November 28, 2011

My toddler is a teenager

My daughter is already showing signs of teenageritis - and she's not even two.

Her shoe shopping expedition was cute. That's not what I'm talking about. This problem is getting ugly. She LOVES phones.

Sure, it started out cute. In fact, Grace learned to crawl by placing a cell phone just out of her reach. The love grew from there. With her imagination, everything became a phone: her hand, shoes, crayons, sweet potatoes. She hold them up to her ear and carry on a conversation with who I assume was Mickey Mouse.  When she started walking, she would pace with a phone (or sweet potatoes) to her ear, waving her free hand from time to time to emphasize the REALLY important gibberish point she was making. She would pause to hear the other end of the conversation, laugh, and then continue her gibberish. Like I said, cute.

Now, like her father, she has become picky about technology. Her Leap Frog cell phone is too baby for her. Her deactivated adult cell phone doesn't hold a charge. She wants - nay - must have the real thing. She even knows how to unlock an iPhone to get to the good stuff. If the Wife or I accidentally leave one of our phones on the coffee table (for 2 nanoseconds) Grace will get a hold of it and is in heaven. Until we take it away. Then the flood gates open. Not much phases this little girl, but take a real cell phone away from her, and it's like you told a 5-year-old that Santa isn't real.

Anymore we practically have to leave the room if one of us adults wants to make a phone call without her asking to "Talk GiGi. Talk Bop Bop." Over and over again.


Yesterday, we gave in. The Wife was talking to her mother (GiGi to the kids), and Grace wanted to say hello. So, the Wife handed her the phone, and off she went on a nonstop gibberish conversation about who knows what. She may have recounted our entire Thanksgiving weekend, or relayed the latest gossip from the church nursery. She was ecstatic to have someone on the other end of the phone. Cute. But like a teenage girl talking to a boy, when we told her it was time to hang up, she got upset and drug the goodbyes out for at least another three minutes.

"Vuv oohh. Buh-bye ... Hi Gigi. Howyoudoingt'day? Vuv oohh. Buh-bye ... Hi GiGi!"


Maybe I shouldn't be so worried now. Yes, she may be displaying signs of being a teenager, but thank God, she isn't actually one yet. The conversations are harmless, they're with people we love, and we're right there.

I should probably save my worrying when she's 15 and "Biff" calls.

November 26, 2011

The turkey's revenge

I was almost murdered on Thanksgiving. By a turkey.

It was a near-tragic end to an otherwise perfect day.

It was perfect because our house was buzzing with activity. Last year, Thanksgiving was just the Wife, Grace, and me. But I absolutely love when we FILL our home with people. There were nine of us this year: the four of us plus the Sis-in-law, her two kids, and two of our good friends.

I love the chaos. I love the conversations. I love sitting back and watching the kids run around and play with each other. I love being able to cook for everyone. When our house is full, I get to see so many moments I will cherish and remember forever. To me full houses have an energy about them that just says "fun."

For the meal, the centerpiece was a 20-pound turkey. Sixteen hours in a brine and then baked with apple, onion, and cinnamon aromatics.


All of our vegetables were casseroled because, well,  they're more delicious that way. We had sweet potato casserole, Gruyere broccoli casserole, and green been casserole. There were also smashed red potatoes, stuffing, cranberries, and four pies. Just about everything that called for butter had heart attack-inducing amounts of it; we must've gone through three pounds of it on Thursday (Paula Dean and Julia Child would've been proud).

Oh yeah, so about that murder attempt.


After the meal, while everyone was in a food coma, Sis-in-law and I were working on a soup stock from the leftover carcass of what was turkey perfection. The stock was starting to bubble over in the pot, and we were trying to figure out what to do. Like anyone whose been through a traumatic event, the details are a little fuzzy, but I think I was trying to remove the strainer that had all the turkey parts and veggies in it from the pot. As I started to pull it out to move it to the sink, the turkey skeleton - in a last-ditch effort to exact revenge for what I did to it earlier that day - thrust itself back towards the pot. The strainer slipped from my hands and splashed boiling hot stock over me, Sis-in-law, and the stove.

It could've been much worse, but ninja-like reflexes on both our parts prevented a trip to the ER. We escaped with only minor burns on our arms. The stove suffered the most damage - the digital display shorted out and none of the burners would light. It kept beeping sporadically until I unplugged it. Fortunately,  everything on the stove dried out by the next morning, saving me at least a couple hundred bucks in repair bills.

Yes, all-in-all it was a memorable Thanksgiving. We were surrounded by people we love, laughed a lot, ate delicious food, and even had a near-death experience to top it all off.



