The Kids Lives

Phew! The past few weeks were a whirlwind of activity both at home and at work. The weather seems to be giving us more energy (or at least the kids) and we’re spending more time outdoors and allowing later bedtimes (much to my wife’s chagrin).

Each child has made some remarkable leaps in their developments, so, let me update you all on some of these:

Joey

Thursdays, I pick Joey up from school and bring him home. Jenny has class that night and needs to be leaving the house at the time I’d normally be departing work. This past Thursday, I left a little early to pick Joey up. Upon arriving, I was able to come inside to find him sitting on the rug listening to the day’s last story from one of his teachers.

On this particular Thursday, a teacher (and fellow neighbor of ours whom got us into Joey’s school in the first place) pulled me aside to inform me about an amazing breakthrough Joey had made that very day.

She handed me a few pages that were stapled together (something we get every day and we save like the good stock piling parents we are).

On the first page of his take-home paper work was a list of 6 equations. The instructions at the top of the page listed ‘=’, ‘>’, and ‘<’ as possible answers. The students were to look at the series of numbers, and choose which of the three numerical comparison operators fit between them. Joey had correctly identified 5 out of the 6 (and he proudly explained to me what he had been doing as well “Dad, this one is bigger than that one, and this one is the same as that one…”). The second page was a series of 9 math equations similar to the many we remember from our past as well. Examples:
1+4
2+7
0+9

Using a technique he had learned at the school, Joey had made a series of dots next to each number and used them to count the total for each equation. He got ALL of the equations correct.

Now, to most, this action may seem trivial, but you need to remember, this kid just turned 5 and has not even started kindergarten. I know that for myself, personally, I was not even exposed to the alphabet until my half-day kindergarten class started them, and I was 6, not 5.

Joey not only knows the alphabet, but he can spell a large number of three and four letter words, he has learned phonics to help him sound them out, and is now starting into math.

This kid amazes me every day.

Jessamyn

Every morning I drive Jessamyn to school. 20 – 25 minutes each morning, just the two of us. Each morning, Jess insists I start her ‘Princess Music’ while we commute. This is a CD of Disney’s best songs sung by their famous (and revered by Jess) list of official “Princesses.” We have Jasmine from Aladdin, Cinderella, Snow White, Pocahontas, and Sleeping Beauty to listen to.

After six or eight months of listening to the same songs over and over again, the normal person would either pull the CD out and smash and burn it, or drive into the nearest large object to escape the monotony. But, in the past six months, our little daughter has grown quite the set of pipes on her as she has started to sign these songs… word for word.

Now, this isn’t any normal “babble” that so many non-child exposed adults would chalk the somewhat incoherent ditties up as being. Nope, these are word for word reproductions, with melody, of each song that Jess has heard over the past 8 months.

We first became aware of her abilities as she usually sings along with the music in the car (something I insist upon… to keep me from running into the previously mentioned solid objects), but we quickly became aware that she had strong knowledge of each tune’s lyrics as she was able to sing from start to finish without missing lines AND singing in key.

Even now, you can ask her to sing you a song (without accompanying music) and she will start right off and singing happily along. She has even incorporated the Sound of Music, songs from ‘The Muppets’, and some top-40 artists heard on the radio (thanks to Mommy) into her vast repertoire.

I think I’ve finally found a “front man” for my band… now to get Joey and Jocie to play bass and keyboards.

Jocie

Our now well accomplished walker has opted to exercise her toddler-given right to expand her “private space” and broadly explores all geography available.

As she grows into a child, I felt the need to quickly document some of her early language skills.

“ah-bum” – My favorite word, which also has a derivant ‘ah-bu-ba-bum’. This means that Jocie is generally happy and is merely trying to communicate with someone in her immediate presence. Likely translation: “Hi, I’m happy, you should be too.”

“hi-yah” – Always accompanied by a clenched right hand to her ear. This is Jocie’s interpretation of a phone call. We often have lengthy short-distance phone conversations with Jocie (often from within 1 or 2 feet of her) using this catch phrase: Likely translation: “Hi there, I’m on the phone with you.”

“ma ma ma” – Jocie uses this word interchangeably when referring to a parental figure. Jenny, Brooke, or myself are affectionately known by this word. Likely translation: “Parent, come help me. Pick me up.”

“oey” – This is universal Jocie speak for either of her two siblings (or both).

“uh oh” – Same meaning to Jocie as to us. When she drops something (often deliberately), she immediately states this. She has very appropriate usage of this word, especially in public places where she KNOWS she can get gobs of public attention by boisterously dropping a sippy-cup into an isle way and immediately screaming ‘uh oh’.

