No Coincidences

Tag: chaos

  • Embrace the Chaos: Parenting a Toddler

    Embrace the Chaos: Parenting a Toddler

    On the heels of my Mr. Feeny post I had a revelation.

    Growing up, I have vague memories of staying up late with my mom at a very young age. I remember sitting with her on the couch while she folded laundry watching Law and Order or CSI. While these are vague memories, they’re powerful memories.

    The last few months have been a battle with Ivy. I won’t go into all the details to avoid seeming like a completely incompetent parent. To give you a tiny glimpse into it, Ivy requires us to lie next to her bed and hold her hand for her to sleep in her bed. She’ll then sleep there for a couple hours until she wakes up and realizes we’re not there, then come into our bed. That lying next to her bed phase waiting for her to fall asleep can be 10 minutes or it can be three hours.

    I am completely open to suggestions on how to get your toddler to sleep.

    I will maybe try suggestions but more likely laugh in the face of any suggestion that implies you can get a toddler to do anything they don’t want to do.

    Beth and I have really tried to add some structure to Ivy’s life. Before she become a full-blown 2 year-old with all the personality and stubbornness of an aged mule, I think we did a good job. We still try to get her to bed between 7pm and 8pm. See the above paragraph for notes on “trying” to get her to go to bed.

    Last night, I laid next to Ivy for 30 minutes while she sang, did some sort of dance lying down (I just know her feet were moving a lot), went through all her books (it was pitch black), and repeatedly re-adjusted the holding of my hand. After 30 minutes I stood up and left the room. I had a Jazz game to watch. She followed.

    Beth went to bed around 9:00pm.

    Ivy and I stayed up until 10:30pm watching the game. We laughed, we high-fived, we hugged, we danced, we cheered (quietly), we cried (they lost).

    “Education is not about obscure facts and little test scores. Education is about the overall effect of years of slow absorption of concepts, philosophies, approaches to problem-solving. The whole process is so grand and all-encompassing that it really can’t be threatened by the occasional late-night no-hitter. It is important that a boy (or girl) spend time with his (or her) father.”

    Mr. Feeny

    I may remember that night for the rest of my life. It was not a no-hitter, just the sixth regular season game in an 82 game season. But I may remember that night forever because it was so great.

    This led me to sending my mom a text, which read:

    “I’m more and more trending toward your way of doing things. What’s the point in having a battle of contrition with a 3yo that I’ll never win? Trying to put her to sleep at 8pm and lying next to her bed for hours on end hoping she’ll fall asleep. Why? So she can sleep for 2 hours then get up and get in our bed anyway? Not to mention if she doesn’t go to sleep, she’s at her peak best behavior ever. She’s sweet, nice, and plays quietly on her own, only occasionally asking if you want to play with her. It’s all going to come back around anyway. Either she’ll nap really good today at school or she’ll go to bed early tonight because she’s actually tired (doubt it). It’s also kind of the best when she’s being so nice and we get to stay up until 1030 watching the Jazz, cheering, clapping, hugging, and crying together. Multiple times I made her jump during her quiet playing because I got loud. Every time she looked at me like, “Uhm, trying to have some peace and quiet over here.” So she gets to see what we feel like all day every day. I’m failing to see the true downside. Teaching discipline? Avoiding chaos? We’re way past that. You can’t discipline a 3yo. She does whatever she wants when she wants and dares us to do something about it. She’ll come around, I’m sure. But for now, just embrace the chaos, I think, is the way to go.”

    I remember those nights with my mom.

    Maybe Ivy will remember some of these nights with me.

    I always hoped I’d have super well-behaved, obedient, and disciplined children. I think, on the toddler scale, Ivy is turning out to be exceptional in those categories. BUT – the idea of a disciplined toddler is like the fantasy of a well organized and controlled tornado – it really doesn’t exist.

    I think the occasional late night Jazz game is way more valuable than discipline. I think.

    Embrace the chaos.

  • Suns Experience

    Suns Experience

    Last week I got to play on the Phoenix Suns court. It was an awesome experience, one of the coolest things I’ve ever gotten to do. Huge shoutout to Robert, his wife Brooke, and Blake for making it happen. We got exclusive access to the court and were able to play pickup for three hours. Well, some of us were able to play for hours… more on that later.

    Some basketball thoughts from playing on a real NBA court.

    First, those lights are bright. When I’d shoot from the corners, if I watched the ball arc up before it got to the rim, I’d be blinded by the lights. If I looked up unconsciously while playing, I got blinded. Never thought about what it would be like to actually play under the “bright lights.”Speaking of the corners, it is a tight fit. Shooting an NBA three from the corner gives barely enough room for your feet. If you take a step back at all to try to explode toward the hoop, you’re stepping out of bounds. I have size 10 shoes. I don’t know how the size 20s even do it.

    Speaking of the lights, part of the package with getting to play on the court was we got to watch the Suns play that night against the Orlando Magic. We got to watch from the suite level with food and drink included. I’ve been to many Suns games, but this was a unique game to watch due to having been on the court just hours earlier. These things I mentioned like the lights and the tight space from the corner were things I considered more than I ever had before. The other thing that stood out to me that I’d never thought about before was how hectic an environment this was for NBA players to play basketball in.

