The Playpen

Dad,

You and I haven’t spoken to each other in four years. I wish that just once we could sit down and have a civilized conversation. But since that is apparently impossible, I will have to settle for writing you this letter.

All in all, you have been a fairly good father to me. When I was born you and Mom took such good care of me…feeding me, playing with me, taking me on walks through the park. When I had to go to the hospital at two-months for surgery, you held me and comforted me and made me feel better. I was really happy, and I would say I had a great childhood. Running around the neighborhood, going to daycare and playing with my friends, then coming home and sleeping cozily in your bed, it was terrific.

Then you and Mom decided to have a baby and things got ugly. You were gone at all hours of the night, and even when you were home it was only for a short time – during which you paid almost no attention to me, I might add. That’s when I started throwing up a lot. I think I was just stressed out and missed your company. I wanted what we once had but all your attention was focused on the baby. I felt neglected. Shut out. Tired. I would try to get you to notice me by stealing her stuffed animals, but you would only scream at me and make me stand outside in the yard until I calmed down. Once, I even went to the bathroom right on the floor…anything to get you to look my way once and a while. Nothing.

I thought that things would never go back to the way they were. I was sad.

But then, something wonderful happened. As your precious little girl got older, SHE actually started to pay attention to me, and therefore, so did you.

We would run around in the yard together playing, with you sitting and watching, as a family. She would give me her left over food to eat all the time, even though you told her not too (I loved the Goldfish crackers she’s give me right from her hand.). We all took trips together…we even went camping! And even though you only let me sleep on a mat at the foot of your bed, I was happy again.

I am glad we are all getting along, and I am sorry I pooped on your floor. You’re a great dad after all, and I love you. I wish you the happiest of Fathers Days, Matt. I love you!

Your beloved family dog,

Whiskey

Note: We are performing some site maintenance this weekend, so I posted this a bit early for Jeremy’s contest (he has some great ones!). Happy Fathers Day to every hard-working Dad out there. Much respect to you all!


Matt
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When Frankie was in the NICU I never imagined that three years later I’d be taking a camping trip with her and feel that my daughter is truly adventurous! Starting off as preemie parents, we’ve always had somewhat of a cautious attitude. In time, I believe that will go away. It’s times like these that make us forget our little girl was in an isolette so long ago.

This past weekend we took a family trip up to the Angeles National Forest, Frankie’s 1st time camping. We were a little apprehensive at how she’d do but our spirited Frankie mowed through the experience like a pro. We are so proud of her and wanted to share our photos with you.



Our new red tent, tada!

Frankie goofing around in Mommy’s red beanie!



Dad making his famous breakfast. Ham and eggs in warm tortillas, a camping tradition. Yum!

Frankie thought it was fun to knock around the eggs



Mom and Frankie trying to help at breakfast


Making friends with little campers



Our dog Whiskey


Chillin with her favorite books!

Today, Frankie amazes us. She’s such a smart, spunky kid. We couldn’t be more blessed to have her. We absolutely love her.


Aline


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A while back, I posted about my perspective on raising my girl, Frankie. Another birthday has come and gone, and she’s not so little any more. We started The Playpen as a preemie blog, and like to think of it as such. But, admittedly, it has become more difficult for me to apply my own personal experiences with having a preemie to present day situations, especially since Frankie has overcome pretty much all health-related issues having to do with her pre-term birth. So I though I would write a little about my parenting skills over the last year. I found, that in doing so, Frankie being a preemie has affected my actions and still does to this day, both positively and negatively. I am very happy that our traffic has picked up, and that more and more people are coming here and reading about our experiences. I would like to invite anyone who has had a similar experience to share in our comments section…we’ll even take some advice. If there’s one thing I have learned, its that every day I am surprised about how little I know when it comes to parenting.

Things I Did Right:

1. I have encouraged her to learn on her own, and have made every effort to step back and deny my instinct to help her solve problems.

2. I have tried to teach her that she is capable of anything, and that she should be fearless and confident…even when she has to hold my hand doing it.

3. I have avoided baby talk, and made sure I don’t refrain from using my full vocabulary when speaking with her. As a result, I believe she is ahead of the curve when it comes to conversational skills.

4. I have exposed her to many different experiences, even when I think she might be afraid. I believe she should try everything once. If she is frightened by the car wash, she doesn’t have to go through it a second time. But I will ask her if she is ready to try again each and every time we go past it.

