Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Jul 10, 2005, Beth’s age: 7 (almost 8)

Last week we had a little problem getting Beth ready in the morning. Gaping, bleeding wounds will do that to you. She was feeling playful and decided to hide under her bed after we asked her to get dressed. Unfortunately, she caught her leg on something sharp and we wound up in the ER rather than the rec center (for summer camp).

“Dad, were you angry with me when I cut my leg?”

“No Beth, I’m not angry with you. I was angry when you didn’t listen this morning, but I wasn’t angry that you cut your leg, I was just worried.”

“Dad, I wish I could go back in time and get dressed instead of hiding under the bed, then I’d be at camp right now.”

“That’s true Beth, but it will be o.k. Sometimes we all learn lessons the hard way. Even your mom and dad.”

“So listening and getting ready this morning would have been the easy way?”

“I think so.”

Beth thinks about this for a few moments, before asking a question.

“Dad, what would be the medium way?”

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: May 10, 2005, Beth’s age: 7

I was at work and struck by the hour: noon already? On a whim I begged off early, promising to make up the time later (a line borrowed from the procrastinator’s creed). This whim eventually brought me to my daughter’s school, just as her and her like were being released for the day. She wasn’t expecting me, and didn’t notice when I fell into step behind her, stride for untroubled stride. She was carrying a large paper bag: the end of the year, accumulated wealth from a well used second grader’s desk. Without comment or warning I plucked her burden from her grasp. She turned, perturbed, expecting to confront a bully. When she found me instead she looked a little worried, but that worried gaze quickly gave in to excited chatter when she learned I was there solely because I felt like it – because I wanted to see my kid.

Later that day, when the day had no right to be called “day” anymore, Beth was settling down for bed. We said our prayers, tucked in the covers, and said our good nights. As I was closing the door Beth asked me to wait. She waved me over and I sat at her side.

“Dad, today was my favorite day. I love you dad.”

If words can melt a heart, then mine’s a puddle.

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Jan 20, 2005, Beth’s age: 7

It started innocently.

“Beth, I’m not sure you should ride your bike until I can tighten those training wheels, unless of course you want me to take them off?”

“Alright dad, take them off.”

Fifteen minutes later we were together on the sidewalk; father, daughter, and bicycle. The father was standing behind it all, grasping the seat. The daughter was astride the bike, imploring the father not to let go. The bicycle was just sitting there, oblivious to it all.

After running along side for about thirty feet, Beth tells me to stop.

“Dad, I’d like to try it on my own now.”

I was ready to indulge her, and she rewarded my faith. She struggled unassisted, feet on the pedals, for about ten feet. That’s where she stopped, feet on the ground, bike still upright. Her very first solo attempt was a success!

Naturally I hoped, hollered, and generally carried on like an English soccer fan. (Beth thought my chanting strut down the sidewalk was a bit much.) Then I ran inside to grab the camera to record the second unassisted ride. It was the best thing to happen to our house since Adam first slept through the night.

Next thing I know Beth is asking to ride to her school with a group of friends (it’s a mile and a half away, but it’s practically inside our neighborhood and you don’t have to cross any busy streets). She came home thirty minutes later and collapsed. Apparently there are some things about bicycling that can’t be learned.

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Oct 26, 2004, Beth’s age: 7

In the south…

I have it on good authority that if John Kerry is elected president, kids will have to go to school on Saturdays and Sundays, and they will only have brussel sprouts and cabbage for lunch in the cafeteria.

George Bush, on the other hand, has the courage to take on the liberal school boards. He has the backbone to take on the vegan lobby. He has the strength of character to stay the course on the traditional school week. He is the only candidate that wants to take the choice away from lunch ladies, and put it into the hands of the hard working school children of America.

Well, that’s what Beth’s friends say anyway.

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Aug 3, 2004, Beth’s age: 7

Beth is a tough nut to crack, but she’s even harder to read. The lead into the new school year had all the emotion of a new pair of socks. (What do I have against socks? Why am I picking on socks in general? As a child, I was permanently scarred by the cruel and unusual gift of socks on Christmas morning.) It was so unlike my experience. I remember the first day of elementary school with all the fondness of replacing a Mac with a Dell. Yet, I remember the first days of a new term at UF with eager anticipation. These were two very different experiences, but they had one thing in common: emotion, a commitment to one side of the wellbeing spectrum or the other. Surely Beth feels something about the big first day?

“So Beth, how do you feel about the first day of second grade?”
“I dunno.”

“Are you nervous?”
“I guess so.”

“Are you excited about meeting your new teacher?”
“Not really.”

“Have you now, or have you ever, committed to one emotion in particular concerning your scholastic career?”
“Huh?”

I haven’t decided if that last question was too sugar coated with sarcasm for my own good.

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Jun 18, 2004, Beth’s age: 6 (almost 7)

Death? Taxes? The Yankees wining another World Series? A six year old child with an attention deficit, a pinch of hyperactivity, and a bow and arrow?

Yes, Beth had a busy day on Wednesday. I was picking her up from camp and her group leader was explaining all of the activities they participated in that day. They started with a hike through a local park, followed by some canoeing, another hike, swimming at the pool, and an archery class.

