jell-o, chicken broth, crackers and fluids.
Sad and scary to see Hailey so inactive, lethargically laying around barley enough energy to watch the Wiggles or Elmo. I spent the whole day forcing fluids down her, my arm extended, holding a sippy-cup near her head with an extra long straw attached to her mouth, a makeshift Gatorade IV. Thursday it was Kim’s turn to stay home again. Hailey’s health had improved enough for them to take an afternoon stroll around the neighborhood and we felt she was on the rebound.
Friday was a gamble she hadn’t had any loose stuff in a day, no fever for a couple days and her tokus-rash was almost gone so we decided that she was well enough to go to school. Well we were wrong, according to Hailey’s assistant teacher she had two instances of diarrhea, but they didn’t call us. That was somewhat of a let down and a bit irresponsible of the staff at her school. Hailey’s lead teacher was absent that day but still that was no excuse. Not only that, Olivia came home feverish.
Friday night Olivia ended up in our bed again. This time it was the other ear and Kim took her to the doctor first thing Saturday morning. This time they gave her Augmentin for the infection instead of the ineffective amoxicillin which she was prescribed last week. The doctor also instructed Olivia to follow up with our ENT specialist. Could this be something serious please not another surgery? She was actually felling better within a couple days and not complaining at all about her ear, for a princess she is tough.
The following Thursday I picked Olivia up from school early and we went to see the ear-nose-throat specialist. Her office is located within Children’s Hospital and every time we have an appointment there it takes forever. This visit was no exception; three hours elapsed from the time we arrived until the time we left. I think we saw the doctor for all of ten minutes. Both Olivia and Hailey had ear tube surgery when they were about ten months old. Kim and I really like the doctor; she is very personable and came highly recommended. I was expecting the worst. However she said everything looked normal and that the one remaining tube wouldn’t have to be forcibly removed unless it remained intact for another year, the other ear-tube dislodged itself and fell out months ago which was expected. I asked her if I should be concerned that after almost two and a half years Olivia contracted two back-to-back ear infections seemingly out of the blue. The ENT was so reassuring “we’ll just have to wait it out and see what happens.” Why didn’t I go to med school?
Our sixth doctor visit occurred a week ago on ‘daddy day’ and this one was a scheduled two year check-up for Hailey. She did an eye exam, a hearing test, height, weight, twenty developmental questions with our pediatrician (one question she asked if Hailey could jump with both feet leaving the ground all the while she was leaping from the doctor’s metal stepstool landing with olympic gymnast perfection) and a hepatitis shot which Hailey didn’t even flinch on not even a yelp or a tear the nurse commended Hailey for her bravery and I could overhear her bragging to all the other nurses, “she didn’t even cry!” Olivia stayed in the back ground absorbing everything asking endless why questions for every test Hailey had to endure. Olivia and Hailey were so well behaved, must have been all the practice as of late or the promise of the coveted lollypop.
Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 10/26/06
Night Terror(s)
Postponing sleep is one of Olivia’s and Hailey’s specialties. Their creative energy is abundant in finding new ways to evade falling asleep and when they persist with self induced insomnia Kim and I get frazzled, occasionally making rash decisions, unwilling to give up the one hour a day we claim as are own.
Olivia used to be in the habit of stretching (a sometimes pseudo or sometimes actual need to go) after-hours potty visit into a ten minute book perusal. During one of these incidents, spurred by fatigue I became annoyed, establishing a spontaneous decree with no forewarning, “I am officially banning books while on the toilet after bed time!” Olivia was confused. “No books!” I repeated. She cried for a good fifteen minutes at the sudden uncompromising rule modification. Kim glared the ‘nice going Homer’ look as she soothed Olivia but took my side, agreeing with the change, “Sorry honey, daddy said no.”
Olivia excessively relies on the bathroom excuse, usually two visits a night after being tucked-in. She also likes to stay up ‘reading’ scanning as many as ten books and a few times has fallen asleep with a paperback covering her face. Bathroom and books are moderately permissible. Her creativity upholds near the twilight of sleep, she will snoozily call on me or Kim with a governors-plea, “Close my closet door all the way,” even if it is closed. Or “There is a fly in here,” there is no fly. Or “You forgot your toy brain,” by that time we need a real one. She dreams-up something new almost every evening. What she really wants is one more reassuring kiss before entering the scary realm of night terrors. Nearly every night she will violently thrash and scream in the depths of slumber, which is bewildering and disheartening for me and Kim. No wonder she balks sleep.
