2 and a half

A wine bottle, a vacuum and a kite

This post originated as a Facebook status update but a friend got a laugh out of it so I thought I'd elaborate here.

You know how when you're cleaning you're sometimes moving pretty quickly and sometimes things just go wrong? Well, they did. I picked up a closed bottle of wine from the counter to put into the wine rack and accidentally bumped the shelf above and it fell from my hands, flat on the counter, shattering into a zillion pieces. 

Naturally it was red wine - white wine would have been too easy to clean up - and it soaked our white cupboards, trickling down toward the floor and running into each drawer and each cabinet on its way. And when it reached the floor it landed on our soft grey rug that just doesn't handle red wine very well. 

After cursing myself for a bit I began the cleanup. After picking up the largest shards from the counter and the floor, I took a thick wad of paper towel to soak up broad swaths of wine from wherever I could. The drawers and cupboards came next and I had to tediously move pieces of silverware and other kitchen items to get to the pools of red wine accumulating everywhere. And as soon as I'd soak some up more would drip down.

And then came those little tiny pieces of glass that are impossible to pick up with a paper towel and almost as difficult with a broom, but if you miss them they are the most dangerous part. They are sharp as ever and you just can't risk any being left lying around when two little girls are motoring around everywhere during the day.

After collecting as many pieces as I could I examined the floor and the counter closely and then vacuumed the area to make sure I didn't miss anything. And then I spotted some glass across the room. How had it gotten over there? I went over to vacuum that spot as well. When I came back to look along the floorboards, there laid another piece of glass. I shoved the vacuum in there to get that piece also. 

Now I was really paranoid so I began vacuuming everything again. This is where insult was added to injury. The kite Audrey and I had flown that afternoon at the park laid on the floor, a picture of Cinderella staring at me. The kite's long pink tail meandered lazily on the floor, as if to tempt the vacuum. And tempt it did. All of a sudden the plastic tail got sucked into the opening and wrapped around the rotor. And since we have a high-powered vacuum with some serious torque the tail melted a bit as it wound itself up. Fortunately for me the tail broke off and the rest of the kite was saved. But I was left to extricate the pink plastic ribbon from the jaws of the vacuum. And eventually I did.

Like any good dad I tied what was left of tail back to the main body of the kite and it almost looked passable as a kite tail. Almost. We'll see what Audrey says next time we go fly it.

The whole process took well over an hour and by the time I was done I was so flustered I couldn't even explain to my wife what had happened. Maybe I shouldn't clean anymore.

Annie

A picture is worth a thousand words, they say. Audrey couldn't have been more excited.

But it didn't start that way.

Audrey has a fear of theaters. We once had to pull the plug on a show at the planetarium moments after it began and when she and Suzanne went to see the movie "Up" she took one look into the dark void and refused to go in. Naturally we expected the same when we took her to the dinner theater but did so anyway because of the one thing that keeps us trying: hope.

The Sun Will Come Out

Weeks of build-up led to this evening. Occasionally we'd drive by the theater where a massive sign advertised that "Annie" had come to town. We'd point out the sign and Audrey would want to go, and when we didn't go we'd have to go home and watch the movie instead. And then for days afterward we'd all have "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow" running through our heads. 

This continued for some time, until my wife realized there was only one week left before the show ended for good. So we sat down with Audrey and asked her if she really, really, really wanted to go. "Yes!" she said. 

That afternoon we called Grammy to tell her the news and Grammy wasn't about to miss this. She arrived at our house within two hours and off to the show we went.

Ms. Hannigan

Dinner precedes the show, it being a dinner theater and all, but Audrey was already very wary of Ms. Hannigan lurking about. So for the first 15 minutes of our evening Audrey and I loitered in the lobby, with me pointing out pictures of the casts from "Little Shop of Horrors," "The King and I," "The Producers" and others to try to take her mind off the here and now.

By happenstance we met a little girl in the lobby named Grace (the same name as Audrey's sister) who was 4 and helped make Audrey feel more comfortable. And by the time the food was being served we were able to go back and enjoy dinner. And as luck would have it Grace's table was right next to ours.

But questions about Ms. Hannigan dominated the conversation. In a dinner theater the servers are the performers and our server happened to be Daddy Warbucks - he assured Audrey that Ms. Hannigan was just another actor like he was. Warbucks even asked her to come by our table, dressed in server attire, to say hello. Audrey crouched in my lap.

Preview

The lights went down in the midst of dinner for a preview of a different performance. Audrey panicked when it went dark and screamed. "Here we go," I thought. But when the cast for a show called "The Spelling Bee" appeared and the stage lit up she calmed down.

We thought we had avoided attention, but no. When the main event was announced the speaker ended by saying, "... and if you have little ones who get scared during the performance, please take them to the lobby until they calm down so that others can hear in the meantime. Enjoy the show!"