Beth’s group leader was running down the laundry list of activities while I was packing up Beth’s stuff, preparing to herd her out the door. Growing up with two sisters, I have a well honed talent for tuning people out. It is my blessing and my curse. As a result, I didn’t realize Beth’s group leader had used the word “archery” until I was pulling up the driveway at my house.

Surely they weren’t using real arrows. I guess we’ll never know, unless we’re served with papers.

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Apr 6, 2004, Beth’s age: 6

Recently my daughter told me I say “no” too much.

I told her there was a simple solution to her problem: she should ask questions she thinks might have a different answer.

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Feb 16, 2004, Beth’s age: 6

Last year our daughter’s school suggested testing for intelligence. They offered to test her to determine if it would be appropriate to place her in the Gifted Program. Cheryl was all for it. I wasn’t so sure.

How much harm does it do a child to be labeled? Does it matter if the label is good or bad? Is the end result the same? Are expectations placed on someone that may not be appropriate or to the child’s benefit?

Well, Beth was tested and apparently she tests REALLY well. Now she’s in the Gifted Program. In fact she’s gifted among the gifted. Based on her test results her teachers claim to have one explanation for some of her odd behavior. Before, her behavior was a distraction and a cause for concern. Now it’s still a distraction, but rather than a cause for concern it’s just an eccentricity of an intelligent child.

In the meantime, the behavior continues.

We visited her teacher today for a conference before school. Her teacher was concerned, but not about her academics. She was concerned about how she related to the other kids. She is worried her behavior has isolated her from the other kids. They notice she is different and treat her differently, and not in a good way. She’s not making friends. She tries to interact, but she tends to be avoided.

I worry because it fits. I see Beth taking with other kids in church, and I see the same indifference in the other children’s faces. Although Beth sometimes talks about “all of the friends I have,” I see her compensating. She does have a couple friends around the neighborhood. But, I also see her after school… in tears because she wants to go somewhere else where she can make new friends. What do I tell her, that it may not be any different somewhere else? Do I try to tell her she’ll get past it all, even if I know from my own experience it may not be true?

She excels in school academically so they will not help with the behavior. Insurance concedes it’s a real problem but insists that it’s a “long term” problem, making it ineligible for coverage. Lest you scoff in disbelief, let me reassure you this is really the reason for non-coverage. To paraphrase their denial letter… “coverage for therapy shall only be approved if the condition will show significant improvement within the first eight weeks of treatment.” Translation… if it is a short term problem that you probably could have paid for on your own anyway we’ll cover it, if not you’re on your own.

In the meantime the behavior continues.

I don’t feel like a “victim of the system.” I don’t feel an overwhelming sense of entitlement to services we’re not getting. I’m just a frustrated parent who doesn’t have all of the answers. I’m just a saddened parent who can’t always take away my child’s pain.

No Beth, daddy doesn’t know everything. I’m so sorry.

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Nov 4, 2003, Beth’s age: 6

Did you know that doctors will prescribe medication for something other than it’s originally intended purpose? An example is the hypertension drug minoxidil. People taking minoxidil many years ago may have noticed one of the side effects: “… may result in increased hair growth…. ” Doctors later figured out you could smear some on your head… and the rest was history.

Everyone is familiar with the standard reasons for having children: leaving a legacy in this world, extending the species, having a family, enjoying the pitter patter of little feet, and so on. Many parents will tell you that there is another, lesser known reason for having children: namely to test the structural integrity of your home and its furnishings. Parents of the world, who among you is not familiar with the crashing sound of falling objects followed by the “apologetic chorus” (as performed by your offspring)? Refrain: “I’m so sorry, so sorry….”

Five years ago, when we first moved into our new house, I hung my bicycle from the ceiling in our converted garage. I suspected at the time that I might have only grazed the outside of the stud in the ceiling, without hitting it dead center. It seemed solid at the time, so I didn’t think about it any further… until last night.

CRASH!
From the other room… “daddy, your bike fell down.”
Running from the other side of the house “Beth, are you o.k.?”
“I’m sorry daddy.”
“Beth are you o.k.?”
“I’m o.k. daddy.”
“Beth, do you know how the bike fell?”
Silence.
“Beth?”
Silence
Suspicious… “Beth, did the bike fall all by itself or did it have some help?”
Sheepishly… “It had some help.”

Always remember the second law of raising children: “any household implement that can be used as gymnasium equipment, WILL be used as gymnasium equipment.”

Bookshelves WILL be used as a step ladder.

Hanging bicycles will be used as a flying trapeze.

It doesn’t matter how well you raise your child, the temptation is there every waking moment spent in the house. No amount of conditioning can defeat that kind of temptation. Please plan accordingly.

And for God’s sake, PLEASE make SURE you hit the center of the stud with your anchors!

Counting down the days until Beth’s thirteenth birthday with a few reposts from the archives.

Originally posted: Oct 31, 2003, Beth’s age: 6

The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Beth has known this from an early age. Now what do you think happens when the shortest distance between two points is also the hardest traveled distance between two points? If you are Beth, and the shortest distance has scaleable living room furniture in it’s path, then this is desirable. No, make that damn near impossible to resist.

I foresee a rearrangement of furniture in our future.