Say what?

Our girls have never been Chatty Cathys.  They've more or less relied on sign language and pointing to get their point across.  Recently, there has been a bit of a change at our house.

One morning, as I got them out of bed, they said the usual "Papa, Papa".  The next morning, they were engaging me in conversation. 

They went from 15 words to 1,500 overnight it seemed.  How did that happen!  I haven't had my head buried in the sand, and I haven't been away from home. 

Here are a few of the conversations we've had, and an insight into what is was like just a week ago.

Me:  Hey Brynne, what do you think about breakfast for dinner?

The Brynne of old would nod her head in approval.

Brynne of now:  I like it!

Actually, we all love breakfast for dinner.   Who doesn't?

Me:  Hadley, can you tell your puppy dogs goodnight?

The Hadley of old would pant like a dog.

Hadley of now:  Good Win.  Nit Feee.

While getting in the car, no and tantrums have been replaced with "pak", as we head to the park.  Actually, they say this when we head anywhere - they REALLY love the park.

Going to church gets the response

"Abby, Gen, Toms"

clear references to her three friends Abby, Gwen and Thomas who will be there to play with them.

Throwing their hands in the air or pushing a plate off their tray, have been replaced with

"all done"

to signify the end of a meal.

We're not at the point where they can communicate everything they want, but I think we've made huge strides.  NO and tantrums still happen as there is still a certain level of frustration, but it's getting better.  Special kudos to Mama for all the work she does with them while I'm not around, and even when I am.

At least I can give up on trying to learn the signs they know.  Now, all I need is a translator or a toddler to english dictionary.

Professor Papa - Part 9

This is the series of posts where I try to brag about something I've taught the girls - both good and bad.  Today's lesson - don't get stuck assuming you have to act a certain way just because you're a girl.

It was a little chilly to be outside, but the girls were going a little stir crazy as they hadn't been outside for a few days.  It was also a little moist due to the recent drizzle - which probably didn't help their mood any. 

Stir crazy can cause this damage in ten minutes.

As we were running around the house, Brynne tripped and fell.  She got up, looked at her wet knees, and started to bawl.

I asked her if she was hurt and she said no.

I kissed her knees, just to be sure, but that didn't help.  She just stood there sobbing away, looking at her knees, and trying to wipe away the dirt and water.

My first instinct was to pick her up, kiss all over her, and carry her inside to change.  Fortunately, I didn't do that.

Instead, I dropped to my knees in the wet grass.  I then stood up and showed her I was just as wet as she was.  I told her it was ok to get dirty, I even sat down to get my butt wet.  She looked at me, started laughing hysterically, and then sat down as well.

She made a huge point of standing back up and pointing at her bottom with such pride.

Hooray for wet clothes!

We finally did go back inside, but she refused to change her pants.  She was actually a little too wet to just allow her to walk around the house, so I changed my pants.  Immediately, she was giving me the sign to change her as well.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  Little girls can get dirty, play with trucks, and do anything else they want.

Battle of the Birds

Ever hear about an athlete claiming he or she doesn't consider himself or herself a role model?  That they shouldn't be looked up to by kids just because of how they earn their money or because they're in the public eye? 

Ever hear a parent say they aren't a role model?

Ever see a parent doing something and want to go smack the tar out of them for those actions?

Today just happened to be a day when I got to experience that.  Not once, but thrice, in a matter of minutes.

Situation 1 - On the way to work, the car in front of me (and one lane over to the right) starts drifting into my lane.  There's a healthy gap between us, so I'm not too concerned.  There is also a driver in front of me in the lane to my left.  He starts drifting into my lane as well. 

I back off a bit as these two cars are moving to occupy the same spot and I don't want to hit them if they end up colliding.

I'm not sure if they see each other so I honk, just to get their attention.  Both of them immediately swerve back into their lanes.  I can then see the driver on the left screaming like a fool while flipping the bird to the other driver. 

The other driver responds by rolling his window down, extending his arm, and returning the greeting - accompanied by what I can only assume to be gracious words of encouragement.  I'm sure he wanted to make sure the first driver knew how much he wanted him to have a pleasant day.

They speed up and slow down, trying to cut each other off - nearly wrecking several times.  I decided at this point I've seen enough so I speed up to get away from them.  As I approach the cars I notice that each of them has the same bumper sticker.

You can't make this stuff up.

As I pass the cars, I also notice each of them has additional passengers in their back seats.  Sitting there quietly, strapped into their car seats, are a couple of little children.  Soaking up everything.

I try not to judge the drivers.  I try not to think bad thoughts about them.  It's not easy.

Situation 2 - Not five minutes later I am passing another car.  The windows are rolled up, there is cigarette smoke filling the car, and again, there is another little child sitting in a car seat in the back.

At least this window is down, I guess.

I wanted to call the cops and report child endangerment, but I'm not even sure it's illegal to smoke with a child in the car.  Ridiculously stupid and irresponsible?  Yes.  Illegal?  Perhaps it should be if it isn't already.

Situation 3 - A few minutes pass and I'm getting off the interstate.  The car in front of me on the ramp is full of activity.  It's in the lane to exit left and I am going right.  As I pass this car I notice four children in the backseat of a Corolla.  I'm not so good with ages of other children, but I can't imagine any of them are older than five.

Not street legal.

None of them are in a car seat. 

None of them are even buckled in.

The driver is putting on makeup and appears to be singing along with the radio.  Either that or she's yelling at the kids.

It makes me sad to think about all three of these situations.  Sad for the children that they would be raised to think this is normal behavior.  Sad for the parents that they would think this is acceptable behavior. 

I know it's not my place to tell others how to raise their kids.  Everyone has their own methods and I respect that.  I only respect that, however, until it becomes an issue of child endangerment. 

I really wish I'd written down all of their license plates and passed them on to the proper authorities, but I didn't.

The question is:  Should I have done that?  Thoughts?

Figure it out

When I was young I just loved the gameshow "Bumper Stumpers".  To me and my crazy little brain it was a puzzle I needed to figure out.  I still like puzzles, so everytime I get behind a car with a personalized plate I try to figure out what it says.

Man I loved this show.

I'd love to get a personalized plate with letters that combine to produce no words - just to see keep other people on their toes if they do the same thing.

Recently, with the help of two little jabbering girls, I've discovered another game.  I like to call it "What are they saying?"

Let's see how good you are at figuring these out.  The answers are at the end.

1.  Ideeda

2. Shhh oudida 

3.  Lied osh

4.  Baba shhh

5. Ablutobusta

Sometimes the game ends when I yell to Mama and ask what they are saying.  More often than not, I am calling for Mama to translate the sign they are giving me in conjunction with their speech.  I was doing well with their signs until they got to know hundreds of them.  To me, every color other than red looks the same - shake a finger or two. 

They're supposed to look like this, but with toddlers, they all look the same to me.

I've not completely given up on sign language, but I do often find myself asking them to use their words - even if they don't have words for what they're trying to say yet.

Here are the answers to the pop quiz:

1 - I see it.  Brynne couldn't find her baby so I told her it was behind the couch.  She walked over, said Ideeda, pointed to baby, and picked her up.

2 - Let's put my shoes on and go outside, or shoes outside for short.

3 - Turn the light off or on.

4 - Be quiet, the baby is sleeping.  Another form of this is Mama shhh.  Obvioulsy this is used when I get them up in the morning and Mama is not seen.  Typically, they also put their finger to their mouth to reinforce what is meant.

5 - I have no idea.  That's not what they are saying, that's my failure to translate.  I tell myself I've still won the game and this means nothing.  Guess we'll see.

How'd you do?  Any phrases your little ones use you'd like to share?

No means no...or does it?

We've all heard the statement "NO MEANS NO".  While it has a serious meaning, it has also become a punchline in many situations.  I contend it doesn't always hold true.  Here is my supporting argument.

Conversation from dinner the other night:

Me:  Hadley, do you want some more to eat?

Hadley:  No. 

Me:  Are you done eating?

Hadley:  No.

Me:  I'm confused.  Are you done eating or do you want something else?

Hadley:  No.

Me:  Is no the only thing you are going to say?

Hadley:  No.

Me:  Then are you going to say something else?

Hadley:  No.

Me:  I think we're done here.

Hadley:  No.

Me:  HEY!!!  How about a big girl bite of chicken?

Hadley:  Sure.

The point is this:  my girls have a limited vocabulary.  I think they don't completely mean to say no, but they can't yet say to me:

Dearest Papa, I would really enjoy a bite of chicken, dipped in BBQ sauce, followed by some sweet potato fries, dipped in BBQ sauce, and all washed down with a cold swig of milk.

Someday we'll get there.  Until that day comes, I'm stuck asking the same question eight different ways to try to find out what is really going on.

Father of the Year? Nope

Have you ever had one of those days, or a string of those days, where you just didn't feel like yourself? 

