My daughter is cute. Beyond cute, she's adorable. Her smile melts your heart and quiets a room. I'm not just saying this because I'm biased, its a fact. She's a cute kid.
Unfortunately, cuteness is overrated. She thinks she can flash her big blue eyes and get away with anything. People always say, "Oh, she's got you wrapped around her little finger."
Wrong.
That stuff doesn't work on me. At. All.
True, I feel horrible if she starts crying and it melts my heart, but it doesn't get her a "get out of jail free" card.
I think I've built up an immunity to it. Maybe its something else. Perhaps anti-cuteness is my superpower. What a lame mutant ability...
The point is, I love my daughter with an unending, furious love, but when she tries to weasel her way into my food with a big blue-eyed stare, or a cute little smile so she can mess with the Playstation controller while I watch a movie, she doesn't get away with much.
Now, when she grows older and gets a whiny voice...
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Learning to Walk
As mentioned in my previous post, Evelyn is learning to walk with a physical therapist. Its been fun, its been interesting, but more than anything, it has been terrifying.
This kid is going to be walking around the house soon. She can't even feed herself properly with a fork yet, but she's going to be racing around faster than a speeding bullet. Of course we, the parents, will be forced to chase after her.
She's weekly making progress and showing big improvements. Which is, of course, always good news. The one thing the therapist hasn't covered, however, is how we're supposed to deal with this new prospect of chasing down this child once she's become more mobile. I have a few ideas, inspired by both theoretical science and Saturday morning cartoons.
Mostly the cartoons.
The first idea I had was cruel, I freely admit it. Let's just not teach her to walk. Let's teach her to be the first human blob. As I said, though, its a cruel thought and I quickly dismissed it.
Then came the fun thoughts.
I could just get some springloaded shoes! Dismissing this as it would look incredibly stupid walking into a store wearing them, I thought about putting small rockets on the sides of some old sneakers and trying that out. I realized I'd probably blow my feet off and then I'd become a human blob. Again, idea dismissed.
For a brief second I entertained the possibility of a giant sling-shot, but vaguely remember a certain coyote trying this and flying right past his target and crushing into a wall. Unlike Mr. Coyote, I do not become a walking accordion when I crash into things - I bleed.
I thought about attaching a bungee rope to her, perhaps even snagging her as she paced by. A leash, if you will, around her waste, and when she gets too far, this rope would simply be tugged firmly and bring the child back within my reach. No, I said to myself, doesn't work on the dog so I doubt it'd work on her.
Then came the scientific thoughts.
What if, I began to think, I could take the legs off a cheetah and implant them on my hind quarters? Again, how would I explain this to the guys at the comic shop? "Hey, Jeff, nice cheetah legs!"
"I know. They were half off at JCPenny. Found'em in the "Doctor Moreau" section."
Right, like I'd even know where that section is at JCPenny. I don't even shop there. Ridiculous thoughts, I tell you.
After that, there were some delusions about mixing up some chemicals and hope they gave me some sort of super power... but after I smelled the bleach mixed with all the other house hold chemicals I could find I thought it would taste awful so decided against that, as well.
Where do you even buy radioactive products that give you super speed these days? Or is it merely lightning flashing through a variety of chemicals? Either way, I'd probably end up with the ability to just grow longer fingernails or my hair would all fall out. Some stupid super power like that.
Eventually, I realized Jennifer had bought a gate, and it will be a year or two at least before she figures out how to climb over it, so I figure that'll have to do. After all, if a barbed wire fence can keep in cattle and eliminate the need for ranch hands, then I am sure a plastic fence can keep in Evie and give me a break or two, right?
Wrong. My daughter is freaky smart and I don't just say that because I'm biased. She's figured out how to unlock our phones, for crying out loud. So, I'm sure it won't be long until she realizes if she sticks her fingers through the small holes in the plastic mesh, she can spring that sucker and crawl on through.
So, I've just came to the conclusion I'll have to suck it up and be a dad.
Which I was going to do, anyway.
This kid is going to be walking around the house soon. She can't even feed herself properly with a fork yet, but she's going to be racing around faster than a speeding bullet. Of course we, the parents, will be forced to chase after her.
She's weekly making progress and showing big improvements. Which is, of course, always good news. The one thing the therapist hasn't covered, however, is how we're supposed to deal with this new prospect of chasing down this child once she's become more mobile. I have a few ideas, inspired by both theoretical science and Saturday morning cartoons.
Mostly the cartoons.
The first idea I had was cruel, I freely admit it. Let's just not teach her to walk. Let's teach her to be the first human blob. As I said, though, its a cruel thought and I quickly dismissed it.
Then came the fun thoughts.
