One of my favorite things to do is watch a baby hear something.
Every sound – WHIP – their head is flying in that direction.
Sage on baby monitor hearing a sound
I could always see Ivy’s, and now Sage’s, internal thinking:
**Sound of a *click
**head whip, internal thought – “What the heck was that???”
It’s awesome.
It made me realize something recently. Why don’t adults react that way to noises? The answer is obvious and simple. We’ve often heard the noise before. The sound of the air conditioning powering on, we’ve heard it before. The sound of the dishwasher starting, we’ve heard that before. The sound of the refrigerator being shut, we’ve heard that before. No need to look in that direction. Noises we haven’t heard before (few) or ones that catch us off guard (like a knock at the door, who knocks at doors anymore??) will get our attention.
Ivy on the other hand – amazement.
I think the advice from Christ to be like little children has many facets to it. Humility is the one we always talk about. I think this is another way we should be like little children: our amazement of the world should never cease. We should always be fascinated by the little sounds and movements around us. We have become numb to the miraculous world we live in.
This led me to another thought: how much our attention is sought after and how noisy the world is, how we’re relentlessly attacked by noise.
Billboards, neon signs, sounds, graphics, excitement. It’s no wonder we don’t wonder at small noises when the world is screaming at us with loud ads all day every day.
Kind of wish I could go back to that innocence and truly marvel at every sound like Ivy and Sage do. Their curiosity is a beautiful thing to see. I just hope as they get older they seek after the beautiful noises, occurrences, and moments around them, and can tune out the loud, noisy, and obnoxious noises the world wants them to focus on.
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.
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.
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.
We were in Flagstaff after New Years. We drove up the morning of 1/2/23 in a brand new year. We met my family, who drove from Las Vegas, for lunch. My family included Mom, Dad, Dresdan, Kodi Joe, and Easton. After lunch, we found some little hills at a park to go sledding. Ivy loved sledding. It’s possible she loved it a little too much. The moment the sled stopped at the bottom of the hill, and sometimes before the sled even stopped, she would be saying, “again, again, again.” If I paused a moment to catch my breath she’d get upset.
After sledding, we went back to our hotels to get cleaned up. My family came to our hotel and we played games.
The next day we went sledding again. It was interesting how quickly Ivy turned on sledding. She was excited to get out there, and after we went down one hill I received the normal, “again, again, again.” After the second time down the hill, she was done.
“Do you want to go again?” I asked.
“No.”
Just like that, Ivy was done sledding. We did a little more sledding, which she tolerated. Then Ivy saw the park and swings that were nearby. All she wanted to do was swing after that. Ivy loves swings.
We all had lunch after sledding and parted ways. The drive to Las Vegas is nearly four hours and it was pretty stormy. It had been snowing for some time and the temperature was around 25 degrees.
Beth and I sat in the parking lot trying to decide what to do. We were in Flagstaff primarily for a St. Mary’s basketball game. We still had some time before we needed to be at the gym. The plan had been for us to drive home after the basketball game. Beth was worried about driving home after it had been raining and snowing with the roads being icy. My lack of concern came not from bravery but from a complete ignorance of snow.
Beth had strong feelings against driving home at night on unsafe roads which trumped my blissful ignorance. We audibled to finding a hotel room for the night and then went to the gym.
The team was late due to bus troubles but ultimately arrived safely and we were able to have a basketball game. All I’ll say about this game was Flagstaff High School, on top of having a very good team, also had a significant home-court advantage. You try getting a bus of Phoenix high school girls that never see snow to focus on a basketball game after driving up in a snowstorm. After the game, the Flagstaff High School team looked confused as our team ran outside to roll around in the snow. We overheard, “they must not see snow much” as we walked to our car.
We checked into a new hotel that night. Hotels with Ivy are fun. She gets so excited. She likes to walk around the room and be present with the whole family. Ivy and I share a bed while Beth and Sage get the other.
Sleeping in the same bed as Ivy is an extreme adventure. I never know when I’m going to get kicked or slapped. Every time I wake up and look at Ivy she’s in a completely different position.
At some point in the middle of the night, I awoke to a thump sound on the opposite side of the bed. You know how when you’re awoken by a noise, it usually takes your brain a minute or two to understand what it just heard? That didn’t happen with this sound. I knew exactly what happened the moment my brain woke up to it. I can’t remember how I got to the other side of the bed. I don’t know if I jumped to all fours on the bed like Spiderman and leaped to the other side, or if I jumped off the bed and ran around. It was most likely the latter. However I got there, I arrived before the tears even started.
I found Ivy’s shape on the floor with my hands as it was pitch dark and I couldn’t see anything. I scooped her into my arms as she started to cry. I held her head to my should and told her it would be ok. As I rocked her I told Ivy that we were going to get back in bed but I would hold her and she would be safe. She stopped crying immediately and said, “yes.” We got back into the bed and I slept the rest of the night with Ivy in my arms.
