No Coincidences

Tag: toddler

  • Blessing of Sickness

    Blessing of Sickness

    I think getting sick is a great blessing.

    Before anyone gets mad at me, let me clarify. I think short-term, temporary, not too dangerous, not too terrible sickness can be a great blessing. I’m talking the colds, the stomach bugs, the flu, the non-life threatening sicknesses are the best. Being sick sucks. It’s miserable. I’m the cliché ‘whine and cry more than anyone about being sick’ person, but, I am so grateful for sickness.

    Let me elaborate with a specific example.

    Sage started throwing up like crazy at 9:30pm, soon after going to bed. I got her out of bed. She was projectile vomiting and writhing in pain. We ended up at the hospital. We brought Sage home around 1:30am.

    Sage went right to sleep in our bed with Beth. I slept on the couch. I think I finally fell asleep around 2:00am. At 4:00am I awoke to a familiar sound, but this time it wasn’t Sage. My worry had come true. Ivy was crying. I ran to her room and turned on the light to find her, her pillow, and her quilt covered in throw up.

    I knew more was coming and was too exhausted to do the whole strip the bed and cleanup routine so I’m ashamed (not really, actually) to say I just cleaned it up and told Ivy to lay back down. I wiped her mouth, got a bucket, made sure she was comfortable, got a blanket and pillow for myself, and laid down next to her.

    For the next 2.5 hours, I could have set my watch to Ivy throwing up. Every 20 minutes from 4:00am to 6:20am when we finally got up, she would throw up. Just enough time for me to start to doze off while holding her hand. I’d hear it start, I’d jump up and give her the bucket, I’d wipe up any that missed, I’d wipe her mouth. Rinse repeat (pun intended?).

    This all sounds miserable, right? Where is the blessing in this? This is horrible!

    Well, it kind of is. No doubt it is heartbreaking watching your little ones be sick. It is heartbreaking. They can’t control it. They don’t know what’s going on. It’s sad.

    At 6:20am Ivy and I got up and cuddled on the couch. We put on the cartoon Doug by Ivy’s demand. 18 minutes into a 23-minute episode she said, “This episode is too long put on something else.”

    Ivy and I proceeded to have a Boy Meets World marathon. She was Sean for the rest of the day. I was Cory. Sage was Morgan. Sometimes I was Allen. If you don’t know those characters, step up your Boy Meets World knowledge.

    Sage woke up around 8am or something. This is all a blur now as I hadn’t really slept at all. Sage ate some grapes and I immediately put her back to sleep. Ivy and I were back to our marathon.

    Beth mentioned I should go pick up our prescription of Zofran. As exhausted as I was, I decided this was the best opportunity for me to do that. Ivy was getting tired. She went into the room with Beth to lie down and I packed up to go down the street to the pharmacy.

    Oh did I mention Beth was sick the whole day too? Side note, this is how things go in our family, I’ll likely be puking my guts out 24-48 hours after the rest of the family, I always catch these things on a delay. We joke it’s my Quackenbush DNA. My girls only have 50% of the Quackenbush DNA. The virus will get me, but I’ll fight it off for a while. (I can even more gratefully say now, as I wrote this a couple weeks ago, that I never got this sickness, boo-yah).

    I came back from the pharmacy and luckily got to sleep for an hour(?) before Sage woke up. I got Sage up and fed her some food. We spent an hour bonding, cuddling, and snuggling in the living room before Ivy woke up. I put Sage back to sleep and Ivy and I continued our BMW marathon before going on a walk.

    We walked around the neighborhood, sat in the grass, played eye spy.

    You get the picture.

    Came back. Sage was up. Feed Sage. Bathe Sage.

    Long day.

    Awesome day.

    It’s so hard to slow down in this world.

    Sickness makes us slow down. This was a special day. This is a day I will treasure.

    There were so many special moments. Like on our walk when Ivy held my hand to make me feel safe. Or when Ivy asked on our walk if I knew where the dumpster was and then told me, “You’re absolutely right.” All those sad but tender moments of grabbing a bucket and holding Ivy and telling her, “I’m here, you’re OK, I’ve got you” while she retched and threw up. Sage cuddling in my lap and looking up at me and I knew she knew she was safe and going to be okay. Seeing Sage and Ivy get better before my eyes – getting back to their normal selves.

    There were so many moments that were so important with my girls that day.

