An open letter to my daughter on the occasion of her six birthday

Hello Roo.

Six years old. Wow. I've been working on a project for you (that won't be ready in time for your birthday unfortunately) that's had me poking about in the family photos.

It's a cliché that kids grow up so fast, but its one rooted in truth. Looking at those old pictures the sleepless nights and the arguments over meals seem a little more hazy. I find it hard to care so much about all the little aggravations of parenting that creep up on you and instead I find myself amazed at the person you're becoming.

Its great to see how much you love school. You can't wait to get out of bed and go and see your friends every day. And its a perpetual battle between Mommy and yourself, on the days where she picks you up from school, to stay and play a little a longer.

But I honestly think you love learning almost as much. Every night you can't wait to read another book and fill in another line in your agenda. More than once I've found you with a stack of books, diligently reading them and then painstakingly entering them into your agenda. You even went as far as copying Mommy and Daddy's signature in the process. If your future as a lawyer\brain surgeon\captain of industry doesn't pan out you'll have a bang up back up career as a master forger.

My favourite part of the week though is watching you play hockey. You might not remember but you used to HATE anything to do with hockey or skating. I used to have to use every tool in my bag to get you to do another lap around the ice with me during family skate. I'd bribe you, try to trick you, or even threaten to without something (usually TV) if you didn't do another lap with me. And skating drills at hockey school? Forget it. You'd sooner do just about anything else if it meant you could miss out on those. Instead you'd trudge wearily up and down the ice, using your body language to let everybody know just how much you hated all of this.

But play a few games though and everything changed practically over night. Now I couldn't drag you off the ice at family skate for anything. You even like doing EXTRA drills at your optional skills practice. Its clear you've got a competitive spirit, which I'd like to take credit for but you know your mother so I think at best its a 50\50 split. I've watched you chase after a puck or dig at in the corners against girls a foot taller than you. You're the only 5 year old on your team but watching you work you'd never be able to tell.

You're even a better skater than me. I might be able to keep up with you in terms of pure speed. But I don't have your control or your skill, especially when it comes to skating backwards.

Watching you stride up and down the rink during a game fills my heart with joy. Because you don't look like a little girl trying to play hockey, you have the look and profile of a hockey player doing something she loves.  It may have been three years of seemingly unending sacrifice from Mommy and I, but I'm glad we did it.

We've also had some down moments this year. Your Nanna died in May. I miss her every day. More than anything else Nanna loved being a grandmother. She loved spending time with all her grandchildren, reading to them, playing with them, teaching them. Whenever Nanna and Grampa came to visit Nanna would be toting some game or activity for you to do.

I'm sad that she'll miss out on all the wonderful experiences that you have to look forward to. Every time you accomplish something, like winning the principal's award this year for empathy, I want to call her up and tell her all about it.  (Conversely, when I'm struggling with some new parenting challenge I want to do the exact same thing).

Nanna loved you very much. I can only hope that I'm able to pass on to you some of the many things that she was able to teach me.

What else? You learnt to ride your bike without training wheels! (Very exciting) And then promptly forgot a day later. So we had to work up to that again.

You graduated in swimming from Ultra 4 to Ultra 5. Just like in hockey, you're the smallest and youngest in the group but you refuse to let that hold you back.

We did indoor Sky Diving as a family. You had a permanent grin stapled to your face as the instructor guided you around the room.

I took you to your first ever Comic Convention. You got a drawing of She-ra and carried it around with you all day.

AND Mommy and Daddy took you out of school for the day to see the new Star Wars movie. You were more cautious than excited, but maybe when you're older you'll be able to look back on it as a once in a life time opportunity.

Its been a very crazy year for all of us. Lots of ups and downs. But I look at you, and I see the fierce little warrior who won't back down for anything or anyone and I'm proud. Because you are going to end up being one of those rare people who makes life bow to your will, and not the other way around. Although, having said that, it wouldn't kill you to maybe bend on some things ONCE in awhile. Seriously, having a disagreement with you requires a carefully planned pre argument strategy and some serious thinking. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Creative expression

A letter to my son on the occasion of his first birthday

Hello Jojo. (Or Joey, or Nate Bate, or any one of a dozen nicknames given to you by a sister who can’t keep her hands off you)

I never thought I’d have a son. Given the high number of girls that run through both sides of the family I thought for sure when we decided to find out your gender in advance of your birth the answer was going to be ‘it’s a girl of course’.