That comment was aimed squarely at us.

We had to develop a plan, otherwise we were pinched for sure. "The lights are going to go down again just like they did for the preview," we told Audrey. "When they do, just sit in Daddy's lap and cover your head with your blanket. And when Ms. Hannigan comes out, do the same." She seemed to be okay with the plan.

Annie

The intro ran and all Audrey could do was anticipate Ms. Hannigan's first appearance. When she showed up the blanket went immediately over Audrey's head. After a few moments she peered out to see. Suzanne, Grammy and I looked at each other, still unsure of how this would proceed. 

But we were reassured each time Annie came on. Audrey would scoot to the edge of her seat and hold out a small hair band she had brought to give to Annie. "When can I give this to Annie???" she asked over and over. "We'll find her in the lobby at the end of the show," we told her.

Each time Ms. Hannigan showed up Audrey would retract from the front of her seat to my lap but eventually the blanket remained in the chair instead of over her head. She was too enthralled with Annie.

We were out of the woods and so proud of Audrey. Her comments from there were things like, "That scene isn't in the movie!"

From the looks of the lobby after the show you'd have thought Madonna was there. But it was Annie, with excited little kids fawning all over her. When it was Audrey's turn she shyly handed Annie the hair band and posed for a photo.

Post mortem

One might expect the acting quality at a dinner theater to be sub-par but if you do I'd suggest you think again. This performance met all but the highest of expectations and Annie belted out her songs in a powerful (but kind of quirky) way.

Since the show we've been amazed by one thing. Not only does Audrey sing the songs she heard (loudly), she hits the same notes and reproduces the same quirkiness in Annie's delivery. It's really quite amazing coming from a 3-year-old.

We are excited for Audrey's next foray into theater. Somewhere inside of me is an inkling that she may eventually be the one on stage. 

First steps, squeaky shoes and a fly swatter

Grace took her first steps! Yesterday, as I was sitting on the floor with her, she decided to stand up and walk. It was only a step, but it was spectacular. The only problem was my wife wasn't there with me so I had to break the news that the big event had occurred in her absence. But then that evening we got her to walk three steps total so that made up for it. And the hand-me-downs she wears that make a squeak when she walks make it that much better.

In other news, Audrey licked a fly swatter. Yuck.

Poop is news

Poop is news when you have babies. 

Last night a bunch of us went to Benihana to celebrate Grace's first birthday. (Happy birthday Grace!) We mixed rice with some soup broth and placed it in front of her and she ate like I've never seen her eat. Her little tummy was bulging when we left.

"She going to poop big time tomorrow," I thought as we walked out. (I had had a few Mai Tai's so that's truly what I thought.)

Sure enough, when she alerted us that she was awake around 7:30am she had a nice big poop in her diaper. Good news! I changed her, congratulating her as I always do on a job well done, and gave her some breakfast. 

Soon I noticed an odd smell. Had I left the diaper sitting out? No - it was yet another poop, this one about the same size and consistency as the last. I couldn't recall two poops less than an hour apart before. Benihana was working its magic on Grace, and later that morning on me as well, I have to admit.

When my wife came downstairs I announced the news that Grace had done two poops already. Suzanne was pleased.

We're always cognizant of how many Grace does per day and I figured her morning accomplishments were like money in the bank for the next two, maybe three days.

I deposited the diapers in the trash bin on the way to my car. At least I knew no wildlife would attempt to get into the garbage now.

With Audrey it's the same thing except at 3 1/2 she uses the toilet, and lately it's been her and her only using the toilet. The only risky part is the wiping job but she generally gives a decent effort. She always wants privacy and shuts the door and when we ask if she's done she always says "no." Her time on the pot has been lengthening for awhile now - I'm convinced she's sandbagging though. Any 3-year-old can get on and off in a minute or less if she needs to.

When she's done there's always appreciation: "Good job Audrey!" "That was a good one!" followed by discussion: "When was the last poop she did?" "How was it?" "How did it smell?" If there was a newspaper called the Poop Times, such is the stuff if would be made of.

If you have poop stories please comment. But know this - your kids, like my girls, are not going to be happy when they read this when they are older.

Watershed moments

Life has a limited number of watershed moments and watching your baby take her first steps is one of them. Audrey took her first steps on her first birthday; Grace isn't there yet but for the past couple of weeks she has been standing up and raising her arms in the air to show off what she can do. She thinks it's pretty funny really - until she loses her balance and plunks back down on her rear end.

For now Grace has to resort to crawling to get around and has mastered that for sure. Her army crawl of two months ago is gone - she now gets around so fast that in a blink of an eye she's moved from doing something she's supposed to be doing to examining an electrical wall outlet on the other side of the room or examining the microwave when it's on or attempting the climb the stairs.

