Category Family

Jun 29 2012

If My Dogs Attended School, They’d Be In Special Ed.

I love our dogs, they are a part of our family.  And they are oh so special.  Macy is a mid-sized terrier, loyal, agile, anxious and stubborn x10.  Harper is nearly 90 pounds and although he just turned 3 he seems all puppy, also extremely loyal.  This week’s walk in the park is a prime example of the nut bag behavior I deal with for these lovable clowns.

In lue of getting a work out in at home, pilates with a toddler on the hip is impossible, I figured an escape to nature would serve the same purpose and be fun for all.  I loaded up baby and pups for a ride to our favorite dog park – Shawnee Mission Park.  The parking lot was rather empty on this Tuesday morning, which worked out fine for me I was able to open the back and let the dogs run straight to the gate without leashes.

The dog park area is large in comparison to other parks we have gone to, there is a long wide path down the middle flanked with grassy areas on either side and wooded areas beyond that.  Although there are paths down towards the wooded areas, we have always seemed to stay in the middle as it is the quickest way to the water.  My dogs love to be social with other dogs, although they lack social etiquette and don’t quite get it when other dogs are annoyed with their jovial nosiness.  My husband and I haven’t dedicated adequate time to training our dogs, although, we are pretty proud of them coming when we call (eventually).  On our last trip to the dog park another dog accidentally knocked Parker to the ground, the shock made her cry and our dogs immediately retreated from their playful fun to lay down in front of their baby to protect her.

The dogs and Parker were so happy to be out free to run, Parker calling out to her dogs and laughing when they would coming running back towards her.  She alternated between running after them and breaking to be carried.  Needless to say the toddler toddling was not moving fast enough for the dogs.  There were not many other park goers when we first arrived, the dogs greeted fellow pedestrians and pets who passed then happily continued down the path.  Long down the path reaches a wooded area and the trail forks, both sides leading circling to a beach area.  The dogs had been racing forward and back to us until we neared the fork, at this point Macy couldn’t contain her excitement and ran straight out of view towards the water.

Slightly annoyed at her irregular disappearance, I figured no need to worry we would catch up to her.  The beach time was the real purpose of going all the way to Shawnee Mission Park anyway, bringing the dogs out in the heat I knew they would need some time to cool off.  Harper stayed near us, whether to look after the baby or because he is a baby himself – he stayed close.  We took our time and descended the hill down the path I thought was the shortest towards the water.  My memory served me wrong, though the twists and turns eventually got us in sight of the beach to which my daughter exclaimed “Wa wa!”  And finally I was back in sight of my little white terrier sprinting along the shore after a boxer.  A couple more turns and we were at the beach with no sign of Macy.  I called and whistled, no Macy, no boxer and no people.

I knew my anxious mutt probably followed the other park goer and his pooch back up the opposite path when she realized she would be abandoned alone on the beach.  I pleaded with Harper, as if he could suddenly exhibit Lassie’s intelligence, “Go get Macy.”  to no response…  Lugging extra 30lbs on my hip, and a good for nothing beast at my side we began to climb the opposite path, where Macy had apparently gone to join another family.  By the time I reached the spot back where the fork rejoins at the top my cell phone was ringing and I knew someone was calling from the tag on my dog.

A girl with a rottweiler had Macy leashed and was waiting for me up the path, when she realized Macy didn’t belong to the people she was following she stopped to help.  THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to the stranger who interviened.  She even said Macy was looking around nervously, of course I knew this was between the mindless bounding over the other dogs…  Want to play with me, where’s my mom, I’m so excited, I’m so scared.  

With our group finally reunited we headed back to the water and Macy dove right in.

Parker was dressed in a swimsuit, I assumed it would be wet and messy on the beach even though I didn’t intend on us actually getting deep in the water.  Therefore, I came without a swim suit and felt comfortable in light summer clothes until Harper made me think I might actually have to dive in for him.

Shawnee Mission Park

Despite being half golden retriever sometimes I wonder if he really has any of that blood in him, he doesn’t retrieve and he is scared to swim.  Harper will run along the water and take advantage of the splashes to cool is black furry body, he doesn’t generally go deep enough to even let the water touch his chest.  On this morning he stood in the water facing the shore when some seaweed must have brushed up against his leg.  Panic set in for my giant and he scooted his body back further into the water.  At this point fear increased more because not only was he feeling something on his leg, now he was getting into deeper water.  I called sympathetic and encouraging calls for him to come to me.  I knew if he continued his backward motion I would have to forego my plan of not getting wet in order to save him.  Yet, back further he went until the water was over his back and he appeared petrified putting his head underwater as if to bite at the lake creature pulling him out.