5. I have exposed her to various genres of music. This may sound like a minor thing, but it is not to me. Music is a great healer and a universal language that anyone, anywhere can understand. My own father did the same with me and I didn’t realize it until I noticed that not everyone can name titles from songs spanning classical, country, rock, rap, folk, doo-wop, punk, metal, choral, R & B, barbershop and big band. For whatever reason, I am proud when my daughter says “maybe we should listen to The Eagles” from the back seat.

Things I did wrong:

1. I spoiled her. I have created a child that not only expects to get a toy, a piece of candy or an article of clothing every single time we go somewhere, but demands it. Loudly. This is a hard thing to undo.

2. I let my fear of having another baby keep me from immediately wanting to have another one. Now, as my wife and I get older, the clock ticks and Frankie doesn’t have a sibling as I and my wife both do.

3. I was too soft. Not quite the same as spoiling her. She has become a demon. She is demanding, stubborn and bossy. I still catch myself getting her juice cup for her when she tells me to…even when its sitting on the table right next to her.

4. I let her watch too much TV. It started with Baby Einsteins, then grew into Franklin and Oswald, and now even includes Dora (God help me) once in a while. This is pure selfishness, as its the only time I can get a moment to myself. In the end, this will not be good for her and as she grows older I feel it will be harder and harder to keep her from watching more.

5. I am not consistent. Sometimes I am very short with her and have no patience. Other times I can speak in a calm voice and guide her in the right direction all night long. I fear that this type of inconsistency has seeded an almost frantic personality in her at times, and its this characteristic that is the hardest on my wife and I. We have friends who are very calm and controlled seemingly all the time. Inevitably, so are their children. Our child is, well, like us. Loud. Angry. Defiant. I worry that she may end up being a bully at school because of this.

How do we know what is right and what is wrong when it comes to raising our children? Many people will say “go with your gut”, but thats not good enough for me. By the time I realize I have been doing something incorrectly, its too late because Frankie has already developed traits associated with my error. Sometimes I am even guilty of procrastination when it comes to correction, thinking “I will wait until she is old enough to reason with me, then fix this.” News flash, dad. She was old enough a long time ago.

Matt
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A few weeks ago my husband Matt wrote a letter addressed to me that came out of the blue. That morning I stumbled on it and was immediately inspired to write him back. For a few weeks now I’ve been contemplating if I should post it. I have finally decided that I should.

May 3rd, 7:30AM

I woke up this morning and read a letter from my husband addressed to me on the playpen. I didn’t know it was there, I was surprised. There’s nothing like hanging yourself out there in the raw. I thank you for expressing yourself to me in this way. The first words I read in the morning are the ones I carry with me all day. This, I will remember for much longer. Your confessions of our recent dismay, and the rough patches we’ve had, seem bleak in comparison to what I feel for you and our family. I’m always surprised at how little it takes to put one’s situation into perspective.


I was overjoyed with your reaction the morning we got the blessed news. It was unexpected for both of us. I felt your pain and disappointment when our happy news (what felt like instantly) turned sour. Although I’ve struggled with the harsh reality, the vagueness of the outcome makes me ache in places I didn’t know existed. I’m not one to accept “it just happens” as an answer. Reading my emotions like an open book is not unusual for those who know me. I have a blunt knack of wearing it on my face and I don’t care to hide it. Vulnerable, that’s the state I call myself in these days. Disappointed, sad and somewhat angry. A lethal kind of angry, the kind you want to take a hammer to.


After such a long time of being worried and second guessing myself. And this happens. I feel emotionally empty handed. A broken egg, like the one we found on our porch a few days later; fallen out of it’s nest.
I’ll say this much to you. The right time will visit us again, we will be ready. And although never forgotten, our recent experience will throb only but dully, far far away.
I couldn’t imagine my life without your love and support. After all, the Sun wouldn’t rise without you by my side.

Aline

He lays on his back in the thick summer grass, bathing in the afternoon sunlight. The gentle drone of cicadas lulls him into a lazy, happy sleep. The warm breeze, fragrant with the scent of lilac and jasmine, kisses his cheeks gently as the Birch leaves whisper overhead. In the distance, he can hear his mother humming sweetly from the kitchen as she kneads dough for the dinner bread.

These are the things he remembers.

As the car rolls down the highway in the night, the muffled sound of the tires on the road pleasantly hypnotizes him - a day of thrills and adventure have made him weary. Clack-clack. Clack-clack. The occasional sound of the brake pedal being released wakes him only slightly, just long enough for him to tilt his head back and peer at the vast expanse of stars in the deep black sky, before the soft sounds of his parents whispering to each other – occasionally laughing together quietly – sooth him back to sleep.

