One Couple's Stumblings Through Parenthood and Marriage
I have determined that one of the most difficult times in an infant's life, for both parent and child, is between 4 and 6 months. This is when they are beginning to really become aware of the outside world, yet don't quite have the tools to properly respond and interact with it. Julia is smack in the middle of this stage at 5 months. She now wants to be entertained a lot, but lacks the motor skills to keep a toy in her mouth for very long. She is no longer satisfied with a bouncer because she just sits there, but she isn't strong enough to endure more than 5 - 10 minutes in the exer-saucer. This leads to frustration.
Now she has learned how to roll over onto her belly. This is a good thing - it's one of those checklist items that your pediatrician asks about. But she hasn't yet developed the roll-back-over skill, so she gets stuck on her stomach, which she doesn't like.
I used to have a box turtle named Styles. During Styles' wandering about her terrarium and backyard she would occassionally roll over onto her back and flail about, much like my daughter. 
Both present pretty pitiful images. The turtle, however, didn't mean to flip over. Julia feels compelled to. Styles would go to great efforts to flip back over. Julia just lays on her belly and squirms and cries, loudly. Should I be disturbed that my turtle possessed greater problem solving skills than my own child?
This was our story last night. Julia rolled on to her stomach and proceeded to wail and flail at least 10 times. Annie and I took turns flipping her over like a pancake and soothing her. During Annie's turn I would lay awake because of the crying, thinking: "Where are my bungie cords? I could just strap her down," or "are there any arts and crafts stores open this late that would sell me a sheet of velcro to sew onto Julia's sleeper and the crib sheet?" This, compounded by the twins also waking up and crying multiple times, has resulted in the exhaustion of both parents.
Julia may have just earned her first nickname. No, not 'Styles', but maybe 'turtle' or 'flipper.'
This is from an article I read today:
"STOCKHOLM -- Residents of an old people's home in southern Sweden had to deal with a couple of rowdy drunks when a pair of intoxicated moose invaded the premises. The moose -- a cow and her calf -- had become drunk by eating fermented apples they found outside the home in Sibbhult, said Anna Karlsson, who works there. Police managed to scare them off once, but the tipsy mammals returned to get more of the fruits. This time the moose were drunk and aggressive, forcing police to send for a hunter with a dog to make them leave. "
See people? This is one more reason I don't drink alcohol. When will you learn?
Yesterday I called The Home Depot to get some prices on six-foot ladders. Now, many of you know how much I abominate this warehouse store. I had to go there many many times during our remodel. With the exception of John in the kitchen department and Richard in hardware, my encounters with their inept staff, when I can locate them, have ranged from dismal to infuriating. The company seems to make a habit of hiring teenagers who would rather flirt with one another than help their customers. And this holds true for the four different stores I have visited. I absolutely dread walking into those cavernous, unmanned aisles.
So, I thought I would be clever and call them instead to get a price and some information. How wrong I was. I spent 15 minutes on hold trying to get pricing. 15 MINUTES! But get this: Annie and I were watching TV while I waited for the answer. A commercial came on that showed a woman walking through the hardware aisles of a mocked-up Home Depot store. She had a question mark perched on her shoulder that grew with every new frame. Finally, she walks into an Orchard Supply Hardware (OSH) and the employee plucks the question mark from her shoulder and tosses it into a pile of other question marks. Annie and I looked at one another in disbelief.
I hung up the phone - I had been on hold for 15:03 and never got the answer from the 'associate' at The Home Depot who was supposedly helping me. I then called OSH. I got a hold of someone to get me the ladder models and prices. He was very nice and informative. When I hung up I looked at my call timer. I had been on the phone for 1 minute and 1 second. That may have been the most timely and appropriate commercial in the history of advertising.
OSH is my new hardware store. I have had other great experiences with them, but I am now converted. The Home Depot says, "You can do it. We can help." Uh, no you can't. But OSH can.
In light of today's Special Election in California, I thought I might share a parable that I came across on www.libertypost.org. Enjoy.
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Once upon a time there was a little red hen who scratched about the barnyard until she uncovered quite a few grains of wheat. She called all of her neighbors together and said, "If we plant this wheat, we shall have bread to eat. Who will help me plant it?"
"Not I," said the cow.
"Not I," said the duck.
"Not I," said the pig.
"Not I," said the goose.
"Then I will do it by myself," said the little red hen. And so she did. The wheat grew very tall and ripened into golden grain. "Who will help me reap my wheat?" asked the little red hen.
"Not I," said the duck.
"Out of my classification," said the pig.
"I'd lose my seniority," said the cow.
"I'd lose my unemployment compensation," said the goose.
"Then I will do it by myself," said the little red hen, and so she did. At last it came time to bake the bread. "Who will help me bake the bread! ?" asked the little red hen.
"That would be overtime for me," said the cow.
"I'd lose my welfare benefits," said the duck.
"I'm a dropout and never learned how," said the pig.