“owie” – Any time she hurts herself, she immediately claims this word. She is also aware of this condition when relating to others: she recently pointed to one of Jessamyn’s many cuts and bruises and while touching it, stated ‘owie’. Likely translation: “boo bo”, “injury”, or “you’re hurt here.”

“eye yie yie yie” – I learned this just the other day when she bonked my head accidentally and I said ‘ow’. Jocie immediately turned around, gave me a big hug, and stated this word over and over again. Likely translation: “sorry” or “I love you”.

“kit tee” – Means either cat or dog to Jocie.

From the Joey phrase book, I’ve got to post this one here (since only he would ever say/sing this to us):

“ooo – dee – doh” – We have no idea? But it was really cute when he did it!

jp

A Dance with Jessamyn

As you may have caught from several previous postings on the blog, this past weekend saw my first “daddy and daughter” dance with my eldest, Jessamyn. The event was hosted by her school and was something that both my wife and spent considerable time planning and anticipating. Jenny had purchased a wonderful Spring dress for the occasion that looked just beautiful on Jess.
I will attempt to cover the entire event in great detail by breaking it up into several sub-titled sections to give a perspective of each specific group of events.

The Day

It was a typical Saturday in the Pike household complete with chaos, running late on the mornings routines, and with kids distracted by all the minute details of their lives.

Joey and Jessamyn had dance classes earlier that morning (routine attendance is something their dance teachers keep beating into us since they can’t miss a single Saturday as their recitals are coming up in several months, so, regardless of whatever strife is happening in our lives, we make diligent efforts to comply).

Previously scheduled Saturday morning hair cut appointments had been cancelled (yet again) for an unknown reason, but Jenny had insisted that Jess would at least have some sort of appointment to style her hair prior to the event, and a rescheduled time was set for shortly after lunch.

We came to home to regroup before the hair appoint and to give the kids some rest. While at home the mother of a friend of Jessamyn’s named Emma called to inquire if the girls would be available to get together to play. After informing her that Jess had a hair appointment, Jenny suggested that maybe Emma would like to come with Jess to the stylist and maybe do lunch out together. What a great idea! The three ladies (Jess, Emma, and Jenny) all headed off to prepare Jess’s hair for the night ahead.

Jessamyn's hair before the appointment

Jessamyn's hair after the appointment (note the attitude! :)

After arriving back home from her hair appointment, I was astounded at the visage of a young woman that now appeared in front of me. Jess’s hair was amazing. She looked much more mature woman than the three year old I had to keep reminding myself that she actually was, save for the tilted head and sucker in her mouth.

Jenny and I spent the rest of the afternoon taking “watch shifts” to keep a close eye on Jessamyn in order to prevent any child based interference with her hair. (Fortunately, she left it alone)

At 4:00pm, we had our annual neighborhood Easter Egg hunt. By this time, Emma had gone home suffering from allergies (understandable given the five cat and two dog population of allergen generating quadrupeds that reside in our home), so Joey and Jess ran out to join their other sets of neighborhood friends: The Fords and the Dicks.

Some 180+ eggs had been hidden in plain sight in our now snow devoid backyards, and the kids spent the better part of a half hour hunting and searching for the afternoon’s treasure.






As 5 o’clock neared, Jenny hastened us back indoors to get Jessamyn ready for our “date.”

I put on my nicest suit coat complete with a tie that Jenny had found earlier in the week that was a perfect complement to Jessamyn’s dress.

We rushed downstairs and took the awkward “first date” photos in front of the fireplace. Apart from the vast height difference, I dare say we made a pretty cute couple.

Jessamyn enjoyed all of the pictures and played “cute” as she posed for each one. She even nipped me a little kiss just as we finished.

Jessamyn and I pose for our awkward "first date" picture

Jenny pins the corsage onto Jess's dress

Jessamyn tries to conceal her excitement about going to a dance with her daddy!

Jocie watches her sister as she gets ready to go to her dance and wonders "When will I get to go to a dance?"

Jessamyn shows us her Marylin Monroe pose.

The Dinner

As would be expected for a date with me, we were running late. I had planned for a ninety minute window of time for dinner, but as it was now almost 5:45, I had lost half of my window since the dance started at 6:30.

Not knowing what to expect from the event itself, I had crafted the image of a sort of formal ceremony that locked events into a rigid calendar at the dance. I fretted myself into a near-panic thinking my lethargy had ruined any potential for a fun night for the two of us as we would now have to arrive late if we wanted to eat dinner.

I should know better by now, as this was a common theme throughout my early adulthood as a teenager: fretting, arriving late, and losing sight over the “big picture” as I worried about the details that really didn’t mean a thing.

As I attempted to calm myself down, I kept reminding myself that this night was really all about Jessamyn and me, and really, nothing else should matter.

