Am I proud of my son? Heck yeah!
Last Sunday, Trystan didn’t want to take a nap so I made him a deal.
“If you want to stay awake, then you have to do what the grown ups do while you kids are napping.”
“Okay Daddy.”
So he washed dishes with me and afterward picked up all his toys in the livingroom.
Watching two boys wash dishes may not sound too exciting, I just love hearing what Trystan has to say…
One morning when Trystan was about a year old, Shelly and I woke up to him crying. I groggily walked into his room to check on him and see his onesie is wet. It wasn’t long before the smell made it’s way into my sleepy nostrils and I realized that he had an explosive movement in his sleep and soiled not only his onesie, but his bed as well.
“Shelly! I need help,” I yelled across the hall into our room, “I’ll change Trystan, can you change his bedding?”
I unbuttoned and began to peel Trystan’s soiled onesie off him and realized that his leg was wet. I took him to the bathroom since the mess was bigger than I expected. “It’s okay Trystan,” I said as he continued to cry. I carefully lifted him by his armpits so as not to soil my own clothes and put him down in the middle of the bathroom. I turned the shower on then unbuttoned his clothing to realize that this kid had been marinating in grit, grains, and special s#*t sauce as his back was covered in poop. I quickly jumped away from the already crying toddler. “WAIT!” I yelled. He cried even more, confused by my reaction. “Stay right there!” I said, holding him back by his head as his arms desperately reached out for me. “STAY!” At that moment, I saw his face. I saw the embarassment, the sadness, the plea for me to console him. “ARRGHHH!” I said, “just wait a second.” I quickly took my clothes off, held my little “tar baby” tightly and climbed into the shower.
* * *
I really love being a dad. Learning to love my children is also learning how to allow myself to be loved by God. As a Roman Catholic, one of my favorite things to do is also one of my least favorite things to do… confession. Weakness is weakness and I seem to be taking the same sins into the confessional every single time I go. I’ve had the same weaknesses for as long as I can remember, sometimes I handle them better, other times not so well. Sometimes I even think that God must be getting really tired of hearing the same thing over and over. He must be getting tired of having to change my “dirty diapers” over and over. Really? Did I feel like that about Trystan almost three years ago before he potty trained? Do I feel like that about Zoey now as she is beginning to potty train?
No. I love my kids. I don’t see dirty diapers (even the explosive ones) as a sign of my children hating me, or as a reason for me to turn my back on them. As a matter of fact, it makes me happy when Zoey tells me that she went poopoo. The more she matures and progresses in her potty training, she will start coming to me BEFORE she poops. And hopefully, I can get her to the toilet in time before her “weak” untrained body can’t hold it in any longer. Sometimes I find myself “marinating” in my sins, holding it all in within my warm onesie of pride and stubborness. It never fails that the moment I cry out to my Daddy in heaven, and let him know that I have soiled myself, he comes to embrace me and clean me up. I KNOW this. If I, an imperfect daddy can embrace my son despite his mess, then so will my perfect Daddy do even more for me. Every time I bring myself to surrender my sins, I walk out of our church on cloud nine, with a skip in my step, feeling completely loved, embraced and freshly showered.
Seeing Trystan now, fully potty trained, gives me hope that I too will mature past my spiritual weakness. He inspires me by his sheer will power. I remember asking him once to stop sucking his thumb (after creatively explaining the consequences) and the subsequent days, Shelly and I noticed him fighting the desire to suck his thumb. Now he has grown out of that as well.
I am still working on letting my Daddy know BEFORE I soil myself instead of hoarding it like a little kid. In many ways I look up to my children, I can only imagine how Mary and Joseph felt raising Jesus.
* * *
“Zoey,” she looks at me “did you poopoo?” I ask because I saw her with her thinking face a moment before.
“No.” She says shaking her head. Her face looks guilty and I can smell the fresh cookies in the oven.
Why? Why does she hide it from me? All she has to do is say yes and I will gladly change her diaper. Then after asking myself why, I just smile because I know that I do the same thing. Then I lift my heart to heaven and say, “I love you too Daddy.”
In the mornings I let Trystan and Zoey spread their own jam on their toast. This morning, Trystan placed a hefty helping on his bread:
Daddy: Whoah Trystan, that’s a lot of jam!
Trystan: Don’t worry Daddy, I’m going to lick it.
Time management is just another way of saying task prioritization. It is about knowing what you will get done and what you won’t. The biggest part is placing names on the things that you do. Checking e-mail, chatting, updating your status on Facebook, cruising your newsfeed are some activities that we do not name, but end up taking our time. When we list out our priorities, we have to include these things on our list of things to prioritize.