Your mother and I had to take a moment to recover our wits when the ultrasound tech told us it was a boy. (Your mom had gotten the ultrasound first while I was in the waiting room and apparently a wandering tech from another room had popped their head in, looked at the screen and pronounced you a girl before wandering off to give more misleading advice to other excited parents. So when I finally joined your mother to watch the end of the ultrasound she was fully prepared to for the declaration of girl and was just as gobsmacked as I was when the word was given)

It didn’t take very long for the differences between you and your sister to become apparent. Whereas Roo was always pushing herself, always upset at her perceived limitations (why can’t I walk yet!?) you have a much more relaxed attitude about life. Roo was up and running around the house by eleven months, always reaching into shelves and pulling things onto the floor before moving on to the next target and gleefully continuing her reign of terror.

You’re going to have to forgive me if I make a few comparisons with your sister in a letter that’s meant for you. It’s just that Roo is the only basis of comparison I have for anything related to child rearing and I’m constantly surprised at how different your two personalities are.

I’d have thought that given identical parental origins and a similar upbringing that, at this young age at least, the differences between your two personalities would be akin to variations on a theme, instead I find that you two are playing completely different songs and sometimes my mind threatens to melt into a puddle of goo reconciling the two melodies.

Whereas Roo fought me on everything I find you much more laid back. I can put you down in a pile of sweaters or with a single toy or even a pair of my sunglasses and you’ll run your fingers over it, feeling and prodding it for what seems like forever - before inevitable shoving it in your mouth. Which is great because that means I can stick you in one spot and then run around frantically, usually cleaning or trying to get everyone ready to go outside.

I’ve come to the conclusion that everything below knee level in the house tastes delicious. That is the only reason I can come up with for your unstoppable predilection to shoving even the most foul tasting object into your maw. Shoes and dirty clothes are like teethers to you. We’ve had to become extra vigilant when insuring that the lid to the toilet seat is down because you apparently look at toilets as your personal tasting bowl and your sister is still learning to remember to flush.

(I’ve washed your mouth out with soap because of that unfortunate experience twice now and both times you sat there and grinned at me with barely contained delight even though soap bubbles were cascading over your lips.)

Smiling. Good God, but do you like to smile. Big soppy grins when I walk through the door after work, or when I’ve caught you doing something that maybe you shouldn’t be. Shrieks of laughter when I toss you into the air, endless giggles as you crawl across the floor in pursuit of the cat or fleeing the ‘tender’ embrace of your sister. You only have a dozen teeth but every time you smile I can count each and every one of them because that grin of yours is so big you could get lost in it.

Sleep. Again. So different than your sister. Roo would fight sleep, cry for hours on end. Refuse to lie down unless someone was in the room with her, holding her hands between the bars of the crib. You, on the other hand, finish your bottle with a burp, grab hold of your stuffed Gator, roll over onto your stomach and I’m pretty sure you’re asleep before I leave the room. Now you balance that out by sometimes waking up at 2am and screaming bloody murder for two hours, but that seems to be tapering off these days. Thankfully.

Cars and strollers. Again, you’re like The Dude of the Wheels. We can make a three hour trip to the cottage and you’ll stay awake the whole time. Blissfully taking the scenery in. The first time we did the trip I kept waiting for you to throw a rod and start screaming - but it never happened.  Your sister would protest even the shortest car ride or walk where she was strapped into a car seat or stroller, but as long as you’ve got a toy to play with you couldn’t care less.

I used to say you were obsessed with sports. Whenever I flipped the TV on you seemed to gravitate towards anything hockey or baseball related. Although now I’m pretty sure you’re just following the colours and motions. But I’m not ready to pack away the theory just yet. I’ve seen the way you hone in on your sister’s hockey stick or how any ball instantly becomes your favorite toy.