    I wouldn’t have had those moments if not for their sickness.

    Being sick is miserable. But it can also be really special.

    One final memorable moment – Ivy was going potty and I was about to get in the shower. I told her, “I’m going to shower and when I get out I’ll get you some food. You can have nachos or noodles or toast or crackers or a sandwich. Think about what you want when I get out.” Ivy’s response, “Dad, I’m not going to think of all those things.”

  • Embrace the Chaos: Parenting a Toddler

    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.

  • Ivy Thougts Part 3

    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.

  • Defense of Love You Forever

    Defense of Love You Forever

    Love You Forever written by Robert Munsch and illustrated by Sheila McGraw.

    Beth made a big mistake and I’m calling her out here. She has criticized Love You Forever. For those unfamiliar with this fabulous children’s book, you can watch a 5-minute video HERE to have it read out loud to you. Or you can just read my quick summary here. I suggest you watch the 5-minute read-aloud video, but prepare for the waterworks.

    Love You Forever takes you through the life of a baby boy, who turns into a toddler, who turns into a teenager, who turns into an adult. Throughout the book the mother occasionally comes into her son’s room at night and rocks him to sleep singing:

    “I’ll love you forever,

    I’ll like you for always,

    As long as I’m living

    my baby you’ll be.”

    I won’t spoil the ending for you, but that is the gist.

    I’m just going to say it: I have a hard time getting through this book when I read it to Ivy or Sage. It’s emotional thinking about them growing up to have their own house and yet, still being my babies.

    Beth, on the other hand, has orchestrated an all-out assault on the precious, nostalgic, loved book. I tried to reach out to Beth for a record of that social media post. Apparently, she burned the evidence.

    Recently Beth shared a mom forum post from a couple people who agreed with me. They said the book made them emotional. This led to Beth and I discussing the book, yet again. You’d be surprised how much this book has been discussed between us. Enough for me to take it to the blog!

    Beth says it’s weird that the mother in the book is breaking into the house of her son as a grown man and rocking him to sleep. I say she needs to understand and appreciate the metaphor in this story. Obviously, the mother isn’t breaking into her grown son’s home. It’s metaphorical. It is a beautiful, powerful, and emotional metaphor.

    I told her she’d rue the day she attacked this book.

    So, Beth and I were discussing it yet again. We were talking about the book over text. There was mudslinging going on. Threats of keys being given to her dad with approval to come into our home and rock Beth to sleep. Claims of emotional vacancy and lack of metaphorical understanding.

    Amidst these joking exchanges, we were also discussing an upcoming trip. I was driving with Ivy that day after work to Las Vegas. Beth was flying to Utah to surprise her sister for a bridal shower. Beth was taking Sage with her. It was going to be the first time Beth was ever away from Ivy for any serious amount of time.

    That’s when, right in the middle of our Love You Forever discussion, Beth said this:

    ”Take good care of her. I know you will but it’s hard to let go. Remember truck stops are not safe places. And don’t forget to keep the back door shut so she doesn’t slip into the pool when people are busy playing games. Listen to her stories and give her hugs when she’s sad. It’s okay to help her be tough but also needs love. Drive extra safely. She’s my life! FaceTime me!”

    Apparently, Beth is lacking in irony awareness along with metaphorical awareness. The irony was not lost on me.

    I replied, “It’s like you’re metaphorically still going into her room every night to rock her to sleep. Are you going to be ok? (You attacked the wrong book).”

    And with that statement, I won. What do you think about Love You Forever? Who’s got it right? Is it creepy or beautiful?

    **Mandatory disclaimer for those who may misinterpret my jest as actual insults. Beth is the smartest, most intelligent, most aware, and understanding person I know. That’s why I married her. This is all in good fun. I don’t actually think she doesn’t understand metaphor. Now sarcasm… that she definitely struggles with.

  • Ivy Thoughts Part 2

    Ivy Thoughts Part 2

    There’s this book Ivy loves called “Icarus.” We learned there are a series of these books that take Greek legends and makes them into children’s stories with a lesson. Icarus, for example, flies his kite too high until it hits trees, similar to the Greek legend of Icarus flying too close to the sun. Anyways, we learned about the series, and ordered a few of them. We got one about Odysseus. Remember how Ivy often wants to be called “teacher”? That’s been replaced by “Ivydysseus.” Beth and I never said that. She came up with that on her own.

