Madam Mouth

The kids rarely fall asleep or wake at exactly the same time. If Simon, now 10 months old, wakes before Taylor, now 25 months old, it’s a race to get him changed out of his nighttime cloths and into his day-wear and downstairs before he starts making noise– usually in the form of a sing-song racket consisting of “da da da!,” “ma ma!,” “blah blah blah!,” or another jumbled combination of excited hullabaloo. On the other hand, if Taylor wakes before Simon then time is usually on my side: I can get Taylor changed, dressed, and her hair fixed without waking her brother. Inadvertently, I have taught her how to talk in a whisper when Simon is trying to fall asleep or has fallen asleep. She has also translated the subjective pronoun / verb combination “Simon’s napping” to mean she needs to refrain from running, crying out, talking loud, or playing her noisy electronic toys when his eyes are closed and when he is slumped over my left shoulder. This last part, physically being quiet, is something she somehow figured out on her own– like snapping her fingers to get one’s attention when she’s trying to take a picture of them, making sipping sounds when drinking “play” tea from her miniature tea set, telling Simon to “stop!” when he’s making too much noise by pounding on spare pots and pans on the kitchen floor or her grandfather’s wood-turned bowls on the coffee table, or blaming others, including the cat, when she passes gas.

This morning began the same as most mornings: Taylor woke before Simon. Excited to be free of night’s dark grasp, Taylor lept from my arms as quickly as she jumped out of bed and into them. Without doubt or hesitation, she was ready to play. Quickly reminding her that Simon’s still sleeping, she instantly became mouse-like, hushed, quiet. Posthaste, for I knew she could not subdue her morning jubilee for long, I gathered her clothes and whipped her up into my arms for a speedy exodus downstairs. That was when it happened.

While carrying Taylor, her two hand-quilted blankets Grandma made, her baby pack-n-play, baby stroller, baby carrier and an assortment of dolls, and the remnants of Simon’s midnight bottle downstairs, by happenstance, I dropped his bottle. Luckily, Simon did not wake from the noise, but what Taylor did and said would have made his premature waking worth the momentary aggravation. In a whisper, Taylor raised her pointer finger to her lips and said, “Sssshhhh. Si-Pa nap.” (Si-Pa being Taylor’s name for Simon; and the word nap meaning both napping and sleeping). I could have mauled her with kisses! Not only did she verbally react to the noise I made, she added the physical component of putting her finger to her lips signifying I needed to be quiet. In addition, she was concerned for her brother!

Taylor has been miraculously learning at an accelerated pace. That’s not to say she’s a savant, I’m sure she is learning at a normal, regular pace just like most middle-class toddlers. But her acquiring new skill sets: verbal, physical, and cognitive is just amazing to watch unfold before my eyes. For example, the family pet “Stichy” has a habit of laying her body across the kids’ heads while they are being changed on the living room floor. At a quick glance, it looks like the kids are wearing a black sheared beaver hat. So one can imaging how I just about fell over in stitches when, while changing Simon, Taylor chuckled, “Stichy hat.” I could not believe my ears! I have no idea how she could possibly come up with the joke, but we both had a good laugh at the cat’s expense.

One of her recent games is to repeat everything we say. She does a decent job repeating most common one or two word phrases. Washing dishes the other night I unknowingly stumbled into her game as I accidentally hit a miniature herb plant off the windowsill and onto the countertop. “Oooppps!” was, unfortunately, not the word I used. Taylor, to her mother’s furrowed disappointment and my chilled horror, repeated the stream of profanities with disturbingly, phonetically accuracy. Yes. She is learning quite quickly.

Character.

Leafing through my tableside notebook this afternoon I came across the following quote: “Character is only developed during the difficult times.” How true. These past couple of weeks has been difficult times for our families. I have found myself questioning God more and more often, praying more often, and, ironically, I have felt an increased strengthening in my faith that God will provide for our families.

Driving home from New Hampshire the other week, after facing death once again, I could not help but keep reflecting on those qualities I want to pass onto my children. For some reason, maybe out of habit, I kept thinking about those qualities I do not want them to have like being lazy, liars, or cheats. After some time, however, my thoughts turned to examples of positive influences I have experienced that I can pass onto my kids– those experiences, actually, one recent experience handed down from my father, is the focus of this essay.