In fact a few weeks ago she did climb the stairs before anyone realized it. Our stairs are hardwood so that's a definite no-no and we even have a gate, but any parent knows that a mobile baby can be hard to keep track of and can elude even the most preventive measures. Maybe we shouldn't have worried because she climbed them Dan Osman-style, taking no more than a minute to scale the first section, turn the corner and then keep going. When we saw her she was on the top step, looking down and laughing. Not so funny for us though - carpeting the stairs has moved up a notch or two on the to-do list.

As I think about it there is a concentration of watershed moments in the first year or so of a baby's life - another one is her first word. It's amazing to consider that the utterance of a word (or even a sound that resembles a word) creates so much excitement. Humans, after all, are social beings and it should be no surprise that we can speak. But an important moment that first word is.

Audrey's first word was "hi;" Grace's first was "daddy" (or at least a word that sounded like "daddy"). I know, I know. In Grace's case I'm flattered. It's pretty cool. But I think it would have been "mommy" if not for the fact that "m" is a harder letter to pronounce when you're less than 1 year old. And she can now say "ma ma" with no problem.

Now that she's done that though all her subsequent sounds have been very important but slightly less captivating. You can say "one" to her, for example, and she'll say, "doooo!" (meaning two). Or you can ask her to say "thank you" and she'll say something along the lines of "deek doo." And she can wave and blow kisses at people too. All are great tricks when we have people over but none have the same luster of her first word. If she's as verbal as her sister was she'll be capable of having conversations in no time.

These watershed moments have a way of staying with you. If you must know, my first word was allegedly "briefcase." I'm somewhat embarrassed to admit it but that's what my father carried to and from work every day. Nobody uses briefcases any longer and I imagine if I'd been born this year my first word might be iPhone or something because that's what my father carries now. In any case, I hear about it.

Diapers

Today's diapers might be the most absorbent material on earth. In fact I'm thinking of replacing my Sham-Wow (yes, I have one) with a diaper for absorbing spills.

When I changed Grace's diaper the other day the thing weighed something like 10 pounds. You could've used it as a weight for working out. Not a leak anywhere though - the diaper took it like a champ.

Audrey is still wearing pull-ups at night to prevent accidents and it's no wonder she wants them taken off the moment she hops out of bed - they weigh so much she must have trouble getting around. Needless to say the Dora the Explorer pictures on the front look a bit bloated since the night before.

We only have one diaper pail for diaper disposal but don't tend to use it because it ends up smelling so much after a couple days. The pail looks like it can hold the smell in and ostensibly is designed to do so but you'd need a hermetic seal to really do the trick. And the older the kids get, and the more diverse their food intake is, the more dangerous the smell of a pile of diapers is inside an enclosed plastic container.

What ends up happening in our household is we put used diapers, neatly wrapped up and secured with their sticky tabs, in small piles around the house throughout the day. And then we do a sweep of the house, gathering them up and depositing the whole lot into the garbage bin outside. (Decorum would prevent discussion of the smell of the outside garbage bin here.)

Once, thinking I'd save myself from having to scour the upstairs for used diapers at the end of the day, I decided to toss a fairly soaked one over the railing and onto the rug downstairs. I'd done it before with half-wet diapers (you'd never do it with poopy ones) and they landed softly, ready for me to pick up when I went downstairs. But a fully utilized diaper is another story and is not to be toyed with. It hit the floor with a tremendous thud and exploded into a thousand tiny pieces that looked like ice crystals, with each semi-transparent piece holding as much baby urine as it could. It was a mess and took forever to clean up; if you've ever swept up moist material with a broom you'll know what I mean.

Diapers are a blessing and a curse. You need them for keeping things tidy but don't like to change them. They are incredibly convenient but agonizingly expensive. They hurt the planet but can you really deal with cloth diapers mixed in with your clothes in the washing machine? We've tried the cloth ones but the truth is people really haven't solved the problem yet. Eluding everyone is a solution that is clean, easy and inexpensive.

Once I found a diaper with mold growing on it that had been deposited mistakenly in a box with other paraphernalia in our storage room - it was disgusting. Not as bad as finding a dead animal, but disgusting nonetheless. Baby diapers are tiny, often don't smell at first, and are easy to discard as normal trash. But over time they make their presence known.

If us adults had to wear diapers I don't think our world would be livable. It just wouldn't. Things would smell so bad we'd stay indoors. But then we wouldn't because the indoors would smell so bad. And the outdoors would be infiltrated with dirty diapers too. Not a good image.

In any case it's the technology advancement of diapers that prompted me to write this - you've got to fill a kid with incredible amounts of liquid for one to leak nowadays. Even the "green" diapers found at places like Whole Foods work pretty well. 