With that said, as a working parent who wants to find fun ways for my kids to learn. One of the things on my priority list is giving the kids hands on learning experiences. I keep my eyes peeled for opportunities where I can take something on my priority list for the day and combine it with a way to teach the kids something fun. I love taking them grocery shopping because they learn about the process of picking fruits and vegetables, interacting with a cashier, and the value of money. Before going shopping, I make Trystan take out some money from his piggy bank so he can buy a treat. Hunting for those opportunities is one of the things that injects random fun into my day.
Yesterday, on our drive home from daycare, I asked Trystan what he wanted to eat for dinner. He replied, “I want French fries, ketchup and chicken nuggets Daddy.” “Well, we don’t have any French fries at home so we have to go to the store and buy some.”
At this moment, I remembered the potatoes in our pantry that were starting to go soft and I had a flashback to when I was a child and my mom cooked French fries with me and my brothers. Now I can teach the kids how to cut potatoes and show them how one of their favorite treats are made and at the same time, I don’t have to put them in front of the television while getting dinner ready.
Almost two years ago, Zoey was born. Shelly and I were in the nursery ward at Providence Saint Joseph and I was sitting on the couch which was also my makeshift bed from the night before. Trystan was at a children’s party with Kayla. Ben and Sheri took him when Shelly started going in to labor the day before. Zoey was in her crib sleeping next to Shelly. We were tired, happy and in awe of the new addition to our family. I couldn’t stop looking at her. After taking her out for some tests, they brought her back in with a little pink bow in her hair. It was held on by a small drop of petroleum jelly. This is one of the reasons we love this hospital so much; the amazing staff.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in!” Shelly said. A Catholic nun walks into the room. Everyday she makes her rounds in the hospital to read scripture and give communion to the patients. We chatted with her for a few minutes before she continued on. We learned something from her that day that we have lived by and I believe is what makes Trystan and Zoey’s relationship the way it is.
“Is this your first baby?” Sister asked.
“No, she has a big brother.”
“Let me give you some advice. If both babies are crying, take care of the older one first. The second one won’t remember anything, but the first one will and might hold it against the baby.”
So from that day on every time Zoey and Trystan would both need attention, it doesn’t matter which one started crying first, we would go to Trystan and make sure that he was taken care of. About a year later, when both of them were in need of attention I went directly up to Trystan to see what he needed. He saw me coming and stopped calling for me, instead he pointed and directed me to Zoey. “Look Daddy! Zoey is crying.” Since then, little by little he began to look to her needs more and more.
Here is a heartwarming episode that just happened this morning. Shelly had already left for work, Trystan and I finished breakfast, and Trystan was working on a homework assignment on his little table (yes, he already has homework at 3 years old). I hear Zoey crying from the bedroom so I bring her to the dining room table to get her breakfast ready. Trystan walks over and shows her his page of upper and lower case letter B’s and she smiles in approval. He puts the paper back on the kiddie table, comes to the dining table and climbs on his chair. He grabs a paring knife and about six strawberries and starts slicing the leaves off each one. I wanted to capture him on video using a knife so I started filming. After getting two good shots, I turn my camera off. Then I hear him saying, “Here you go Zoey.” I glance back and catch him giving her all the strawberries that he had cut. Then he takes his bowl of muesli and yogurt and splits it with her… Just when I thought the cuteness was over, he gets his step stool from the bathroom and brings it over to the kitchen sink. He grabs his and Zoey’s cups, fills them with water and brings it to her at the table.
Well, Sister’s advice has worked amazingly for two. Hopefully she will be at the hospital when baby #3 is delivered and she could tell us how to play Zone Defense.
The firefight continued and the wind was with us. We had sunk one mercenary ship earlier in the evening, now her majesty’s sailing ship Lesion had caught up. Pass after pass we let the cannons loose until driftwood, debris and life rafts scattered on the surface where her majesty’s navy ship stood. The only light was from the burning oil and grease that floated on top of the water.
I woke up this morning a groggy pirate, with a stink in my breath and an itch under my eyepatch. I was tired and hoping that the two lesions on my eyelid had started crusting over which meant that they were no longer contagious and I would be on the downhill side of these damn shingles. I walked up to the mirror and lifted my eyepatch to see two scarred over spots on my eyelid. Yes! My immune system had won the battle last night.
As the dawn began to rise over the horizon, we saw clearly the devastation that we had caused. Floating bodies, lines, sails and shattered wooden planks around our ship. The wind had died down and we did not move. T’was for none the better since my men and I were tired from our long night of fighting. “Ahoy Cap’n!!!!” Walsh points over the gunwale toward the rising sun and I see the silhouette of not one ship, but her majesty’s armada.