I refocused and regrouped my mental expectations and re-grounded myself into reality.

By this time, I had dropped my first several choices of dining establishments as the time remaining just wouldn’t allow for the two to three hours that a top-notch restaurant would require.

Another option came to mind that happened to be near the dance and also served a more dietary sensible meal selection as I hoped for something approaching a fruit salad for my little girlfriend.

The Oakwood Bistro was a perfect selection for our evening as it met all of these requirements while still being a perfect date night choice.

As we walked through the door, faces turned, conversations stopped mid-sentence, and others tapped distracted faces to turn and see the little petty coated beauty walking by them.

Jess soaked up the “oohs”, “Oh wow, isn’t she just so pretty”, and “oh, isn’t that cute” and shot back a quick little chin-down head-tilt faces based curtsy that only she can deliver, complete with a little giggle.

The hostess said the wait would only be about 10 to 15 minutes (but ended up being more like 30), and so we slid up to the bar and sat down for a quick nip to take the first bite out of the night for us: a kiddy cocktail.

I think this must have been her first such drink, but, given her response, I’m sure she’ll be making this a common drink for those many nights in the future when she’s out on the town with her “man”… (her daddy, of course).

After sitting down and ordering (Jessamyn opted for chicken fingers instead of a fruit plate and I took the healthy Asian sesame salad hoping the turnaround time for the salad would be shorter than the filet that my appetite really wanted), we delighted in sharing crayons as we “doodled” over Jessamyn’s placemat.

Sipping tea at the booth across the aisle from us was the smiling face of what could only be a grandmother that couldn’t take her eyes off Jessamyn. In a beautiful British accent, she told Jess how pretty she was and then informed me that her youngest granddaughter was now 17 and no longer liked wearing such colorful dresses like the one that Jess was wearing. Soaking up the complements, Jess again face curtseyed and blew her admirer a kiss before going back to coloring in a picture of what she claimed was her brother with a blue crayon.

7:00pm… I was a half-hour late, but still enjoying every moment as we walked out past new eyes that again stopped and provided a red carpet of compliments for my little lady as we walked out.

The Dance

As we arrived at Jess’s school, I was relieved to see a few other cars still finding parking spaces, and some father-daughter couples walking towards the gymnasium entrance. Relief! Like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. The images of hundreds of parents turning towards me as I walked in late, music stopping, and an embarrassing moment of feeling like a heel as a parent faded as we walked through the door and joined a long line to pay for our entrance.

By now, Jessamyn is giddy as she can hear the music blaring ahead of us down the hall and into the gym. In crafting my mental picture of the event, I had only forecasted that classmates from her pre-school class would be the only attendees at the dance, but in actuality, the event covered ALL grades (pre-school through eighth grade).

As we walked into the gym the first thing to come into view in the darkened room was an arch littered with balloons and streamers. It had felt like a black-and-white moment from a 1950’s “sweet sixteen” film as we walked in.

On the far wall, a DJ pumped out some song I’ve never heard while girls of various ages coagulated towards the middle is a pulsing web of laughs as they danced in a large group. On the outside of the dance floor stood the girls’ fathers acting liked cemented posts dotting the edge of a field as if they were a fence line. The glow of dozens of BlackBerry’s illuminated the faces of businessmen fighting the awkwardness that must have been commonplace for this bunch twenty years earlier, but seems to prevail even today.

Thinking myself to be different from this horde of antisocial testosterone emanating figures, my date and I brushed through the hobnob line and onto the floor to take part in the last few versus of the unknown ballad. As the song finishes, Jess locates several familiar friends’ faces and immediately departs my company to join them. A song from my youth starts playing, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” and the dance floor fills with all girls that now freakishly start dancing in unison synchronization as they perform the exact steps from a video that saw fame a dozen years before their births.

And in that instant, I realize that it has taken all of 35 seconds for me to go from a parenting proud father to an awkward detached solo male in yet another gym that paralleled an earlier instance of myself from 20 years earlier.

Where is my BlackBerry?

Not thinking I’d need it, I had opted to leave it at home. So, I ran out to the car to grab the next best thing… my camera. How better to hide my insecurities but behind the eyepiece of a massive camera and flash as I chase my daughter and her friends around the dance floor like some celebrity chasing paparazzi.

I snap off one photo before Jess decides that she’d rather be with me than her friends.

“I’m thirsty.”

Well, the cause for us to get back together again wasn’t as important to me as the fact that I had her back in my presence. I doped her up with a quick shot of ‘Hawaiian Fruit Punch’ before asking if she’d like some cookies.

As I finish the sentence that offers the cookies, the DJ says something about every girl grabbing their daddy and bringing them to the dance floor for a slow song.

Jess grabs my hand and says “Come on Daddy.”

