No Coincidences

Tag: Family

Ivy Thoughts Part 4

After a discouraging post last week, and on this Thanksgiving day when there’s so much to be grateful for, it’s time for another happy installment of Ivy Thoughts. Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 for reference.

We had a bit of a fly infestation in our area for a couple weeks. Flies were in our home. We talked to neighbors and learned it was everyone. This led to a couple weeks of me constantly swatting flies. It became a fun recreational activity for me. Make lemonade out of lemons kind of thing. Now, Beth says if Ivy hears her make any loud sound in the kitchen, Ivy will yell, “You killin a fly mommy?”

All these dead flies have led to another interesting development. We were on a trip to the Grand Canyon and Ivy started talking about how someone died. I looked at Beth questioningly. I hadn’t heard Ivy talk about death before. Beth asked me if I knew where this discussion on death was coming from. I started scouring my memory for books we’d read, shows we’d watched, movies we’d seen, discussions we’d had in front of her. I couldn’t come up with anything. Beth informed me that Ivy’s interest (or knowledge in?) death started after all the dead flies she’d been seeing. It’s crazy what these kids pick up and how they learn things.

We went to an NBA Finals party at a friend’s house. Ivy and Sage were the only two kids invited. They’re cool like that. But it was basically a bunch of guys I play basketball with, a couple wives/girlfriends, then Beth and I with our two girls. The hosts got Ivy a box of Barbies to play with. This was Ivy’s first experience with Barbies and boy did she take to them. The next day Beth reported an exchange Ivy had with her Fisher Price Little People (her old favorite toys). It was a reenactment that went something like this, “People say, ‘What you want for Christmas?’ And I say ‘ummm I want Barbies like at the party’ and they say, ‘okay we tell Santa.’”

Sage

Sage

I was reading Ivy a bedtime book. Somehow, this night, she got ahold of Beth’s phone during bedtime and was scrolling through Beth’s pictures, which are almost all Ivy and Sage, obviously. Ivy wasn’t paying much attention to the book. I thought about giving up, but reading to her at night is one of my favorite parts of any day. It wasn’t the first time I was reading to an un-captivated audience. In an attempt to get Ivy’s attention, I said, “Look! A fireman!” Pointing to a fireman in the book. Ivy, without looking up from the phone, said, “That’s right, Dad.” It was a terrifying look into my future.

The very next morning Ivy and I were sitting on the couch eating fruit and watching the only movie that was allowed in our home while Ivy’s awake for 6 months, the Polar Express. She was entranced by Polar Express, despite it being her (twice a day for ~6 months, let’s go with) 360^th viewing. I said to her, “These strawberries are really good.” Without looking away from her movie she replied, “That’s right, Dad.”

Proud moments are one of the best parts of being a parent. Proud moments happen about as often as “not proud” moments. We try our best to laugh at the not proud moments and dwell on the proud moments. A “not proud” moment is every time Ivy throws food on the floor. I had a recent proud moment. It was just her and I hanging out in the living room. Beth and Sage were napping. Ivy and I were trying to decide what we wanted to do. Options included playing a game, building a tower, or playing with her Little People.

Then Ivy caught me off guard. She said, “We clean?”

I responded, “You want to clean the room?”

Ivy said, “We clean. Mommy be so proud?”

I told Ivy that Mom would be so proud if we cleaned the room. Instead of playing a game, we spent the next 30 minutes cleaning the room. It was awesome.

I don’t know how Beth will feel about me sharing this story but it’s too funny. Also, it’s not true, so it’s fine. For whatever reason, Ivy got obsessed with the idea of stinky breath. For other random obsessions see other Ivy Thougts posts for mentions of Zach, fried rice, and puppets. I believe this obsession originated from Beth telling Ivy she needed to brush her teeth, or her breath would stink. The other day, Beth was cuddling with Ivy on the couch. Ivy was sitting with her head on Beth’s shoulder. Beth looked down at Ivy and said, “I love you. I’m so glad I get to be with you.” Ivy looked up at Beth and said, “Your breath stink.”

Sage

Do you have a little hype person for every time you go to the bathroom? I do. We recently had a road trip back from St. George to Arizona. We stopped 4 times. Every time I took Ivy with me to the bathroom and every time she stood behind me at the urinal and said, “Go Daddy go! Go Daddy go!” She’s been doing this for months and it’s really quite encouraging.

I showed Ivy a picture of her as a baby and asked, “Do you know who that is?”

“Sage,” she responded.

I told her, no, that was baby Ivy.

She responded, “Oh… I love her.”

We should all love ourselves the way Ivy loves baby Ivy.

November 23, 2023
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.

November 9, 2023
Ivy Thougts Part 3

It’s time for one of my favorite posts to write – Ivy thoughts!

This is a good one.

