Tag: Baby

  • Ivy Thoughts Part 1

    Ivy Thoughts Part 1

    As a parent, you can’t remember a fraction of the funny things your toddler says. Here’s a list of things I’ve remembered from the past few months. Any parent will love and relate to this. And I imagine non-parents will find at least one of these things pretty funny.

    List of fun things Ivy has said recently:

    Ivy with a puppet

    She has an obsession with puppets. Everything is a puppet. Feet, books, toys, real puppets, waffles. You name it, I promise it can be a puppet.

    She hands me a real puppet, that can be put on my hand, and says, “Here, say, ‘me a puppet.’”

    Later I ask, “Oh, did you make me some food?” She replies, “No. It’s for puppet.”

    The other day I was writing in my journal and Ivy was hovering over my shoulder.

    Ivy doing a puppet show

    “Do you want a sticker?” She asked.

    “Sure, I’ll take a sticker,” I replied without looking up. I continued writing.

    “Do you want a sticker?”

    “Yes, Ivy, I’ll take a sticker.” I don’t look up and continue to write.

    “Do you want a sticker?”

    “Yes,” I say and finally look up. She’s staring at the journal. “Oh.” I shake the journal like it’s talking, “Yes, I’ll take a sticker.” She looks pleased and starts putting stickers on my journal while I write. She was just going to sit there and talk to my journal until I got it through my thick skull that she wasn’t talking to me, apparently.

    She then said, “Foot want a sticker, puppet?”

    The journal has to shake and say, “Yes, of course foot wants a sticker.”

    She then puts multiple stickers on my foot and says, “That’s better.”

    On the “ignoring me” note. Sometimes I’ll say stuff to her, and she’ll just stare straight ahead and ignore me.

    The other day Beth said, “She doesn’t do that with me. She only ignores you like that.”

    It wasn’t twenty minutes prior that Ivy was saying something repeatedly over and over and I ignored her and said, “I can play the ignore game indefinitely.” I wasn’t being mean. She was just talking nonsense over and over in my direction and I wasn’t paying attention. If you’re a parent of a toddler, you understand.

    Like I said, it was 20 minutes later that I was asking a question straight to her face and she ignored me like a pro. Deadpan. Stared straight ahead. Like she couldn’t even hear me. I said to her, “Learned behavior, I respect it.”

    Ivy ignoring me like a pro

    The other day she woke up from a night’s sleep. I walked into her room and said, “good morning, how are you?” She looked up at me from her pillow, sat up, and said, “I want to cook. Anyone want food?”

    She also wants to be referred to as a teacher pretty constantly. Throughout the day if you call her Ivy she’ll reply, “me a teacher.” You then have to call her teacher to get a response.

    Ivy Teacher

    Toddler hack that I don’t know will work on any other toddler. Like I said, she loves puppets for some reason. Her love goes so far as to be respect, apparently. Ivy is pretty good about bedtime: brushing teeth, putting on diaper, putting on pajamas, and getting into bed. But, if we do have trouble with any of those steps, if a puppet gets involved and asks for the teeth to get brushed, she’s immediately compliant. I don’t know if she loves, respects, or fears puppets more.

    We are on the tail end of potty training, she’s pretty much there. The other day I put her on the potty and told her to let us know if she needed anything. I left her stool at her feet and walked out. This wasn’t the first time I’d done this. What made this time unique was Beth and I, from the couch, could hear her in the bathroom singing. Then suddenly *clapping. “Is she clapping?” We said to each other.

    She walked out, shut the door behind her, and said, “me pooped.” She gave herself a round of applause, shut the door, then came out to exclaim that she had pooped.

    The other day she started teaching Sage how to pray. She grabbed Sage’s arms and folded them and whispered, “Heavenly Father. Thank you. Amen.” Then she said, “Good job Sagey!”

    I was at a restaurant with Ivy after a basketball game and the person I was with was asking if she wanted brown or white rice in the bowl Ivy and I would be sharing. I thought about it and said brown. He said he thought kids preferred white rice. I said that was probably true, but I was being selfish. That was it. End of discussion about brown rice. For the past 4 months Ivy, every single day and night, when in her room and she’s playing with her kitchen, asks us if we want brown rice. She’ll come up and put her hand on your knee or shoulder and say, “You want brown rice Daddy?” I almost never get my brown rice, for the record.

    On the topic of somehow picking up on something and never letting it go. I had this book I was reading that Ivy got ahold of and drew all over the cover with black sharpy. You’d be amazed at how calmly I took this. Anyway, one day I had the book and I said to Ivy, “Ivy, this book is so good. I might give it to my friend Zach. What do you think he’ll think of your additions?”