We slow dance together for about half the song before both of us decide it might be easier if I just pick her up and hold her as we dance. She puts her head on my shoulder and I fight back tears as I’m quickly lost in the moment and again proud of both of us for being where we are at this moment in time.

After two hours of dancing, both slow and crazy fast, we’re both worn out and Jess turns to me and says “ok Daddy, let’s go home. I’m tired.”

As we walk away from the gym, she turns and gives my legs a huge hug as she says to me “I love you.”

This time I can’t win the war against the tears and walk with blurred vision all the way back to the car.

I’m proud. I’m happy. And I know we’ll be doing this one again.

I can’t wait for it.

jp

Do NOT feed the Monster named Jessamyn!

I can't wait 'till she gets old enough to have her first date... I'll thoroughly educate any prospectus coming to take her out about the existence of the 'Chocolate Monster' that exists in a mostly dormant state within our daughter.

Don't let her cute looks fool you.... she tears through chocolate like a tornado in a trailer park.

jp

Jessamyn's Tea with Mimi

Jessamyn enjoyed a divine afternoon with her grandma while discussing life's mysteries over a pot of tea. Mimi even instructed Jess on how to properly lift her pinky to show just how cultured she is.

jp

Great Wolf Lodge (Take 2)

This past weekend we drove up to Traverse City to attend our second annual family vacation at the Great Wolf Lodge of the North with the kids. Although the park has remained the same during the past year, our children’s abilities have definitely grown and matured when compared against the previous year's mental metrics.

Last year, Joey was adamant about not going down any of the park’s larger slides when we were there in April of 2007, but after a rather forced trial experience this time, he made the return runs in an almost constant vigil.

Jessamyn had been our more adventurous child previously and this time she kept her daring side flaring as she too attempted even larger slides and met the challenges with positivity.

Even our little Jocie experienced her first ride down the slides!

This year we were met at the park by our good friends the McClish’s. Their children, Maddie, Logan, and Kennedy played hand-in-hand with our children as they pushed each other's abilities in games and challenges that I would never have expected them to do on their own.

Joey and Logan began game of ‘jump in’ where they both pretended to be firefighters that were busy rescuing imaginary victims from the pools.

Jessamyn and Maddie took to the park’s massive fort and descended the slides time and time again as they ran happily through its structure.

As parents, we enjoyed having friends to share the experiences with this time as well as employing a “group parenting” strategy to manage the six children that ran like wild beasts through the forty thousand square feet of water park.

I look forward to next year’s visit and can’t wait for it to come.

jp

Reverse Psychology with Jessamyn

Have I made a mistake in my parenting?

As parental tempers fly sky high around actions made by our daughter Jessamyn, our assertions and disciplinary attempts are met with a careless and flippant attitude that only serves to escalate already tense situations.

We now have to push our envelope further than is comfortable to illicit an appropriate response from her when trying to correct even simple actions. Trying to get her to take eating dinner seriously, understanding that grabbing her younger sister’s head and rolling it around like a beach ball, or that hitting her older brother with a magic wand on his head while screaming “bibbity bobbity boo” are all inappropriate actions all result in a giggling crazed three year old that runs off without remorse for her behaviors.


At first, I can mark this up to her age’s still developing understanding of cause and effect, but, in looking at some of the early methods I utilized while parenting her, I am starting to worry that what I once thought was cute is now surfacing as a hideous beast.

When Jessamyn was very young, I used to play with exposing her to different human emotional responses to her actions. I encoded reverse responses to appropriate reactions on her part in a hopes of fostering a happy and carefree infant.

For example, if she would ‘coo’, I would respond in very stern and harsh tones (like someone would if they were very upset about an action) as my reward for her actions.

Most of my reactions were massively embellished in an over-the-top response intended to get her to laugh or giggle.

A happy response to my actions would result in praise, tickles, and hugs, which in turn fostered the inappropriate response to discipline.

For most of our interactions, I applied the flipped response which would seem backwards when compared with normal human interactions. Though never actually feeling the anger I was portraying, I kept pushing this reverse psychology onto Jessamyn as she grew into a toddler.

Her normal appropriate actions would result in an inappropriate parental response of extreme discipline and strong emotions, which, once she laughed at would result in praise.

Abnormal parenting? Yes. Very much, but, somehow, deep inside, I wanted to foster a certain independence from authority figures and teach her to judge her actions for herself. I was hoping to get her to laugh at everything in her responses.

This is exactly what we’ve got now, except that she has started to be a normal three year old that is pushing her limits and testing her parents by her actions. The side-effect, though, is that normal discipline is ineffective on her as she has been conditioned by the reverse response, and we must find more creative methods to correct her misbehaviors.