Every so often Kim and I blurrily see through the hazy frustration of Olivia’s sleep-strife to find comic relief and emotional buoyancy. Recently, in the midst of a post-been-put-to-bed toilet pardon, while glancing up through the bathroom blinds, she noticed a three-quarter moon and proclaimed, “Daddy the moon is broken.” Grumpy and tired I couldn’t help but laugh and then started to explain that the moon has different phases. But she stopped my explanation short with her newest favorite phrase, “we’ll talk about that later daddy.” Her verbal abilities and emotional uninhibitedness amaze and sappily harness me. A few nights ago, after story-time on her way to bed she exclaimed, “You’re the best daddy.” Kim gushed. My head inflated to the size of a hot-air balloon. That comment was worth more than any pay check I have ever received. Proactive flattery is what I was thinking an hour later as she still would not fall asleep calling for me to obtain her Ariel wrist-band-compact-mirror-lip-gloss toy. Thanks to Kim’s archetypical modeling, Olivia will look good when facing her sleep-demons.
While I’m on the subject of sleep-demons; Hailey has been testing her limits with Kim and me for the past couple weeks. It started innocently, right after being put to bed she would shed her nighty and diaper then toss them out of the crib along with anything else that wasn’t nailed down, calling for mommy or daddy to come pickup her blankey, all her stuffed toys and re-dress her. After several nights, she progressed from disrobing and tossing one time, to three or four times, this new game quickly became vexatious. I decided to let her remain naked and have her cry-it-out, upping the stakes. Kim was at odds with this decision for good reason. Hailey loves a new challenge and countered with urinating in her crib. So then the game became Kim or I having to dress her and change the crib sheets, which was much to Hailey’s delight being that she was able to get out of her crib for a few extra minutes and watch mommy or daddy work on getting her bed cleaned-up. Great idea dad. In one week she went from playfully undressing to malevolently whizzing all over the place. Once or twice we ran out of clean linens, she went through four sets of sheets and had to sleep without anything but a wet cover, eventually falling asleep naked in a pool of her own urine.
The problem reached a boiling-point this week during our ‘daddy day’ siesta. Hailey had stripped and was shouting, “dah…diee!” from her crib for over an hour, then she became eerily quiet. My ‘dadar’ alarmed me and just as I was about to enter her room she hollered, “daddy I poo-poo!” I opened her door and she was hopping up and down in her crib, little poo-poo nuggets flying everywhere. The language that followed was of the ‘R’ rated variety. I hooked her underarm which was the only clean part of her body, yanked her from the crib, tossed her into the bath tub and dropped the soap bar in her lap. “Clean yourself up!” Then I went to disinfect her room, probably a good thing too, that gave me time to cool down and strategize. I concocted a plan that involved Hockey tape. After her cleansing, I wrapped plastic tape around her diaper, the same adhesive I use to lash my equipment to my body. It didn’t take the little escapist long to wiggle out of that continuing to elude nap-time and seemingly mock me, “dah…diee!” So I persisted, wrapping the tape around her shirt and nighty pants. That didn’t work either, she was naked within minutes. Defeated, I retreated to bed, covering my ears with pillows attempting to drown out her victory cry, “dah…diee!” She did eventually take a short snoozer, three hours after the start of nap-time.
I had lost that battle but the war was not over. I had a new plan. I called Kim on her way home from work requesting she stop and buy diaper-pins. That night, (last night) Kim pinned Hailey’s nighty shirt to her pants, six pins, it looked like a Houdini stunt in the making. So far the tactic appears to be working and for the past two nights she has fallen asleep, clothes pinned together, without a fuss. Kim and I have won back our hour, for now.
Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 10/19/06
A Lesson Learned and Not Learned
A ‘daddy day’ mid-morning park rendezvous became delayed by what should have been a five minute stop at the DMV to renew my four-day-over-due license plates. The ‘quick’ errand unfortunately stretched into a half-hour fiasco.
The motor vehicle bureau satellite office in my zip code exudes a stuffy unfriendly atmosphere, the tight ten by fifteen foot waiting area is lined with twelve or so dusty chairs, the worn dirty carpet smells of mildew and the signage browning with age or tar leftover from an era when public smoking in government run offices was customary. The staff suited the environment. The place hadn’t changed, personnel included, since I was sixteen.
Our luck, the computers were down that day and each renewal was taking forever. When we arrived, there were only two people in line ahead of me. I instructed Olivia and Hailey to grab some reading material from the rack of vehicle literature near the entrance and sit quietly. Both girls sat for a good five minutes flipping through driving manuals and Auto Traders.
Hailey’s nickname is the Tazmainian Toddler. She can spin through a room, arms grabbing whatever is in reach, demolishing order in the blink of the eye. Her gross-motor skills are, well, she can motor and when she is diving from couch to armchair to love seat or climbing metal rungs at a playground intended for five and up it is gross to watch. Hailey was getting restless sitting calmly thumbing through road safety brochures so she revisited the pamphlet shelf looking for something new. She started to fling the brochures one by one frisbee style toward her sister giggling with each throw. Big sis became delighted with this new game and rushed over to join her. Olivia, the self proclaimed Preschooler Princess characteristically is mild mannered her movements are precariously delicate although at times she can incite or synchronize with Hailey’s spasmodic and destructive force. In a mater of minutes the information rack emptied, the Tazmainian twister touched-down and the floor of the waiting area was completely littered.
