The Playpen

Today’s topic? Naps. Yes, I love them and yes, my wife loves them and needs them right now, but that’s not really relevant right now. This particular entry has to do with my daughter, and other children her age. Almost four.

My daughter has taken naps in the afternoon every day for her entire life, even after starting preschool, as naptime is part of their daily routine immediately following recess. The problem with this, however, is that naptime has been a horrible struggle for us almost every single day (for you mathematicians, that’s just over 1300 midday temper tantrums since she was born). My kid and sleep simply don’t get along.

I believe that naps are incredibly important, and there is strong scientific evidence that supports my opinion. Statistically children who nap have longer attention spans than those who don’t. They are less fussy. There is also research that suggests that mental development occurs at a higher rate during sleep than during waking hours.

Above and beyond that, having my daughter nap for an hour in the afternoon benefits everyone else, too. It allows my wife some much needed down time. It gives me a chance to sprawl in front of the TV for a moment, uninterrupted. It also allows us to tidy up the house, catch up on work and maybe even talk to each other about something that does not involve SpongeBob or crayons or pee. Usually we are both too tired to take care of those responsibilities with any great enthusiasm by the end of the day, but still have some juice left early afternoon.

That being said, it’s beginning to become clear to us that, sooner or later, it will be impossible for us to enforce The Nap Policy with our daughter. She has become increasingly stubborn about them (who would have thought that was even possible?) She has also taken to quietly getting out of bed, turning on her light and reading books or playing with her stuffed animals in her room, unbeknownst to us). This seems like a built in solution. We get our down time and she gets some alone time too. It’s a win/win. The only problem with this is that, when we do succeed in getting her to sleep, she sleeps hard. Lately it’s been for a couple of hours. She wakes up refreshed and happy. She doesn’t become testy and whiny in the evenings. And sometimes I feel like she may even have an easier time falling asleep at night after an afternoon nap. So it would seem that, while she still seems to be benefiting physically from afternoon naps, mentally she’s just saying no.

Woe is me.

So the eternal question remains unanswered in our household. To nap or not to nap? Fight her for an hour each and every day then spend the time she actually is napping angry and frustrated? OR, forget the nap altogether and deal with an irritable, crabby child for an hour or two before bedtime each night?

How’s the old expression go? Damned if you do…

-Matt

We’ve been a bit slow in changing up our online baby shop, RedSparks, in the New Year. Why am I telling you this? Because there’s still a bunch of stuff marked down that shouldn’t be! Go check it out!

My daughter hasn’t turned four yet, but having just officially started up my 2009 today, I thought this would be a good time to write a continuation of a couple of posts I did a while ago. It is my experience that people change a little around the first of the year. They have new outlooks, new goals. They have conviction and inspiration. Relationships strengthen or weaken, depending on their value. All in all, a new year ushers in a period of reflection for most people, followed by a period of action. I am no different. And I found myself thinking deeply about my role as a father this morning, and what my daughter and my relationship with her have meant to me over the past year. Today is my fist day back to work. Same for my wife. Frankie still has a few days off from school (is it just me or are the kids these days getting WAY more time off than we ever got?), so I dropped her off at the in-laws. We had just wrapped up two glorious weeks together, one of the longest breaks from work I have had in a long time. It was truly terrific, capped off by a frightening trip to Chuck E. Cheese yesterday, which incidentally marks the first time I have ever lost my daughter. But that’s another post.

Frankie was unusually quiet in the car. I assumed she was a little tired, but it still seemed a bit out of character for her. When we were about five minutes away from Grandma’s, she said softly to me: “Daddy? I don’t want you to go.” My outside reaction was a smile and some positive-parenting response about what a terrific time we all had and that I would see her this evening, followed by some rhetoric about having responsibilities and making sure that the time we DO spend together is as much fun as possible. My inside reaction? CRUSHED. The truth is, I didn’t want to go either. I’ve decided that I am NOT one of those people who would “get bored” being at home with my family all day, every day. I could do it every day of my life and love it. Breakfast, pajamas, music, games, newspapers, coffee, laughter, dancing. All of it. And the truth is, its only been a couple of hours and I miss her terribly.

I complain a lot. I complain about the routine. I complain about cleaning up spills and whining. I complain about having a junky SUV that smells like a month-old McDonalds 10-piece instead of some luxury car. I have even been known to complain about not having enough time to myself. Sometimes even the best dads need a kick in the ass. So today, when she fell and skinned her knees on the way into grandma’s house and I left her there with tears drying on her cheeks after the biggest hug I’ve gotten in a while, I got mine. She is my whole life, and I think that’s what being a father is really all about.