More direct and intellectual discussions have to take place when doling out discipline to her, with the most effective being a lack of attention. All other attempts are met with the flippant attitude that shucks the current situation off like James Dean’s character in the 1955 classic ‘Rebel Without A Cause.’

Using the reverse psychology method with Jessamyn results in a very high success rate when trying to get her to perform actions that she would at first reject.

“Jessamyn, brush your teeth.”

“No.”

“Jessamyn, don’t brush your teeth.”

“Ok.”

A mind towards caution with her must always be held, though, especially in dangerous situations. If you are in a parking lot with her and you need her to get out of the way of a approaching car, you need to pay very close attention to her responses to your concern. At first, she may stay right in the path of the vehicle and you may need to quickly apply the reverse approach to get the appropriate reaction: “Jessamyn, STAY in the roadway so you can get hit by that car” in which case she will quickly move out of the way.

In her mind, though, this is all a game that is being played between parent and child, and this game is one that she really enjoys.

In my cause and effect analysis, I realize that I’ve generated a very happy child through these actions, even though her situational awareness can be trying at times when attempting to correct her.

The game we play with reverse psychology keeps me thinking during each interaction we have, and really is something that has grown to be fun for both of us.

jp

Dinner with Crazy and Cute

As I walk through the front door the previous evening, I found myself greeted with a screaming voice yelling “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” as my three year old daughter comes rushing from the living room to the front door to greet me. Her jubilance at seeing me every night makes me feel like a king in her eyes.

Normally I park in the garage and enter through the side of the house each night and I play a little game of hid-from-the kids when I first hear them running towards me as I try to make my way to the front of the house to doff my shoes, coat, and anything else that I may be carrying in from the car. On this day, though, I’ve had to park outside since my usual spot in the garage has been taken by Brooke, and come through the front door and am ambushed without an escape-route to exit to. Jess plows into me like a locomotive giving me a great big huge hug and saying “Daddy’s home” in a very relieved sounding voice.

I ask where her brother is, since he usually joins in this nightly game.

“Well, he’s upstairs, he’s not feeling very good.”

Her mom had previously informed me that Joey had been to the doctor’s office that afternoon and was diagnosed with a severe flue. He was so tired from his illness that he fell asleep on the doctor’s office examination room table (you know, the tables with that oh so comfortable tissue paper all over them that makes you feel like your some sort of cold-cut sandwich being wrapped up at a deli) after stating ”I’m sleepy.”

Deciding to harass my daughter, which is something I take great pride in and developed my “toddler harassment” techniques to a fine art in the past several years, I tell her that I don’t see her as I throw my coat on top of her.

“Well, were did Jess go… she was just here a moment ago?”

A muffled voice can be heard from underneath the now wiggling blue colored Columbia coat that my wife bought me for Christmas.

“Right here Daddy! I’m right here!”

I circle around, acting like I’m still having a hard time hearing the now overpowering yells that has increased at least two full octaves since this search began.

“Hrmm, well, I guess she must have gone to bed. I guess I’ll just take a little seat right here until she comes back.”

At this point, she has almost gotten the coat off her head that I’ve been continually putting back on top of her each time she shrugs it off, all the while backing her towards a coffee table that sits in the middle of our living room. As she is trying to tell me that she is right behind me, I gently sit on her and hold my hand up to my face in a mock thinking pose.

“Wow, that’s really odd. I know I had just seen her here when I came in, it just seems so odd that she would have left. Now where could she be?”

Jess is so lost in giggles at this point that she can’t even make a single word come out of her mouth as I’m helping provoke her response by now tickling her sides.

By now, my one year old daughter, whom had supposedly said ‘Dada’ for her first time when I first came in the door (this event was unheard by me due to the above mentioned shrieking from Jessamyn), has spotted me and is making loud announcements in my general direction in her attempt to invite me towards her.

Actually, to her credit, Jocie almost always calls me ‘Da’ when she sees me, which absolutely love, since, from her, any acknowledgement of my existence is a gift, given her early life dependency belief that her mother was the world’s only satisfactory caregiver.

With a happy kiss and greeting from my wife, the greetings from the y chromosome deprived faction of my household are now complete.

Happy to no longer be a cushion for her father, Jess now escorts me to the dining room and ushers me into my chair. She helps sort out my food (tonight’s dining cuisine is from Burger King, a horrible choice for me since I had a burger for lunch, but, my flue ridden son had previously usurped the family dining plans with a feeble voiced request for ‘Nuggets’ which ended up diverted the entire family into a fast food dinner scenerio), sets my drink in front of me and announces “There you go Daddy, now you can eat.”

Like the Tasmanian Devil of the Loony Toons series so loved in my youth, Jessamyn now tears off into the living room screaming and bouncing from couch to couch, tossing pillows and cushions off as she flails.