    The destruction

    I don’t remember her response. What I do remember is every time she’s seen that book since she’s asked, “Daddy give to Zach?” Zach then became somewhat of a celebrity in our house. She’ll just randomly be like, “Does Zach have knees?” (Real thing she asked). Along with tons of other random statements and questions about Zach.

    This is just the beginning of Ivy Thoughts. I’m already well into Part 2. More to come. Hope you enjoyed!

  • Parenting and Consequences of Choices

    Parenting and Consequences of Choices

    Sunday morning we were supposed to sleep in. We were going to church at a later time to join Beth’s family since her sister Eve was in town. Any parent knows how it goes when you’re hoping to sleep in. It’s like the kids have a sixth sense for your hope and immediately squash it. Sage woke up at 6:30 and Ivy was up at 6:45. This, for the record, is much earlier than even Sage, who isn’t a great sleeper, usually wakes up.

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    Beth brought the girls out to the couch. I was tired and groggy.

    In true teamwork fashion, Beth and I decided to split up. I went back to sleep for an hour while Beth hung out with the girls. My hour felt like 5 minutes and I was back with Ivy and Sage while Beth got her additional rest before the day got into full swing.

    I took Ivy and Sage into Ivy’s room.

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    Long story short – Sage was ready for a nap and unhappy about everything and anything. Ivy, the newly potty-trained, walked over to her bed, laid down, and had an accident in her bed. I learned that when I went to lay Sage in Ivy’s bed to rest and saw it was wet. I tried to feed Ivy a banana while Sage screamed and I cleaned up wet sheets and blankets. Ivy took the piece of banana I’d given her and threw it across the room. I tried to stay calm and asked her not to throw food. As I continued to clear off pee-covered sheets and blankets, Ivy walked to where I’d left my breakfast – the rest of the banana and a peeled orange – and proceeded to throw it all over the room.

    That’s when I lost my patience.

    Voices were raised. Toddlers were told to stand in the corner. Stern words were spoken. Sage was still screaming.

    I lost my temper.

    It was then, standing with Sage in my arms screaming, Ivy naked from the pajama shirt down, crying in the corner, that I started to take deep breaths.

    It was then that I started trying to assess why my temper was so short.

    “I’m usually better than this,” I thought to myself. “What’s going on? Well, I’m tired, obviously.”

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    Wait, why was I tired? (Well, besides always being tired).

    Flashback to the previous night. Beth had taken Sage in to sleep, and I stayed on the couch. I thought about reading but then came across a movie on TV that I hadn’t watched in a long time. It was Super Bad. I have long cut rated R movies out of my life. But this was made for TV. All the curse words had been cut out. That didn’t make the movie a productive use of time to watch. I ended up staying up way too late watching this stupid movie.

    I remembered all this as I stood with a screaming baby and a crying toddler, after I’d just yelled and not handled Ivy’s outbursts and energy nearly as well as I would have liked.

    I realized I had no excuse for my behavior. Why was I tired, grumpy, and now losing my temper? Because I’d stayed up later than I should have. There are all the excuses – I deserve some time for myself, I deserve to be able to relax, I haven’t stayed up late for myself in so long, on and on. Was it the worst thing in the world for me to stay up late and watch a movie for myself? No. Was it the worst thing in the world, the next day, to yell at my daughter because I was now grumpy? No, but it felt like it.

    My choices had consequences.

    There was no excuse for how I had lost my temper with my girls.

    I kneeled down by Ivy in the corner. My extended rocking of Sage had calmed her so she was quiet for a moment. I spoke to Ivy calmly and slowly, “Ivy, I just got very frustrated. I’m sorry. I should not have yelled. Will you forgive me?”

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    Smile.

    “Yes, Daddy.”

    I continued to tell Ivy that I get frustrated when she doesn’t listen and throws food. I told her I love her so much. I asked her to please help me the best she could and I’d try to be better too.

    I sat with Sage on the floor and rocked her to sleep. Ivy, seemingly a completely different child, sat at her table. She got her laptop (a little pink toy), and a stack of books. It was calm. I realized I hadn’t meditated yet, something I usually do first thing in the morning. I asked Ivy if it was OK if I closed my eyes, meditated, and took some deep breaths.

    “Yes, Daddy.”

    I set a timer, closed my eyes, prayed, and breathed for 10 minutes. When I opened my eyes, Ivy was quietly reading books at her table.

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    I am off the charts blessed with my two girls. I love them so much. They’re amazing. Ivy is such a good kid. She is strong, patient, kind, gentle (most of the time), and smart. Sage is in a bit of a difficult stage. You can tell she wants to crawl and move and do so much. But she is so happy, smiley, and bouncy. My two girls are amazing.

    I’m grateful for them. I’m grateful for how they teach me to grow and be better. I’m grateful for their patience with me. That moment when Ivy said she forgave me, man… what a feeling of love. Not just my love for her, which is endless, but also her love for me, which is clearly unconditional.

    This was another parent and life lesson. My choices have consequences. I can do dumb stuff like stay up late and watch a movie. But I CAN’T take it out on my girls in the morning because I didn’t get enough sleep and now I’m grumpy.

    It’s OK not to get enough sleep. It’s OK to be grumpy. It’s even OK to lose my temper sometimes. It’s OK for me to struggle. But it’s not OK to not give them my absolute best. It’s not OK to make excuses why it’s OK for me to lose my temper and yell at them. That’s not OK. Every action has consequences. It’s not their fault that I stayed up late.

    I love them so much.

    This parenting thing is hard, rewarding, growth-inspiring. I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for every moment. The good and the bad. I love it. I love them. I love my family.

  • Why do we Love our Children?

    Why do we Love our Children?

    I recently heard a quote so good I want to quote it in full:

    “Think about this. When a little baby is born, that baby cries at inopportune times, makes a lot of noise. It soils its diapers; it demands to be fed when it wants to be fed. It costs you a lot of money, a lot of time, a lot of energy, a lot of lost sleep. So why do we keep putting up with these little creatures? It’s because there’s this deep, underlying feeling of love for these children of ours. We love them so much that we don’t look at what it’s costing us. We keep infusing life and we keep teaching, and we keep forgiving, and we keep working with, and we keep nurturing and feeding and helping them to grow to become who they need to become and who they have the capacity to become.”

    I think that’s an awesome quote. Well said.

    I’ve been thinking about this more lately. With a toddler that is so full of joy and happiness, and also, sometimes, not. And a 7-month-old that still isn’t sleeping great. And with plates thrown and irrational frustrations (by the toddler), and crying and no sleep and…

    Ivy “loving” Sage

    *Sigh

    The energy it takes. The life force being sucked out of me.

    And.

    Would I go back if I could?

    Not in a kagillion-billion-zillion-babillion years. I love them so much. It’s all worth it.

    Is it hard? Heck yeah. It’s so hard. Do I feel like I’m dying a slow death sometimes? Uh, yeah, I do.

    And then, Ivy smiles and says, “Dada. I love you.” And Sage sees me and inexplicably giggles. And suddenly, all that sucked out life force flows into my body from my head to my toes in a rush of energy and exhilaration and LOVE. It’s like nothing else in this world: looking at my two daughters. The love.

    As a parent, speaking for myself, there’s a point where you become numb to the sacrifice and all you give up for your children. There was a time when having to get up once in the middle of the night to check on anything would ruin my entire night of sleep. At this moment, the average night has at least 3 middle-of-the-night wake ups. Zero wake ups in the night is a miracle.

    Early on with Ivy, I really struggled with this. I started to wonder how I could survive without getting sleep. And now we’re starting over with Sage who doesn’t sleep nearly as well as Ivy did. I’m probably getting hours less sleep per week than I ever have. And yet I feel alive and invigorated. Somehow, I’m surviving. I think it’s that infusion of love I get from seeing them happy, healthy, and growing each day.

    Ivy the morning after waking me up three times in the middle of the night. She didn’t go to sleep with the crown.

    The time, the noise, the diapers, the feeding, the money, the energy, the sleep put into these “little creatures.” And yet, do I regret it? A resounding NO! I want more. I love them so much, it hurts. Sometimes it physically hurts how much I love them. That quote above came from a video of a guy discussing the Lectures on Faith. I’ll link it HERE.

    He was talking about the attributes of God. That wasn’t where the quote ended.

    “If we as mortal parents can figure that out (the love for our children), how much more do perfect, eternal parents have that figured out? God is a God motivated by love. It’s not just this outward thing, it’s part of the divine characteristic. God is love. Without that, you and I can’t have full faith in God unto life and salvation.”

    We’re here to learn to love like God. God, Christ, and the Holy Ghost love so perfectly that they have become one in mission, intent, and purpose. That is the love I feel for my family. I would give anything for them. My wants and needs have taken three back seats. Beth, Ivy, and Sage’s needs are so much more important than mine. The “world” will try to say this is unhealthy, that I need to “put myself first” or “take care of myself.” Of course, I don’t completely disregard my health and care, but that idea that I come first is extremely wrong. I don’t come first. I know that. And not coming first is what gives me strength each day. That infusion of love that comes from my family makes every sacrifice the sweetest sacrifice there is.