November 21, 2011

Dinner out with kids

To me, going out to eat is one of life's greatest pleasures. Few things beat a delicious meal, good drinks, and spending time with people you love. I even like the build up of picking the place to go - reading the reviews, hemming and hawing over which cuisine to settle on, and thinking about the meal I'm going to have on the drive over.

Yes, my idea of entertainment is a good meal out.

Enter kids.

They change everything. Not always in a bad way, mind you, but since we've had children, going out to eat is a different experience and a different form of entertainment (both for us and the people around us).

Take last night for example. My grandmother has been in town for a few days and wanted to treat us to a meal. We chose P.F. Chang's because it's delicious yet kid friendly. As soon as we sit down, Grace attacks the kiddie menu with a crayon. Two seconds later, she's done and ready to get up. Of course we haven't even see our server yet, so this child is gonna hafta wait a couple hours.

My job as the one sitting next to her was to distract her by any means possible. This was a challenge as I was rifling through the diaper bag looking for something to give her to play with. She was getting impatient and starting to arch her back in her high chair. She threw the crayon and menu on the floor. I now feel people's eyes on our table.

Then I discovered that P.F. Chang's has chopsticks in their silverware roll-up they give you! Drum sticks! Perfect. Child one satisfied.

Timothy, however, was not happy. He was fussing because he was hungry. However he didn't want the bottle that we brought. In his mind he was thinking that Mommy was right there, so why should he have to settle for a bottle? He could get the milk right from its source. Apparently our four-month-old has a discerning palate already. This will be good when people try to tell him Outback has good steaks but not now. Not when we're trying to pass once-frozen milk off as fresh.

He also needed a diaper change. I took him since The Wife was in the corner of the booth. The baby pass over the top of the table (and the candle flame!) was successful. Baby and diaper changing accessories in hand, I made my way through the tables towards the restrooms. As a father, this walk to the bathroom is always done with a reoccurring thought: "Will this restaurant have a baby changing station in the men's room?"

I then have flashbacks to the time that Grace was two months old and had to change her in the four-inch space between two sinks. That was the time I discovered I could change a diaper with one hand as I supported her head with the other. That was also the only time I've ever come close to accidentally dropping one of our kids.

I am happy to report P.F. Chang's is one of the few restaurants that actually recognizes fathers as having an active roll in child raising. They have a changing station, and it works. It's not marked up with graffiti. The hinges work. Someone has cleaned it recently. Timothy and I are both happy - for a few minutes any way.

Back at the table, he got fussy again. He still wouldn't take the bottle from The Wife. Another baby pass over the table (there were about 15 this night) and back to me to try. He wouldn't take the bottle from me either, but I managed to get him to stop crying.

It's amazing what a father will do in public to keep their children happy. It's also amazing that I don't really care what people think either. Rousing renditions of the ABCs and "Pat-a-cake" with both kids drew laughter and smiles from them and certainly more than a few looks from people who would rather talk politics and sports rather than listen to my off-key singing. I should also mention I am a pro at the "bounce and shush." I spent a good portion of the meal standing and bouncing, rocking and swaying Timothy while humming and shushing in his ear to keep him quiet.

I should mention a couple things in closing. First, both of our kids are generally wonderful, obedient, and calm at restaurants. I know this because other diners have come up to tell us this. Secondly, Grace wound up settling in to her high chair captivity and even enjoyed her low mein noodles (she actually used chopsticks too!).

And it's watching moments like that that still make going out to eat one of life's great pleasures for me.


November 12, 2011

Sick and tired

*Cough, Cough* *Snnnifffff*

Dang. Now, I've got it too. *Achoooo*

It being whatever Grace had, gave to Timothy, who gave it to The Wife, who then gave it to me. This bug's been floating around the house for the last few weeks, and we can't quite seem to shake it.  Our household has been overrun by bulb syringes, tissues, vapor rub, saline spray, and humidifiers.

Hopefully I'm the last one.

I hate being sick, and I certainly don't handle it well. I think most guys are that way - we get sick and then shut down, becoming incapable lugs. P.K. (Pre Kids), I would be able to lounge on the couch with a blanket, remote, and a box of tissues. The Wife would bring soup and sympathy.

But with kids, I'm realizing the world doesn't stop revolving when I don't feel well. The little ones still need attention and food, and I'm pretty sure The Wife wants me to help out with that.

As far as sick kids go, we've been pretty lucky.  This is only the second time I can remember Grace getting sick since she was born, and Timothy has handled feeling under the weather pretty well.