See, my wife Aline is currently about three-and-a-half months pregnant with our second child. This is the first time I have ever announced this news, and I actually debated whether or not to do it for a long time for two reasons. The first is fear of the “Great Jinx”. Yes, Aline made it past the 12-week milestone. But Frankie’s rocky birth and subsequent health issues have left us extremely gun shy and negative about the entire experience. Sure, we got a beautiful and healthy daughter out of it in the end, but the whole journey was simply less than rosy.

The second reason is that I have been a little unsure about how I myself have felt about it, and haven’t done very well with sorting out my feelings regarding a second child. I think I really want one, then I worry about the strain it will put on us. I get excited about doing up a new baby room, then I worry about how to pay for an extra tuition. I have been on the proverbial fence and it has kept me less than enthusiastic regarding the whole issue.

But this morning, as I left my daughter and reflected back on our experiences together over the last two weeks, I suddenly felt sure. Remembering her singing to herself quietly at the table while putting stickers on construction paper. Recalling the joy I felt when we wrestled one morning on the bed and her whole body shook with laughter. Sitting here typing with a quiet heartache while wondering about her little skinned knees are all signs that point to the same basic self-realization.

I LOVE my daughter. I LOVE being a father. And I am really. TRULY. Looking forward to doing it again. Hang in there, Frankie. We’ll get you a little brother or sister yet, you’ll see.

-Matt

It has been a challenging year indeed. Through difficult times, however, one constant has remained. The decency and incredible resiliency of the human spirit. Time and time again we have been impressed, inspired and touched by how good and truly wonderful people can be. We are certain that 2008 was a necessary foundation, upon which we can build an incredibly successful and joyous 2009, and we look forward to sharing it with you all. We leave you this Holiday Season with a brief look back on the previous year, and thank each and every one of you for sharing it with us.

Wishing you the very best of the season,
Matt, Aline and Frankie

Does anyone remember Sniglets? Rich Hall came up with them for an old show called Not Necessarily The News, then released a whole mess of books. The premise was simple: words that should be in the dictionary but aren’t. I loved ‘em. Bought every book.

After spending over three years with my daughter, I have found myself constantly repeating the phrase “GOD, that’s annoying when she does that. There ought to be a Sniglet for that!” So, I thought I’d give old Mr. Hall a nod and try to come up with a list of my own.

Dorabandonment – The sudden realization that your toddler has left you watching a loud, repetitive mind-numbing cartoon by yourself for the last 15 minutes.

Vacatious Interruptus – The uncanny ability for a child to develop a violent cough, runny nose and high fever the day before the “mommy and daddy weekend getaway” you’ve had planned for months.

Aviashit – Any massive and embarrassingly obscene bowel movement expelled by your child on an airplane within the 30 minutes during ascent or descent when no one is allowed to move from their seat.

Vox Parvis – A disease affecting adults with children that causes them to unknowingly continue singing children’s songs loudly in the car with the windows down long after they have dropped their offspring at preschool. Symptoms include public humiliation and questioning looks from strangers.

Monkey Steals Plums – A series of debilitating martial arts moves made popular by young Shaolin Monks whereby a child climbs rapidly onto her father’s lap, then brutally grinds an elbow (about as soft and round as a ball point pen) into his nether-regions. Can be performed on mothers by changing the pressure point to the chest area.

Gelatantrum – The fit of hysterics exhibited by a toddler, usually in Target, whereby loud screaming, spitting and overall spastic behavior is accompanied by complete loss of internal skeletal structure and increased body weight, prohibiting the parent from standing the child back up on its feet, lifting it, or walking it out of the store to privacy.

Olfactic Mile – A unit of measure used to gauge the distance a toddler can insert its finger into one nostril.

Divine Wind – The unseen natural, biologic force powerful enough to completely obliterate and destroy tidy living rooms and dens seconds after they have been cleaned. See also: Pediastorm.

Urilatency – The delayed decision of a toddler to decide he has to go to the bathroom one additional time after teeth brushing, book reading, puppet show, lying in bed, pulling up covers, turning off light, whispering good night and beginning to close his bedroom door.

Urilaziness – The temptation by the parent to exclaim “Oh, just do it in your bed”, when experiencing “urilatency”.