It could have been caused by any number of reasons.  Maybe you weren't getting enough sleep.  Maybe you had too much going on to where you couldn't relax.  Maybe you were just in a funk and thought things that didn't go your way should have.

I've recently been in one of those ruts for all of those reasons.

That's me, wallowing in self pity in my hole/rut.

It's not easy to get out of that.  For me, it was just getting worse.  My self-perceived hole was getting deeper.

I was exhausted.  My girls and I were playing and I knew I was being short with them.  I was trying to get them to entertain themselves so I wouldn't have to read the same blasted book for the umpteenth time (yes, I just used the words blasted and umpteenth in the same sentence). 

They clearly were not in any mood to be pushed away.  My doing so only made things worse.  If I wanted to maintain any level of sanity I needed them to stop throwing a fit.  So I read the book.  Every time I finished it, they would both give me the sign.  Again. 

Again, and again, and again.

I was fighting the urge to push them off of me and run for cover.  At one point, I may even have stood them up and told them to leave me alone for a few minutes.  I didn't think they'd understand what I meant, but they did. 

Brynne clinched her jaw as she fought back the urge to scream, shook her head violently back and forth in anger/frustration, and just stood there glaring at me. 

Hadley looked at me with those big, beautiful, blue eyes of hers welling up with tears.  She then told me "no".

How can you say "no" to this face?

That made me feel like a big bag of shit.

It also brought me out of my funk - at least for a little bit.

All my daughters wanted to do was: sit in my lap; turn the pages of one of their favorite books; point out the animals they knew while either making the appropriate sign or animal sound; hear my voice read the words they couldn't; and acknowledge/praise them for how much they knew and could do.

As I look back on the whole event, I still don't know if they were being selfish, too, or just wanting to hang out with their dear old Papa.  At one point I caught Hadley just looking at me.  Brynne was still turning/ripping pages and pointing out everything on the page while I recited the words.  Hadley was just sitting there with her head cocked so she could look up and back at me -  just staring at me.  If she could fully express herself, I imagine she would have asked me if I was okay now.

That might have made me cry a little.  Actually, it made me cry a lot. 

I don't know how long I sat and stared at her beautiful little face with tears running down my own, but it was long enough for Brynne to finish the book and hop up to get another one.  She got the book, gave me a pat on the back, plopped back down in my lap, looked up at me, and gave me a huge smile.  That broke the trance, and soon both girls were fighting over who got to turn the pages of the new (finally!) book.

And I was crying again. 

In the end, it doesn't matter if they were being selfish or not.  This is what matters:  my words and actions caused them to feel rejected. 

Try that one on for size.  I rejected my daughters when all they wanted was quality time with me.

How long will they want me to read to them?  When will I be the one asking to spend time with them, only to be told no, and to then feel rejected myself?  Why did I allow my frustrations with everything else in the world to impact our time together?

I don't know the answers to any of those questions.

Any advice as to how to either avoid the rut or get out once inside it (other than drugs and alcohol)?

Height and development are not related

As I may have mentioned, at one point or another, our girls are slightly taller than the average less-than-two- year-old child.  By slightly, I mean about half a head taller, give or take.

Brynne with cousin that's five months younger.



Hadley with her cousin that's 10 months younger.



I know they are tall, but since I am around them more than I am around any other children, I forget that you can't always guess a child's age based on their height.  If you do this, it can cause issues.

As an example, let's look at the nursery at church. 

Our girls go to the toddler class, which is, roughly, 18 to 36 months of age.  If that class is a little crowded, and the 36 to 50 month class is not, a child can be moved from the younger class to the older one (after parental consent is obtained).  Our girls, at 23 months, are way less developed than the three to five year old children in the class ahead of them.  By lining them up, and moving the tallest, you would do our girls a huge disservice.

Four year old + cup of water = hydrated child

23 month old + cup of water = wet child, wet clothes, wet table, wet carpet

That's just one example.  Here's another:

The four year olds can, for the most part, communicate with others.  Sure, they have language patterns that can be tough to discern, but you can get the gist of what they're saying, as can other four year olds.  The 23 month olds are limited to what they can express, and so frustration (screaming, tantrums, and tears) can ensue.  Not only between child and adult, but between children.

Not convinced?  Here's my final example.

Four year olds should be stronger than 23 month olds, and can, therefore, take what they want by force.  Even if they're not trying to be mean, they still are dominant.  They might both be going for the same toy.  If the four year old accidentally bumps the younger child, he (or she) is going down.  Now, we're talking real tears and screaming.