One of the funnest things about being a parent is watching your child start to mimic you. It’s in those moments that I get a snapshot into how closely she is watching me. The other day Beth texted me and said, “I can tell when there’s a habit you do because Ivy does it. Like tapping your toothbrush on the edge of the sink. I said, ‘Does Daddy do that?’ And she said, ‘Yeah Daddy like tap tap tap.’”

Other examples are the words she copies. The other day she said to her grandpa, “Papa, come hang out.” Another time they were playing a game and she said, “You give it a try.” My favorite example showing Ivy paying attention and learning, she was standing at the kitchen counter while her grandpa cut vegetables. He set the knife down and she, unprompted, said, “Ivy no touch knives.” Ivy helps me put the dishes away. I’ll hand her cups, plastic bowls, plastic plates, forks, spoons and she’ll put them in the dishwasher. Early on I would start to hand her a knife and then pause and say, “Does Ivy touch knives.” Of course, in the beginning, she would say, “Yes,” and I would say, “No, no, Ivy doesn’t touch knives,” and she’d quickly say, “No, no, Ivy no touch knives.” So we’d continue and if I started to hand her a knife to test her she would quickly say, “No, no, Ivy no touch knives.” Glad to see the things I’m teaching her are travelling.

I had Ivy for an hour while I worked one day. She sat on the couch and watched Curious George by herself for 30 minutes. 30 minutes in she wanted to work with me. I tell her she can sit on my lap as long as she doesn’t touch anything. She proceeds to touch everything and say, “Can I touch this.” This I accept, having played this game before, as long as she doesn’t touch my keyboard. Then she starts throwing things. I gently set her aside and tell her it’s back to Curious George. This whole time she hasn’t said a word about the bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs on the right side of my desk. I’m amazed until… 2 minutes later she comes back. She walks up to my right arm which is on my chair’s arm rest. She gives my arm a huge hug and says, “Daddy, I’m so proud of you.” She gives it a good squeeze. I say, “Aw Ivy, thank you, I love you,” and give her a kiss. She promptly reaches over for the bag of chocolates and starts to walk away. I grab them just before she is out of reach. I tell her she can have one. I unwrap it and give it to her. As she walks out she says, “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” Is this what being wrapped around a finger feels like?

Ivy and I were cuddling in bed after a nap and totally out of nowhere Ivy looks up at me and says, “You have sharks on your water bottle, Dad?” I looked over at my water bottle and said, “No, my water bottle is just green.” Ivy said, “It OK Dada, one day when you’re bigger you’ll get sharks on your water bottle TOO.”

The other day Beth asked Ivy if she tooted and she said, very seriously, “No. There’s just a bobcat in my bum.” The same day, after I left for work, Ivy asked Beth, “Where Daddy going?” Beth responded that I went to work and Ivy said, “Again?!?!” You and me both sweet girl. She had a lot of personality that day.

This was one of those equally heartbreaking and also wonderful parenting moments. I took Ivy with me to an open gym for basketball a couple months back. I expected it to go well. It went as poorly as it could have. I had to leave early and it was the last time I took Ivy to open gym. In my frustration, after Ivy was upset and throwing a fit and crying, I told her I’d hoped I could take her with me to basketball more this season but that I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Like I said, I hadn’t taken her back with me since. Recently, I was at basketball. Ivy saw me leave with my bag and ball. “Where you goin Daddy?” “I have to go to basketball sweetie, I’ll see you when I get back.” She just looked at me with the most beautiful eyes and content face. But it wasn’t the normal – ‘see ya later’ face. While I was at practice Beth texted me, “Ivy’s been packing a bag and saying ‘I’m packing because I have to go to basketball soon. I know you will miss me when I’m at basketball. I come back though.’” I realized I need to give her another shot.

Apparently when I was gone for work an entire day Ivy kept saying, “Say what’s wrong Hero Boy.” So Beth replies and asks what’s wrong with Hero Boy. “I lost my daddy.” Heart. Broken.

We’ve had a few days of complete toddler turmoil. I love Ivy. She’s been a monster. She’s in the stage where if you ask her not to do something it’s instantly the next thing she does. Not kidding. We’ve been letting her play Battleship. You know, like the old school board game. She sits and puts the ships and pegs in and plays Battleship with herself. On occasion, the little pegs drop and I had to emphasize to her that it was important those didn’t drop because we didn’t want to lose pieces and Sage could choke on them. Ivy got out of her chair, walked across the room to where Sage was, and started to hand her one of the little pegs. It wasn’t like the temptation was even there. Sage wasn’t right next to her. She had to get out of her seat (a lot of work) and walk across the room to find Sage and willfully disobey what I just said. It was like she was possessed by some irrepressible urge to do exactly what I just told her not to do. These are the parenting moments that are teaching us patience, I guess.

