Tag: daddy daughter

  • 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.

  • Children Need Their Father

    Children Need Their Father

    I went on a weeklong river rafting trip. I believe it was the longest time I’d spent away from Ivy. A large portion of that trip, I did not have my cell phone with me.

    When I got off the river and started driving back to Las Vegas with my family, I checked my phone and learned that Ivy had not had a good week. Meltdowns, tantrums, refusing to sleep. Apparently, she’d had a very hard time in my absence. I didn’t even recognize the girl being described.

    Many theories were tossed around to explain the behavior: teething, out of her routine (they stayed at my in-law’s house), she was sick, her shoes were too tight. I knew the truth. She missed her daddy. I couldn’t wait to get home and comfort her.

    I’ve written about missing Ivy before. This was the first time, it seemed, she could really miss me. I just finished a book, What a Difference a Daddy Makes by Dr. Leman that talks all about the importance of a father, especially in a daughter’s life. It talks about how a father reinforces confidence and helps a daughter relate to men as she gets older. It talks about how moms have a tendency to parent and do things one way, and the balance of how a father generally does things is important to a child’s development. This is at least partly why The Family Proclamation says, “Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan. Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity.”

    I believe I was 16 when I first hung up on my mom while she was talking. I promptly received a call from my dad. The usual mild-mannered, relaxed father I knew was gone. I was told over the phone, in no uncertain terms, that if I EVER hung up on my mother ever again, he would kill me. I believed him. He told me I was to treat my mom with respect. It was an important lesson I needed to learn. It was the last time I ever hung up on my mom.

    This is an example of why kids need their dad. Dads, in society, have gotten a ridiculously unfair reputation. Dr. Leman in the aforementioned book noted the unfair representation of fathers on television. Fathers are almost always bumbling blockheads that can’t get anything right. This is unfair and wrong. It has built a belief in society that fathers aren’t needed, or worse, that they cause more harm than good. Fathers are important.

    So how was Ivy when I returned home? An angel. The most well-behaved, happy, sleeping babe you ever met. She smiled ear to ear the moment I saw her when I got home. It was such dramatic joy that I almost didn’t believe all the propaganda I’d been hearing about her. She just needed her daddy.

    Before I could get too cocky, Beth had a doctor’s appointment during the week. It was Ivy and I for a couple hours. Then I got to witness all the behavior I’d seen.

    A growing girl needs her daddy. She also needs her mother. We’ve seen that Ivy is way happier when it’s all of us together. Ivy’s still relatively fresh from heaven. She knows the importance of family and the The Family Proclamation.

    I’m grateful to understand the importance of family. I’m grateful to have a small inkling of how important I can be to Ivy’s life. I’m grateful that Beth continues to be such a great mother. I’m grateful to have an amazing family to help me understand these things. I’m grateful that families can be forever.

  • Ivy James Quackenbush 12/4/20

    Ivy James Quackenbush 12/4/20

    Ivy came today. I’m writing this in a bit of a haze. I keep getting told to get used to it.

    Beth started having contractions around 2AM this morning. Apparently I asked her if she was OK around 2:30AM. Don’t have a complete recollection of that.

    Around 5AM her water broke. We were at the hospital around 6AM. Beth got checked in and I believe was around 3.5cm.

    At 6:30AM I received a text from my father-in-law (shout out Keith Cannon), “Of course we’re praying for Beth and Ivy. But also for you. I hope you stay conscious. Good luck.”

    Between 6AM and 8:30AM things moved very quickly.

    At 7:57AM I texted my mom and told her Beth seemed to be in so much pain. They wanted her to finish some pitocin.

    I think it was 8:30AM when they came back in and kind of freaked out. Beth was in excruciating pain and at about 9cm. 10cm (I learned) is what is needed to start delivery.

    I started getting our stuff together while they quickly wheeled her to the delivery room. When I came out into the hallway they were gone. I started wandering and came upon a man in scrubs. I asked him if someone came this way and he asked who. I told him he would have known if they did. I walked down the other hall and came up to a nurse. She asked what I was looking for and I said, “the screaming.” She led me to the delivery room.

    I texted my mom from the delivery room at 9:07am, “Close.”

    They finally got the epidural in at that time which made things drastically better. Beth improved immediately.

    From 9:07AM to 9:23AM Beth went from writhing, screaming, and crying in pain to texting my mom. “Epidural has kicked in and I’m 10cm. I’ll probably deliver in an hour or so. They were shocked how fast I was moving.”

    I’ve heard over and over about this thing that happens when becoming a father. I can’t emphasize it enough. I can’t say it with adequate enthusiasm or exaggeration.

    When I first saw Ivy James Quackenbush my heart expanded, my world flipped upside down. In an instant I realized I would do anything, I would give my life without a second thought and at a moment’s notice for that beautiful soul. She was perfect, so beautiful.

    I wish I could put it into words, but they’re not enough. My life as I knew it was over. And I knew it. This little thing was the new center. The center of my universe- along with Beth.

    Watching what Beth went through, so much pain, to bring this life into the world. I instantly had something open up inside of me. Appreciation for my mother. ‘She went through this for me?!?!’ Love and awe at the strength of my wife and all women. How can a man walk out on a wife after seeing her bring the most important thing in the world, into the world? I thought of so many mothers – Eve, Mary, my mom, my wife. My Ivy.

    How can women be treated the way they are in the world when they are the entire world? They’re why we’re all here.

    I loved these two in a way I didn’t know was possible.

    I couldn’t stop staring at Ivy. The gravitational pull of the universe had changed.

    Beth held her and she screamed. Let the record show I cut the cord. She screamed and it was simultaneously the most fascinating and most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I didn’t know a scream could be so powerful.

    I put my finger out and Ivy grabbed. She stopped screaming. The nurses started to take her for measurements and she wouldn’t let go of my finger. My heart!

    I followed her. The thoughts I hadn’t let start because her coming had always been surreal started to flood my mind: I’m going to play basketball with her. I hope she loves basketball. We’ll play together. We’ll be best friends. I hope I never hurt her. I hope I can always protect her.

    How does Heavenly Father love me? I’m a little closer to understanding today. I’m a little closer to understanding what true love is.

    Ivy James Quackenbush and Elisabeth Brooke Quackenbush. My family.

    7lb 3oz 21in 10:59am. Perfect.