-Matt
Why not check out our online baby boutique, RedSparks or some cool toddler holiday gifts? No. Really. Why not?

One September night, I turned on the light,
And sat my girl in her pink chair.
“I need to start soon, so pick your costume.
Lets not leave this up in the air.”

“Santa!” she cried, and my eyes opened wide.
“But that’s Christmas!” I said with a shout.
But then I thought twice, this might be quite nice.
The Santas would not be sold out!

I hopped in the car, didn’t go very far,
And drove to the holiday store.
With a victory cry, I held Santa high.
The trip took five minutes, no more.

I rushed in with a whirl and showed my sweet girl
The beautiful, easy red suit.
She started to cry, “No! BUTTERFLY!”
And gave poor old Santa the boot.

I fell to my knees, my head in my hands
I sobbed and I screamed and I cursed.
Accepting my plight, I went out in the night.
On the eve of October 31st.

I pulled up to the shop, my jaw it did drop,
When I saw the ridiculous line.
A sea of parents were there, pulling out their gray hair,
As their kids screamed and shouted and whined.

I walked, head hung low. To the end I did go,
The outcome remains to be seen.
But I stood and I waited, better not to be hated,
By my sweet young girl on Halloween!

Happy Halloween Everyone!

Matt
Check out our last minute deals on all Halloween Costumes! OK, not really, but come look at our cool Fall baby clothes anyway at our online boutique, RedSparks.com!

First and foremost, I’d like to express my sincerest thanks to Daniel at Deguia.net. Unbeknownst to me, our preemie and baby clothing site, RedSparks.com, has been unreachable to, oh, just about HALF THE COUNTRY for the last month. Daniel pointing this out, then graciously offering technical support, saved us from losing any more orders than we already have. Thank you, man!

Now on to business. We have a winner in the Lightning Traveling T-Shirt Giveaway. Even though it only got four comments (I chalk this up to the above mentioned server issues, NOT shoddy content), I ran it through the random number generator anyway and it came up lucky number 3!

Oh…my….God, its McMommy! Like SHE needs more free stuff, right?

Anyway, McMommy? You have to get this thing out of here fast! I dragged my feet and Lightning WILL strike if I don’t move this thing! Congratulations!

-Matt
Have you checked out the amazingly cute new fall baby and preemie-wear at RedSparks? You should, you know. Will it hurt to look? Didn’t think so.

A little while ago, Mr Lady ran a little contest asking people to describe the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to them. I can’t play basketball, I choose wrong with 50/50 odds 89.3% of the time and I actually lost a spelling bee in school in which I was the only player. But this was something I could win…hands down.

And I did.

So the prize is this awesome idea started by Lightning, called The Lightning Traveling T-Shirt. The way it works is that she ponies up some cash for each and every blogger that comes across the shirt by December 1, then someone WINS that cash. Admittedly, I was way too slow to get my own contest up so that as many people could touch the shirt as possible, driving up the pot, and hope that my sluggishness hasn’t in any way upset her. (Her name is Lightning, Matt…c’mon. Use your brain.)

So here it is, and I will make it short and sweet, so we can get the show on the road. Simply comment on this post by 11:59 pm Monday, Oct 27 and I will Express Mail this shirt to the winner chosen by random drawing.

The only thing left is to show you a picture of this shirt. I couldn’t figure out the best way to depict the garment and showcase its quality. “What will do this shirt justice?”, I asked myself. “How can I let people know, photographically, that this shirt is not only important, but an actual high-end, couture item? Here ya go. Good luck!

-Matt

My wife will get on me about this post. The Playpen is supposed to be about preemies, parenting and family. Jeremy is running a contest. Jeremy’s site is called Discovering Dad. Its a site about being a good father and what it means to be a good dad. And the prize is some Harry Potter stuff. So you see, babe? Its all about family.

It was one of those nights in the Midwest. Warm, but breezy. Crickets chirped hypnotically. Most of the neighborhood was asleep, and only the glow of the streetlights lit the willows lining the narrow boulevard. Two eighteen-year-old boys leaned on the hood of a 1973 Volvo. Dave, the taller of the two, sucked lazily on a cigarette dangling from his lips while Matt, his best friend, talked excitedly.

“We’re really gonna do this? I mean really. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, dude.”

Dave exhaled and looked at the street lamp thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “We’re doing it.”

The next morning the two boys were on the road early. A half-empty pot of coffee rested on the floorboards between Matt’s feet and Van Halen blasted on the cheap Pioneer tape deck. It was a long drive, but it went by quickly as both thought about what lay ahead of them in silence.

They arrived at their destination at 10:00 AM. Dave maneuvered the car down a long gravel road. He brought the vehicle to a squeaking stop. Both boys got out and looked up.

Matt’s eyes fixed on a bright orange windsock, blowing restlessly in the morning breeze. He wondered how anyone could actually see it from that high up. It must be…

“Jesus”, Dave said under his breath, interrupting Matt’s train of thought. Matt followed Dave’s gaze skyward and saw what he was reacting to. A figure, clad in what appeared to be some type of spandex and hanging under a gleaming yellow rectangular parachute came swooping down out of the sky at a blazing speed, the fabric of the canopy flapping noisily in the wind. Just when it looked like the man would slam directly into the ground, he yanked on the toggles in his hand, and flew 200 feet or so at top speed hovering a few feet off the ground before lightly touching earth on his tiptoes.

Dave looked at me and I looked back. He looked pale. I knew I did too. There was no turning back now.

Within an hour we were jumpsuit clad, crammed into a dilapidated Cessna 182 and making a laborious ascent to 3000 feet. We both acted excited, throwing thumbs up back and forth to one another, but we both knew that if the plane ride took a little longer, that would be A-OK with us. We were just getting comfortable when the engine slowed and the door to the plane flung open. My heart lept into my throat as the smell of gas, the blast of wind in my face and the sheer noise of the plane engines engulfed me all at once.

“OK, C’mon!” our instructor, Spence, shouted over the roar of the engine. I was glad that Dave was nearest the door. Dave glanced at me one last time, eyes like dinner plates, and scrambled out of the plane. Spence didn’t waste any time. “Ready, Set, GO!”

Before I knew it, Dave was gone. Aside from Spence, I was alone in the plane.

“C’mon dude! Move it…we’re gonna miss our spot!”

I made my way to the door and climbed tentatively out onto the step. I was shocked at how hard the wind was blowing. My knuckles were as white as bone and my body shook with adrenaline. I gripped the wing strut firmly with both hands and jumped off the step, my body swung from the wing like a ribbon on a fan and the plane rocked. What was I doing!” I looked back at the door where Spence crouched inside grinning from ear to ear. The door seemed a million miles away. “Ready, set, GO!”

I let go.

The propellers of the plane grew fainter and fainter, followed by a few brief moments of silence as I fell weightless through the sky. A sensation that I can not. Will not, ever forget. It was as if I was flying in the eye of a storm…almost peaceful. As I began to fall faster, the wind began to whistle in my ears, increasing in volume until my body was racked with a huge jerk. My breath was forced out of my lungs and my legs flailed about. My whole body tensed. When it passed I looked up and saw the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my life. A big, billowing, perfectly-opened red parachute. I had done it.

I eased back in my harness and looked around. From that height, the farmland looked like a giant jigsaw puzzle, divided up into multi-colored squares. I looked down past my feet and saw another parachute far below making lazy circles as it descended to Earth. Dave.

I have never felt more at peace than I did that first day, flying around under my red parachute. There is no other way in the world one can experience that view. Dead silence. The breeze blowing gently on your face. Nothing, I mean nothing, around but you and the clouds. It is the closest I have ever been to Heaven.

For the next two years, Dave and I jumped together a lot, and I am not certain that I will ever have a period in my life again where I feel that free. Those were the golden days…the days we will sit on the porch in rocking chairs as old men and discuss while the sun sets. The best of times. The adventure of a lifetime.

Matt
Check out the new fall line of preemie, infant and toddler clothes at our online boutique, Redsparks!

I was challenged by this post. Barbara at TherExtras, the consummate intellectual who’s blog I read because it makes me think, asked her readers to post about healing. Fairly broad topic, don’t you think?

It turned out to be a very interesting exercise for me. I thought about it. First on a surface level, then much more deeply. I arrived at the conclusion that healing is perpetual. It is not so much a destination as it is a journey (this sentence was lifted from my “100 Greatest American Cliches” handbook).

Each and every one of us deals with healing in our own way. In order to attempt to narrow my focus, I must apply the concept to a two basic categories within my life:

Surface. The human body is always healing. Be it a skinned knee, a bad back, a bad haircut or a night of heavy drinking, our poor old bodies try with all their might to correct the physical atrocities we put them though on a daily basis. An amazing machine, the body is.