These are the things he remembers.

The muffled crunch of snow under their boots is the only sound they hear as they walk silently together holding hands. White halos of light surround each street lamp, as puffy flakes fall quietly to the Earth. He inhales deeply. The crisp winter air fills his lungs – clean, cool and pure. As he exhales he turns to look at her. She is smiling slightly, gazing ahead of them at the snowscape glowing under the moonlight. Fluffy white flakes land gently on her dark lashes and her cheeks flush as they continue together down the smooth, untouched road.

These are the things he remembers.

He lies in bed, snuggled under the sheets. He is not asleep, but he is happy. He rolls to his side and peers at his glowing yellow nightlight, which provides a cheery warmth to his room. Downstairs, he hears the cards shuffle. Nickels and dimes rattle on the table. Although he cannot make out the words, he hears the muffled voice of his Father speaking. After a moment, his Father’s voice raises. Then a pause. Then laughter erupts from the room as his best friends laugh hysterically at whatever joke he just made. A thin sliver of light appears as his Mother peeks inside his bedroom door. He closes his eyes, not wanting to reveal that he is awake. The door closes slowly, not making a sound, and he hears ice tinkling in glasses as she heads downstairs to join them.

These are the things he remembers.

He remembers all of these things as if they happened yesterday, the young boy that has long since left me. He remembers the love, the happiness and blissful carefree life that was childhood. Sometimes, when I am alone, I turn my head to the sun and close my eyes. For a fleeting instant we meet again, he and I. But then, as quickly as he came, he is gone.

I know now that I love him almost as much as I love my own daughter. For whatever reason, however, I fail to create the same nurturing and loving environment for that young boy that I do for her. Perhaps it is the weight of adulthood. Perhaps it is fear. But one day, somewhere in the future, my family and I will go off somewhere that will allow all of us to reunite and live his memories once again.

Jeremy, who writes a fantastic blog called Discovering Dad, asked his readers to write about “what kinds of things bring out the kid in you”. Jeremy, I found this to actually be a very therapeutic and fun post to write, and I hope you and your readers enjoy it.

Also, best of luck to you and your family with your new addition. Take care of yourself. I am sure that everything will come out well.

Matt
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A few posts ago, I wrote about something that happened to us, specifically Aline, that cause us a great deal of turmoil. Since then, she hasn’t been herself. She is angry, sad, insecure, confident, happy, lazy, energetic….pretty much a mess (sorry, Aline, its true.) I have been trying to help as much as I can, but I can’t help but feel that my efforts fall short of the saving grace, messiah-like effect that I expected (or wished) they would have on her.

So I decided to write her this letter. I am hoping that, by “putting myself out there” emotionally, and publicly, she will somehow feel that, no matter what happens, I will be there. I am also aware that I have a knack for presenting myself in a manner which could possibly persuade others think that I am next to godliness, which is about as close to the truth as Lindsey is to the Pope. Because she is feeling vulnerable, my wish is to humble myself as well, and perhaps her pity for my sorry state will somehow make her feel better.

Aline -

I am truly sorry you went (are going) through this experience. Please know that in no way do I hold you or your actions responsible for what happened. You are the foundation on which I attempt to build my life, and I would never hold anything over which you had no control against you. This occurrence gives us an opportunity for a fresh start…a chance to rebuild and regroup. I am looking forward to starting over; to “re-engaging” with a clean slate. One we can both feel comfortable and confident with. Although I would love to be one of those people who say “If I had it to do all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing,” I am not. There are many things I regret, and vow to do differently.

I will never drink heavily through a pregnancy or any rough or trying patch in our lives again.

I will do my best to not lose my temper, roll my eyes or lose patience with you or Frankie.

Even though I do blame your family for certain facets of our current situation, I know this is not fair. I will no longer resent you or them for this.

I will do my best to remain focused and involved in our family…even when I have had a long day.

I will show you that I am truly, completely, still “into” you. This has always been the case, but I know I haven’t been showing it as I used to.

I will acknowledge and support the work you do, both professionally and domestically, and will try to do at least the equal.

I will communicate better.

I will take better care of myself.

I will help you at least attempt to curb Frankie’s terrible twos, and threes and fours (continue as necessary).

I will restore your faith in me.

I will put you back up on the pedestal you deserve to be on.