On that note of Ivy being difficult and us trying to be patient – I was leaving for basketball the other day and it had been a particularly stressful day for Beth. I went to Ivy before I left and quietly talked to her. I asked her to be my best girl. To help her mom, to take care of her sister, and to be my best, sweetest girl. “Can you do that for me?” “Yes, Daddy.” Beth texted me while I was at basketball: “We finally had a quiet moment to sit down after a walk and crafts. I’m trying so hard and yet she’s being so difficult! Ivy has a cold drink and Sage is eating her dinner. Ivy looks up at me and says in a sweet little voice, ‘Mom, I am doing my best.’ I have no idea where she heard that or if she even knows what that means but it was so sweet and probably true so I told her, ‘I know, my sweet Ivy’ and felt a little calmer. The student becomes the teacher yet again.” Ivy knows what that means. And she’s amazing. And she’s teaching us so much, while we try to teach her just enough to survive and not choke her sister.

September 28, 2023
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.

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.

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.”

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?”

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.

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.

May 25, 2023
The Haunting of Hill House and Eternity

The Haunting on Hill House is one of the best shows I’ve seen. It’s been out for a while so you’re being forewarned, there will be spoilers. It’s worth watching. Keep in mind there will be some language and mature content. It is still on Netflix. If you haven’t watched, go binge 10 episodes and come back.

In the show, Hill House is evil. It drives those within it to madness. It entraps them and makes them make awful choices. Those who stay too long go crazy and lose themselves to the house. Multiple deaths have occurred in the house and those who die there stay there forever.

The show makes it clear the house is evil. The last episode begins with a quote:

“Certainly, there are places which attach to themselves an atmosphere of holiness and goodness. It might also be said that some houses are born bad.”

It continues:

“This house, which seemed somehow to have formed itself flying together in its own powerful pattern under the hands of its builders reared its great head back against the sky without concession to humanity. It was a house without kindness. Never meant to be lived in. Not a fit place for people, or for love, or for hope.”

Sounds evil right?

Well…

That’s why the title of this post is a “conflicted message.” The above quotes don’t fit with the ending of the show. Call it Hollywood happy endings if you must. I had a different perspective. I thought of the ending in terms of what I know about heaven, and eternity.

The climax of the final episode comes when one of the characters learns the true nature of the home. He learns his father always knew the nature of the home and protected his children from it. We, the viewers, learn alongside this character what has been happening all along.

The show is based around a family who moved into the house. The mother is lost to the home and commits suicide. Before committing suicide, she brings a young girl, the daughter of the groundskeepers, with her. Extremely dark.

The father whose wife committed this act tells the parents of the young girl that he plans to burn the house to the ground, burn the hill, and salt the earth. They beg him not to do it. Their daughter is now a part of this home. She appears as a living, breathing child, though she is none of those things. Her soul belongs to the house.

The father agrees to keep the groundskeeping family on to protect the home and spend the rest of their lives with their now perpetually 9-year-old daughter. The father/owner of the home leaves the home, and his dead wife, and takes his kids away. He wants to protect them from the home and let them experience life.

We learn at the end that the father would occasionally visit the home to be with his wife. His wife experiences life as some sort of dream. She doesn’t know how much time has passed. She doesn’t fully comprehend her situation. Part of her mind appears to have been lost.

Back to the climax of the show. Many years after the initial tragedy of losing his wife to the house, we see the father come back one last time. He ends his life there so he can spend the rest of time with his wife who he loves. The ultimate emotional moment of the show comes when the groundskeeper carries in his dying wife, and with tears he sees her with his daughter and a baby. I assume it is a baby that died in the home long ago. What the old groundskeeper is seeing is heaven. He is seeing the opportunity to be with his wife, daughter, and baby forever.

There are two ways to look at this. Either Hill House is evil and what they are seeing is a counterfeit of heaven. Those who die there will spend some amount of time there, whether it be 100 or 500 or 10,000 years, but they won’t spend eternity there together.

Or.

The other option is this is heaven. The family will spend the rest of time and eternity there together. I’ll take the happy ending.

What I know of heaven is that it will be where families are together forever. Families are meant to be together. Families are meant to be eternal. While many believe the family unit is just an earthly device, I cry foul! God gave us this powerful, important, sustaining, empowering, frustrating, growth promoting unit only to see it demolished after our test here? Doesn’t make sense.

Families are forever. Families are eternal. It’s the great truth of the gospel. It’s a great comfort to me, as I sit here and look at my daughters. Heaven can’t be heaven unless I’m with them forever.

There were some good themes in this show that made me think. There’s a whole other spiritual implication from this show that analogizes leaving the Garden of Eden. It was a deep show if you let it be. But the greatest message was at the end – about family, about how important family is, that there is nothing more important than being with your family.

That is what God has given us: eternal families. What a blessing that is.

“Love is the relinquishment of logic. The willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. We yield to it, or we fight it. But we cannot meet it halfway.”

May 18, 2023