I'm just ready for this to all be over. Healthy kids and parents sleep better, and we're almost out of tissues.

November 10, 2011

The Secret to Successful Parenting

I think one of the secrets to successful parenting is having a strong church family.

Since we've been married my wife and I have made it a priority in our lives to be a part of a church and to get involved. Connecting with a small group has introduced us to others that share a love of Jesus Christ in an intimate environment, and we've both grown in our faith because of this.

Hearing the pastor preach on Sunday mornings is important, but often that message only goes one way. In our small group our faith becomes a discussion. Steel sharpens steel, and there is no better example of this to me than the conversations we have in our small group.

We've seen the positive impacts of being in a church small group grow since having children. As a military family far away from our parents, we've been able to have a support system close to us where ever we've been stationed. Being able to interact and share stories with other like-minded parents and adults has been a blessing.

Another blessing has been the generosity of our church family. The clothes, toys and other baby needs given to us after having both kids has been overwhelming. These are major expenses that we've been able to avoid, and we are truly grateful. We hope to be able to do the same for others in the future.

I also believe our involvement with a small group will become more important as our children grow and they begin to understand who Jesus is. Faith, to them, will not just be inside a bubble in our house. It will be something they see their parents live out in other environments. They'll also be able to play with other children being raised in Christian households. When our children begin to develop their own sense of what religion is, I believe all these interactions will have a positive influence on their decisions. As Christian parents who's prayers are for their children to someday follow our footsteps in faith, these interactions and relationships are so critical.

We love all the people we've met and gotten to know in our small groups as the military has moved us around. Because of them the burdens of parenting have been lighter and the joys have been greater. I thank God for them all.

November 8, 2011

Sleepless in Southern California

My wife and I are blessed, and we know it. We have two absolutely wonderful children that bring so much joy into our lives. They don't get sick too often, they don't cry too much, and they don't embarrass us in public. Yes, we have it pretty good. Until about 9:30 at night.

It's a recent phenomenon, but our four-month-old son will not sleep. He'll fall asleep on my wife, she'll put him in his crib, and 20 minutes later he's crying. She'll go back in to his room, rock him back to sleep, put him in his crib, and 20 minutes later he's crying. Repeat. All. Night. Long.

Occasionally, usually around 3 a.m., it's my turn to try, but I've had worse luck. He'll just cry on me. Apparently I'm not as comfortable as my wife. I also don't come bearing food, which may have a lot to do with it.

This is the point in this post were I need to thank my wife and shower her with diamonds, Oreo cookies, and pedicures. As you can see, she has taken most (99%) of this burden on herself. I have not asked her to, but she's the one that gets up with our son. Part of it may be because I could sleep through a freight train barreling through our house (side effect of sleeping next to a very active military flight line while deployed) and I just don't hear him. But the reason is more likely because my wife is a saint. She wants me to be able to go to work refreshed.

This sacrifice on her part wasn't too bad when Timothy would sleep for long stretches (we were close to all night a couple of times), but now it's taking a toll. Getting two hours of sleep a night is not good for anyone. We may have to go to bottles at night or something because I want my wife to be able to get the sleep she needs. I really feel bad, and I want to take on some of this burden.

I'll wrap this post up with a few theories as to why he doesn't sleep any more:
  • A growth spurt
  • He's afraid of the dark
  • He wants to stay up for Letterman
  • His stinky feet keep him awake (more on this in a future post)
  • Separation anxiety
  • Poor nursery feng shui is throwing him off
  • Bad gas
  • He's four months old
I'm open to any theories you all have. You can leave them in the comments below. And if you could say a prayer for my saint of a wife, I would appreciate that even more.

November 6, 2011

Babies and balloons

I couldn't stop laughing. Grace and I were playing with a balloon when she figured this one out all on her own:

November 5, 2011

Saying Goodbye

The family we had in town for the last couple weeks leaves today.

While our house will be back to "normal," I'm sad to have to say goodbye. I know that Grace enjoyed having her two cousins around. She finally had pint-sized playmates besides the dog almost 24/7. Timothy had more than enough people to hold and rock him, and The Wife and I had other adults to talk to (simple things, really).

There's more to this goodbye for me though. What kept me from falling back asleep this morning - besides Timothy wriggling in  my arms fighting off his own sleep - was the realization that this goodbye means I'm closer to the one I've been dreading for a while now.

In the not-to-distant future I'll be separated from my family for a year.

A whole year.

Those words are like a punch in the gut every time I think about them.

I've deployed before. My wife and I were barely six months into our first year of marriage when I went to Afghanistan. Half of our first "honeymoon" year was through bad phone connections, e-mail, and grainy video chats.