Just before I could leap forward and make the 10 soaked steps it would have taken to reach him, Macy swam out in front of me and snapped Harper to attention.  It was as if in a split second she taught him how to doggy paddle and he could finally make a forward motion in the water again.  She lead him to the shore and as soon as he could reach he practically leapt over her to get to dry ground again.  Macy suddenly made up for her earlier run off and became the Lassie for the day to save Harper from drowning.  Yea, like I said – they are “special” dogs.

Harper refereed a game of Tug-A-War and stayed close to the shore after his terrifying ordeal.

Jun 25 2012

Daddy & Daughter Demands

My daughter is becoming fiercely independent.  Don’t get me wrong this is exactly the kind of attribute we want to praise and encourage for her to develop and benefit from throughout her life.  Years from now she will have the strength to stand up for herself and others.  She will be able to advocate for what she needs and she will not take no for an answer…  years from now.

Right now, though, this independence is too much for her to handle.  My daughter wants to be on her stool washing dishes, standing on the toilet to brush her teeth, unlocking the front door after errands, turning on the stereo (and turning the volume waaaay up), reading her own books, cooking, and dressing herself.

I was so pleased when she learned how to pick out a pair of shoes, put them on herself, and cooperate with switching when I told her “wrong foot.”  Even when she is opinionated about choosing the pair which didn’t necessarily coordinate with her outfit, her learning this task made me happy.

Not all of the independent tasks she is trying are coming so easily though, and some of them seem to be incredibly frustrating to her nearly 2-year-old mind.  “No” seemed to be absent from her vocabulary up until the last few months and now it seems too many statements or questions are met with a sharp “NO.”  When she gets stuck in a task she cannot figure out there is tantrum and tears, yelling and refusal of help.  One night over the weekend she fought to put on her own pajamas, whining and squirming with them.  When she got her legs stuck in the arm holes the body flailing began, so mad these pajamas could do her so wrong.

I allow her to have as many opportunities to practice her skills as possible.  I stand outside in the heat for an extra five minutes for her to put the key correctly in the lock, I take the time to show her the correct method to get results, I step in to take over when she has lost control and I spend plenty of time cleaning up her messes.  Let’s face it learning can be dirty sometimes.  I wrestle with thoughts of psychology, child development and reinforcing behaviors, how much is too much and am I raising her right…  Quickly snapping back to reality as duty calls for a second bath for the day when she attempted changing her own diaper in her crib after the nap.

Is this the terrible two’s, has it already arrived four months before she even turns the dreaded age?  This stubborn toddler now demanding her way and don’t help, will be challenging my stress level for how long?  When will she grasp the limitations I put in place for her and stop trying to push it?  (dumb question I realized this after I wrote is since there will be evolving changes all the time.)  The hardest part about meeting her demands is when my husband so honestly pointed out “How will you be able to deal with BOTH of us?”  See he exudes much of the same childlike intolerance for when things don’t go his way, minus the body flailing.

There are far more smiles, hugs and expressions of cooperation then there are the no’s, the tears and the tantrums.  With both my hubby and my toddler I will keep practicing patience, choosing by battles and providing loving support when it’s accepted.

And when my husband voluntarily gets up with my daughter in the morning and serves her chicken, pepperoni and cherries for breakfast.  I’ll just say “Thank you for letting me sleep in” and wake up tomorrow.  Life is perfect right now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jun 17 2012

Reflections Fit For Father’s Day

That’s me and my dad (1982). You will see not much changes, he still wears the same mustache.

I have an older brother and a younger sister, none of us look a thing like my dad.  We are all three reflections of my mom and her side of our family.  My mother is beautiful and looks the same now as she did in pictures from twenty years ago, except better because she is without a helmet perm and enormous eye glasses.  She is incredibly kind spirited and generous to all living things.  She is bursting with creativity and is more motivated to follow-through on tasks quickly than anyone I have ever met – which easily demonstrates why she has been so successful in her own interior design business.  My siblings and I have observed these characteristics in her and have absorbed parts to benefit us each in unique ways.

For better or for worse, feel like I am the only one in my family who has acquired some personality traits from my dad.  So, in honor of my dad on Father’s Day – here goes…

*HUMOR*

I’ve always heard stories about my dad’s dad and his family of brothers, my grandpa passed away before I was born although I feel I know him from these memories shared.  My grandma told me while she was dating him she would eat at his family’s house for dinner and her stomach would ache the next day from laughter.  She talked about how each brother would seem funnier then the next and how his mom would top them all with her punch lines.  I can almost imagine the scene, the sarcasm and the ridiculousness.