For Christmas 2008, my father bought me a pencil. Well … not just any kind of pencil. He bought me an artists sketching pencil kit from Woodcraft, a woodworking supply company. The pencil’s innards, consisting of brass tubing and a set of springs, however, were only a portion of the gift. The other parts, a rectangle block of burl wood and some lathe tools, made his gift one of my most memorable and cherished. But the present was more than just a run of the mill Christmas gift: His thoughtfulness exemplifies everything I want to pass onto my kids. Let me explain.

Initially, he purchased the pencil kit weeks before the holiday because I had mentioned that I was interested in turning it (wood turning on a lathe), but I did not want to spend the money on a “luxury” gift for myself. Even after a year-and-a-half I still feel guilty about spending money I do not physically earn. Anyways, during our conversation I must have mentioned that if I were to buy the pencil kit that I would also purchase the five color pencil leads for the extra few dollars. At Christmas, I opened his gift to find that not only had he purchased the pencil kit, the burl wood I wanted and the extra colored lead, he had taken the trouble to drill out the burl and glue in the brass fittings. In other words, he had completed one of the most technically difficult and important steps in the woodturning process and provided me with all the “tools” needed to complete the job. It was now up to me whether or not or when I was going to finish making the pencil.

This is the kind of father I want to be: providing my kids with a hand-up when they need it, going the extra distance to provide for them, and truly listening to their needs, wants, and desires. I cannot wait for the day that my kids “know” their grandparents. I think that will be one of the best gifts I could ever give to both of them– my parents and my kids, that is.

Big Girl's Bed.

Two weeks ago, my wife had the pleasure of setting up Taylor’s big girl’s toddler bed in our daughter’s very own, for the first time alone, I can’t believe she’s two years old, room. I cannot speak lightly enough of the numerous stresses and intricate planning that went into this momentous afternoon. Adrianne and I contemplated everything, had contingencies for everything, and prayed a lot. We discussed when we should set up the bed, where we should set up the bed, who should set up the bed, if Taylor should help with the set up or should we surprise her with a new bed; we discussed where we should put up the stairs-blocking gate, or if we should buy a taller gate– Taylor’s learned how to reach over the top and open the other ones–, and if we should take her crib down on the same day the new bed goes up or wait to see if she settles into the bed first. Sadly, I have to admit our conversations lasted days and we rarely agreed on every detail.

“What happens if…,” was the spark that usually began our sometimes heated tête-à-tête. Like the stumbling parents in an evening sitcom, our questions became just as comical as our solutions. For example, we discussed who should set up the bed. Now, in our household we’ve both wielded hammers and screwdrivers– I’ve been around them all my life and one of Adrianne’s many early jobs was as a carpentriss (I know the word doesn’t exist in the English or Oxford dictionary, but come on … this is a blog!). We both have at least minimal “maintenance men” skills, so turning a couple of bed screws and following the three page, step-by-step instructional manual wasn’t enough to default the job to me. I wanted to put together the bed because Taylor’s my little girl; Adrianne wanted to do the same. Ironically, the decided factor of who was going to put together Taylor’s bed came down to Simon. Actually, it came down to Simon’s behavior.

The day Taylor’s bed was put together was the same day Simon was a little wild man. Boy, oh, boy was he a hellion! Up. Down. Over. Around. There was just no stopping the lad from climbing, clawing, and pining for everything just out of his reach. After several hours of chasing him around the house, Adrianne tired of his tomfoolery and insisted she would be the one twisting the screws and brandishing the orange craft hammer putting together Taylor’s new bed. Begrudgingly, I consented. Mommy needs memories too.

Her new bed is a Walmart special, or was it Target…? It doesn’t matter. My father wanted to build her bed, probably out of ash or oak, since he rarely ever uses lighter woods like pine or birch, but Adrianne and I decided to forego the offer. We just couldn’t see spending the money on a piece of furniture Taylor may or may not like, use right away, or that we plan to keep for a very long time. For example, as I am typing away my feet are resting on a coffee table he made almost eight years ago. I want my father to make his grandchildren their bedroom sets, however, I also want them to have those sets for longer than a year or two.

To our pleasant chagrin, Taylor, posthaste, took to her new nest. Screaming with delight as her dancing feet pitter-pattered in a sideways shuffle across the bedroom floor, she could not wait to snuggle into her big girl bed. Even now, she still gets overly excited about going to bed. Some days she will even ask to “nap” up to an hour before her regular naptime– like today, for instance.

My father once told me, “You never stop worrying about your children.” How true. The amount of time Adrianne and I spent worrying about how Taylor was going to take to her new bed is laughable now, even embarrassing. But that’s what parents’ do, right? We fret, we agonize, and we lose a little sleep endlessly trying to be the parents our kids deserve.