This may serve more as a reminder for myself than as education to anyone else, but it may help someone.  If at all possible, ask the parent for the child's age before making that assumption.  This is especially helpful if you're looking for an age appropriate toy to give to a child.

Professor Papa - Part 3

This is another instance of taking a good thing, and using it in the wrong fashion.

On vacation we had a bit of extra time to kill between bath and bed time.  Mama was tending to Brynne, so Hadley and I were playing in their room.  We were on the bed reading one of their sign language books.  I turned the page to the next sign, which was jump.

She then jumped.  Okay, so she didn't jump like this, but she clearly made the attempt.  With the extra spring in her step provided by the bed she was able to put some air between her feet and the bed. 

It caught me off guard.  I know that she knows the signs for the words in the books, but I didn't realize she knew what the words meant.  Granted, I was helping show her how to jump (as best I could from a kneeling position), but she took right to it.

She was laughing and smiling - obviously as proud of herself as I was. 

Brynne came in (attracted by the squealing of Hadley), climbed on the bed, and proceeded to do exactly the same thing.

The next day we worked on jumping off the ground.  Without the bed springs to supply some much needed lift they were only able to "jump" to their tip toes.  Since then they have been able to get a little lift, so I'm calling that success. 

In my opinion, even if you can barely put a sheet of paper between their feet and the ground it is still a jump.   Once we get a little basketball hoop for them we'll work on layups and dunking, but for now we'll stick with increasing their vertical.

I guess I am partly (or fully) to blame for their jumping on the wrong things.  I am the one who introduced them to jumping on the bed.  They, however, did start jumping on couches, chairs, and in cribs.

It's gotten to the point where if they are on the couch (where they know they are not to stand up) they will stand, jump, and then land/fall on their butts - laughing madly the whole time.

My two concerns are: 

1 - jumping over the back of the couch or off the sides/front

2 - landing on their butts from a jump on a hard surface.

The first one is higher on the danger scale than the second as they don't have as far to go, but it is still a concern.



Obviously it will be a long time before they do something which puts them way up on the danger scale, but even these small falls can do damage.



I'll just have to deal with it, though. Can't keep my girls in a bubble.

Is there no end to a toddler's supply of snot?

I am NOT a fan of bows.  Hair bows, that is.  I have nothing against wrapping a present nicely.

There is one exception.

I will use them to keep hair off the girls' faces when their noses are little snot faucets.


Brynne with her arm around her imaginary friend.

 

Hadley, at 6 AM, giving the sign for sleep.

Now, I encourage their usage when the snot faucets are going full blast at 6 AM, Mama is out for a run, and I need to brush caked on snot out of their hair.

Repetition is the mother of all learning

I believe the title to this post is an old Russian proverb, but I don't really know. 

I've heard it so many times it's stuck in my brain - thus proving the statement true.

In working with our girls to get them all learned up (don't worry, Mama will be teaching them English and grammar) we have utilized this strategy, but added our own twist. 

While we repeat everything constantly, we also add in sounds and actions as everyone learns best in a different fashion.  If I read an instruction manual (as awful as they are) I might understand how to assemble something.  On the other hand, if I just jump right in and try to assemble it I will more than likely know how to do it going forward. 

Since our children can't yet tell us how they learn best, we use varying techniques to teach them.

Here are a few examples:

This is a rocking horse and that is what we call it - or horse for short.

We also call him Howard - Howie for short.

Mama does the sign for horse - I haven't learned it yet.

We also make the neighing sound of a horse when they play with it.

At some point the little sponges understood all of those references and now, when we read a book with a horse in it, they will either go get Howie, neigh themselves, sign horse, or at the very least point to him.

I assume Howie is a "he"-- thankfully Howie is not anatmomically correct, so we just don't know.

They'll also take the horse magnet and make the same noises and gestures.

We have Phineas the Frog.  Phineas, thanks to this book, goes ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, hop, hop, hop with corresponding signs and sounds.

Another critter is Fido the dog.  Fido was an easy one since we have two real puppies, so the girls know all about canines.

We do this for non-animals as well.  They have Carla - the car.

Knowing the girls understand us is a wonderful feeling.  It also makes cleaning up before bed a lot easier. 

I can ask Brynne to put Howie back in his stall and she'll do it, giving his ear a squeeze as she goes, so he'll play some music to dance to while she works.

I can ask Hadley to park Carla next to Howie and she'll do that as well. 

We can do the same thing for Phineas, Fido, books, cars, cups, and blocks.  Actually, we can do it for almost every toy they have. 

It's so nice to have two cleaners - especially when neither of them is me. 

It might take them a little longer to pick up than it would for me, but when they work together they do pretty well. 

This also teaches them something I think is very important - to leave things the same as they were when you found them.

Vacation - Papa's point of view part 1

I am better than Clark W. Griswold – Sparky if you will.

We hadn’t taken a real vacation since our honeymoon, so I thought it was time we did just that.  Staycations just don’t provide the same level of adventure and anxiety that real vacations do.

I also know how much Julia loves surprises, so I decided to make the entire trip a surprise.  Yes – I said it – EVERYTHING was to be a surprise.

How would you react if your spouse decided to plan a trip for you and your two children that were under two years old?  Julia will be posting her experiences in the whole thing soon to help you get a feel for what she thought.

I’ll start with the basics.  The only two people in the world other than me who knew where we were headed were two people that neither my wife nor I had ever met – John and Jane Doe for now.  I told our girls, but I don’t think they got it.  I even tried to sign it to them, but apparently you have to know what the signs mean before you can interpret them. 

Oh well, less chance of a slip from them.

I tried to get her to go in the spring, but due to the girls weaning and nap schedules Julia didn't want to take any trips.  I then decided we would do it in the fall, around our anniversary, and she couldn't object since I was giving them all ample time to prepare.

What will come out over the next five Fridays is the “diary” of my deviousness.  The planning took nine months; the trip took five days.  I can’t foresee doing anything like this again, so I am not worried about giving away the magician’s secrets.  Maybe you can use this to surprise your spouse as well.

Got Milk?

Let's do some math.  There are 64 ounces of milk in a half gallon.  If I drink an eight ounce glass with breakfast and Julia has about the same amount in her coffee, how much milk must each of the girls drink to go through the entire half gallon each and every day?

Stop looking for a calculator - it's 24 ounces each.

If you got your calculator, just to double check my math, you should find that I'm correct.  While sign language may not be my strong suit, numbers are.

 Math IS fun, so let's do some more. 

Each day, the girls have on average six wet diapers.  The diaper I change first thing in the morning usually holds about 12 ounces of urine.  Their clothing holds another four ounces.  The sleep sack catches two more.  That's 18 ounces of urine in the first change. 

Put the calculator away, please?

This leaves six ounces of milk unaccounted for, but with five other diaper changes yet to be considered.  This is where the math stops adding up.  Yes, I did just put a horrible pun in here.

Each of those five diapers has more than one ounce in them.  Where does this come from?

The obvious answer is other items they consume that have liquids.  On some days they get orange juice or water, so that makes up some of the shortage.  Fruits, vegetables, and BBQ sauce (sometimes the only way they'll eat an item is when it is doused with Bone Suckin Sauce) make up some more of it.

There are still fluids unaccounted for!!  Are they losing water weight each and every day??  Their skin looks healthy, so I can cross that fear off my list.

The truth is, they subsidize their intake with water from their pool or the tub.

There is nothing more beautiful in life than watching both of your girls "make water" in the tub (aka pee), grab something that holds liquids, and then re-ingest some of their homemade "water". 

Often, the new concoction contains water, urine, and soap.  YUMMY!!!

I'm not a chemist, but I am pretty sure the following equation is true, so I'm not too disgusted.

                                Soap + Urine = Clean Water 

I think it's great that they're learning how to use a cup on their own AND we don't have a huge mess to clean up.  I think it is NOT great when they are drinking their own filth. 

 In a third world country there may be no other option but to drink your own (and often anyone or any animal that happens to be upstream from you) urine, but here at home, thankfully, there is.

So how do we stop this despicable practice?  Simple.  Remove anything from the tub or pool that can be used as a drinking utensil.  The only thing we couldn't remove was the wash cloth, which counts as a drinking utensil.  Since the primary function of the cloth is more important than the other uses, we decided to leave it in the tub.  We do, however, have a protocol for usage:

1. It goes into the tub only when we are ready to use it.
2. If it is confiscated by toddlers, we try to take it away (using other toys as distractions) or at least wring it out before it can be used inappropriately.
3. We remove it from the tub as soon as the washing stage is complete. 

By following these simple steps, you too can live a life free of botulism, cholera, dysentery, and typhoid fever. 

Maybe that is a little over-dramatic, but at least you can stop watching your children drink their own pee.

New to me

I've only bought two brand new cars in my life. 

The rest were used, but still new to me.  Just because someone else has already driven the car doesn't make it any less exciting, for me, the first time. 