You are a wonderful mother and wife…I could not ask for anything more. I look forward to a lifetime of memories (even the bad ones) with you and our daughter. If another child should enter our life, I will be happy, do my best to support you and our family, and will continue to strive to be the best husband and father I can be. This I CAN promise.

Your loyal and loving husband,
Matt

Although we try to reserve this blog for tips and stories regarding preemies and parenting, one of the parenting blogs we read, The McMommy Chronicles invited us to participate in her Meme. Since we feature our story and photo on our main site, but we don’t really offer any insight into who we are on The Playpen, we thought it would be a great opportunity for you to get to know us. This weeks topic: “Seven Things About us You May Not Know “. Thanks, McMommy!

FRANKIE

1. Her middle name is “Marley”, named after the late great Bob.

2. Was born at 32 weeks (3lbs, 6oz.), and spent a month-and-a-half in the NICU at Cedars-Sinai in Los Angeles. She’s now three and doing swimmingly!

3. Recently BEAT a condition sometimes associated with prematurity called ASD (more about this in next weeks post).

4. Loves the song “I Would Die For You”, by Prince and the Revolution.

5. Favorite activity at the moment: “Gardening”. (i.e.-taking a shovel and throwing dirt all over our tiled patio).

6. Hates….I mean HATES, having her hair washed, going to bed and any type of meat.

7. Loves….making art projects at daycare, saving them for us, then completely destroying them in the car on the way home.

ALINE

1. I love to read. I find comfort in cuddling up with my blankee and getting into a really good book. I do however have a darker side to reading, I go through these phases or reading trashy historical romance novels, the real cheesy kind too. You know, the ones with the tanned sea captain and the beautiful frail maiden? Yeah that kind. I never buy them, I check them from the library and anonymously return them.

2. I was born in a country of war, and pretty much until I moved to the States, hearing and seeing bombs drop all around our house was a “normal” thing.

3. My Parents never made it to the hospital in time for my delivery, I was born in the front seat of a cream colored 1969 VW bug.

4. Wore blue contact lenses in high school, and when asked if they were fake (as if you can’t tell) I would say no. I figured since my dad and brother have blue eyes people will think “oh it’s in the genes!”.

5. If there was a seed eating contest, I would win it every time. Due to my background, the skill of “cracking and opening” seeds comes innately to me. I’m the Speedy Gonzales of seeds, I can fill up a bowl in half the time any human being can. It’s quite impressive.

6. In my country they sell little “chicks” during Easter on a mobile cart. So, along with chocolate bunnies, marshmallows and jelly beans you can pick up a baby chick if you wish. I, of course had one. Took care of it like a pet until we couldn’t keep her in the house any longer. She ended up on a good farm where I would visit quite often.

7. One year my Grandparents gave me two hamsters for Christmas. By next Christmas I had 27. Yes, I do love the animal Kingdom.

MATT

1. I have played golf, piano and guitar for over 20 years. I have gotten progressively worse at each every year.

2. I gag whenever I eat pumpkin pie, but I also love the flavor. So one of my wife’s favorite Thanksgiving traditions is me sitting at the dinner table, pounding pumpkin pie while coughing, choking and gagging (got the visual?).

3. I wasn’t that excited about having my daughter for the first six months of her life. Now I would step out in front of a bus for her a thousand times over.

4. I don’t think my wife cooks arroz con pollo enough (It is absolutely delicious).

5. When I was in high school, I had curly hair down to my mid-back, a denim jacket with the cover of Iron Maiden “Killers” airbrushed on it, about 100 heavy metal buttons, and a little plastic skeleton hanging from each front pocket. I am considering bringing this look back.

6. I have a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I can’t just jump on a skateboard or dive for a football any more without seriously injuring myself. (I ran into a parked car on a post route after a night of tequila and lime on the rocks recently).

7. I have had some ups and down in my life over the past few years, and it has been a challenge. But through it all I have realized that my friends and my family are the one constant you can depend on. That, in and of itself, makes the rest of the “noise” irrelevant.

The next part of the process is to tag other blogs we read and invite them to join in. Be sure to post a comment so we know you’ve added your “Seven Things” to your blog.

