No Coincidences

Tag: toddlers

  • Why do we Love our Children?

    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.

  • Little Red Mark

    Little Red Mark

    I have a white church shirt with a little red permanent mark on the left cuff.

    A few years ago, in the Young Single Adult (YSA) Ward of my church, there was a young girl that started coming every so often. She had a family ward she more often went to, but every once in a while, would visit the YSA. She had a young son. He was a toddler, probably two years old.

    I was drawn to this girl. I could imagine how difficult it was for her to bring her young son with her to the YSA ward, a place full of single people with entirely different life situations. I could imagine how she felt judged and out of place. I could relate to how she felt. I’d been her a short year or two before. 

    At the time, I was the Sunday School President. That meant that once a month myself and my counselors led a teacher’s council with all the teachers in our ward to discuss how we could be better teachers, and how we could teach in the Savior’s way. 

    Whenever this young girl came to our ward, I would try to get her to stay for second hour and go to Sunday School. That was my job as Sunday School President, after all. More than that, it was my job as a disciple of Jesus Christ. 

    One Sunday I was inviting this girl to go to one of our Sunday School classes. The difference this week was I wouldn’t be going with her. I had my Teacher’s Council. I could tell that she was going to leave if I wasn’t going to attend the class with her. She was clearly worried about how her young child might be a distraction in class. So, I invited her to my teacher’s council. It took some explaining, letting her know it was open to anyone and she was completely welcome. She came to our council that day.

    I don’t remember anything we taught. I don’t remember an enlightening teaching moment or momentous thing learned on how to be a more Christ-like teacher, though I’m sure some of that occurred. I don’t remember it.

    What I do remember is spending time with that girl’s young son. My counselors were leading most of the discussion so I could spend time with him at the white board with markers, letting him play and keeping him occupied. When I did need to get up front and talk for a bit, I brought him with me. I look back at this moment fondly as a parent now with two daughters I’m constantly bringing to the front with me.

    I didn’t care if he was a distraction to the class. Some things are more important.

    That’s the point, right?

    At one point while watching him, he accidentally marked my white shirt with a red marker. I’ve thought about throwing that shirt out. It’s not a huge or extremely noticeable mark, but it’s there, and it is noticeable. I’ve kept that shirt. I wear it often. I use it as a reminder that some things are more important than a marked shirt.

    I sometimes wonder if someone might see that mark on my shirt and think, “how tacky, throw that shirt out, it has a red mark on it.”  Then I think about that young boy, his mother, and what’s more important, and decide it’s worth wearing that marked shirt.

    Reminder to everyone that we all have little red marks on our shirts. Sometimes they’re self-inflicted and sometimes they’re not. It doesn’t matter. The point is to not judge and to love without bounds.

    I recently got to see a young man that young girl was dating enter the waters of baptism. I hadn’t seen her little son in a few years. It’s crazy how quickly a two-year-old becomes an active, thinking, 5-year-old. I said hi to the now five-year-old boy. He, of course, didn’t remember me. But I showed him that mark on my shirt. It’s probably my imagination, but I saw recognition in those eyes. Like, whether or not he actually remembered making that mark (probably not), somehow, he recognized the significance. I felt like his eyes said, “I made that mark, and you kept it?” I told him I kept the shirt to remember him. He smiled.

    That young girl watched a man she had been dating get baptized. They were civilly married and as soon as they were able to, got sealed in God’s temple. They will be sealed in a temple for time and all eternity. That young boy will be sealed to them. Forever. That’s what it’s really all about, right?

  • Toddlers and Infants

    Toddlers and Infants

    I can’t remember where I first heard it, but I once heard teenagers described as assassins of happiness. I think toddlers are assassins of stability. You are constantly on edge about what chaotic thing is about to happen when around toddlers.

    Chaos Personified

    I’m convinced this anarchic nature of toddlers is not by coincidence.

    Beth and I have followed the expeditious family planning path thus far. Ivy and Sage are separated by exactly 21 months.

    I love toddlers. Ivy is so much fun. She is also so unstable. This, I think, is the part that is no coincidence. Infants are more predictable. They eat, they cry, they poop, they sleep. That’s about it. You can pretty much rely on those 4 activities from an infant.

    Fun

    Ivy’s standard response to any question is “no, yes! No! Yes, No! No, yes!”

    A normal interaction with Ivy:

    “Ivy, do you want some blueberries?”

    “NO! YES!”

    As I walk to the kitchen to get her blueberries –

    “No, no, no, no, no.”

    I turn around.

    “You don’t want blueberries?”

    Ivy – “Yes!”

    “You do want blueberries?”

    Ivy – “No!”

    I walk away from kitchen, giving up on the blueberry mission.

    Ivy – “No, no, no, no, no.”

    I stop, “Ivy, do you want blueberries?”

    Big, beautiful, irresistible, dimpled smile – “Yes.”

    We get blueberries.

    Ivy. Joy. Blueberries.

    Sage’s standard response to any question is to stare at me blankly. This infant response defines stability.

    Stability

    I love Ivy, but when I need a break from the hectic instability of a toddler, I go to Sage for some reliability. They are equally loved if only for the sake of my sanity.

    I love being a dad.

    All the toddler attitude: