No Coincidences

Tag: parenthood

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
Of Goodly Parents
Over Christmas, I watched family home videos with my family. We played a video from 1994, a few months after my sister Adie was born. I was four at the time. I was singing to Adie.

Early in the video, I was singing Humpty Dumpty, Old Mcdonald, and Jack and Jill. Then I started singing Follow the Prophet.

Adam was a prophet, first one that we know.

In a place called Eden, he helped things to grow.

Adam served the (King!) Lord by following his ways.

We are his descendants in the latter days.

Of course, at that age, I stumbled through most of the song and got many prompts. King was my confident guess at who Adam served. My answer was as right as the correct lyric anyway.

My mom joked while my whole family was gathered around watching, “See, we did teach you about the Bible.” We laughed.

I don’t remember singing that song to Adie when I was four, obviously. But that song is so ingrained in my heart and soul, it’s a part of my being. Watching that video, it’s a physical, emotional, and spiritual remembering. As an adult now, thinking about that song, it feels like it’s always been a part of me. After watching that quick video, I know why.

Parenthood is infinite tiny moments. I know that every day provides thousands and thousands of opportunities to have an impact on Ivy and Sage. I’m grateful for the thousands and thousands of moments my parents impacted me.

My parents have flaws just as I do. I pray to Heavenly Father that, despite my many shortcomings and flaws, I can have a positive impact on Ivy and Sage, just as my parents had on me.

If you’ve read the themes in my writing, you know there are three things ingrained in me that I know to be true.
1. I have a divine inheritance; I am a child of God.
2. I am loved.
3. I am watched over.
I hope to ingrain these same truths into the hearts and minds of Ivy and Sage. I wish to remind them here of what their souls already know. That is the greatest gift I could give them.
August 3, 2023
Sound to Babies

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.

June 15, 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
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.

April 13, 2023