Whether or not the clock has already been programmed by soemone else doesn't mean that I can't be just as excited when I figure it out - and then remember how to do it again when daylight savings hits. 

Since Julia gets to see the girls all day long, she gets to experience most everything they do for the first time in real time.  I either hear about it later, or see them doing it myself.  Those times I see them do something for the first time, I get so excited!  I yell to Julia to let her know what they are doing and typically get the response:

Yep, they started that a few days ago. 

At first that depressed me.  Actually, it depressed me for quite some time. 

I kept missing out on these milestones.  I think I might have been looking at these new actions as some sort of foolish competition. 

I was losing. 
Julia got to see everything.
I got to see nothing. 
I hate to lose. 

I don't know exactly when it happened, but at some point I just started thinking differently about it.  Instead of seeing it as a missed experience or as a loss, I decided to look at it as it truly was - still a new experience for me and the girls. 

Winning!


                                          "All I ever do is win" - Charlie Sheen


I still yell for Julia, just in case what they're doing is something new - and just to be sure what they are doing isn't some sign language I don't understand. 

But - I no longer feel bad that I didn't see it first.  Every so often I still see something for the first time and that is exciting. 

I've worked hard to teach them new things - things their mama probably doesn't really want me teaching them, but oh well.

How do I love thee...let me count the ways

Hugs and kisses are easy to understand. 

Laughter, holding hands, and snuggling are other ways.

Hadley giving me the sign for "I Love you" is yet another.

Those are easy to identify - assuming you know the sign as I now do. 

My girls have other ways of showing me that they love me since they can't yet say it directly.  Papa and Cook-a both, in my opinion, count.

I wasn't entirely sure what Hadley was trying to tell me the first time she walked up to me with her eyes closed, mouth open, looking like she was ready to give me a big, wet kiss.  I leaned in for it and WHAM!  She lowered her head, aimed for my forehead, and gave me a running head butt.  It all happened so quickly I was caught off guard.  I didn't have time to react, which was probably a good thing. 

I would have been stunned if my head were not so hard.  Hadley recoiled a step, looking a little dazed yet smiling, and decided she enjoyed it.  She charged back in to ram me again.  I let her.  I'd seen her and Brynne doing this to each other and decided it would be okay.  It didn't hurt me, and it didn't seem to bother her. 

Aside from the red spot on her head, she appeared fine. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement.  Brynne was now on the attack.  I turned just in time to catch her head-butt on the nose - squarely.  That one did hurt a bit, but the pain went away as my watering eyes dried up.

I didn't have time to hurt, I had two little foreheads coming back at me again.  I caught these on the forehead and the giggles ensued.  Apparently they both inherited my rock hard noggin.  I knew they had the size based on being consistently at the top of their growth charts in head circumference, but until now, I wasn't sure about the density - they have it.

My two little mountain goats love to butt heads with me, and each other. 

Mama's head is not quite as solid, but they still give her a shot from time to time.  I imagine they stick with me and each other, mostly, because of the sheer size of the target. 

The floor, walls, and windows are all fair game, though we try to encourage them not to go slamming their heads into just anything (and anyone) in the area.

If you ever get the chance to meet our girls and don't have a solid head, please wear a helmet.  It's fine if you choose not to.  Just don't be embarrased when I wake you with smelling salts.

Toddlers and ShamWows

What an odd title. 

How could these two things be even remotely similar? 



It is easy to see when you think about it.  They both pick up more than you would ever expect.

The ShamWow is designed to absorb something like 50 times its weight in liquids.  It also picks up dirt, hair, small rodents, and occasionally a small child.  Before you wring it out you need to carefully inspect the contents of it.

Toddlers pick up everything.   Not physically, though they are constantly surprising me with their feats of strength.  I'm talking mentally. 

I knew they were absorbent, but I had no idea just how much they would understand. 

When our girls get sleepy, they will often put their hand on the side of their head (sign language for sleep - add it to my list).  If I don't catch that sign, they will come to me with their sleep sack in one hand and then lead me to the changing room with the other, so they can be changed and put down. 

Just the other day, as Julia was babysitting another slightly younger toddler, Hadley did an amazing thing.  I didn't see it first hand, but Julia told me about it when I got home from work.  She went to slightly-younger-toddler's bag, opened it and removed all the items he needed to nap.  Then, she took them into the changing room and lovingly placed them in his pack-n-play.  Lovingly means she tossed them over the side, and then came back to the living room to play.  Her work was done.