I took the gauze off completely to wash my face in the shower, happy that this ordeal is almost over. I got my clothes ready and turned to the mirror for another look. My forehead was covered in red blotches, there were three small red spots forming at the upper left corner of my hairline, and under my left eyebrow was a rosebush with no leaves, just clusters of red. The lesions hadn’t blistered yet but I definitely felt defeated.
***
Today was the first day I had the kids all to myself after getting shingles and as the day went on, the rash got bigger, and so did my swollen glands. I took all the necessary precautions not to spread the virus to my children. I did more research and got more tips from friends. I scheduled a dermatologist appointment for tomorrow morning for myself and a pediatric appointment for Zoey to possibly get the chickenpox vaccine and to check on her cough.
These are the things I found out. If anyone out there ever gets shingles and you have kids, remember these pointers. This is my body and if this virus wants to take over, well it’s going to have a hell of a time because I’m going to put up a fight.
Regarding handling children who have not had chickenpox (If you have no choice like me):
With all that said, I am thankful that we have really easy children. Trystan and Zoey interact so well together and can keep themselves entertained, that I didn’t really have to do much. Trystan can finally dress himself and is completely potty trained, and he helps take care of his little sister by throwing her dirty diapers away after I change her, putting away her toys and consoling her when she cries. This afternoon, Trystan, Zoey and I had races in the back yard. And we kicked crocodiles. Kicking Crocodiles is a game he likes to play with an assortment of little blow up animals. He stands them on all fours and yells “Let’s get the crocodiles!!!” and we run around the yard kicking them as hard as we can. Today was the first time Zoey joined us in that game. Zoey fell asleep within 10 minutes of going to bed. Trystan had a more difficult time, but after I got too tired I left his room and he fell asleep on his own.
I am also thankful for our friends who called to offer their help this week, whether for advice or for picking up Trystan from daycare or for watching them during the day so I can take a break. I am most specially thankful for my wife, Shelly, who took care of me with a foot rub and a nice cup of ginger lemon tea, and made sure that I didn’t stay up too late writing this blog.
Finally, here is a video that a friend sent me to cheer me up. Thanks Brenda, it made me and Shelly laugh, what a nice end to the day.
These phrases were often heard in our house when my five siblings and I were growing up:
Who drank all the orange juice?
Who left the bathroom light on?
Who made $300 worth of long distance calls on the house phone?
Who left the TV on?
The answer was always the same, it was Mr. Nobody. Mr. Nobody would answer and only he would seem to have done it; none of us did. When I moved out to Fort Worth, Texas he didn’t follow me. I lived alone and I knew all the answers. Everything was mine and my whole apartment was decked in my favorite colors of yellow and blue. If I was looking for something, it was right where I left it. It was great, because everything was me. Then Shelly and I got married and not long after, Mr. Nobody came back. He played even more of his tricks once Trystan was born. Ahhhh, I had known him so long I dropped the title Mister; he was just “Nobody.”
Now that we have two children, Nobody’s been up to more mischief than ever. Even Trystan and Zoey have befriended him. Nobody left the dirty diapers out, Nobody spread my dirty clothes all over the house; Nobody unraveled the toilet paper roll and Nobody took the changing mat out of the baby bag before going out. Of course Nobody has explosive poop and Nobody forgets to turn the sink off. Yes he’s definitely moved back into our house. Though you think he might have driven us nuts by now, he doesn’t because…
Who gives hugs like Zoey?
Who makes Daddy more proud than Trystan?
Who is more supportive of Daddy than Mommy?
Who takes care of Mommy better than Daddy?
Who puts bigger smiles on my face than this family?
Who loves you more than I do?
…that’s right, Nobody.
This breakfast post is going to include my thought process as I made their meal. When I first got to the kitchen I had no clue what I was going to make. I just knew that I didn’t want to give them cereal or toast. So I opened the refrigerator door and scanned for ingredients. That’s when I found the leftover french bread from our soup dinner two nights ago. Step 1, take the bread and slice it into 1 to 2 inch thick slices.
Slices of french bread
Now my options were to paint something with Nutella, peanut butter, or jam. Or to shape it into something. Looking into the fridge again, I took out two packages of yogurt. I knew that I was going to hollow out the bread slices and put yogurt into them, but I still didn’t know what it’s going to be.
Yogurt and hollow bread
Fill the bread and smooth out the yogurt
Now what story can we tell with this quasi-creation? What does Trystan absolutely love, and what would Zoey recognize? Just then, no sooner than the introduction song from Disney’s Lion King starts playing on the Pandora station in the background, that the imagery of herds of animals crossing the savannah come to mind. The answer: animal crackers!
Add animal crackers
It’s still missing something… so I go into the fridge again, then the freezer. Ahhh. A bit of microwave magic and the final addition completes the african oasis.
African oasis breakfast
The final step is to ENJOY!
I Love You Too Daddy 