Since Jenny and Brooke are busy straightening out the kitchen, I enjoy my dinner for two with the company of Jocie who now sits across the table from me. We both share smiles and little laughs as we enjoy the tableside performance of the extremely animated serenade of screams and bounces from Jessamyn.

Tonight, Jocie’s face is much more presentable than the night previous when she got to try ketchup for the first time and promptly took two fully drenched fists and planted them on top of her head (note: this happend after I gave her a bath not thirty minutes prior… L) leaving what looks like two spots where, if she were to act like her older sister on this night, I’m sure two horns could have sprouted from.

Normally an attentive listener, Jocie doesn’t provide very much insight into conversations I’ve held with her… Most of my serious life’s questions are either met with a ‘aieee’, ‘da’, ‘mama’, or just some cute looks which, although lacking in verbose substance, leave me with a residual feeling of elation. It seems to me that she tries to provide more inspiration than soulful insights, which is just fine with me.

I update her on the events of my day, tell her how work was stressful since I’m working on 14 projects simultaneously, spend half of the day on conference calls about the projects (something that sounds and is counterproductive, yet a part of everyday life in the IT industry), and ask her if she is as excited as I am about going to DisneyWorld in just over seventy-six days (my wife is tracking the countdown like she is some sort of director at Nasa’s Mission Control Center… thanks honey).

“da yaaaaaaa. Mama… a daaaa”

This sounds as plausible a response as any thus far in our dining discussion.

Quiet fills the room as the crazy whirlwind named Jess has now ascended to other parts, thankfully distant parts, of the upstairs portion of the house.

I can see that she must have finished her dinner at least fifteen minutes ago, yet this little one will eat and eat if someone remains in her company as she now attempts to place a few more bites of food into her well food-decorated mouth.

We smile some more at each other, and play a quick napkin shielded game of ‘peek-a-boo’ before deciding we’re both done eating.

I should also note at this point that she also enjoys the ‘peek-a-boo’ games that happen while I do the nightly dishes as she sits just around the corner from my view in the dining room. After each dish I place in the washer, I take a quick peed around to see her eagerly awaiting my glance, at which I am rewarded with an ear piercing joyous outburst of laughter. This game will last for at least the duration of the large dishes, but by the time I get to the silverware, she will have decided that she wants to help out and that I need to come get her out of her chair to assist me. Once free, she will come right into the kitchen and supervise my efforts and even verify my quality of work by climbing up onto the dishwasher lid and manually examining all of the spoons and forks (I place the knives towards the back where she can’t reach them). If she finds my work satisfactory, she will then continue her examination by verifying each plate is in its proper place by removing them and placing them next to her. A true hard worker in her profession, she never complains about the hazardous conditions she is often exposed to since there is often water on the dishwasher lid. She just climbs right in and starts helping Daddy out.

Not having any dishes due to chosen dinnertime meal, Jocie helps me clean up by bringing in the garbage from the dining table to the kitchen and then we both go upstairs to join the rest of the family in the kid’s playroom.

The perceivable absence of an older brother has left Jessamyn with three adults to herself, and in her after dinner playroom free time she decides to make the most of the attention by running around, dancing, and sharing quick exclamations while jumping up on our knees wanting us to interact with her.

Brooke finally gives in and starting playing with this wiggling and giggling infestation of exuberant energy disguised as our child while I play ‘Superman’ with Jocie (the game where I lay on my back and ‘foat’ her up in the air on my bare feet while holding her hands for safety).

This nighttime enjoyment continues until, like a roaring train that has suddenly run out of fuel and stopped, both of the energy bound bodies quickly descend into their beds and pass-out without even firing a single warning cry or protest, a true testament to the energy burned off in the “witching hour” events of the past several hours.

Amazed adults with puzzled minds try to make sense of the energetic chaos that has transpired, but feeling too tired and worn out from keeping up with bodies thirty years younger, decide on relaxation in the form of homework (if you can really call that relaxing…).

Another day has passed and yet somehow we’ve made it through it unharmed, still alive, and for some unknown reason, eagerly awaiting the next day.

jp

February Musings

In contrast to her normal “bubbly baby” personality, Jocie has recently been a much more subdued, calm, quiet, and very cuddly baby. Although I’ve loved this recent character trait, it is indicative of a more pressing issue. Compounded by our daughter’s entrance into our room this morning announcing that her head hurt, my wife took the whole family to the Pediatrician this morning.

A double-ear infection for Jocie is the culprit for the change of personality, and Jessamyn has been stricken with ‘strep throat.’ Joey was luckily exempt for illness as should be expected by his rather intense concoction of drugs, antibiotics, and allergy medicines prescribed to help treat a chronic sinus infection aggravated by allergies.