    Basketball is a refuge for me. It’s therapeutic. Playing on an NBA court with thousands of people watching cannot be therapeutic.

    An NBA game is a chaotic and hectic experience. Of course, there are the thousands of people watching, yelling, and trash-talking. That’s crazy in and of itself. But what struck me the most after having played on the court was how loud the music was. While we played, we had a pretty chill March Madness game playing on the big screen with the volume on what I’d guess was around medium. It was still distracting. Watching that game later against the Magic I was focused on the NOISE, the MUSIC, and the BASS.

    It is pandemonium at an NBA game. For some reason I’d always thought the NBA players were a bit sheltered from the noise. After playing on the court, I realized it’s the opposite. They are at the bottom, center of a dome. All the noise and chaos are amplified on the court. It gave me my first true appreciation of home-court advantage. That chaos is one thing, but when it’s a chaos you’re not used to, (on the road visiting another stadium) with fans heckling you the whole time, it’s complete sensory overload.

    So, back to my time on the court, unfortunately I got hurt the beginning of the second game. I was running and just stepped wrong and twisted my ankle bad. It actually happened at almost the exact spot where Kevin Durant twisted his ankle while doing a routine warm-up layup a couple weeks earlier.

    Probably exactly what my ankle looked like, same spot.

    After I rolled my ankle, I at least got to see what it was like to be treated like an NBA player for a moment. Multiple trainers checked on me and brought me ice. It was a bit embarrassing. I got to spend the rest of the pickup session jealously watching with ice on my ankle from the sideline.

    Here’s the part where I insert what I learned spiritually from this experience.

    I’ve twisted that ankle at least 3 dozen times, not exaggerating. It’s never fun. It’s always painful.

    That night, I was laying in bed with my ankle propped up on pillows. I’d already discarded the ice that was on it. It was the middle of the night and my foot was THROBBING. It hurt.

    It hurt badly enough that I started praying for relief. I don’t want to be dramatic. I know that on the pain scale, what I was experiencing was pretty mild. But still, it hurt. That’s when I started thinking about every groin pull, every sprained ankle, every concussion, every headache, every upset stomach, every scalping, every stitch, every ingrown toenail, every scratch, every bruise, every heartache, every heartbreak, every disappointment, every fear, every doubt.

    How could He have felt it all?

    Here I was, writhing in pain, whining, praying for relief, over a sprained ankle. And He felt every sprained ankle of every person that ever did or would exist, all in a moment. He felt it all. How?

    I ponder often on the Atonement. I’ve tried to wrap my head around it. It’s not something we can wrap our heads around. That’s the point. He did something unimaginable. He did something incomprehensible. And he did it for us.

    I believe (I know) that Christ felt it all that night at Gethsemane. I don’t know how; I can’t understand it. But I know He did. It’s why I write about Him, it’s why I think about Him, it’s why I serve Him. Because for a long time, I tried to forget what He did for me because of guilt, or incomprehension, or selfishness. But now I think the most important thing I do outside of anything with my family is write about Him.

    I think the most important thing I do for my daughters is teach them about Him. Few things bring me as much joy as when Ivy sees a picture, I ask, “who’s that?” And she replies, “Jesus.” I hope someone reads this that needs to remember Him and what He did for us. When you think about what He did for us, ultimately it must make us more loving because we’re considering a love that is unfathomable. That makes us better.

  • Toddlers and Infants

    Toddlers and Infants

    I can’t remember where I first heard it, but I once heard teenagers described as assassins of happiness. I think toddlers are assassins of stability. You are constantly on edge about what chaotic thing is about to happen when around toddlers.

    Chaos Personified

    I’m convinced this anarchic nature of toddlers is not by coincidence.

    Beth and I have followed the expeditious family planning path thus far. Ivy and Sage are separated by exactly 21 months.

    I love toddlers. Ivy is so much fun. She is also so unstable. This, I think, is the part that is no coincidence. Infants are more predictable. They eat, they cry, they poop, they sleep. That’s about it. You can pretty much rely on those 4 activities from an infant.

    Fun

    Ivy’s standard response to any question is “no, yes! No! Yes, No! No, yes!”

    A normal interaction with Ivy:

    “Ivy, do you want some blueberries?”

    “NO! YES!”

    As I walk to the kitchen to get her blueberries –

    “No, no, no, no, no.”

    I turn around.

    “You don’t want blueberries?”

    Ivy – “Yes!”

    “You do want blueberries?”

    Ivy – “No!”

    I walk away from kitchen, giving up on the blueberry mission.

    Ivy – “No, no, no, no, no.”

    I stop, “Ivy, do you want blueberries?”

    Big, beautiful, irresistible, dimpled smile – “Yes.”

    We get blueberries.

    Ivy. Joy. Blueberries.

    Sage’s standard response to any question is to stare at me blankly. This infant response defines stability.

    Stability

    I love Ivy, but when I need a break from the hectic instability of a toddler, I go to Sage for some reliability. They are equally loved if only for the sake of my sanity.

    I love being a dad.

    All the toddler attitude: