No Coincidences

Tag: Polar Express

  • Parenting is Hard and Rewarding: Polar Express

    Parenting is Hard and Rewarding: Polar Express

    We took the girls to Williams for the Polar Express. If you live in Las Vegas or Phoenix, this is a must-do activity if you have children under the age ~9.

    This was Ivy’s third time and Sage’s second time. This trip was for Ivy’s fifth birthday.

    We came into Williams on a Friday. We arrived at the hotel 30 minutes before we were able to check in. So we hung out in the hotel lobby, walking around, writing to Santa, and drinking hot chocolate. We got into our room around 3:00pm, got settled, and started thinking about dinner.

    We went to a restaurant in town then visited the shops. The girls did an awesome job and had a lot of fun.

    We got back to the hotel around 6:15pm.

    Ivy and Sage were setup together on the pull out couch. We put on Bluey and let them watch.

    I’ll recap the next four hours in one word: chaos.

    I don’t want to give all the details. Just know things were not going well. Bedtime is hard.

    Things culminated in me doing something I regretted to Sage. Afterwards, she was lying down on the bed, stoic, sad, unmoving.

    This balance being a dad who is loving, patient, caring, kind, and understanding but also enforcing rules and having a strict expectation for behavior is the most difficult thing to balance.

    I tried to apologize to Sage. I tried to comfort her and tell her I loved her and she was nonresponsive. That is very unlike Sage.

    I proceeded to get a bottle for Wren who was crying.

    Amidst balancing Wren and heating a bottle in the bathroom I heard noise in the hotel room and returned to find Ivy bouncing up and down on the bed, inches from Sage’s head. It was 11pm.

    I lost it.

    I smacked the bed and told her to lie down. I smacked the bed two more times to make sure my point got across. It was loud. Ivy cowered. Ivy cried. I think I woke up Sage.

    I started lecturing Ivy about how she was getting too old for such behavior and she needed to do better. Ivy was crying and saying I owed her an apology over and over. I told Ivy I did not owe her an apology. I looked at Sage, who was now sitting up, and said, “I owe Sage an apology.” Sage gave me a small smile.

    Those moments are so crazy. Why can’t we all be like this?

    “Become as little children” (Matthew 18:3).

    Moments ago she couldn’t look at me. Now she was smiling at me, the cutest, sweetest, most innocent and loving smile.

    I came back to Ivy.

    I started to tell her that we had all not been doing a great job lately. I told her I could be better, Mom could be better, Sage could be better, Wren could be better, and Ivy could be better. I told Ivy that she was my big girl and she had to do better. I then told Ivy she wasn’t perfect. I started to explain that I didn’t expect her to be perfect. I just expected her to do her best. Before I could elaborate, she latched onto that statement that she wasn’t perfect. She started repeating over and over, replacing “you owe me an apology” with “I am perfect.”

    I spoke very intentionally and clearly to Ivy. I reiterated that she wasn’t perfect. She got more upset. But then I told her, “I AM NOT PERFECT.” This made her pause. I told her I was not perfect and I made many mistakes. I told her I wanted to be a good dad and sometimes it was really hard. I told her we all needed to do better. I started to cry.

    I was sitting on the bed near Ivy. Ivy came out from behind her covers and knelt beside me. She wrapped her arms around me, hugged me tight, and said something I hope I never forget.

    She said, “Dad, you are perfect. You’re the best daddy in the whole world.”

    This took my crying to sob levels. Ivy started to cry. But not like she had been, not 5-year-old tantrum or normal crying. She was really crying. She hugged my neck and held onto me and she cried on my shoulder.

    I looked Ivy in the eyes and I told her thank you for what she said.

    She looked back at me and told me she loved me.

    How do we deserve these children?

    I talked more to Ivy about how we all needed to be better and that tomorrow I was going to try to be perfect. She said she was going to be perfect too.

    We went to bed. After all that, as if exhausted from a prize fight, all the girls immediately went to bed.

    The next morning they all woke up like we didn’t just go 10 rounds the night before.

    Children are amazing. Children are special.

    Sage immediately came and started bouncing on me first thing in the morning.

    Throughout that whole day, Ivy did so good. She was kind to her sisters. She was patient, helpful, and mature. She helped her cousins. She was nearly perfect. Throughout the day she would ask me, “Dad, am I being perfect?”

    Yes, I told her. She was.

    I’ve thought a lot about that night since. Do I regret losing my cool? I don’t know. As parents, we want to be awesome, patient, kind all the time. But sometimes, I think a child needs to see you hit a bed. Sometimes kids need to see that we get angry as parents too.

    Would I have had that special moment with Ivy if she hadn’t seen me lose my cool? Would she have had the desire to be “perfect” the next day?

    After losing my cool, it was extra important to be calm and show them extra love (D&C 121:43). This parenting thing is difficult. I’m trying every day to be “perfect.” I’m falling short every day. But I’m grateful for the example of these children. How quickly they forgive, move on, love so willingly and so openly. I hope I can be more like them.

    Except during bedtime.

  • Ivy Thoughts Part 4

    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) 360th 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.