Category Archives: Hannah

At 10

Posted on July 22, 2012 | 8 Comments

I know how excited you are.  It is written all over your face.  On the cusp of turning 10, this July 23rd is going to be a monumental birthday for you.  It is going to be for me as well.  Every step (literally and figuratively) of your life I have recorded in my mind.  The thought of my baby girl turning 10 is hard to believe when I can remember fumbling for a bottle for you at 2am.

There was no greater feeling in my life (with your sister too) than when I held you in my arms for the first time.  At 1, you fit perfectly there.  Everything about you was perfect even though I wasn’t (figuring out a hungry cry vs. a wet cry took me a little longer than most). I can’t begin to tell you what it’s like knowing I had a hand in the beautifully perfect life spitting up on my shoulder.

You began walking and talking at two.  Each one, you did with more regularity, confidence, and volume.  It was the closest I had come close to panicking as I rushed from work to the Emergency Room.  You had fallen off your bed and hurt your neck. I sat in the X-Ray room, holding your hand, promising everything would be ok as doctors examined your neck and I got massive doses of radiation (I would do it again without a moment’s hesitation).

At 3 you became a big sister (and I became a professional arbitrator for your sister and you).  You learned about death when I told you Pop Pop went to heaven.  You didn’t quite understand other than you knew you were not going to be able to see him again.  Its ok you didn’t understand why he had to go to heaven. I didn’t understand it either. And its ok you didn’t cry.  I did for both of us.

You never wanted to be 4.  I have never quite figured out why?  Even after your mom and I explained how cool being 4 would be, you were left unconvinced (not the last time you wouldn’t believe me)

Starting Kindergarten at 5 was as close as I’ve seen your mom get to hyperventilating.  It was also the first time I remember wondering what happened to the tiny baby I used to hold as the bus took you to your first day.

You tried at 6 to not only a big sister but a second mom to Emma after you came to grips with the fact she wasn’t going anywhere so you made the best of being a big sister. And when you went on the bus to go to 1st grade, I waved again and tried to calm your mom down.

You began to conquer your fears at 7. You mastered a bike without training wheels, you went on roller coasters, and did things I had never seen (or thought) you would do.  It was also when I saw the side of you (caring, compassionate, and protective) that makes you such a good big sister.

Your first Holy Communion came at 8.  Standing in front of me was an angel dressed in white and looking far too old to be my little girl.  It has been one of the few times I considered the possibility of there being a heaven.  How else could I explain how blessed I was to have you in my life?

It was just this year, at 9, the little girl who wanted so badly to be a big girl, asked her Daddy to carry her up to bed.  It was the year you finished elementary school and your mom started hyperventilating at the end of the school year instead of just at the beginning.  It was the year you could think only of being 10.

I know you’re focused on your birthday now but these past nine years are moments that will forever be apart of my memories.  As will the days of your life that are yet to come. I remember because I’m your dad and part of me will always want you to be the baby who fit so perfectly in to my arms.  But a bigger part of me knows that these memories are to be remembered fondly but not at the expense of what and who is right in front of me.

So while it may seem as though I cling to the past nine years of your life Hannah, know that this year and this birthday is no different than how I felt for your birthday at 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, or 9.  I will always remember but I will also always share your anticipation and excitement, this time, at the thought of your life at 10.

 

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Start of a Revolution

Posted on July 4, 2012 | 12 Comments

When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

“Dad, I’ll make lunch.

I was not only surprised my 9 year old volunteered to make hers and her sister’s lunch but when did I become ‘Dad’ (I could have sworn it was ‘Daddy’ not more than 10 minutes ago)?

Yet, despite my disbelief, Hannah was rooting through the kitchen for the peanut butter, standing on the stool to grab chips, asking Emma if she wanted an apple, and completely oblivious to me, as she prepared lunch.

He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.

I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t see this coming.

More and more, I have seen my kids beginning to grab a hold of their independence.  The two little girls, who used to be able to nestle comfortably on my forearm, had begun to migrate hither and towards doing things for themselves.

That feeling of ‘I can do it myself’ has been a prevailing attitude in my kids since they were old enough to hold a spoon. While I applauded their adorable claims of independence, it always came back to me (or their mom) to fix a shirt buttoned wrong. Pick out clothing that matched, wipe butts, and fix meals.

It always came back to ‘Daddy’.

They were jobs, at times; I performed like Superman heroically rescuing Lois Lane. Except for maybe the butt wiping (any parents’ kryptonite).  They were things my kids depended on me for and I did.