Several more people had come in during the cyclone and one elderly lady seemed enchanted by Olivia’s and Hailey’s behavior, even I was somewhat captivated and satisfied, in no hurry to stop them. ‘Is it wrong to allow my children to raze the place?’ A mutual yet restrained sediment residing in myself as a result of impatientness with the service from the inhospitable government workers. Yes, it was wrong but I let them continue.
Hailey took off her shoes and Olivia shed hers too. The head-bands came off next. I’m thinking, ‘they are going to strip down naked right here’ I had to stop the striptease, “Girls, you are going to have to put your shoes back on so we can go to the park!” Olivia quickly complied and the older lady creakily helped Hailey with her shoes. “Tell the nice lady thank you!” Parent-speaking, ‘Why couldn’t I just say thanks.’
Hailey knew she had an audience and ran up to every person who was waiting, invading their personal space, “(H)ello” with a big grin. While running about she slipped and fell on one of the pamphlets, hopped up and animatedly dusted her butt off amusing the line of what was now a half dozen people.
The guy in front of me, who had hastily parked and ran from his car to the DMV office door to get in line ahead of me and the girls, finished his renewal and turned to go rolling his ankle on Hailey’s yellow head-band crunching it under-foot, the arrogant suit didn’t stop to apologize.
It was finally my turn so I spread all my paperwork on the counter, just then realizing I left my auto insurance card in the glove box. The administrator didn’t ask for it, a sublime implication that she wanted me and my children out of there rapido and she hurriedly glossed over the documents, I probably could have just handed her cash without any inspections or tax receipts at all. I was finished within a couple minutes and as I was paying for my new tags a dreary attendant magically appeared from an interior office, probably to check out all the commotion. She whispered to her co-worker, “Look at what they did to the place.” ‘Yes I am raising horrible little menacing children’
The comment left me feeling ashamed of myself and made me realize my lapse in parental responsibility. I exploited my children’s natural rambunctiousness to expediate a dull mundane process (and the government personnel obliged me). I also failed at teaching good manners in a public place. I waned to say something to the DMVers in my defense, ‘they’re only two and three’ but as I looked at the devastation I had no justification and no excuses. “We’ll get it cleaned up,” is all I could say.
Dirty Ending
Kim leaves for work early, typically before the rest of us wake up, therefore she tiptoes around all morning being as quiet as possible. She switches the alarm clock off before it sounds, starts the shower, rattles the curtains, drops the soap at least once, shuts the water off, the curtains jingle again, she drums the toilet paper spinning the roll quickly out, flushes the toilet, scrubs her teeth, swishes, spits, the hairdryer hums for at least fifteen minutes, the medicine cabinet opens with a squeak and shuts with a bang, her make-up-tackle-box has a similar creak and pop sound, the bathroom lights flood, the closet light shines, she slips into her carefully selected clothes, the grind and brew coffee maker takes off from the kitchen runway, the toaster oven bell dings, the fridge door slams clattering all the contents inside, then she sneaks into the bedroom one last time to breathe in my ear, “ok babe, I got to go.” Lying in bed half-sleeping I can’t help but hear and sense her actions. Really, she is highly stealthy getting ready for work and her hour long grooming is a time for me to mentally prepare for the day.
Within minutes of Kim’s departure, Hailey wakes from her slumber. Relentlessly she calls for me “Daddieeee” until I brightly enter her room.
“Did somebody wake-up?” Gambling that my cheerfulness will be reciprocated. “Hailey woke-up, yea. How is my little girl today?”
“Mommy up?” Every morning she inquires.
“Mommy’s at work sweetie.” I console.
“Sissy up?”
“Sissy is still sleeping.” I whisper.
“Mimi up?” She methodically interrogates. Mimi is our dog. We work though the cats, Haskle and Kyle. She may even through in Bubbie or Nana or a cousin.
At last she eagerly declares, “Daddy up!”
Once out of her crib, I swap her saturated diaper for a fresh pull-up with pit-crew quickness. Lately she has been requesting her “(r)obe,” must be because I have been wearing mine. We get her milk, turn-on Dora, settle into our armchair and I’ll comb and style her hair, usually into some kind of pony. We get a few minutes to snuggle before I go rouse Olivia.
“Is it a daddy day?” Olivia’s first of a thousand questions for the day.
“Today is a school day.” I try to sound upbeat. She is only three and already prefers not going to school. “You’re going to have so much fun with your friends today.” Desperate to get her energized. “Today you’re going swimming.” Or “You get to do music today.” I’ll try whatever is on her preschool activity list for the day. I want to say, “You get to drive daddy’s car today.”
“Hmf” she sighs and pulls the covers over herself. “Is three the new thirteen?”
“We do carpool today?” From under the covers comes the second of a thousand. (Carpool means it’s a half-day and I pick-up early).
