Monday, February 17, 2014

Lessons in Fatherhood: Frozen and The LEGO Movie Edition

In June, which was a really long time ago, I wrote about parenting lessons gleaned from The Man of Steel. Because in the past two months I have managed to see two more movies (in a real theater), I will now bestow upon you the DOs and DON'Ts of fathering as laid down by this season's two biggest kiddie flicks.

But first, general impressions of both films. Frozen was very enjoyable, top to bottom. Disney princesses have come a long way since Snow White made herself subservient to a house full of dwarves before eating the wrong apple and waiting passively in a forest clearing for someone to come along and kiss her. That said, we've got a long way to go. Yes, yes, the princesses saved each other and learned lessons about bravery and family. But one of them was sidetracked by (and had one-and-a-half songs devoted to) finding a handsome prince to love her. At least she ultimately learns that was a bad idea. Until we manage to kick that kind of thinking to the curb, little girls are going to keep getting the wrong impression of how love and commitment work. But, hey, the music is still stuck in my head, so somebody did a good job.

As for The LEGO Movie, I was predisposed to love it. If you like LEGO, you're going to love this movie. Your favorite toys are dancing, singing, building, and saving the day; what's not to love? But what I didn't know is that the last 10-15 minutes of the film was aimed right square at me and every other dad who ever played with LEGO as a child. Bonus points if you're a little OCD about keeping all the pieces for all your various sets separate. Again, a little iffy on the gender roles. At least there was a competent female role model, but more than one would've been nice. Half of all people are women, and yet most movies of this type have predominately male casts. It ain't right, I tells ya.

But I digress. And in case you weren't sure, SPOILERS from here on in.

From Frozen:

DO
... Quickly respond to your children if they're in distress, identify the problem, and get them the help they need. Elsa and Anna's accident at the beginning of the film required a swift response from her parents, and they delivered in a big way. Knowing a doctor wouldn't provide the help they needed, they went straight to the top: a troll shaman. When LG and G2 were sick for a month straight last year, Hollie and I had to make decisions on a daily basis on what care to provide in the face of an ever-evolving situation. Multiple doctor visits, following by an ER visit, followed by more doctor visits. It's not always simple to care for your kids, but you've got to have a response plan.

DON'T
... Lie about a past event because the truth of it is uncomfortable. So Elsa and Anna's parents get some points for knowing where the magical trolls live, but they pretty much screw EVERYTHING ELSE up from that point on. Accidents happen, but denying the truth of an event or set of actions is to essentially encourage the event to reoccur. When my brothers and I were younger, I pushed Brett off a step-stool at the library. He fell, hit his eye on the corner of the stool, and my parents had to rush him to the ER to get stitches. 100% my fault, and done with some malice, if I'm being honest. But lying to Brett about why it happened or who was responsible wouldn't have changed what happened. I had to take responsibility for what I did, try to learn from it and keep it from happening again. Everyone learned a lesson that day, including the librarians, who had a warning and object lesson readily at hand for every set of kids who caroused at the checkout counter.

DON'T
... Lock your child away to 'protect' others from her. There's putting your kid in time out, and then there's "Don't leave your room, ever, not even to talk to your sister, who loves you very much." Make the punishment fit the crime, if you must, but permanent grounding with no time off for good behavior seems like overkill.

DON'T
... Encourage your child to hide their feelings or their true self because it scares you. "Conceal. Don't feel. Put on a show." Words that make an excellent line in a song revealing your troubled sense of self, but it's lousy advice from parent to child. Elsa's parents condemn her to a life of poor self-esteem and self loathing before she even capable of understanding her true nature. And this doesn't even take into consideration that maybe everyone would be better off if she knew how to control her abilities rather than suppress them. 

Here's a thought experiment: Your child develops the ability to shoot lasers out of her eyes/drain someone's life force with a touch/phase through solid objects. Do you tell him to keep his eyes shut forever/never touch anyone/avoid physical contact with the outside world? Or do you enroll them in a special school overseen by the world's most powerful psychic?