Perhaps existing diaper technology ought to be applied to new things - towels, washcloths, gauze pads, kitchen towels, sponges, paper towels, etc. Or, on the other hand, should the diaper industry continue to work on poopy diapers, which remain a bit of a liability?

In either case, I love my girls, and I'm glad for diapers.

Sanitas Trail

My girls continuously surprise me. But then sometimes they really surprise me. Like on Sunday. Audrey and I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood when I suggested we go up the hill and cross 4th Street to the base of Sanitas Trail. (The city of Boulder literally abuts the mountains.) Despite its proximity Audrey and I had only walked up there once before because somehow she became scared of trails. Her stated reason was that they moved, seemingly likening the ascending path of dirt and rocks to some sort of scary escalator. Whatever the case was, she felt more adventurous on Sunday.

My suggestion to walk to the trail was greeted with a smile and a "Sure, Daddy." And when we got to the trailhead Audrey didn't mention anything about it moving any which way. In fact when we spotted some people higher up the mountain she was much more interested in how they had gotten up there. I explained that the way there was the path in front of us.

The trail remains wide and the incline gradual for the first several hundred yards so, seemingly bored, Audrey thought we should instead scale the steep incline of grass, weeds, shrubs and rocks to get to the top. I told her to go for it but, walking to the edge of the trail, she looked up and decided against it. Baby steps first. 

When the trail got steeper, narrower and rockier I turned to her and asked if she'd like to go back? "Nooo!" she replied. "I want to go up!" I paused, surprised, but took her hand and we kept walking.

"Make sure to hold Daddy's hand," I told her. "I don't want you to slip and fall." That wasn't her idea of fun but I told her we weren't going anywhere unless she agreed.

Further up I asked her again if she wanted to turn around. "No, Daddy, I want to go to the top!" she said with resolve. To hear my 3-year-old insist on this was strange but we kept moving... We had brought an apple along and she munched on it as we walked, fruit in one hand and my hand in the other. (She dropped the apple more than a few times but in each case brushed it off and kept eating.) In my other hand was a slightly wilted purple flower Audrey had found in the neighborhood as we left the house that she insisted I carry.

The trail had gotten much steeper and the drop-off to our left could easily give someone a bit of vertigo. Sanitas Trail is well traveled but you've still got to watch your step. But Audrey kept going, distracted by the rocks and the bushes and asking me a million questions about everything as we hiked.

At last we approached a rocky section taller than she was and I was compelled to pick her up. To be able to climb it myself while carrying her, I had to put the purple flower down. Pointing to it I told her, "Don't let me forget this when we come back, okay?" The trail remained tricky for a bit afterward so I continued to carry her despite her wanting to be put down. (Had she been hiking before?)

It was a hazy day - cool for August - and I noticed dark clouds in the distance. Suddenly nervous I'd be carrying a 3-year-old on a narrow, rocky trail in the rain, I suggested we head down. Audrey's response? "I want to go to the top, Daddy. Up there. See?" She pointed and we were actually almost there. What could I say? Some other (older) kids and their parents looked down from the summit.

We crossed through a narrow jungle-like section, wrapped around to the right and suddenly the trail opened up into a broad field. We had made it! The wind was blowing harder up there and the dark clouds were closer. Other trails stretched to the north and south of us and a group of hikers disappeared in the distance.

"Let's play up here, Daddy!" exclaimed Audrey, but I had to say no this time. "We have to go down, otherwise we're going to get stuck in the weather," I replied. "See those clouds?" Trying to gain time I picked her up and carried her all the way down to the steep rocky section we had encountered before. Unable to climb down it with her I sat her down, climbed down it myself and then reached up to grab her. As soon as I did she said, "Loooook, Daddy, our purple flower!" I had already forgotten about it but there it was, just like we left it. "Can you put me down now?" she asked. I pointed to a curve in the trail below where it became less rocky. "Right down there I'll put you down," I said.

No sooner had I put her down than she wanted to rest. I humored her for a minute as she sat down on a rock but then reminded myself of the clouds. "We've got to keep going, Audrey. We're almost down." 

Once the trail flattened out she started to walk fast. "Don't trip," I warned her. "We're still on a mountain." She actually stumbled a few times and thought it was funny. After dropping her apple again and trying to take a bite full of dirt, I grabbed the half-eaten fruit and suggested we get a new one at the house.

Just as we crossed onto the streets of Boulder the rain started to fall. Perfect timing. As we walked back to the house I told her how impressed I was. "That was your first real hike!" I said. But she was focused on picking another flower - a white one this time. "Let's get home before it really rains," I suggested. "Daddy, can you carry me? I need to rest again." Like I said, perfect timing.