Green Stuff Connection

God Gave Me You

An Ordinary Life

Matt & Aline

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I think all Moms question themselves in some form or another. One day I feel like I’m doing a great job, the next; I feel as though I suck at it! I try to have as much patience as I can with my daughter but once in a while (and I’m not ashamed to admit it) I just lose it! I feel so guilty after that happens. I scold myself to have more patience, more ! more! While reading through parenting articles and such I found these tips that I thought made sense and made me feel good about my mothering skills. I put them up on the fridge, and I refer to them every so often. They make me feel better about my mothering skills. I am human after all. They’re simple, yet a powerful reminder. I know you know what I mean.


Wisdom for Happier Mothering

We all have guilt — just don’t let it take hold. “Every mom has her own tailor-made set of guilt triggers,” says Paula Spencer, mother of four. “I think we feel guilty precisely because we are so well intentioned and want to do the best we can by our kids. I don’t think it’s entirely possible get rid of guilt — you just have to stop taking it seriously.”


Sharing makes you realize you’re not alone. “Seek out support,” says Colleen Newman. “By sharing with others you’ll be reassured that you’re not alone. Don’t be afraid to talk about how your toddler flushed your razor down the toilet. They will probably tell you about the time their toddler used their toothbrush to clean the toilet! Laughing about the absurdities of parenting makes everything a lot easier.”


It’s a learning process. “I learned to take care of myself gradually, and I continue to learn valuable lessons about how best to do that,” says Kathryn Sansone, whose children range in age from 8 months to 18 years. “Now, ten children and 19 years of marriage later, I can say that on most evenings when my husband walks through the door, I can smile.”


Taking care of yourself is important. “Do one thing each day that nurtures you,” says Yvonne Lefort. “Take a bath, go for a walk, listen to your favorite music, make yourself a cup of hot tea, call a friend, read a chapter from a good book, buy a new lipstick! Do something nice for yourself each day, even if it’s only for a few minutes.”


You are doing your best. “We are all doing our best, even when we fall short,” says Sybil Lockhart, mother of two girls, ages 5 and 9, in Berkeley, California. “Since we can’t do any better than our best, we may as well call that perfect.”


Your kids will be okay — really. “I just look at how well he is doing,” says Sherri Helwig, mother of a 4-year-old son in Scarborough, Canada. “Although I sometimes wonder if this is actually because of our faults rather than in spite of them. When our son sees us make mistakes — and take responsibility for those mistakes and fix them — I think he learns a valuable lesson.”


Aline
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My daughter Francesca is a spunky, energetic and a happy 2 ½ year old. We call her Frankie. It suits her personality better, she’s a little ham. There are so many things I love about her; here are my top seven heart-warming favorites that put a smile on my face.

The way she tries to pet our dog Whiskey so softly, hugs her and says “you’re my friend” then sticks out her tongue and purses her lips for kisses. Whiskey, of course, obliges.

She has this sly “look” that she does, almost like she’s shy whenever she likes something but does not want to admit it. It’s so quirky, cute in a weird kind of way. A mannerism, I’m sure, that will forever stay with her.

The two dimples on her butt that are exactly like mine.

The way she gets so excited when Daddy comes home. She’ll drop whatever she’s doing and run full speed to the door for a big hug, then jumps around the house screaming and giggling.

Her manipulation tactics, they’re hilarious. The kid knows how to work it, she says “I love you, Mommy (or Daddy)” right after she’s done something she’s not supposed to, almost warning us ahead of time before we find the damage somewhere.

I love when she falls asleep in the car. Her cheeks get so pink and pudgy; she looks so comfortable and cozy. I feel content.

Her innocence. I remember recently when we were riding in the car and, at a stop light, she caught the attention of the man in the car next to us. After waving at him and shouting a cheerful “Hello”, he simply turned away and looked straight ahead. Perhaps he didn’t notice, perhaps he just wasn’t interested. Whatever the reason, she looked at me in the rear view mirror and, with sincere concern, stated “Mommy, he doesn’t like me.” How do you protect your child from the “real” world? I stopped the car, got out and gave her a hug.

I now understand what my Mom used to say when I was a little girl. “You haven’t known happiness until you have a child.”

I love my husband dearly and we have had an incredible journey in our relationship; fun times unsurpassed by any other experience. But with Frankie in our lives, sometimes I think my heart is going to explode from the pride and joy I feel for her. An incredible maternal happiness, I’m sure you can relate. I invite you to share your favorite things about your children with me. Every Mom has them, and they’re fun and satisfying to voice.

Aline

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My husband has a group of friends he’s known his entire life. When I met Matt, I also met “the crew” and became fond of hanging out with the boys. I’ve always deeply cherished and respected the fact that, until this day, he’s close friends with every single one of them.

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