Okay, that got a little out of hand, but you see my point. The X-Men comic books have long functioned as a metaphor for the role of the outsider in society, whether that outsider is ostracized by race, religion or creed. But the books are also about learning to be comfortable in your own skin, to control those aspects of yourself that might cause friction with others. It's not so different from having a short temper or an exuberant personality that gets on people's nerves. Hiding it isn't the answer; taking steps to understand another point of view and modeling good behavior while understanding your own foibles is.

From The LEGO Movie:

Most of these DOs and DON'T are implicit, until just about 15 minutes from the end, when they're made explicit by the revelation that the antagonist of the film, Lord Business, is a toy stand-in for the real-world father of the boy whose imagination fuels the bulk of the film. It can then be assumed that every action taken by Lord Business up to that point are the actions of the father expressed by his son through play.

DON'T
... Glue your toys together so no one can play with them. This is kind of a no-brainer. It's just mean. But to take it further, don't assume that your vision of the world is the right one. As a father, heck, as a person, you have a worldview cultivated by a lifetime of experience. Newsflash, though: Your life isn't over, so you're not done learning. You can't freeze life the way you want it, not with glue or a rigid outlook on life. For me, that means teaching my children to be flexible and responsive rather than rigid and reactionary.

DON'T
... Take things too seriously. There's a time for work and time for play, but Lord Business has pretty much forgotten about the latter. For him, even relaxation is epitomized by a rigid system of getting things done as efficiently as possible. Sometimes you just have to loosen up.

DON'T
... put too much faith in the instructions. I'll admit it. I'm big on instructions. Even when I do get down time, I spend it on things that follow detailed, step-by-step plans. My favorite leisure pastimes? Cooking, origami, board games and building stuff. Even when I don't have instructions, I make some so I have a path to follow. There is joy to be had in turning off your brain and following a set of rules established by someone else. But sometimes it's good to chuck the rulebook and experiment. Make up dinner on the fly, forget the rules to Monopoly, do something crazy! You won't break anything... probably.

DO
... play. Just play. Even if you've lost (most of) your imagination, your kids have plenty to spare. And when you let them take over, wonderful things can happen. 
This is LG's flying castle. Should castles fly? If she says so.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Zen and the Art of Brick Obsession

So you want to indoctrinate your child into the cult of LEGO.

I've been planning just that sort of thing for a while now, so I'd like to share with you these 6 surefire steps for getting your kid to like... no... be passionate about, this sophisticated interlocking brick system.

Step 1. Start early.
You might think I mean that you should introduce your child to LEGO as early as possible. But, no. What I mean is that you need to prep for this BEFORE your child is born. If you already have a stockpile of LEGOs, you're on the right track. If you don't, get going. Buy sets, vehicles, minifigs, any darn thing you can get your hands on.

Step 2. Minifigs
LEGO bricks are one thing, and they are great. They are the main attraction, after all. But the thing that will make your kid want to play with LEGOs at the outset? Minifigs. Mermaids, astronauts, lizard men, gladiators, snowmen, cat ladies, robots, Tiki-masked warriors, skiers, the list goes on.

This is part of starting early. For instance, I started collecting minifigs some time slightly before LG's birth. For the last few years, the company has released series of individually packaged, blind-packed minifigs. For the uninitiated, blind-packed means the product is packaged in a way that prevents you from seeing what you're getting. 

Initially, I bought them for my niece, who was already LEGO-crazy. After accidentally purchasing three of the same figure, I realized I had to figure out what I was buying. So I got really good at feeling through the Mylar bags, looking for accessories that would reveal the figure inside. Find a tiny gun? Probably a cowboy. Find a fishing pole? Definitely the ice fisherman. But the real problem? Once I had a couple of them, I just couldn't stop.

And that's how I got a reputation at work.