As I thought back on this, I was struck by something. I was struck by how quickly Ivy stopped crying. The moment I told her I was going to hold her and she was going to be safe, her simple reply “yes” and she was completely at peace. I was so glad I could be there for her and make her know she was safe.
I think in this life we can often feel like God isn’t there to hug us and make us feel safe as quickly as we’d like. I think we forget that in God’s time, His reaction is instant. It just feels longer for us. I believe God is always there ready and willing to wrap us in a protective hug, whether we realize it or not.
Another thing I was struck by was how quickly I reacted. If there was ever any doubt in my mind about whether I would jump in front of a moving vehicle to save my daughters, that doubt is gone. I would throw myself in front of danger for my girls without hesitation. I know that.
Back to that Flagstaff High School basketball game, I wasn’t skimming over the details of that game only because I wanted to move creatively through the story. I didn’t want to talk too much about how badly we got our butts kicked.
We’ve had mostly close games this season and a couple bad blowouts to two of the best teams in Arizona. Thinking back on that game, I realized how proud of the team I was. The first half was the lowest low. Our team gave up and practically stopped playing. Their heads were down and they were resigned to a bad loss. We had a serious talk with them at halftime about doing their best no matter what the score was. I pulled some girls aside that were leaders on the team and told them I was disappointed in their reaction to losing. I told them I knew they were disappointed, frustrated, upset, and embarrassed; so was I. But they had to be leaders, stay positive, and encourage their teammates.
The second half we were like a different team. We still weren’t the better team, but we were a better team. I got slightly emotional thinking about how big a turnaround those girls showed in the second half. Instead of continuing to pout and give up, they encouraged each other and really tried to be better.
I don’t get emotional like that thinking about the average game. It’s the intensely adverse games that I think back on and get very proud of our teams.
I would never wish for Ivy to fall off the bed. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t kind of glad it happened. It was a chance for me to see how quickly I would react to the pain of my daughter. It gave Ivy a chance to see I am there for her and I will protect her. Will I always be able to react that quickly? No. But Ivy is starting to learn I am always there.
I think this life is about learning God is also always there.
Would I ever wish my basketball team to get beaten by an obscene amount of points? Of course not… except, well, it gives them the greatest opportunity to grow. Getting blown out is a real opportunity to see what kind of person each girl is. I truly believe getting blown out in a basketball game is teaching those girls a valuable lesson about getting your teeth kicked in in real life and how you react to it.
Moth’s come to a flame because it is warm and comforting. While the flame is warm and comforting, eventually warmth and comfort make you stagnant, and before you realize it, you’re stuck or worse, burnt. It’s the adversity and challenges in life that shape us and keep us on our toes.
Adversity can give us amazing opportunities to see what kind of person we are. It’s easy to be kind, encouraging, and happy when life is all good and nothing difficult is happening. It’s a little more challenging when life is throwing all the roadblocks your way.
I know (Doctrine and Covenants 121) that this is how God feels about adversity. He doesn’t love that we have to go through it, but He knows we have to go through it.
Adversity is our greatest opportunity to see what we’re really made of. As I get older and more “mature” I can say with more and more honesty that I am grateful for adversity as it gives me the best opportunity to find out what kind of person I really am.
If you’re a parent and ever get frustrated with your kids (every parent), especially if they are younger kids, you need to check out the Disney short called “Float.”
It’s only 6 minutes long and can be watched on Disney+ or HERE.
I have to remind myself often that Ivy is constantly experimenting. Everything she does is an attempt to understand the world around her. She’s never really trying to make a mess or destroy things. She’s only trying to see how that food that’s thrown will splatter and land.
This Disney short reminds us that all children are unique and special. No matter how challenging our children are, we must remember they’re the greatest gift in the world. Every so often I have to pause and watch Ivy and think how amazing it is she is what she is. She was nothing 3 years ago. Today she is a living, breathing, experimenting, ever challenging, extraordinary person.
I have to constantly temper what I think I want from Ivy.
I want her to be confident, but I like it when she is quiet and reverent in public, especially at church.
I want her to be independent but one day I’ll desperately miss her wanting to hold my hand.
I want her to want my attention. Unless I’m busy.
I want her to laugh and have fun and show joy. Unless it’s too loud.
I want her to ask for help when she needs it, but I want her to do things she is capable of without me. At the same time, like the hand holding, one day I’ll desperately miss when my babe needed my help.
All these contradictions we go through as parents.
This is a short post just to be a reminder to all parents that your children are special. What makes them difficult and challenging is what makes them special. We aren’t meant to change our children. I actually think they’re meant to change us.
No Coincidences 