I could just get some springloaded shoes! Dismissing this as it would look incredibly stupid walking into a store wearing them, I thought about putting small rockets on the sides of some old sneakers and trying that out. I realized I'd probably blow my feet off and then I'd become a human blob. Again, idea dismissed.
For a brief second I entertained the possibility of a giant sling-shot, but vaguely remember a certain coyote trying this and flying right past his target and crushing into a wall. Unlike Mr. Coyote, I do not become a walking accordion when I crash into things - I bleed.
I thought about attaching a bungee rope to her, perhaps even snagging her as she paced by. A leash, if you will, around her waste, and when she gets too far, this rope would simply be tugged firmly and bring the child back within my reach. No, I said to myself, doesn't work on the dog so I doubt it'd work on her.
Then came the scientific thoughts.
What if, I began to think, I could take the legs off a cheetah and implant them on my hind quarters? Again, how would I explain this to the guys at the comic shop? "Hey, Jeff, nice cheetah legs!"
"I know. They were half off at JCPenny. Found'em in the "Doctor Moreau" section."
Right, like I'd even know where that section is at JCPenny. I don't even shop there. Ridiculous thoughts, I tell you.
After that, there were some delusions about mixing up some chemicals and hope they gave me some sort of super power... but after I smelled the bleach mixed with all the other house hold chemicals I could find I thought it would taste awful so decided against that, as well.
Where do you even buy radioactive products that give you super speed these days? Or is it merely lightning flashing through a variety of chemicals? Either way, I'd probably end up with the ability to just grow longer fingernails or my hair would all fall out. Some stupid super power like that.
Eventually, I realized Jennifer had bought a gate, and it will be a year or two at least before she figures out how to climb over it, so I figure that'll have to do. After all, if a barbed wire fence can keep in cattle and eliminate the need for ranch hands, then I am sure a plastic fence can keep in Evie and give me a break or two, right?
Wrong. My daughter is freaky smart and I don't just say that because I'm biased. She's figured out how to unlock our phones, for crying out loud. So, I'm sure it won't be long until she realizes if she sticks her fingers through the small holes in the plastic mesh, she can spring that sucker and crawl on through.
So, I've just came to the conclusion I'll have to suck it up and be a dad.
Which I was going to do, anyway.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Progress and Flaws
One of the joys of being a parent is seeing how much of yourself is reflected in your child. I think I've covered this before in a previous blog, but since I take so long to update, I honestly can't remember.
The sad fact is that sometimes you also see some of your flaws. Even the genetic ones that you couldn't help. This is the case with Evelyn's feet.
As a kid, and even now, my feet tend to point out. This caused (and again, still sometimes cause) me to walk in a duck-like manner. A fact cruel classmates in elementary school through college all enjoyed pointing out to me at times. Now my daughter has this issue.
Mine is caused by a hip problem, per my doctors at the Shriner's hospital in St. Louis. Evelyn will grow out of her problem if she continues with her physical therapy, at least that's what our doctor says, and so does Brandy, a therapist from First Steps who helps kids learn to walk, and has been coming to our house weekly for the past few weeks.
In a sense I feel like we dodged a bullet.
One of my greatest fears is that my children will have to time wading through some of the same trash of life I had to as a kid. Kids picking on them for having red hair, constant quacking, stupid things like that were all things I never wanted for my kids. When Evie was born with darker hair, which is now a shade of blonde, I was relieved. But with the therapy I sometimes see her feet kick out, toes pointed away from each other, and her balance wavering. The therapist, Brandy, is awesome and very encouraging. She says that Evelyn will grow out of it.
Very relieved. And on the note of the therapy, Brandy insists Evelyn is her star student. She's made great progress and continues to improve. A few weeks ago when we first started, Evelyn was "army-crawling" through the house and would only stand on her feet for a few minutes at a time when we'd put her up on them.
Now, I'm beginning to miss the days she was immobile. She's coasting sideways along the couch, crawling on her hands and knees, and making life incredibly active. Or miserable, depending on how lazy I'm feeling.
Honestly, though, its amazing to see her progress and learn and adapt and grow. Its rewarding to me, probably more so than it is to her. Just hearing that she's gone two steps farther than the one step expected makes me so proud. In my heart, when something like that happens, I secretly think, "Of course, she's my kid! She's gonna blow your mind with her intelligence, just wait and see!" And of course, I see plenty of her mom in her, too, but as a dad I just want to take all the credit.
That's okay, right? I can do that sometimes?
Well, I'm going to anyway.
The sad fact is that sometimes you also see some of your flaws. Even the genetic ones that you couldn't help. This is the case with Evelyn's feet.
As a kid, and even now, my feet tend to point out. This caused (and again, still sometimes cause) me to walk in a duck-like manner. A fact cruel classmates in elementary school through college all enjoyed pointing out to me at times. Now my daughter has this issue.