Having even one child can feel like an insurmountable challenge. Having two (or more) adds a degree of difficulty that even parenting veterans probably aren’t prepared for.

But I am fully aware of how lucky I am that a sweet and happy little fellow like yourself is making my job that much easier.

 

A letter to my daughter on the occasion of her fourth birthday

Claire

Four years old. I can hardly believe it. Cliches aside, it seems like last week I was either changing your diapers, or getting up with you in the middle of the night or helping you dress yourself.

Nowdays if I even suggest an alternative out for you to wear for the day I know that I’m setting myself up for a battle royale. You’ve got a temper and you’re stubborn as hell Roo, but look at your parents and take comfort in knowing that you come by it honestly.

The last two months have been more challenging than most. Your new brother Nathan is taking up a lot of our attention and it seems like all the hard fought real estate your mother and I have conquered over the past four years is in danger of slipping away. (Going to bed at a decent time? Forget about it.)

But out of all the barely controlled chaos that comes with a new arrival to the family YOU have emerged as the best big sister ever. You’re always there to try and soothe Nathan when he’s upset and you’re always the first one to try and do something to help when Mommy and Daddy are overloaded. I know that in months before Nathan arrived we were nervous about what a new baby would do to the family dynamic. We didn’t want you to feel left out or overlooked  so we worked hard to make sure you were a part of everything to do with the preparation. We needn’t have wasted the energy sweating. If anything you love Nathan TOO much. (Rule one of babies Roo, if they’re sleeping you don’t need to wake them up)

But you’ve been a real trooper when it comes to sharing your toys, I think watching you give up your cherished Poo Bear to a teary younger brother is perhaps the greatest display of affection you could do at this age. I’m sure you’ll be less generous as Nathan gets bigger and starts staking his own claim on toys, but nevertheless its nice to see you sharing.

In the past year you’ve taken up skating and you’re getting progressively better at it. I’m trying to walk the tightrope of encouraging you to push your limits and having fun. I think right now it’s more of a chore for you than it is fun but we’re getting closer to perfecting the ratio. But watching you zip around the ice on your skates now its hard to believe that last year at this time you couldn’t even stand up. I even bought a pair of skates myself so I could go skating with you on the weekend.  I’m absolutely terrible at it, I can’t stop but rather glide to a halt or make an abrupt turn to shed all my momentum. Thankfully I’m still faster than you, although I’m sure that will change. Next year I’m hoping we can get you into hockey. (Fingers crossed)

We did soccer with you this summer. It was a bit of a bust as the class was pretty evenly split between younger and older kids and most of the younger kids spent their time clutching their parents or wandering around the field, which meant there wasn’t all that much time for soccer. You did play a couple of mini games at the end, so it wasn’t a total washout. I think we’re going to try again this summer and hopefully a year’s worth of growing means you’ll get to play more games.

You’ve become an AMAZING swimmer. Last summer you had to be coaxed to jump in the water now, if we’re not careful, you’ll jump right off the dock without anyone to catch you. You passed your first level in swimming and you’re a hair’s breadth away from getting your second badge. (We just have to get you keep your head down when you dive into the pool from the side)

You love arts and crafts, especially stickers and paint.

You know all your letters and flipping through your books but you can’t read yet. Learning your letters has been tricky because you didn’t much enjoy doing it. So oftentimes you’d say you didn’t know what the letters were in the hopes that it meant you didn’t have to sit still and learn with us.

Your mom and I have decided that we’re going to spend more time with you over the next couple of months helping you read. You’ve got a couple words under your belt, but for the most part you’re content to look at the pictures and have mommy and I read to you.

You’re a fierce, stubborn, loving, multifaceted little girl who teaches me something new every day. Every time I think I get a handle on who you are you reveal some other part of yourself that makes me realize, even at age 4, just how complex and nuanced you really are.

Now that you’re older I can look back at some of the highlights over the past four years and get a little maudlin about some of the highlights or firsts that can’t be repeated. Your mother likes to joke about ‘Cats in the Cradle’ but there’s a grain of truth there. There will never be enough time, enough moments and enough laughter for me to share with you. They seem to come and go so quickly and sometimes you don’t realize how special something is until it passes. But I promise I will do my best to treasure every moment as it arrives…even when you fight me tooth and nail on something.