    If I feel this way, as a mortal man who knows how to give good gifts, how much more perfectly does God love me? How much more is He willing and able to give me because He loves me? I know God loves me. I am eternally grateful for His love. Now, He is teaching me how to love.

  • Dontcha know I know

    Dontcha know I know

    All of Ivy’s life, when she’s been upset or crying, I’ve said, “Dontcha know I know?”

    This is my way of saying jokingly, “Don’t you know I know what it’s like to not want to get dressed, not want to eat certain food, to be hungry, to be tired, to be upset, etc.?”

    Today was Sunday. I woke up from a nap and I watched a video depicting the Atonement that Jesus Christ performed.

    Sage started crying in the other room. She’d been having a rough day. We think she has some acid reflux and stuff like that. Sometimes her tummy gets upset. This day seemed to be hard for her.

    Sage likes to tilt her head way back and stretch out her stomach. Apparently, this is a sign of acid reflux. I went to the other room and picked up Sage and put her into her favorite position. Head in my hands tilted back, stomach stretched, looking up at a ceiling fan (she LOVES looking up at ceiling fans).

    This provided a little relief, but she was still crying on and off.

    When Sage was still fussing, I started to say my automatic, “Dontcha know…”

    And that’s where I stopped.

    I didn’t know what it was like to have acid reflux, and for my stomach to hurt like hers did, and to not be able to find relief whatsoever on my own, and to only attain some relief if Mom or Dad came to hold me a certain way. Even if I had that experience as a baby myself, I don’t remember. I didn’t know or remember what Sage was feeling.

    But someone did. I believe that Christ, during that infinite and indescribable Atonement, even felt the pains of an infant with acid reflux. I believe He felt it all.

    “Children are alive in Christ” (Moroni 8:12).

    I couldn’t know what Sage was feeling. Dontcha know I didn’t know. But He knows, and He felt it, and He remembered it.

    When Sage cries she’s communicating to us that she needs help. It’s me and Beth’s job to come to her aid and help her with what she can’t help herself with. How many things, as adults, do we need help with that we can’t do ourselves? As adults, we think of ourselves as so independent. But all we do relies on the Lord. We rely on Him to allow our breath to work within our bodies, water to hydrate us, food to nourish us. These things don’t happen of ourselves but because of Him.

    God and Christ come to our aid when we need it and especially when we ask for it. Christ knows how to hold us just right to help ease our pain and give us relief. Rely on Him for aid just as little children rely on their parents. Be ye as little children (Matthew 18:3).

    Christ felt it. Christ remembers it. Christ experienced it. Turn to Him and He will help all our pains, challenges, and afflictions.

  • Another Toddler Experience

    Another Toddler Experience

    I hope parents learn from their toddlers. I learn from Ivy all the time. Here is a simple example.

    Today we were all sitting on the couch. Sage was cradled in my left arm. Beth was sitting to my right with Ivy in her lap. Bengie, our aging dog, was between us.

    Ivy was doing peaceful mother-daughter stuff with Beth. Seemed boring to me. Plus, I was getting bored with what I was doing on my computer. So I reached over and poked Ivy. It was intended to be a tickle, normally Ivy’s favorite. But in that moment of peace, she did NOT like it. She scowled at me and turned away.

    I apologized for an improper time to play. Ivy and Beth continued to peacefully interact.

    A few minutes later, Ivy reached out and smacked Bengie. He understandably got annoyed by this intrusion on his peace and snapped back. This upset Ivy. Wanting to utilize a learning opportunity, I said to Ivy, “Ivy, don’t smack Bengie if you don’t want him to do that. He’s just laying there and you bothered him.” I continued, “How would you feel if I did that to you?…”

    Oh.

    I realized what I was saying. I had just done that to her. It was just moments later that she did the same thing to Bengie. I was close to missing that simple and obvious realization.

    I put my hand on Ivy’s head and said, “That’s probably why you did that to Bengie, huh?”

    A learning experience.

    I’m not sure how much Ivy learned from it, but I did. I was reminded that Ivy is watching, replicating, repeating, and behaving in the ways she sees me act. When she disrupts Bengie’s peace, well, I’d just disrupted her peace. When she loses her temper, she’s seen me lose my temper. When she gets upset, she’s seen me get upset.

    Obviously, Ivy is her own person and has her own emotions and actions. But it’s amazing to see how much she copies me. If she does something I’m disappointed in, it’s beneficial for me as a parent to stop and wonder, “is this something she learned from me?”

    I fear sometimes that parents don’t take enough responsibility for how we mold our children. Again, toddlers get angry and frustrated and do completely irrational things that they aren’t copying from us. But sometimes, a lot of the time, their behavior can be traced directly to something they saw us do.

    When we realize this, our every movement, word, and reaction around our children becomes something important.