The Mady Brothers. My grandpa is the handsome one, third from the left.

At our family dinner table I know when my dad is about to tell a joke before he even opens his mouth.  So I find it exceptionally entertaining when I can make him laugh or encourage him to be gullible in an outlandish tale.  Part of what makes my humor is how people don’t suspect it from the sweet look I got from my mom.  I can make a silly request or develop a whole unbelievably, outrageous story leaving the other person looking dumbfounded before they question my innocence.

About to ride The Tower of Terror 1995. Looking so cool – Dad in his member’s only jacket and me in tapered jeans.

*ADVENTURE*

My mom, brother and sister are perfectly content  staying with their feet firmly planted on the ground, and without risk or fear.  My dad and I are not.  My dad and I rode roller coasters on family vacations while the rest faked illness for a seat on the park bench.  We took scuba diving lessons while the others were beach bound.  He escorted me and my friend’s to haunted houses before we were old enough to drive ourselves. And while my family came to support and watch me skydive, I think my dad was slightly jealous to not be strapped to a parachute too.

Without my dad being at my side through the early adventures, I may not have gone on to pursue my own later – canyoning, paragliding, river rafting etc.  Don’t get me wrong, some of these risks have been terrifying to me.  It’s overcoming the fear for the adventure which makes it exhilarating and worth it every time.

*QUESTIONING*

My dad always wanted us to think for ourselves.  Sounds like a great thing for a parent to want to teach their children, except if you are the child and you just want to know how long before we stop.  And what you get in response is “Well, we are driving at a rate of 68 miles per hour and have another 150 miles to go.”

As a double major in biology and chemistry it was important for him that we didn’t just get answers, rather  we would know how to solve the problems.   This would lead to thinking outside the box and questioning what was already known.  Around middle school or high school age I began to understand from my dad there is a lot more happening in the world then I would get from public education.  I gained confidence to speak my mind, ask direct questions and point out what didn’t make sense to me in school, at the workplace and in general.  It’s not always cool to be the one who is trying question the flow of the popular opinion.  Being cool isn’t important to me though, I would rather not conform back into a box.

I am an extremely lucky individual to have the parents I have, who have supported me so much in life, and who have blessed me with the inherited and learned characteristics which make me who I am.  I love them both, and today – Happy Father’s Day Dad – I appreciate you in so many ways.

Jun 14 2012

Hi…Ummm…Bye

Language development in a toddler is amazing to hear unfolding.  Each day my daughter, Parker, is repeating new words, able to point to and identify new items, form somewhat recognizable statements, sing to the tune of songs and verbally respond to situations.

She is 20 months old now and growing rapidly in so many ways.  She mimics gestures, uses wild facial expressions and easily communicates humor with everyone willing to interact.  Parker has created some of her own terminology, as many toddlers do, like “baba” represents her pacifier and “wawa” is for water.  “Ye-haw” is what you might hear in response to a sneeze or in place of a clear thank you.  Image

One expression I have heard her using a lot lately has caused me to examine my own language usage – and no, I am not cursing a lot around my daughter.  It has been comical to observe her with her pretend phone conversations.  Anything to a Parker represents a phone – an ipod, calculator, remote control, pad of paper etc.  Over a year ago she pretty much became motivated to crawl when a cell phone was dangled in front of her to reach for.  Let’s just say the allure of a phone is present and she loves pretending to talk on it.

Her baby babble often follows a clear “hi” and at some point she abruptly ends the conversation with a clear “bye.”  Within the last week there have been pauses between the indistinguishable babble for an “Ummm” thought pause.  Now it seems every phone call she takes contains the hi, the bye and several umm’s.

Now I understand I am not the only individual she encounters who may use “umm” to pause and prepare words.  As her primary adult interaction, and the individual she most often listens to and likely observes on the phone – I gather she may have learned this un-word from me.

My daughter is constantly a source of inspiration.  This week she has inspired me to be more mindful of pausing silently rather then filling the space with an “ummm.”

May 28 2012

In Honor of Memorial Day.

Enlisting in our nations military are some of the bravest and strongest individuals among us.  These men and women commit to the purpose to serve and protect our country, making personal sacrifices most of us cannot relate to or even begin to imagine.  1.6 million civilians have become veterans in nearly a decade since the war in Iraq began.  While this number is astounding, many U.S. citizens don’t know a soldier, don’t think about the war and don’t recognize how irresponsible it is for us not to support our troops and their families.