She picked all of that up just watching and listening.  That got me thinking: 

How much else has she been picking up on that we just don't yet know about? 

How many times have I been critical of someone or something and she's heard it?
 
Does she file that away and plan to use it at a most inopportune time? 

Are my actions even at this stage shaping how she will interact with others? 

Of course. 

Our girls are hanging on every word and action of ours, so we need to be extra careful in everything we do and say. 

It might be cute, to some people, the first time their children drop the F-bomb at a family gathering, but not to me.  We work so hard to teach them to be obedient and respectful, but I often forget they are always listening and learning from us - the good and the bad.

We don't often swear at our house, but an occasional one slips out.  Maybe one of our dogs got underfoot when we were making dinner, so we let something fly.  Maybe I was tired, misunderstood something my wife said, and reacted poorly. My little ShamWows don't just cue in on the words I use, but on my tone as well. 

Baby-proofing means not only protecting our children from physical dangers in their environment (which often includes locking the toilet seat down, so at 3 AM my bladder is bursting while I try to open it), but it also means protecting them from our words and actions.

Paternity test

We hear all the time how much Brynne looks like me, and Hadley looks like Julia. 

For just a moment the other day I caught myself wondering if these two, were in fact, my children. 

Here's the scenario:

We were finishing dinner.  The last step of dinner, before brushing teeth, (I failed to mention in my second post - I know the sign for brushing teeth, so that makes seven signs I know) is some sort of dessert.  Since they get bon-bons all day we try to do other stuff - fruit, fruit mashed into applesauce, kettle corn, and graham crackers are all common.

Eating the same stuff over and over and over bores me. 

I thought it might be boring for the girls as well, so I asked Julia if she would make some homemade chocolate chip cookies.  (I really didn't think the girls cared about eating the same stuff - I just wanted cookies and it is harder for Julia to say no if she thinks it is for the girls instead of me).

She made the cookies, and we had them for dessert.  One bite for Hadley, one bite for Papa, one bite for Brynne, one bite for Papa.  I eat quicker so I needed another bite while waiting on them to finish.  Problem.  They didn't finish their bites.  They spit them out or threw them to the ground.  What a disaster! 

These couldn't be my children.  I ate their discarded bites to console myself.

Well, as it turns out, they are my children.  A few days later I came home late from work, and Julia was just finishing dinner.  Chocolate chips were melted on their hands, faces, and in their hair - good thing it was bath night and both of us were home. 

A few more days go by, and this time when I come in the door for lunch Brynne is holding a bite of cookie in her hand and with a huge grin starts yelling cook-a, cook-a, cook-a.  I prefer for her to announce my arrival with Papa, Papa, Papa, but I now know that if I'm gone, I can be replaced by cookies. 

Awesome. 

All is right with the world, as the identity of their father is now clearly me.

I also now know the sign for cookie.  Apparently it is very close to muffin and cupcake.  If you have a list running, I'm up to ten signs with these three similar ones. 

Go Papa!

MAMA - That's me yelling, not the girls

As Red, from The Shawshank Redemption, said about Andy Dufresne's first night in the slammer:

That was the longest night of his life.

It wasn't exactly the longest day or night of my life, but it sure felt like it. 

Mama was getting out of the house for some much needed social time last night, and Papa got to put the girls down for the night by himself.  It wouldn't have been that bad, but we're in the middle of transitioning to one nap, so they just didn't bank enough sleep yesterday. 

That by itself is not a bad thing - I can handle sleepy and fussy babies. 

I have about four things I can do to entertain them, and typically one of those four will work.  I had all my best tricks ready to go, but I didn't plan on more difficulties.

Plan one:  Play with toys.  We'd been doing that all day so they were not eager to continue that.  Mama had also been gone during the day, so they were a little sick of my entertainment.  Plan one = fail.

Plan two:  Read some books.  Again, we'd been rotating books and toys all day, so that was met with a less than enthusiastic response.  Plan two = fail.

Plan three:  Go for a walk.  Aaahhh.  This worked wonderfully - for about ten minutes.  You see, the one thing I failed to count on was the weather.  We've been lacking rain for so long I forgot what it felt like - until we were at the farthest reach of our estate and it came bursting forth.  That means we were about 25 yards from the back door.  The rain came fast, hard, and cold. 

Both Brynne and Hadley were moving their hands up and down as they squinted at me through the downpour.  I now know, that is the sign for rain.  I had no clue they knew that sign or what the sign for rain even was, but one of their signing books was open (right to that page) on the floor when we got back inside so now we all know how to sign "rain". 

Lemonade out of lemons. 

We made it to the back door, only to find it locked.  We went around to the garage - I had closed the door.  One last mad dash took us to the front door - which was locked.  We were now stranded.  Locked out of the house and standing in the pouring rain. 

I'm lying.

The front door was open so we came inside.  Still, plan three = fail.

Plan four: drink until I pass out and wait for Mama to come home.  I'd never gotten to plan four before, and I just couldn't bring myself to drink that much.  I thought to myself:

Self - What is the stupidest thing you can do now? 

Self replied:

They seem to enjoy bath time - let's try that!

I wasn't thinking.  I was out of good options so I decided this would suffice.  I gave the sign for bath (another one I now know) prematurely.  Fail. 

I grabbed the loudest screamer and struggled with her until I was able to get her changed and dressed only in a diaper. 

I now grabbed the lesser screamer, who had become the greater screamer, as she pounded on the bathroom door waiting for her bath. 

One wiff was all I needed to know that this would not be easy.  Blowout.  Fortunately it was contained, but just barely. 

I could hardly hear her screaming as her sister had now picked up where she left off, banging on the bathroom door.  Both girls were now diaper clad and ready to bathe.

Typically, Mama would be getting the bath ready while I was getting the girls ready.  I didn't think about this ahead of time.  The girls and I were now in the bathroom and I was totally unprepared for a bath.  I ran the water and tossed in their toys.  They were so excited to get into the tub. 

Their screams were making it impossible to think. 

I put them in the tub.

Fail.  Diapers were still on.  Pick up one, remove the diaper, return to water.  Repeat. 

Fail.  The running water had encouraged them to empty their bladders.  I now have two girls in the tub and no clean diapers.  In addition to this, I realized I also didn't have their towels (still in the dryer), washcloths (also in the dryer), clean pajamas (in the changing room), or my drink (in the kitchen).

I ran throughout the house to gather everything, pausing only momentarily, to freshen up my drink, and returned to find them right where I left them. 

I lied again. 

I wasn't about to leave them alone in the tub, for anything other than my drink. 

One more lie.  The drink was already in the bathroom.  That, amazingly, is the one thing I remembered.

The actual bath itself went fine. 

We got ready for bed, read from our Bible, had a glass of brandy, and went right to sleep - 45 minutes earlier than we should have. 

It is amazing how a little bit of brandy can put a baby right to sleep. 

I am the baby in this scenario - my girls got milk as usual.

What's wrong with you???

I am a Seinfeld fan.  There's an episode where Kramer's phone number is close to the movie theater's phone number and so, he just starts answering as if he were the theater's automated recording.  When someone would key in their zip code, he couldn't tell what it was, so he would just ask them to tell him where they wanted to see the movie, in his best automated recording voice. 

I feel like Kramer quite often now.

Sidebar -

I loathe those automated operators.  Use your snobbiest voice and say, IIIIIII'm sorry.  I didn't understand your reply.  Please try again. 

Do that to your significant other about nine times in a row and see how much fun it is for them. 

I usually end up just yelling, Operator! into the phone until it gets me to a person.  The voice tends to sound a little dejected by the end of it, so score a moral victory for me! 

Auto-op realized it was unable to help me and truly feels bad - maybe it will get a bad review at the end of the year for poor customer service. 

Back to the main story. 

Julia (my wife, for those of you that don't know me) stays home with the girls.  All day long they eat bon-bons and work on their sign language.  It's gotten to the point where they know over 40 signs. 

I know four of those. 

My mind is like a steel trap with a lot of things, but it is more like a steel colander when it comes to sign language. 

When I get home from work I typically feed the girls dinner.  They will be eating just fine, until they decide they want something else.  At this point, one of them will start convulsing and the other will either be laughing, or making wild gestures of her own. 

If they want something other than milk, water, bananas, or grapes I simply cannot help them - those are my four signs. 

I yell for Julia (for her and not at her) to tell me if I need to do some sort of medical(ish) treatment on them, or perhaps perform an exorcism.  After she reassures me they are not actually convulsing, and that they merely want blueberries or strawberries, I can relax. I get them the food and they are good - until we run out of said food and they, again, appear possessed. 

There are only two solutions to this communication problem that I see: I learn sign language, or they learn to speak. 

I'm convinced they will use words more in their life than I will use sign language, so I'm going with the second option.  I will continue to yell for Julia when the girls have fits.  I'm sure this won't go the way I want it to, so I'll probably be a master in signing soon.