“Today is Monday” or “Wednesday” or “Friday” The toughest deadline I cope with is getting the girls to preschool before the breakfast cut-off, eight forty-five. Since Tuesday is a ‘daddy day’ and Thursday is a half-day, those mornings are not so hectic. “C’mon sweetie let’s get some underwear on.” She’s not yet night trained.
“You get Cinderella’s (character underwear) for me my daddy?” She slithers into her undies, then we go lay on the couch where she has some juice and watches Diego. I comb her hair and fashion it into a twisted-dirty-bun or Pocahontas-braids.
After ten or fifteen minutes I’ll request that everyone go pick-out some clothes and get dressed for school. Before potty-training, before wardrobe independence, before Hailey’s favorite phrase, “no! I do it!” There was a time when it only took an average of forty-five minutes to ready both girls and get them to school. Now, we struggle for an hour and a half.
Hailey is so picky about her clothes, she is a t-shirt and shorts kind of girl and if there is no clean yellow shirt for her to wear I am in for an ear-full. A major firestorm occurred a few weeks ago over switching from shorts to pants. Hailey was thrashing with rage at the mention of stretchy-pants on that first cold autumn morning. I attempted to coax her into the pants for a half hour, she kept refusing, we had to get going and I practically sat on top of her while wrestling the pants on. I felt like a fashion-goon.
Once the girls have chosen their apparel and have dressed themselves, taking approximately twenty to thirty minutes, its time to brush teeth and wash faces. They both have to do it all unaided, squeeze the paste out, brush, rinse, and return the brushes to the holder. Then, dampen their face-cloths, ring them out, pretend the wash-cloth is a hat and as I supervise, they must be reminded of every facial feature to cleanse. This is a twenty minute procedure.
Their self-sufficiency continues as it is time to get shoes and socks on. I would like to personally thank the inventor of Velcro strap shoes. Olivia is rather good now only taking five minutes to get her shoes and socks on, but Hailey strains with her socks refusing any assistance finally giving up asking for help only after her sister has both shoes and socks on. If I loosen the straps without her noticing prior to her attempts she can get the shoes on herself rather quickly.
“Time to line-up.” We are almost out the door when Olivia decides she has to go potty and of course Hailey follows suit. Oh and then they have to fish through the craft tub to obtain stickers for their friends at school. At last we are ready and getting into the car only takes another ten minutes. They both must climb in the Forester and into their child-safety-seats themselves too.
Every morning I do my best not to rush them. Try my hardest not to get upset with all the set-backs, accidents and procrastination. I remember to praise their successes, congratulating them for cooperation and helpful compliance. I realize that expending the time and effort of teaching self-reliance in the present will be beneficial in the near future, in spite of that, the concept of “we are running late!” only concerns me.
The drive to preschool is short; we live a couple miles away. Most mornings I will call Kim and put the cell phone on speaker mode so the girls can chitchat. As we pull into the parking lot we discus any problems that need addressing, for instance, “Hailey I would like for you to keep your clothes on all day today, ok sweetie.”
Fortunately both girls are beyond separation anxiety so drop-off usually goes well. Hailey is hungry by the time we get to her class room, she drops her back pack and jacket in front of her locker, I have to ask her to put her things where they belong and she tells me “daddy do it” then without any further ado she says her goodbyes and heads to the breakfast table.
Olivia has particular superstitious ‘drop-off’ rituals that if broken lead to ‘make-dad-feel-awful-for-leaving-me-here’ melt-downs. Her class room is located in another building on the schools’ campus so we have to walk over to the ‘big building’. We acquire a secure-card from the admin assistant’s desk, leaving my keys as collateral. Olivia must carry the ‘blue card’ to the other building and perform the magic of unlocking the outside door by gliding the security-card in front of the black sensor box. Once inside, there is a small vestibule and another set of doors with a ten-key-pad security lock to enter the building, she must be the one to press the correct combination of keys to unlock the door. “Maxwell Smart in training” Most mornings she shyly enters the class room behind me, sometimes attached to my leg. I promptly sign her in and remind her to put her back-pack and jacket in her locker. I can’t leave yet. I have to stay while she washes her hands and shows me how she gets her own breakfast put together. She scoops the cereal out of a gallon-sized plastic zip-lock bag into a foam bowl, pours the milk from a two quart measuring cup, spoons caned mixed fruit onto a six inch styrofoam plate, carefully carrying the bowl of cereal she finds the preschooler-sized-seat with her name on the back and makes a couple trips to the prep-table for her fruit and drink. Then she needs a big ‘pick me up and hold me for a couple minutes’ hug before she excuses me.
Leaving my baby girls for the day is psychologically muddy, slowly walking back to my car, involuntarily fumbling around in my pockets for keys which I have left on the admin assistant’s desk, I feel exhausted from another frenzied morning, relief that we got to school on time and liberated from parental duty yet sorrowful and empty; a part of me is left behind.
Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 10/05/06
Just Me and the Kids: Part Two
Hailey is a rooster; up with the sun and when her wake-up call for “daddieee!” crowed before the clock read six I was in no mood to spring out of bed. Drowsily I crawled out from under the covers and tended to Hailey’s needs; a fresh diaper, milk, hair brushing and some cuddles. It had been another sleepless night for me and even though I apologized to Olivia numerous times before she finally fell asleep I couldn’t forgive myself for exploding at her, making sleep an elusive dream. I may not have slept at all, trouble-shooting all the routine and behavioral issues we experienced last week, kept my mind franticly diagnosing and problem solving. I needed a band-aid, a quick fix, duct-tape. But really I needed Kim and she was not coming home for another week.
At least Olivia got to sleep-in and when she woke up, a little before eight, she coyly poked out of her room and saw me preparing breakfast. She ran down the hall into the kitchen, jumped into my arms and gave me a huge hug. Forgiveness or forgetfulness? She immediately reminded me “daddy made a mistake” and asked “can I have my princess watch on?” Wow, are all three year olds so forgiving? I reinforced the fact that indeed daddy made a big mistake and apologized again as we retrieved the watch from her bedroom.
That Sunday morning Olivia, Hailey and I went to Sam’s Club for some essentials, pull-ups, wipes, toilet paper, milk etc… When we came out of the store it was pouring down rain. Did I have their rain jackets? No. Did they care? No. Did I care? Not really. They thought it was great fun, being pushed at warp-speed through the deluge in the extra-wide double-kid-seat shopping cart. Having parked a half-mile from the exit, we were completely drenched by the time I hurried them into the Forester. Strange how Olivia’s forgiving nature and the soaking rain seemed to cleanse the bad-dad-funk from the previous week, refreshing my parental spirit, inspiring me and from then on our lives without mommy became manageable.
Determined to get our schedules normalized; I planned on strictly adhering to the daily routine, I cleared the calendar of excess activities, no more late night parties, and I intended to get the girls to bed on time.
Monday was teacher training day at Olivia and Hailey’s preschool that meant no school. What a great start at attempting to stabilize their normal routine. Thankfully Bubie (my mom) agreed to take care of them. I dropped them off at her house and after a few hours she brought them home for a nap. I rushed through my workday without taking any breaks with the intention of greeting them right when they woke-up from nap. I was only an hour off. Still, in desperation to get their daily agenda perfected, we started dinner a half hour early and after clean-up, bath-time and story-time they ended up in bed right on schedule. That was it. No whining or crying. No bed-time child-induced parental tests. Just slumbering children. What took me ten days to figure that out?
Tuesday, after returning a stack of books to the library, we went to ‘the beach.’ Dubbed by Hailey “the beach” was definitely a favorite summer activity for ‘daddy days’ and with Labor Day looming close, sadly it was our last visit of the year to the water-park-type pool. The newer design pool, built toddler friendly, even with several attentive life-guards was still a dangerous place to take Olivia and Hailey solo. Twice this summer I saved Hailey from drowning. The first rescue happened to be our initial ‘beach’ visit of the season. She climbed the in-pool-playground, with the intentions of utilizing her favorite apparatus, the tube slide, before I could circle around and get set to receive her at the bottom of the slide she uninhibitedly slid down without my consent. Had she exited the slide with her feet down she could have stood upright in the two foot depth water, instead she hit the water on her back, parallel to the surface and dropped under. I swiftly hurdle stepped through the knee-high water to pull her up. She may have been under a whole half a second but it was enough for my heart to skip a ton of beats and for the life-guard to shift from leisurely sitting to almost jumping in after her. She didn’t even cry. After an eternal hug and short lecture she scampered back up the apparatus and waited for the thumbs-up to slide down again.
The second time I saved her from drowning was a few weeks ago. We had just got to the ‘beach,’ maybe five minutes in and then everyone got kicked out. Something of bodily origin was floating in the pool, I immediately checked Olivia’s suit for dirt-marks but she was clean, so it wasn’t her doing. Anyway, we decided to try the indoor pool. Olivia and Hailey were using those small black tight-fit air-filed training inter-tubes. Hailey intentionally threw her head back, kicked her feet up, effectively capsizing backwards and flipping herself underwater. Her tush was on top of the surface and her head below. Unlike the first water-rescue, this time I was nonchalant anticipating her error and as she flipped herself underwater I seamlessly rotated her 360 degrees using her own momentum. The life-guard probably thought we were practicing a stunt, later to be filmed and sent in to the show Jack A$$. Surprisingly and fortunately our last occasion at the ‘beach’ was incident free.
Wednesday, Thursday and Friday we stuck to our routine. We woke-up around the usual time, got to school on time, I got to work almost on time, picked ‘em up, dinner, clean-up, bath, story and bed time all went unbelievably well. Olivia and Hailey really impressed me, I found myself congratulating their efforts ten-to-one over correcting any bad behavior. Even all the bathroom drama minimized. I was still having problems sleeping sans-spouse nonetheless I managed to pull it all together and make the best of our remaining few days without mommy.