While that deployment was certainly difficult at times, this is going to be even tougher. I'm going for twice as long and now there's two kids who grow and change every day. That's 365 days of change I'll miss.

I know that my wife and kids will be well taken care of while I'm gone, and I'm going to be busy most of the time, but I'm sad knowing I'll miss Timothy's first steps, Grace's ever-expanding vocabulary grow into full sentences, and the fact that The Wife has to balance everything on her own. She didn't ask to be a single mother, and yet my service is forcing that for a while.

Don't get me wrong though. I'm proud of what I do, and my wife supports and helped make the decision that I should stay in the Marines. It was a decision made with lots of prayer, and we believe this is where God wants me right now. We'll make it through, just like we did at the beginning of our marriage.

But goodbyes suck.

Whether it's goodbye after two weeks with your sister and her amazing family, or it's goodbye to the people that complete your life.

Goodbyes suck.

November 2, 2011

Fueling the Disney obsession

We indulged our daughter's obsession yesterday.

First off, I didn't know people under two could even have obsessions. But, since before she could walk, Grace has been captivated by The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on TV. I think it started as an innocent way for The Wife to get both hands free for two seconds to get dressed or to do some other necessary chore. That has turned to endless pleas for "Mickey, Mickey ... Miiiiccckkkeeey."

Like me with my morning coffee, my daughter has to watch Mickey Mouse. I'd love to tell you we were better parents and don't let our child watch TV so the coffee we do get to enjoy is hot. I'd love to tell you we are more creative than that. I'd love to tell you Grace's obsession hasn't gone too far.

But I don't like lying.

And yet, we went to Disneyland yesterday. The West Coast mecca of Mickey.

I love going to Disney parks. But this was my favorite trip, by far. To watch a child, even as young as Grace, wide-eyed, taking in the sites and sounds of the "happiest place on Earth" was special. I loved the fact we could let her run around Mickey's house and other areas and get into anything she wanted. I loved her interactions with the other toddlers. And I especially loved watching the moment she got to meet the animated character she's seen on TV for months.


Yes, we didn't do Grace any favors yesterday by taking her to Disneyland. I'm sure we've fueled her obsession until she's 90, but we sure had a lot of fun.


Editor's note: Yes, we do have a son too. Yes, he was there yesterday. He slept the whole time.

November 1, 2011

Halloween and confidence

It's amazing what parents will put themselves through to ensure their child has fun. However - speaking as a subject matter expert - kids under two rarely cooperate.

We have family in town this week, and since last night was Halloween we thought it would be fun to get everyone dressed up and go trick or treating at our church's annual "Trunk or Treat." More on that in a minute. The whole event really started when we first put everyone in costumes.

Timothy, being four months old, was pretty indifferent to the whole thing. The visiting cousins, especially the oldest, were pretty excited about dressing up. And I figured Grace would be too. She had happily picked out her costume at the store (a cow) and mooed at it when she saw me take it off the hanger to get her ready. I thought she'd be equally as thrilled to wear it. Not so much.

Her first words when she looked at herself in the mirror?

"All done. All done."

But of course, we parents weren't done. We had to mark this special occasion with photos. Here's the best shot I could get:


"Trunk or Treat" was really cool. Tons of costumes, tons of candy, and a 30-foot inflatable slide. Each of the 50 or so cars that kids could walk up to were decorated to a theme. There was a pirate ship, more than a few luaus, and an homage to Charlie Brown's Great Pumpkin.

Grace may not have been excited before, but I thought for sure she'd turn when she saw all of this going on. Not so much.

There were probably about 500 people when we showed up. The crowd, the noise, and a bunch of weird costumes equaled this reaction:


She immediately wanted to be held. Every trunk we went to, she'd bury her face in my shoulder. Our daughter usually will go to any outstretched arms, but she clung on to me for dear life. Timothy, still indifferent, passed out in the stroller.


Grace eventually let go of me and went with The Wife to go up to trunks. She, with much more patience than me, was able to convince our daughter to let go and start walking up to people to get candy. So as the evening progressed, our little cow got a little bit more confidence and even started to enjoy herself.


I really enjoyed myself too. I was proud watching her waddle up to a trunk in her overstuffed costume, looking up at the person holding all the candy, and sticking out her treat bag. Her overcoming fears and gaining confidence had me beaming.

So, even though Halloween for us started a bit hectic, and we may have forced costumes and picture time on our children, I think the effort was worth it in the end. Through the strange tradition of dressing up and approaching strangers to get candy, our daughter grew.