Mine is caused by a hip problem, per my doctors at the Shriner's hospital in St. Louis. Evelyn will grow out of her problem if she continues with her physical therapy, at least that's what our doctor says, and so does Brandy, a therapist from First Steps who helps kids learn to walk, and has been coming to our house weekly for the past few weeks.
In a sense I feel like we dodged a bullet.
One of my greatest fears is that my children will have to time wading through some of the same trash of life I had to as a kid. Kids picking on them for having red hair, constant quacking, stupid things like that were all things I never wanted for my kids. When Evie was born with darker hair, which is now a shade of blonde, I was relieved. But with the therapy I sometimes see her feet kick out, toes pointed away from each other, and her balance wavering. The therapist, Brandy, is awesome and very encouraging. She says that Evelyn will grow out of it.
Very relieved. And on the note of the therapy, Brandy insists Evelyn is her star student. She's made great progress and continues to improve. A few weeks ago when we first started, Evelyn was "army-crawling" through the house and would only stand on her feet for a few minutes at a time when we'd put her up on them.
Now, I'm beginning to miss the days she was immobile. She's coasting sideways along the couch, crawling on her hands and knees, and making life incredibly active. Or miserable, depending on how lazy I'm feeling.
Honestly, though, its amazing to see her progress and learn and adapt and grow. Its rewarding to me, probably more so than it is to her. Just hearing that she's gone two steps farther than the one step expected makes me so proud. In my heart, when something like that happens, I secretly think, "Of course, she's my kid! She's gonna blow your mind with her intelligence, just wait and see!" And of course, I see plenty of her mom in her, too, but as a dad I just want to take all the credit.
That's okay, right? I can do that sometimes?
Well, I'm going to anyway.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Got to Update
I figured it was time to write something.
Even if its only a few paragraphs, I need to get back to documenting the fun we have as parents. Evie is growing and growing, and even though she's having to take physical therapy, she's getting closer to walking every day.
She pulls herself up to her feet, often having to lean against a chair or some other piece of furniture. She's walked/glided along the side of furniture, too. It will only be a few more blinks and soon she'll be running around making me want to pull my hair out by the roots.
Evelyn is awesome. Every Friday we try to have lunch together, and each Friday we sojourn to a restaurant is an adventure on its own. Whether she's eating a quesadilla from Taco Bell or a hamburger from McDonald's, the mess we both make and the strange interactions with other customers make each Friday worth it.
A couple of weeks ago a lady kept staring at us as though someone in our little caravan of two had somehow offended her. Then I realized, my daughter of just about fifteen months was looking at her, squinting and laughing. Evelyn was, in her own way, making fun of this woman. I wanted to stop her but after getting a good look at the lady, I thought, "Well, there's a lot of material for jokes there..." Then I realized where my train of thought had taken me, and re-positioned both myself, and Evelyn so there'd be no more staring.
She's also learned that when mom and dad say "no," we mean it. We mean it bad. Of course, nothing breaks my heart than seeing her pitiful little eyes start to tear up. Fortunately, my wife appears to draw strength from the tears of the infants.
Just kidding... it really shatters her inside, too. Somewhere. Somewhere deep inside the darkest corner of her heart, I'm sure she feels bad.
Somewhere.
Seriously, she laughs.
Even if its only a few paragraphs, I need to get back to documenting the fun we have as parents. Evie is growing and growing, and even though she's having to take physical therapy, she's getting closer to walking every day.
She pulls herself up to her feet, often having to lean against a chair or some other piece of furniture. She's walked/glided along the side of furniture, too. It will only be a few more blinks and soon she'll be running around making me want to pull my hair out by the roots.
Evelyn is awesome. Every Friday we try to have lunch together, and each Friday we sojourn to a restaurant is an adventure on its own. Whether she's eating a quesadilla from Taco Bell or a hamburger from McDonald's, the mess we both make and the strange interactions with other customers make each Friday worth it.
A couple of weeks ago a lady kept staring at us as though someone in our little caravan of two had somehow offended her. Then I realized, my daughter of just about fifteen months was looking at her, squinting and laughing. Evelyn was, in her own way, making fun of this woman. I wanted to stop her but after getting a good look at the lady, I thought, "Well, there's a lot of material for jokes there..." Then I realized where my train of thought had taken me, and re-positioned both myself, and Evelyn so there'd be no more staring.
She's also learned that when mom and dad say "no," we mean it. We mean it bad. Of course, nothing breaks my heart than seeing her pitiful little eyes start to tear up. Fortunately, my wife appears to draw strength from the tears of the infants.
Just kidding... it really shatters her inside, too. Somewhere. Somewhere deep inside the darkest corner of her heart, I'm sure she feels bad.
Somewhere.
Seriously, she laughs.
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