Saturday morning Miss Laura, our stellar sitter, came over early to watch the girls so I could go play Hockey and then Nana (Kim’s mom) came over mid morning so I could clean house. Where did all this laundry come from? For six hours I detailed every inch of the house, I vacuumed, dusted, moped and folded seven loads of laundry. Rach, (my sister) came over to drop Sadie (my four year old niece) off for an hour to play with the girls. Rach mentioned that she uses a cleaning service.
Kim’s plane finally touched down around four in the afternoon. Olivia and Hailey were ready to go pick-up mommy and we were out the door within ten minutes. So happy to see her, I knocked her massive seventy-pound suitcase to the ground which stood in my way of a big hug. She was wiped out from the twenty four hour travel time and eleven hour time zone change. Yet she forced herself to stay up through the evening and tucked the girls in bed for the night before she crashed for twelve hours. It was nice having her home again.
In Kim’s absence, I found a new sense of admiration and appreciation for her contribution to the make-up of our family. I missed her cooperation, stability and companionship. I learned two important lessons over the past couple weeks; First, I can’t be the father I wish to be without Kim. Second, contrastingly I can manage parenting on my own.
Originally posted on BabyCenter 09/28/06
Just Me and the Kids: Part One
This week has been the most challenging seven days of my illustrious three year stint as a parent. Kim has been away on business. Far away.
Later that afternoon I invited the neighbor’s kids over to play outside, Amy (six years old) and Kelly (almost four). My girls idolize and love to hang with them. Olivia and Hailey are border-line stalkers; they always take notice to our neighbor’s movements and if the blue blazer is in their driveway then Amy and Kelly must be home. That day; they swung on the swing-set, played house, went for a long ‘nature walk,’ played some impromptu games and drove the Barbie jeep. They didn’t even notice mommy’s absence until later that evening at the end of bath time, normally that’s when Kim takes Hailey out of the tub to dry her off and get her ready for bed. Hailey was all cleaned and rinsed, she is very observant to the routine and that is when she started to call, “Momma!” But I explained that daddy would take care of her. She didn’t protest. Our bath-time, story-time and bed-time ritual was slightly altered but the girls didn’t seem to mind.
Sunday the girls were so busy they didn’t realize mommy was missing. We packed a lunch and went to a local park that has a couple playgrounds, swings and a cool water feature. Then in the afternoon we went to Bubie’s (my mom’s) for dinner and Olivia and Hailey got to play with their cousins. My sister’s two kid’s, Louis, who is six and Sadie, she is four. Olivia and Sadie got along great they played doll-house, games and dress-up. Hailey loves to annoy Lou. She followed him around imitating his actions and Lou didn’t seem to mind her tagging along.
The only real concern which had been a problem well before Kim’s departure was Olivia’s refusal to sit on the potty to make pooh-poohs. For a month or so she’s been hiding out ‘riding dirty’ soiling an average of five pairs of underwear a day. This trouble of hers was really becoming problematic; changing her physical play, altering her sociable character and modifying her friendly attitude. I made it a priority to call the doctor in the morning and get this control issue of hers taken care of.
Monday our day started off a bit behind schedule due to a video call via MSNLive from Kim. It was great to finally hear from her. However that first call may have saddened everyone. Kim was so happy to see the girls she cried. After a few long days with daddy, Olivia and Hailey were extremely excited to see mommy and asked when she was coming home. I mindlessly blurted, “Not for another two weeks” then Kim started sobbing which upset Olivia and Hailey. From that point on they noticed mommy was gone and questioned her whereabouts at all times. ‘Way to go dad.’
Being a ‘school day’ and typically a long day at work for me, I managed to get Olivia and Hailey to preschool around eight, so they were preoccupied all day. Right at nine o’clock I called Olivia’s pediatrician, I ended up talking to the nurse, the same nurse who three weeks earlier told me to ‘change Olivia’s diet and wait and see.’ So I explained the escalating problem of her refusal to sit on the toilet and eventually managed to get a prescription for a stool softener. After an exhausting day at work I rushed to the pharmacy to get the prescription, then beat the six o’clock deadline for pickup from preschool, make dinner, eat, clean-up, bath-time, story-time, and bed-time. We ended up at least an hour off schedule that night.
Tuesday’s ‘daddy day’ started good with a video call from Kim. I kept my mouth shut today and let the girls gab. After ‘breakfast with mommy,’ Bubie, Louis and Sadie came to pick us up. Our destination was a newly renovated playground at a park with a carousel and a butterfly museum. We had a great morning. The playground consumed the bulk of our time, most of which I bounced from pushing Olivia in the swing to honing in on Hailey’s countless ever-changing locations. At one point I paid Louis a dollar to find Hailey for me. After an eternal hour or two of light-speed playground maneuvers I tactfully suggested to Louis we go to the butterfly house. He tried to get more money out of me and I almost caved in to his business like negotiations however I countered with the ‘bug card’ and he forgot all about money. Once Lou was on-board with the butterfly house plan the others sheepishly followed. A fifteen minute informational movie about the life of butterflies was cut extremely short because of Hailey’s antics, she was running up and down the aisles, greeting every stranger in the mini theater and her compulsion to bat at the video screen prompted us all to leave before the butterflies made it out of their cocoons. The living sector of the museum was impressive. A massive greenhouse-esque structure with golf cart paths, to many little nooks for the kids to hide from me and tons of swarming butterflies. Hailey was told by a couple different attendants not to chase the insects. Olivia and Sadie had to spot every single butterfly categorized in the museum’s field guide. Blue Morpho popularized by Diego captivated everyone and the butterfly hunt was the highlight of the day.
The rest of the week I struggled with the normal routine. Wednesday night we had a pool party at an aquatic center for Sadie’s Birthday and we didn’t get home until around nine, well past bed-time. The reason we stayed so late; Olivia’s prescription stool softener finally started to work. We made several trips to the bathroom over the course of a couple hours, I was glad we weren’t home for that mess, the modest plumbing at my house may not have been able to cope.
Thursday we were so late getting to preschool, almost ten, once we got there I had to track down Olivia’s class who were out on a walk. Also that morning while on a video call to
I woke the girls up early Friday morning attempting to get back on schedule. Lethargically they made it to school just in time for breakfast. That evening we had dinner plans at our friends Tony and Marni’s. Tony and I have been friends since kindergarten. They have two boys, Spencer who is four and Tyler who is two. After dinner the children ventured parent-free downstairs to the cavernous play room. They played so well together and I was so relaxed and comfortable hanging with adult friends that I completely abandoned the timeline of leaving by seven-thirty. That was a mistake, by eight-fifteen Olivia learned a messy lesson that while on her medication it was going to be impossible to hold-in her pooh-poohs. I thought Marni was going into cardiac-arrest, she clutched her chest and stagger-stepped sideways knocking her body into the door frame as she entered the guest bathroom, in her hand a zip-lock bag for Olivia’s dirty undies although it was to late for an easy bag-em-up cleanup as the soiled princess underwear were already floating in a murky-water-filled sink.
My schedule and routine problems were getting worse. Saturday morning a brilliant sitter, Miss Laura came over from seven until nine so I could go play Hockey. Hockey is cheap therapy. I had to wake the girls up early and they were both cranky, I didn’t mind at the time because I was on my way out but I paid the price later.
Mid-morning we had a parents-as-teachers ‘back to school’ party at a neighborhood park to attend which we almost missed due to bathroom drama. Olivia and I were at a stand-off. I caught her ‘riding dirty’ so I told her we were not going to the party until she tried to make a bowl movement. The confrontation lasted at least an hour. Finally after numerous reminders that we were currently missing a party, she sat on the toilet for three minutes with no success, at that point I wanted to ring the pooh out of her, instead I told her ‘good try’ for encouragement. Conversely, while Olivia was stonewalling, Hailey, proud of her new potty-using skills, repetitively perfected her method. One attempt at scaling to the top of the elongated bowl, (she thinks the training-potty is a novelty and refuses to use it), she fell off smacking her face hard on the floor. She didn’t cry or shed a tear, I think she was embarrassed. She jumped up and persistently climbed right back on that potty.
A half hour before it was over, we eventually made it to the party but that was all we needed to make an impression. During the pet-rock-painting activity Hailey tinted her hair red and Olivia’s predisposition to cleanliness vanished as she took to the nearest mud puddle caking her self with sludge. One parent remarked something to the effect of ‘your letting your kids make a mess of themselves?’ and I calmly retorted “that’s what a bath tub is for.” One parent-teacher-volunteer asked “what is your wife going to think when you get home?”
That night was dreadful. A combination of mommy’s absence, extreme routine alterations and my sleep deprivation/insomnia issue, (I could not sleep without Kim, it was like having an infant in the house again, my sleep so light that every little noise would provoke me to hop out of bed and check-on the kids), brought out the monster in me. I tried to get the girls back on track that night, we stayed in, had an early dinner and I had them in bed by their respected bed times. Hailey eight o’clock and Olivia by eight-thirty. Except, they didn’t fall asleep. Hailey was not so much a problem being that she is still in a crib; she just talked and eventually cried herself to sleep around nine. However Olivia’s night turned into a nightmare. She kept testing me, asking for ‘one more of this and I need that,’ also using the potty excuse several times to get out of bed. Her Disney princess watch became a huge dilemma. She wanted to sleep with it on then off then on again and then off again. I finally took it off and said that she couldn’t have it back until the morning. She howled non-stop for over an hour carrying on and on over the stupid watch. I sat in the other room and folded laundry with the TV blaring, her cries eroding my sanity. This went on until eleven o’clock. We were two prize-fighters in the twelfth round of a title bought, fatigued and stubborn, either willing to give-up the battle. I could hear her in her room; she scooted a chair over to her dresser and opened the top drawer looking to retrieve the watch. This was the knock-out punch. She has trouble getting the watch on her wrist; still sobbing she opened her door and asked for my help. I flew to her room, snatched the watch from her, I got right in her face practically head-butting her and screamed as loud as I could “no means no! You’re driving me f_ing crazy!” She took a big step backwards. Being the first time I have ever lost control and scolded her so harshly she became extremely frightened and temporarily bewildered. In the pause, I could see that I had lost her admiration and trust. Then she started to wail over and over “mommy!”