Stuck in the middle of the “Winter Blues”, I guess this is as good a time as any for our children to be sick, though, it is hard trying to get a good night’s sleep in our household.

Here are some updates on the family members:

Joey did amazingly well at his second skiing lesson of the year and even earned himself a pair of Scott goggles, which he has been proudly wearing (with helmet) around the house claiming that he is either a Power Ranger, FireFighter, or Soldier. On my cube wall now hang the output of his imaginative artistry from this past weekend as he colored me several paintings of firefighters spraying black tipped hoses gushing blue water that seems to move in directions I’ve never thought possible. I’m sure my mother often dotted her own private spaces with similar creations in my youth. It adds to the hundreds of photos of my family and our vacations that line my office walls.

Jessamyn is sort of experiencing a pre-teen ten-year early attitude disorder where she gets very moody, crosses her arms, scowls, and will not participate in anything. She did this last Saturday during her weekly ballet class. In watching through the window, we noted that for most of the hour she would be seen standing in this position and ignoring the rest of the surrounding class. It’s as if she is trying to say “I’ll ignore you and act mad until I get what I want.” Oh, it assuredly is just a phase, but, a tough one to deal with as “Ms. Nice” seems to involve herself in everything and when she gets scolded or can’t affect change on the rest of the family, out comes “Ms. Temper Tantrum.” Most of the time, though, she is just as sweet as can be and continues to be a great helper and caretaker over her little sister. Ask anything of Jess, and she'll most likely do it.

Jocie refuses to learn to walk, following a similar pattern of her elder siblings whom also refuted the task as long as possible. Instead, she opts to Stand, Clap, Fall to Knees, Crawl to next destination, and Repeat. Nice and cute… ‘till I started noticing the DVD player in the bedroom having an odd desire to keep coming to life sometime between the morning and when I come home from work, whence I turn it off again. We even tried teaching her to descend stairs, but this seems to end in a few stairs down and ten stairs up to the top, and she’s gone playing again.

Jenny and Brooke continue their momentous schooling endeavors with constant studying and discussions about what teacher said what, who did what in their class, and just how much they can’t wait to be done with class.

Me? Well, I’m still trying to decide if I’m going to stay on the fire deparment. I’m taking pictures every chance I get (and reading lots of books to try to improve my abilities). Someday soon, I hope to play drums with my friend Scott.

jp

"I Spray"

My wife’s thirty-second birthday had already been a very un-celebratory day by the time a decision about evening dining had come around. Our usual inability to conclusively decide and agree on an establishment to take ourselves and the kids to had manifested itself into an ugly roaring ball of frustration, bitter looks, and trite comments and so we decided to try to re-tame the ‘Olive Garden.’

Although our previous dining experience had not been bad at all with a highlight when our son, while eating a ice cream Sunday’s cherry, threw the stem over his shoulder and onto the occupied table behind us. Shock and disbelief made way to uproarious laughter as we saw the action and his nonchalant attitude about it evidenced by a wry little smile.

Hoping that our already tired and exhausted children would turn a 180 on their whiny and agitated temperaments, we both put on our optimistic attitudes in the face of obvious disaster: yes, we are as good at lying to ourselves about these sorts of things as any other of “those” people that occupy public spaces with their unruly and undisciplined children.

And so, into the restaurant we went with our crying, temper-tantrum-throwing, disdain drawing entourage en tow.

The hostess led us back to table located near the middle of the room yet in full view of dozens of patrons, a fact that will become painfully irksome later in this story. The table was a typical four-top, and I got to sit in the wait staff hating isle based seat in an already crowded room. A constant ‘bump and apologize through gritted teeth’ routine started due to my location which was the first sign that this may not have been the best idea, yet, given the day, I was not fazed by this in the least.

We order our many varied tastes of food via our ever so non-enthralled waiter (he can obviously see that whatever tip he’s going to get from us will not cover the amount of work he’s going to have to do to clean up this space after we depart). Jenny and I order more adult entrees: I would have tried the Chicken Scampi (my personal favorite), but my wife chides me that it’s all I ever get, so I ventured towards something from an adjacent menu item. Joey goes after his now trademark ‘macaroni and cheese’ while Jess opts from chicken fingers. We reward Jocie with her own menu option, yet, I’m wondering to myself why we are even bothering ordering it for her… in my mind, we should just tell the waiter to pour it directly on the floor, which is where most of the bread sticks, Cheerios, ravioli chunks, and crotons that we’ve given her seem to have found their way to by now anyways.

As we are finishing up our appetizers of soup, salad, and toasted ravioli (my favorite at this particular venue), the waiter is on approach with a landing-pad sized tray full of our food along with an assistant in tow, when I see my older daughter start to gag from what I initially mistakenly think is from a breadstick (and note that she has never tried an Olive Garden breadstick again without announcing the title of this article).