This represents maybe half of the minifigs I have in my office.
You could say I had an obsession. I would say I was stocking up for getting LG into LEGO. These are toys, after all, and they aren't getting played with sitting on my desk (at least, not much).

Step 3. DUPLO
LEGO are too small for your kid, at least for a little while. That's why they invented DUPLO. They aren't as much fun, but they're much harder to swallow. Your kid has developed his/her pincher grasp? Then they're ready for DUPLO. Granted, they won't do much but put them in their mouths, but this about exposure.

Your child may also starting hoarding them under his other toys. This is also fine.
The real problem with DUPLO is that they're so big, you can't have too many of them. They just take up too much space. So what do you do with DUPLO?

You build towers.
Step 4. Use your mental powers to get LEGO to make a movie.
This step is self-explanatory.

Step 5. Take your kid to see this movie.
Yes, it's a 104 minute LEGO commercial. I have no problem with this.
Because movies = joy.
If the movie has a ridiculous theme song that no one can ever stop singing, so much the better.


Step 6. Give your child a pile of LEGO bricks and a baseplate
If you've done everything right, it should go something like this:

And it lasted for nearly two hours.
At this point, you've hit the jackpot. Because, now, you can play with LEGOs, and it doesn't look weird.
Me: Hey, do you have a 2x2 flat piece I could borrow?
LG: But it's part of my castle, Dad.
I may have created a monster.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Christmas, a welcome respite from sickness, part 1

Better late than never, let's talk about Christmas 2013. As is something of a tradition, we'll break this into two posts.

First off, let's recap where we stand. This is LG's fourth Christmas and G2's first. G2 is six months older than his sister was for her first Christmas, so he was at least nominally aware of the changes to his environment and slightly less lumpy. LG knows the deal this time around: decorate house, select Christmas tree, decorate tree, watch Christmas movies, see the Dickens Village and Macy's Light Show, get dressed up, visit Santa, visit grandparents, open presents. Traditions are being built and memories made. So let's tackle each signifier one at a time and compare LG and G2's experience.

1. Decorate house
As previously mentioned, November took the Griffatolos down a peg. Coupled with the fact that Thanksgiving was so late, we didn't even get outdoor Christmas decorations up this year. We did manage to get the interior suitably set for the holidays, if a little bit late. As with many things, LG is actually sorta-kinda helpful at this point. Or at least not completely unhelpful.

G2, on the other hand, is somewhat less capable. So we decorated him instead.

He's clearly more useful as festive inspiration.
2. Select Christmas tree
It was an open question this year whether we were all healthy enough to go tromping through a field of trees at all, but late one Saturday afternoon, we just went for it. I'm quite glad we did.

I'm pretty sure we didn't take LG to get a tree for her first Christmas. Considering she was only three months old at the time, I think we just picked up a tree in a pharmacy parking lot. It was far less exciting. So G2 was already having a better first Christmas just by virtue of seeing the tree farm.

Regardless of age, there was much carrying of children.
LG is even at the point that she can help pick the tree.

Though her enthusiasm still outpaces her skills in this area.
3. Decorate tree
LG was pretty good at this part last year. So no surprise that she was a big help this year, too. 

Though it's altogether possible she's only in it for the cookies.
And if you're wondering about the differences between a three-month-old LG and a nine-month-old G2 when it came to decorating, then here you go.

Pretty sure she couldn't have grabbed an ornament if she wanted to.
4. Watch Christmas movies
We didn't make the connection until we watched a few Christmas specials this year, but LG has been doing something for a while now that initially struck me as strange. 
LG's favorite part of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer? The Abominable Snow Monster. 
Favorite part of How the Grinch Stole Christmas? The Grinch and the moment he's just about to chuck the presents off Mount Crumpit. 
Favorite bit of A Muppet Christmas Carol? The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.

It took a holiday full of fun and joy for us to realize that LG loves things that scare the bejesus out of her. But it sort of makes sense. What's the best way to take the power away from something that frightens you? Embrace it. I'm not the sort of person who sees a great deal of wisdom in the actions of children, but there's a kind of innocent cleverness in that.