Originally posted on BabyCenter.com 09/20/06
Sibling Protection
A spontaneous bonding experience for Olivia and Hailey placed me in an awkward and morally conflicting situation. It all went down on ‘Daddy Day’ at our local public library. The newly remodeled children’s wing was completely packed. The rainy day drew quite a crowd and the ‘reading castle’ appeared more like the mall playground than a quiet place for children to indulge in book perusing. To avoid the vigorous mass of little bodies I had quickly devised a plan for each girl to find a book for me and I would read aloud to them. They each acquired a book without hesitation. We found a cozy corner, a couple of big round rainbow-colored pillows to settle into and all was going well for about three pages of the first book, however the loud chattering and all the action was just too distracting for them. So they set off on a glorious campaign to conquer the castle.
Ten seconds later, my girls were completely oblivious to my existence. So I decided to reserve a book for myself through the library’s computer catalogue, only twenty feet from the castle. Five minutes pass and suddenly my daddy radar went off, code red. I overhear Olivia’s bossy voice “No, you can’t come up here!” I assumed she was talking to Hailey. I downgraded my alert status to orange. Olivia was standing at the top tower of the multi-level apparatus. I could see her through the plexiglas window but I couldn’t see Hailey. Olivia continued to shout, “I said no. You! Can’t! Come! Up! Here!” Time for a daddy intervention. My mind raced for the right thing to say, ‘Olivia the castle is for everyone to share’ was the best I could think of. As I approached the freshly painted faux-stone palace I saw that Olivia was not yelling at Hailey but rather a young boy. I was somewhat confused; confronting a stranger with such nastiness was completely out of character for Olivia. The wiry boy was a bit taller than Olivia I guessed him to be about three maybe three and a half years old. I had noticed him and his older brother, probably six-ish, when we first arrived at the library. The two brothers were there with a young Russian nanny, who at the time of the altercation was indulged in a hair brushing from big brother. She was teaching big brother the proper technique. Her heavy ascent was a dead giveaway of her place of origin. She was clueless and aloof in her duty to the young three year old.
The poor little guy, he whimpered, “bbbut I wwwant too” and as I moved closer, I could see Olivia obstructing his passage to the top level of the castle. For me to climb-up inside the play fortress and get in between them was impossible, the custom crafted play castle was definitely designed for tykes. I was just about to give the top level plexiglas window a solid tap to get Olivia’s attention when the little boy gave up and turned away. But Olivia was not finished with her maliciousness, she followed him down level by level, soon I saw the little guy come down the exit slide on the other side of the citadel. Olivia flew out right behind him and blasted him with her feet. The two of them start jawing at each other as I made my way over to them. “You kicked me!” The little boy finally stood up for himself. Olivia quickly shouted back, “No I didn’t!” Just as I’m about to put the Vulcan-death-grip on her, out of nowhere, Hailey comes at the boy fists clenched with the velocity and quickness of a bolt of lightning, striking the unsuspecting little guy right in the gut. He doubled over, stumbled, almost fell down and then ran to the safety of his nanny and big brother.
Honestly, and this was my moral dilemma, I wanted to congratulate Hailey for her bravado and rushing-in to defend her sister. It took me a few seconds to take in the whole situation. The boy was crying and shaking while hugging his nanny, so distraught he couldn’t verbalize what happened. Hailey, with steely confidence and fists still tightly clenched had her eyes locked on the young boy waiting for any retaliation. Olivia was indifferent to what had just transpired or rather tried to look innocent. I didn’t congratulate. I didn’t scold. I simply pulled them into a corner and said that it was time to settle down and take a break. I told Olivia that I saw what she did and stressed the importance of, “no kicking and you hurt that little boy.” I also calmly explained to Hailey “no hitting.” I gave them both a warning and that any more hitting, kicking, pushing, and/or shouting would result in us having to leave the library.
After a minute of rest and reflection, they were very good for the duration of our library visit. They sketched with the library’s miniature golf-scorecard sized pencils, they searched for interesting books and they even sat down with me for a whole book reading. Olivia had found two Disney Princess books, carried them along with her library card up to the librarian’s desk and check-out. Hailey got her own card made and borrowed
Even now as I write this, the ethical question still rolls around in my head; Is it wrong for me to feel proud of Hailey for sticking up for her sister the way she did? Obviously I don’t want to encourage her hitting little defenseless strangers, but I really wanted to reward her for protecting and defending her sister.
Originally Posted on BabyCenter, 09/09/06