Love

Daddy

Hyperemesis gravidarum

Hyperemesis gravidarum is a condition characterized by severe nausea, vomiting, weight loss, and electrolyte disturbance. Mild cases are treated with dietary changes, rest and antacids. More severe cases often require a stay in the hospital so that the mother can receive fluid and nutrition through an intravenous line. DO NOT take any medications to solve this problem without first consulting your health care provider.

Milestones

A letter to my daughter, on the occasion of her third birthday.

Hello Roo, its Daddy again.

You’re another year older and I’m packing another year’s worth of close calls, narrow escapes and lucky breaks. Well, that and an expanding number of white hairs that your grandfather is oh so happy to point out when he comes to visit.

It was a difficult year but thankfully I think we did a pretty good job shielding you from the worst of it.

I usually cringe when I see people writing self-deprecating posts on Facebook (hey, is that still a thing whenever you’re reading this?) about how terrible 2012 was and how glad they are that it’s over. That kind of public display of negativity always feels suspiciously like someone trolling for comments. No, I prefer to do all that on a blog instead, much classier that way. But truth be told, when the ball dropped on New Year’s Eve your Mom and I said ‘Thank God that’s over’ and never looked back.

We lost your great-granddad and your sister this year. Losing them once was hard, but it was like losing them all over again when you started to forget. When you stopped rubbing your mom’s belly and saying ‘baby in here’ it was hard. And when you started looking at pictures of you with your great-grandad and saying ‘who’s that?’ it churned up lots of emotions.

I want to take a minute to tell you how proud I was of you in how you handled your great-grandad being in the hospital. You were two, which is way too young to understand what was happening. But I know it was hard for me to see my grandfather wasting away in a hospital bed, getting thinner and weaker with every visit and being hooked up to an expanding array of medical equipment. It was a very visceral image. But it never even slowed you down. You chattered away, offered pretend medicine to make him feel better always had lots of hugs and kisses. I’m sure it made him feel better and I know it helped me out a lot.

Your g-grandfather was one of the greatest men I ever had the pleasure of knowing. He had to deal with a lot of his own tragedy and hardship throughout his life but he was always kind and generous to a fault. He was a gentle giant and the man responsible for at least three generation’s worth of ‘Van Loon head’s.’ Whenever I find myself angry or inclined to take the low road I try to remember him and live by his example. I don’t succeed as often as I like, but it helps nonetheless.

What else? Ah. Let us discuss your growing and worrisome addiction to grilled cheese. You would eat grilled cheese for breakfast, lunch and dinner if I let you. And really, that’s on me. I have my own weakness for grilled cheese so I made conscious effort to try and slip it into your diet. Well, I succeeded but now the student has surpassed the teacher and now I spend every night driving you home from day care trying to knock you off the grilled cheese track and get you excited about other foods. To no avail.

You don’t have a ‘thing’ yet. And I keep looking for one or trying to expose you to one. Numbers you’re all on top of. Letters. Not so much. You’re down with the letters ‘c’, because that’s what your name starts with, and the letter ‘o’, because, well, it’s the letter ‘o’ and it’s easy to spot. Driving has become a challenge because every time you see the letter ‘c’ on a billboard or a car you’ll screech at the top of your lungs until someone in the car also finds that same damn letter. (ONLY SOME OF US ARE DRIVING AND CAN’T CRANE OUR NECKS LOOKING FOR ONE LETTER AND CAUSING US TO CRASH TO OUR DOOOOoooOOM). Anyway, sports are also not your thing, unless you count cheering for me on the sidelines when I play Ultimate - ‘Go Daddy Go!’. You’re learning to throw a Frisbee yourself, but right now all you’ve managed is the two hand smash into Daddy’s shins. Daddy loves you very much.