"If I'm to be the only helper, that's discrimination," said the goose.
"Then I will do it by myself," said the little red hen. She baked five loaves and held them up for all of her neighbors to see. They wanted some and, in fact, demanded a share. But the little red hen said, "No, I shall eat all five loaves."
"Excess profits!" cried the cow.
"Capitalist leech!" screamed the duck.
"I demand equal rights!" yelled the goose.
The pig just grunted in disdain.
And they all painted "Unfair!" picket signs and marched around and around the little red hen, shouting obscenities.
Then a government agent came... he said to the little red hen, "You must not be so greedy," while dividing the little red hen's freshly baked bread equaly between the cow, the duck, the goose and the pig.
"But I earned the bread," said the little red hen.
"Exactly," said the agent. "That is what makes our free enterprise system so wonderful. Anyone in the barnyard can earn as much as he wants. But under our modern government regulations, the productive workers must divide the fruits of their labor with those who are lazy and idle,"
And they all lived happily ever after, including the little red hen, who smiled and clucked, "I am grateful, for now I truly understand," But her neighbors became quite disappointed in her. She never again baked bread because she joined the "party" and got her bread free.
Be forewarned: this subject necessarily includes scatological content and humor. Prepare for some potty-talk.
For the past couple of weeks Annie and I (OK, mainly her) have been trying to potty train the twins. It has been a joyous time, complete with poopy panties, pee on the floor, and extremely inconvenient "I need to go potty"s. But, on the whole, we have been very impressed by our girls' ability to adapt to a diaper-less life. It is amazing how much two M&Ms and the privilege of flushing to toilet can motivate a child. I guess our thunderous applause and high-fives also provide good encouragement.
Genna has been the best at alerting us of her impending toilet activities. Kate, however, lets us know by going still for several seconds, getting a glassed-over look in her eye, and then proceeding with playing with Tinkerbell. Needless to say, the window to take action is short for her and we have had to be proactive in our approach. She has gotten much better, though. Very few mishaps of late from either of them.
Yesterday during church Genna began to chant "I need to go potty" in her low voice, which stood in stark contrast to the words our bishop was offering from the pulpit. I took her to the men's room and sat her on the toilet. It's a big seat, so I had to kneel next to her with my arms around her back to keep her from falling in. After several moments of silent anticipation Genna leaned over to me and whispered, "Shhh. Listen. Watch. Can you hear it?" - indicating that at anytime I could expect to hear the tinkle or plop of a successful toilet trip. Is that cute or what? I began to laugh and she did, too. Who would have thought that I could have such a fun bonding moment with my daughter while kneeling on the men's room floor? Ah, the wonders of potty parenthood.
As a follow up to my PartyLite post, I must admit to the further emasculating of Justin. Kate and Genna have been wearing Disney Princess pull-up diapers for their training. Their favorite diaper depicts Ariel, of The Little Mermaid fame, on the front. They have not yet seen the movie. So, tonight as a treat during Family Home Evening we are going to watch it with them for the first time. And, I am looking forward to it. Not simply because I get to hang out with my ladies around a bowl of popcorn, but because I am actually looking forward to the movie itself. Help me, please.
On Tuesday Annie hosted a PartyLite show, in which the women of the Lindsay & Walker clans, (and several others) were most liberal in their purchases of candles and candlesticks. Thank you all very much, for it gave Annie a lot of free credit and turned out to be the consultant's best show to date.
Last night Annie and I spent a good hour going over the catalogues to see how we could best spend her $200 in credit. Yes, I spent over an hour looking at candles. Don't get me wrong, I loved spending the time with my wife. What disturbed me, though, was that I enjoyed looking at candles! What's wrong with me?!?
Something changes when a man gets married. I still remember the horror I felt when I first walked into someone else's house and noticed and critiqued how they decorated. I never cared how anyone decorated before! But ever since moving into a place of our own, I always notice. Also, since the brith of our twin girls I have become disturbingly comfortable with the color pink. PINK! I actually look at our girls' double-pink bedroom with pride. I have diagnosed this condition as 'pink-out.' Other symptoms include: using words like 'cute' and adorable', noticing the girls' clothing sections at department stores, and enjoying look for bargains amidst the Disney Princess doll section.
I am reaching a crisis point. I am now outnumbered by females four to one. My testosterone levels, though incredibly high, are insufficient. I need help. Please, if anyone has any advice on how to restore some gender balance to my household let me know. Annie won't let me get a rottweiler or a big truck or an assault rifle. I am desperate. Help please.
We went this year to our favorite pumpkin patch in Woodland. Here is a picture of my ladies as they posed by the corn rows. Beautiful, aren't they? A bit goofy, too, on my daughters' part.
Both present pretty pitiful images. The turtle, however, didn't mean to flip over. Julia feels compelled to. Styles would go to great efforts to flip back over. Julia just lays on her belly and squirms and cries, loudly. Should I be disturbed that my turtle possessed greater problem solving skills than my own child?