In honor of Memorial Day please consider the over 6,000 soldiers who have been killed in combat.  They leave behind parents, spouses, children and friends whose grief of a senseless loss will have infinite effects throughout their lives.  In addition to combat deaths, statistics regarding suicide rates of soldiers should be enough to alert the military and the government to discontinue their efforts and re-evaluate how to gain peace.  Many soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan have to cope with the effects of post traumatic stress related to the devastation they have witnessed overseas.  Troops experience real life nightmares and exist in a perpetual state of alert anxiety to survive.  Many soldiers returning have to rediscover their place within their family and in society, some uprooted again for redeployment.  Many soldiers struggle to find employment in our suffering economy, some statistics suggest unemployment for veterans is higher than 27%.  Many soldiers, 45% of veterans, need some form of services related compensation do to injury or trauma.  And many soldiers need more mental health services then the military is prepared to support, some give up seeking help because of the amount of paperwork required by the VA.  In the last two years suicide rates of soldiers has surpassed the combat death rate.

In honor of Memorial Day please consider the over $4 trillion which has been spent related to Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan.  It’s difficult to say what we have or have not accomplished with these funds because of the war efforts without being hyper critical of our government or cynical about their reports of accomplishments.  What’s not difficult to see is the injustice that has been served to our troops and their families because of the sacrifices they have given in honor of our country.  The physical and emotional pain these men and women will continue to deal with for the rest of their lives and the lack of support to them once their service is over is outrageous.  Even if you are an individual who doesn’t know a soldier and doesn’t think about the war on a regular basis, you are effected.  Every American feels the rippling effects of the senseless violence these brave men and women have witnessed.  We all feel the rippling effects from their families who stress at the absence of their loved ones.  We all feel the rippling effects from the hatred that perpetuates war.

In honor of Memorial Day please consider what you can do to help a soldier or help a soldier’s family.  And to honor those who have been lost in combat or from suicide – stand to put an end to the war and bring our brave men and women home.

May 26 2012

Taking it Back to Kindergarten.

Well that’s it, I’ve done it!  I’ve repaired my husband, relieved his fear and helped him to become whole again.  For so long he had been suffering, it must have been horrible to be afraid of the dishwasher.  It can be such a wildly intimidating mechanism… so loud and wet…  It took a lot of patient trial and error so I am hoping to spread the cure for anyone else whose husband may be affected with similar problems.  Dishwashers, washing machines, vacuum cleaners, even Windex can have a similar reaction – men can be terrified of them all.

I first noticed the phobia of the dishwasher growing when I came to realize I was the only one using the dishwasher.  There were even times when I loaded the washer and my poor husband walked up quivering behind me to put the dish in the empty sink. I knew this was getting serious.

At first I was in a panic, I wanted to react strongly, draw attention to it and snap him out of it.  This men would refer to as “nagging”, in truth it’s the term men use to maintain masculinity in the face of fear.  Pointing it out, demonstrating how to safely operate it, and trying to reason about even allocation of household responsibilities all proved unsuccessful.  In turn, this even made him withdraw further.

After this failure I attempted to ignore the fear hoping he would work it out in his own manly way.  What I found was that there is no manly method for improving something if there is no pressure or motivation.  My silence indicated approval and therefore no need to change.  My husband would still be content keeping his safe distance from the dishwasher had I not realized a third method and the cure to this clean kitchen ailment.

I’ve coined this treatment The Kindergarten Teacher…  The name says it all, we resorted to elementary school interactions and it’s guaranteed to be effective.  There were several ways to maintain light pressure and gentle motivation to coax my fearful husband back to his big boy pants.  The first rule of thumb was to keep the kindergarten teacher in mind, just think sweet and nurturing.  It was important to lay on the compliments thick, boost his confidence back up beginning with anything I could find that he was doing right. “Thank you so much for putting the milk back in the fridge,” “Yay, you brushed your teeth twice today,” “I really appreciate you driving, I don’t know how I would get around without you.”  You get the idea, ANYTHING.  The next phase was to utilize the examples around him, I staged my toddler to help me to load and unload the dishwasher when he would be able to see.  He could see our baby had no fear so he could have no fear.

The final step was to make suggestive statements and allow him to interpret his behavior as his own idea.  In kindergarten tone, “Oh my, I am so tired I think I will leave the dishes for tomorrow.”  This I’ve said in a variety of ways with no effect, it takes frequent repetition and creativity.  With his new found confidence and the fear being alleviated by watching how it can safely be done, one day I went to bed with the sweet hum of the dishwasher and I didn’t start it!

Success at last.  My husband loaded the dishwasher twice in 2 weeks now, which is the best record in the last two years.  I am committed to maintaining the kindergarten teacher method in preparation for a possible relapse.  I also set a goal of getting him to try an unload sometime in the next month, please if you see him, this is all top secret information.

May 3 2012

The Master of Disaster

My husband affectionately coined the name Master of Disaster for my daughter.  She, as toddlers typically are, has an extremely healthy level of curiosity and a seemly endless amount of energy to explore.  We did the usual child-proofing measures of putting locks on drawers, the gate at the top of the stairs and plugs in sockets.  While she continued to grow in bravery and independence we quickly learned to clear clutter in her path and try to keep her confined when possible.  Since I have not discovered how to be a hovering mom AND accomplish household tasks this has led to the nickname Master of Disaster.

For example, this morning she sat in her booster chair eating her breakfast while I was in the kitchen.  I take advantage of the moments when she is strapped in and with food to occupy her so that I can clean the kitchen and complete tasks like emptying the dishwasher without an assistance climbing in.       She sat eating in a cheerful mood, talking throughout her meal in her indistinguishable baby garble.  My overly productive morning quickly turned to the realization that my back was turned to her too much when she indicated “All done,” and I saw how she had used most of her yogurt as lotion for her pants.  

Her favorite disaster creating media is water.  She could spend hours in the bathtub, sprinkler, or faucet just playing.  The unfortunate part is that we don’t have all the time int he world to be playing with those things and she sometimes tries to make do with the dog bowl.  I have found her with a measuring cup from the drawer scooping water from the bowl to the floor.  I have scolded her for using her play kitchen set spoons to stir the dog’s water bowl.  And I have noticed a pattern in her intentionally dipping her hands in the dog dish in order to get to play with the water in the faucet since the only rational step after putting hands in the water dish would be to wash hands.

By far the most comical, yet disgusting, Master of Disaster move I have seen yet with the dog’s water bowl happened as most of these incidences started.  I am busy trying to keep up with my household mess and trust she is innocently playing with her things until I realize she has been quiet and independent for too long.

“Parker” I call from the kitchen.  Within seconds she steps into the doorway from the dining room to the kitchen, facing me, hands to her side, silent with a pacifier plugged in and avoiding eye contact.  “Have you been in the water dish Parker?”  I ask.

She loosens from her frozen position and moves past me in the kitchen to the refrigerator magnets.  I can almost see the thought bubble in her head trying to distract me from questioning if she takes position with an approved activity.  I continue to look down at her and recognize her hand is wet, of course she has been entertained by the water bowl.  Crouching down on her level I show her that I noticed.  She finally looks up at me with her big brown I’m sorry don’t I look too sweet to punish eyes.  She resumes use of the pacifier in her mouth and I can tell from the wet escaping with every suck that it too has been submerged in the dog’s water dish.

Nov 15 2011

Appreciation for my husband.

A Fall Day

A quiet moment in the leaves, a daddy in love with his daughter!

It seems there are so many times that my husband will go on and on verbalizing, what sounds like thinking out loud regarding plans for what to do month to month, week to week.  Often times I will catch bits of what he is saying and end up tuning a lot out.  Or I have my own train of thoughts going on in my head that overshadow and drown out what he is communicating.

At one point this past weekend while my husband had initiated one of these ramblings of immediate plans, I became aware of my own thoughts and made a determination to focus on his words.  The conversation was like many we have had before, it was not urgent or pressing.  My engagement in the conversation was unique as I tried to quench thinking, problem solving or judging that comes natural.  As to not simplify this process, I want to be clear that I had to continue refocusing and stopping my own intrusion of thoughts.  However, what I discovered was rewarding.

I know my husband wants to be a good person, wants to be a good dad, a good husband, yadda yadda yadda…  However, following this moment of really trying to listen to my husband, my awareness of how strongly this motivates him was raised.  My appreciation of him as a person, the father of my daughter and as the man I am choosing to spend the rest of my life with was put into a clearer perspective.  Listening this way helped me to set aside knowing that I love him and really reinforced one of the reasons why I love him.  It also allowed me an opportunity to validate his position as a leader striving to provide a happy life for his family.

If there is one thing that I know about marriage whether it’s from 3 years of personal experience or from every other married person’s advice…  Marriage is work.  It takes a daily effort to show and receive affection, to share and to listen.  I thought I was working daily on my marriage, it’s now that I am aware I was not really doing the listening part well.  Dropping my own thoughts and taking in what someone else is saying is hard work, and it is worth the effort.  Really hearing my husband’s words no matter how big or small the issue will help maintain on our relationship.