Mother and father watch in disbelief as a stream of liquid emanates from our daughters mouth sufficient to have been generated from a fire hydrant. It makes at rather horrible landing on her older brothers shoulder and flows down his arms and torso finding a resting place in his lap.

A brief look of horror fills Jessamyn’s face before another onslaught of regurgitation cycles into another stream that is this time re-directed onto the table in front of us.

Silence befalls the room, and I am keenly aware at this moment that we have become more towards the far end of the “those parents” meter than I’m really comfortable being.

Waiter and assistant stand in shock at what is taking place in front of them. That tip he might have been thinking about earlier is farthest from his memory.

The table of high school teenagers in full winter Prom dress apparel at the neighboring table is more shocked than we are. In fact, everyone is silent and staring not at the children, but at the parents… “What were they thinking?” “What did they do to that poor little girl?” “Someone should call Children’s Services…” These are the thoughts that befall embarrassed parents minds in moments like these.

Time stops.

I’m really hoping that I can just wake up from this nightmare, roll over and go back to sleep like I would normally do…. Yet, I can’t seem to wake…

Phrases and mantras from my youth pass through my mind trying to draw my mind away from the horrific situation mere feet in front of me:

“Calgon: Take me away.”

“Baby steps to the elevator…”

“If you build it, they will come…”

“R-O-L-A-I-D-S spells relief…”

“Bring out yer dead…. …. Bring out yer dead…” “I’m not dead yet” “Oh stop yammering, you’ll be dead in a moment…”

At this moment, there are multitudes of life scenarios that would be far more appealing than this place at this time…. Even a prison cell would be more welcoming than this.

An inappropriate statement from my older son breaks the moment: “Daddy, Jessamyn just sprayed me and I want my Macaroni and Cheese.”

We take a deep breath and push ourselves back into the world again to take on our roles as parents as we arrive back from the vacations of our thoughts. The room seems to return to whatever previously occupied their fancy as if none of this ever happened. Waiter and wait staff place trays on stands and go to get us an uncountable number of napkins to assist with the now growing mess on our table top.

Jenny quickly rushes a still sickening daughter out of purview of the diners and into the ladies restroom in an effort to clean her thoroughly drenched outfit.

I’m left to clean a table that looks more like someone dumped a five gallon bucket of pea soup with bits of bread stick onto it than anything else.

During this whole event, my son is still only worried about his dinner, and shows no concern about the marinade he has become.

I clean up the table as best I can with the hopes that no one will remember that this happened and try to make our table look somewhat neat and presentable.

Upon returning from the bathroom, my wife informs me that we will need to leave immediately as our daughter is still ill and her clothing needs an immediate changing. This is a welcome invitation, as I can't wait to put this memory in our past.

We wrap kids in jackets and pack a neglected meal into boxes to head home.

While focusing on the preparations for departure, I failed to notice the slinking off of my obviously ill daughter towards the front door. My wife points out my failing parental duties, and I rush off to try to corral her back towards our comfort zone, yet, while reaching for her, I fail to note my dangerous proximity to a half-wall that separates my son’s head from my waist.

“Thunk”

The audible equivalent of hitting a wall with a sledge hammer resounds from my actions as Joey’s head is slammed into the well trimmed wall edge.

I’m again thrown into the cross-hairs of a malice yielding audience that is now bombarding me with disdain like bullets from a rail-gun. At this point, I'm well beyond caring what they could possibly think of me, so I try to regain control of a trespassing daughter and at the same time try to triage a son inflicted with a fatherly induced head injury.

We race to the car like thieves stealing gold from Fort Knox and try to put as much distance between the memories of dinner and ourselves.

Jessamyn now enlightens us on her viewpoint of the situation: “I’m sorry I sprayed.”

She turns to her brother and tries her best at an apology: “I’m sorry I sprayed you brother.”

In thinking this event was over yet wanting to provide comfort and consoling, we placed our daughter into our bed and my wife tended to her needs while I prepared the rest of the family for bedtime.

Another “spraying” even took place in our bed with Jenny acting as the catcher’s mitt for Jessamyn. “I sprayed mommy” was how it was described by Jessamyn to me as I took care of her while Jenny changed.

A long night of tending to an understandably needy daughter was endured by both parents before the next day which say the passing of the illness from one and on to another family member as Joey took up the torch of “spray.”

A now frequent story is told from Jessamyn as she passes by the Olive Garden restaurant now and she tells everyone “that’s where I sprayed. I sprayed the restaurant. I sprayed Joey. And I sprayed mommy. I sprayed.”

jp