Next time: Visiting Santa, Christmas Eve, and our first Christmas morning in our own house.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

In sickness and in health (I'm using this title again...it fits...)

Happy Anniversary to my loving husband!

It is not in fact the anniversary of the chilly, but lovely December day Matt and I got hitched and started this crazy family. We completely missed that anniversary this year in spectacular fashion.

From the end of October to the beginning of December, the kiddos were sick. Seriously sick for most of it. Illnesses with olde tyme names like "croup" (LG) and scary initials like RSV (G2). The timeline is typical--many visits to the doctor, trips to the pharmacy, long phone calls with nurses, the whole shebang. No amount of lysol wipes or refills on the humidifier were going to make any of it go away any faster.

It all came to a head on Thanksgiving. We had already cancelled our bi-annual trip to Hanover due to the illness that had taken over the house, but Thanksgiving day brought new scary symptoms early in the morning. Thankfully, our doctor was open on the holiday. So, after a short examination of both little ones, LG was sent home with a prescription for antibiotics for her very first ear infection and G2 was rushed off to the emergency room for more intensive testing. I took LG home as she was the more emotionally needy at the time, and Matt took G2 to the ER with the plan that I would meet them if the need arose.
Though she seemed to be in dire straits all morning,
the second I got her home and put on the Thanksgiving parade,
she started dancing around like a marching band majorette.
Gah. 
An incredibly long story short, we spent the next two nights in the hospital with G2 as he received constant monitoring, oxygen, and albuterol treatments. The staff at the hospital was very nice, and thanks to my fantastic mother, Matt and I did manage to have some turkey and stuffing in G2's hospital room.

Side note: There was one very strange respiratory tech that visited a few times one night who insisted that his four-month-old son--who was conceived under very strange circumstances (of which I know too much)--was already crawling. After I expressed horror (because who would want a baby to start crawling and getting into stuff that early?), he insisted this was all part of a grand design on his part through the implementation of "baby exercises." In my sleep deprived position with a very sick, very sad baby sleeping on me, I could only muster "Oh? Baby exercises, you say?" If I had been a little more with it, I could have learned his secrets and passed them along to those with young children who wish that their offspring could possess almost superhuman capabilities. Alas.
Happy Thanksgiving from Virtua Voorhees Pediatric Wing! 
To say we were exhausted and overwhelmed when we left the hospital would have been an understatement. We picked LG up from my parents where she had been having an extended sleepover complete with lots of movies, snuggles, treats and amoxicillin, and we headed home.

A few days later, my wonderful mother-in-law offered to come and stay a few days to take care of the sickies so we could both get back into the groove of work. That Tuesday, December 3, as I was rushing around to get LG ready to go back to school and make sure all the pieces were in place to make sure G2 wasn't too much trouble, I stopped in my tracks. You see, my MIL had just wished me a happy anniversary. I called Matt into the kitchen, and soon it was confirmed that, yes, we had completely forgotten our wedding anniversary. My actual reaction (which was identical to Matt's) is not fit to print. It's not even that we usually make a huge deal. Sometimes we go out to dinner, sometimes we don't. Sometimes we exchange gifts, and sometimes we don't.  Sometimes Matt remembers and sometimes I remember, but never had we both completely forgotten. Eights years and two sick kids later, we missed it.

So that brings me back to today. Everyone is mildly healthy (knock on wood... does that still work digitally?) and we're celebrating a different anniversary. Ten years ago today, Matthew asked me to marry him in a dingy little Chinese buffet. The story of the proposal is great (next time you see us, ask), but what has happened since then has been even better. Insert all the cliches about Matt being my best friend, the love of my life, the best husband and father. They're all true. Completely true.

To put it simply (as I do most of the time), he's awesome, and I love him.

10 years ago today, a simple question written in a fortune cookie led to all this.











And I couldn't be happier.