You are swimming up a storm though so maybe that’s your thing. You’re a couple weeks away from getting your first swim badge. And at the cottage this summer you were utterly fearless in the lake. At the beginning of the week you didn’t even want to get in the water, by Friday you were in there trying to paddle around with a life jacket. Every morning before breakfast you’d try to wheedle and beg or demand that we all go down to the beach so you could play in the water.

Musically I’ve been playing you a lot of Caspar Babypants. ‘Run Baby Run’ is your favourite. Babypants is actually the lead singer of a band that Daddy likes, so this way I get to pretend that The Presidents of the United States of America are still making music and you get age appropriate tunage. Its win-win. And frankly, I’ve had it up to hear with kids songs actually sung by kids. I get a weird creep VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED vibe every time I hear that stuff. You don’t seem to have a burning desire to listen to music, so it’s always a bit of a surprise whenever you sing along with the tune (I didn’t even know you were listening!). 

You’ve definitely got the Faulkner TV gene. If it was up to you it would be all CAILLOU all the time. With maybe a little DORA and JAKE AND THE NEVERLAND PIRATES to break up the monotony. So I implemented a little token scheme (two a day) that’s slowed down your TV watching considerably. And hats off to you, when your tokens are gone you stop asking to watch TV. I know if it was me at your age I’d be keeping up an endless stream of ‘please can I watch more TV, please can I watch more’.

Oh, BARBIE is bull by the way. No more BARBIE on Daddy’s watch. Just watching one of those BARBIE movies was enough to send me over the bend. I’ve never seen a kids film that glorifies women in traditional roles more than that movie. And I’m pretty sure all of them end with some kind of wedding. Disney movies are kind of hit and miss on that front as well. There are lots of great Disney movies and then a handful where the only thing the female protagonist wants is to get married to the handsome prince. The newer the movie the more balanced the message is. But some of the older films are downright throwbacks.

And I’m bummed to see that I am becoming The Man. Not in the good ‘slip me some skin’ kinda of way either. No, I’m the totalitarian, ‘eatyourveggiesbecausesoonitwillbebathtimeandgetbackinyourchairyoungladyunlessyoudon’twantdessertandI’msorryyoudon’tlikethesoupbecausethat’sallthatwe’reofferingandohmygodI’vebecomemyparents’ kind of Man.

The Man wants you follow the rules. The Man gets you to do things that are good for you, not just fun for you. The Man sets limits and restrictions and is deaf to your pleas to that the cat likes it when you football tackle him. The Man is everything you swore you wouldn’t become.

99.9 per cent of the angry things that I shouted at my parents about when I was a teenager have sadly not come to pass. I have decided not to let you stay up all night eating ice cream and watching TV. (And trust me, I WANT to let you do that.) Instead you will play outside dagnabbit or do something educational and you will like it.

Your grandparents get to be the kind of parents I always wanted them to be when I was a boy, providing a seemingly endless supply of toys and candy and games without any rules or restrictions.

I’ve had to learn how to you say no to you without that word ever passing my lips. Because the second you hear me say no we’re in for a fight. And over three years you’ve developed quite the arsenal of tools when it comes to getting what you want.

When you yell and scream I want to yell and scream right back. When it comes to conflict resolution I’m all fight, no flight. But I can’t bring that mindset to arguments with you because I am The Man. And sometimes The Man’s job is to calmly sit there and take toddler sized buckets of anger until you wear yourself out. Because emotions can be tricky buggers at any age and boy do I get that.

And then, through your sniffles, you’ll hug me and kiss me and tell me that you love me, that you’re sorry and that you miss me and inside my heart will be melting into a puddle of goo. At which point I feel like anything but The Man.

You’ve reached the stage where you can make decisions all on your own. And your decisions are entirely based on ‘what do I want in this particular moment in time’ and not ‘how much will this particular act of destruction cost Mommy and Daddy’ or, ‘The future, what’s that?’ My job is steer you away from the dangerous options, let you do the silly or harmless things and make judgment calls on a whole host of decisions that could go either way.

It’s the hoariest of clichés, I don’t let you do some things not because I’m a tyrannical dictator, but because I’m trying to balance your personal freedom against your personal wellbeing.

I think 2013 is going to be an interesting year for all of us.

Love,

Daddy.