    It’s not the only nickname Ivy has come up with either. We read a book about Baby Beluga. Ivy, on her own, started calling Sage “Sagey Beluga.” My family loves giving nicknames. I’m never referred to as “Brayden” by my parents. I am either Lewis or Fly. Adie is Sassafrass, Garrick is Dude, Dresdan is Jiggles, Cambria is Barbara, and Easton is Goose. Ivy apparently has the Quackenbush gene of giving nicknames.

    I’ve mentioned Ivy teaching Sage how to pray. Ivy says her prayer every night before bedtime. Last night she said her normal prayer, “Thank you for Jesus, thank you for Mudder (she learned she could call Beth “mother”), thank you for Daddy, thank you for blankie, thank you for super cozy (code for being comfortable in bed), thank you for water. Amen.” Then she says, “Billy’s turn.” Billy is her stuffed bobcat. I get Billy from the floor and hand him to her. Ivy gets back into kneeling position on her bed and says, “Thank you for Ivy. Amen.” Of course, Billy has to say his prayer and the only thing he’s grateful for is Ivy.

    We dog-sit a dog named Chicago. Ivy LOVES Chicago. Today Ivy “called” Chicago’s owner on the phone during her lunch. Here was what she had to update Chicago’s owner on: “Yeah Mommy’s with Sage. Chicago’s just sleeping. Yeah Chicago…Chicago…Chicago…okay bye.”

    More on nicknames. You can get in big trouble for not being aware of Ivy’s current persona. At this moment in time, there are many. At any given moment she can be a completely different attitude depending on her name. “Ivydysseus,” as mentioned, indicates she’s feeling adventurous. Ivy teacher means she’s teaching you something, or potentially cooking you some food. There’s Ivy, which obviously means she’s not in character. There is Ivy James. I’m not sure what Ivy James indicates. But DON’T get caught calling her by the wrong name. If you call her Ivydysseus while she’s clearly reading you a book, you will get a firm, “No, I Ivy teacher.” When you reply, “Oh, sorry, Ivy teacher” she will reply, “Good job.”

    There are things Beth isn’t allowed to say, but I am. We haven’t figured out why that is or any sort of pattern yet. But if Beth says something like, “Oh, sorry Ivy.” It’s common for Ivy to reply, “No, no, no, you no say ‘sorry Ivy.’ Dada say ‘sorry Ivy.’” This goes for all sorts of things. “No, no, no, you no say ‘OK’, Dada say ‘OK’”. That one really puts Beth in a tough spot because the natural reaction to that statement is to reply “OK” again. Beth’s really got to watch herself because if she says “OK” again… man is she going to hear about it.

    Those Mini Myths books, mentioned earlier, are awesome. I already talked about the Icarus and Odysseus ones. We have a couple others. But one of those books has been causing problems. It is the Hercules version. In the Hercules version, Hercules has a little sister. At one point Hercules’s father (Zeus? Doesn’t look like him in the book but whatever) says, “Hercules, are you playing nice?” Hercules responds, “I’m strong, I’m not nice.” Hercules proceeds to destroy his sister’s tower. The book has a happy ending, of course. Hercules learns to be strong and nice. He reconstructs his sister’s tower. Ivy, unfortunately, has forgotten the ending. All day she is picking up stuff and saying, “I so strong. I not nice.” I told Beth we need to start skipping that page.

    On this same note, Ivy is super susceptible to messages from books or TV. The most well-intentioned media, like the Hercules book or the show Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood (which does a ton of good) can have a negative impact. If Ivy sees anger in a show, she goes through it herself.

    There is a Daniel Tiger episode where he learns how to handle anger. He pauses, takes a deep breath, and counts to four, with a little jingle attached. This is awesome. Ivy does this deep breath and counting pretty much every day. What’s crazy is that when Ivy watches the show she goes through the full emotional roller coaster Daniel Tiger goes through in the show. When he gets angry, she gets angry. It’s kind of fake anger on Ivy’s part, kind of not. I’ve seen that anger carry on after the episode is finished.

    Ivy
    Mad

    One night I was reading Ivy a book called I was so Mad before bedtime. I altered the entire book to “I was so happy” because I knew if I read “I was so mad” over and over while Ivy was in bed, she’d actually get mad. It’s interesting how much those little minds are impacted by external influences.

    This wraps another “Ivy Thoughts.” Part 3 is already in full swing. Stay tuned for more.