Emotional. A much more difficult and drawn out process. I believe that all of us, from day one, spend most of our lives and effort trying to process and justify those events in our pasts that have, for one reason or another, left a bruise on our egos. I challenge anyone out there to contest the theory that occurrences in our lives that have in some way lessened our opinions of ourselves do not haunt us forever and shape the very way we live our lives from said event forward.

Since The Playpen is a site about parenting, children and family, I choose to focus on the latter category, and how it relates to the birth of my daughter. As many readers know, she was born almost two moths prematurely, and her early arrival put not only her own health in jeopardy, but my wife’s as well. If one were to view a timeline of my life to this date, they would clearly see a large red dot, circled in Sharpie with exclamation points around this time.

Looking back, I realize that the unexpected nature of her birth left deep emotional scars on my wife and me. And, honestly, we have only truly begun to heal from this event. Many, many decisions we have made are significantly influenced by this unexpected event.

We have only one child. This is an absolute result of her early delivery. Had we gone through a normal pregnancy, we would probably have another by now.

We spoiled her. At some point we should have been more strict with her. We should have laid down the law. I believe that because of hyper-concern for her health, we allowed her to get away with too much for too long. We are all doing much better with this now, but it was a problem for a while.

To this day, we overreact to a common cold. Not as much as we used to, granted, but our daughter knows the ins and outs of an ER, she knows the name of the equipment, how to lay on the examination table and sometimes refers to a bracelet as “what she wears at the doctor’s”.

I do not wish to paint a picture of my family as suffering from hypochondria, in and out of doctors offices on a daily basis. We are all healthy and happy. I am merely pointing out that past experiences have influenced our behavior, and the awareness of this particular issue and the desire to overcome it defines “healing” for me personally.

Healing is awareness. It is overcoming the fear of facing adversity in ones past and standing up to it. Healing is relinquishing the control that we though we had and turning our attention to strengthening our resolve and character. Healing is overcoming our demons. Facing what frightens us. Healing is courage and the willingness to improve oneself as a human being. If we are unwilling to put forth the effort to heal, we doom ourselves to a life of fear, and perpetual regret.

Matt

A few weeks ago we were driving my daughter home from preschool. As we were talking to her about her day, a little drama began to unfold.

Me: So what else did you do today, sweetie?

Daughter: Nothing. That’s it.

Wife: So was it a good day or what?

Daughter: No.

Me: Why not…did something bad happen? (my first reaction to almost any negative statement from my daughter)

Daughter: Yeah. Peyton hit me and knocked me down.

Wife: Ohhh….that’s not very nice of her. Why would she do that?

Frankie: Not she, mommy. He.

Wife: Oh, well I ju….

Me: Nonononononononono….hold up a sec here! I got this. Peyton is a boy? A boy hit you at preschool and knocked you down? Lemmie tell you what you do in this situation. You listening? The next time little Pick-On Girls-Peyton hits you, you smash him right in the face as hard as you can…you got that? And if he falls down kick him. Twice!

Daughter: (happily excited): Yeah, Daddy!!!!

Wife:…………

Me: (looking proudly at wife): See? That’s how you play that. No stupid kid is gonna get one over on MY little girl. Punk. He’s lucky I…….

Me: (looking at wife again): Babe? What??

It occurred to me that it may be possible that I had slightly overreacted with my response. After my wife explained that she thought it might have been better to suggest that, at 3 years old, my daughter simply go to the teacher and explain what had happened I realized that, once again, my man-sense may have gotten the best of me.

But then I started really thinking about it. IS going to the teacher the right thing to do? Shouldn’t she be taught to stand up for herself? A parent or a teacher won’t always be around, you know? I took martial arts for a couple of years. Busy Dad could knock me out over the phone, but I did learn that, if you can’t avoid it, and are absolutely in harms way, make sure you put them in harm’s way first. Do enough damage to make sure you are safe, then walk away. To me, that is what I would like my daughter to learn as well. The more I thought about it, the more I stood by my original reaction (not the vernacular, mind you, but the concept).

I also considered that, if I had a son instead, and a girl hit him and knocked him down, my response would have been much different. Clearly, there is a lot of gray area here, and I am interested in how you would have (or have already) handled these types of situations with your own children. Let the authorities handle it, or handle it themselves?

Oh and, by the way? Peyton? You’re goin’ down.

Matt
The RedSparks Summer Sale is over. We will be launching our brand new fall collection later this week, so you still have a few days to take advantage of the last summer savings. Stop by and rummage through our stuff!