But my kids are on the doorstep of being 10 and 7 (and ready to kick the door in).  What I and their mom were once called on to do for them, they have, with increasing regularity, wanted to do on their own.  They have slowly been laying the groundwork to declare their independence.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

All the chores, responsibilities, and duties called upon me by my kids hasn’t always been easy…or enjoyed.  There were times when stress has gotten the better of me, exhaustion stripped away my patience, and 7,000 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches reached levels of tedium to bore any man.  Yet, in the end, I relished my kids’ dependence on me.  It was a boost to my ego, at times elevated me to superhuman levels in their eyes, and frankly, it was my job to be there for them.  A job I have cherished.  And a job I don’t know if I have prepared myself to give up yet.

But now my kids understand that they were created equally.  They have been endowed with certain unalienable rights, like Life, Liberty, the pursuit of Happiness, and the right to grow up.  And grow up they are.  Before my eyes, they have transformed from my babies to my little ladies.  Little ladies who once called on their ‘Daddy’ to do the things they are now ready, willing, and able to do.

If history is any teacher, it will do me no good trying to fight it.

So I stand back and watch.  I watch my kids do more and more for themselves. I watch as Hannah stands in the kitchen making lunch and firing off the first shot in a revolution.

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The Tooth Fairy Came Back

Posted on May 22, 2012 | 11 Comments

My oldest daughter recently found out the truth about Santa Claus.  The truth also came out on the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.  My daughter had approached my wife and me, mustering up the courage to hear what she undoubtedly knew already.  Except for a brief moment of sadness, she took the news about it well.  She seemed happy to be a part of the inner circle she believes her mom and I are in and not worried much about the slice of childhood magic now in her past. Content, though slightly disappointed, this chapter of my daughter’s childhood was being closed; I took a little solace knowing we were still a few years away from her dating.  But this was not just Hannah finding out about Santa Claus; it was just another step towards her closing the book on her childhood.  In a very short time, Hannah has gone from a ‘big girl’ to a ‘young lady’.  This new role I am so privileged to watch yet, admittedly, quietly struggling with is the same role my daughter seems so easily slipping in to.

Then, the other night, she lost a tooth.

I was in the kitchen with my oldest and my youngest.  I was sitting at the island in our kitchen when Hannah walked up to me with her palm opened and stretched out to showing me a tooth that was, up until 2 minutes prior, in her mouth.

I whispered to her (because the little one was within earshot), “Hannah…you want the money now or later?”  Part of the unwritten contract I signed when my children were born  was the section about making good on payments for any and all lost teeth (did you know there is a clause in there about teeth that may have been swallowed accidentally?).  Since Hannah was well aware the Tooth Fairy was me, I figured I could skip the formalities of sneaking in to her room, trying not to wake her up when I put my hand under her pillow, freezing like a statue when she inevitably stirred when I put my hand under her pillow, find the tooth, put the money in, and sneak back out of the room.  There was no fawning.  No gushing. No meticulous examining of the hole now occupying her mouth.  All of the pomp and circumstance now seemed unnecessary and better saved for the 6 year old.

Hannah didn’t say anything to me.  She did quietly take the tooth, wrapped it carefully in a tissue and put it under her pillow to wait for the Tooth Fairy to come.

The next morning, she woke up with tears.  The carefully wrapped tooth was still in the same place under her pillow.  There was no money.  The Tooth Fairy had not come back (full disclosure…I totally forgot).

For the girl who is sprinting away from the trappings of early childhood, it seems as though, she slowed up for a moment.  Maybe Hannah wasn’t quite ready to give up on every piece of her youth? Maybe she wanted to live some of the magic that just a few months ago the last tooth, she had (which is the only reason I can think of why guys in their 30’s still watch professional wrestling)?  Maybe I should have seen or thought this might happen?  For the guy who is so mindful of watching his babies grow, I never gave it a second thought.  Maybe I was swept up with Hannah’s initial attitude of acceptance that the Tooth Fairy wouldn’t be coming back again?

Whatever the reasons, my next move was clear.

That night, I told her, “Don’t forget to put your tooth under your pillow so the Tooth Fairy can come.”

She nodded, smiled, and excitedly put her tooth back under her pillow.

I thought I had concluded my late night vigils in to one of my kids’ rooms, armed with a dollar and with the grace and slyness of Bigfoot in a room with wall to wall bubble wrap.  But as my oldest daughter had shown, that wasn’t the case.  Which is why that night I snuck in to my 9 year old’s room, gave her $2 (the extra dollar for forgetting in the first place), and snuck back out as quietly and as cunningly as I ever had in my time as the Tooth Fairy.

I think one of the things I need to remember and what my daughter reminded me of is, even though you know how the trick is done; it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the magic.  So that night, after an absence from the night before, I made sure for my daughter (and a little bit for me) that the Tooth Fairy came back.

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