A couple of nights ago, Deanna performed the Heimlich maneuver on Cooper, quite possibly saving his life. She is one cool chick under pressure, I tell you! Vegas bookmakers immediately dropped the odds on her winning the 2009 POTY award down to even money. Those of you smart enough to put money down on her in January back when the odds were still at 3:2 can give yourself a little pat on the back - or contact Deanna if you need more of a hearty whack or a fist to the diaphragm.
Showing posts with label POTY Award. Show all posts
Showing posts with label POTY Award. Show all posts
1.28.2009
POTY Time
I have received several inquiries from readers as to the outcome of the race on CloudEight for the coveted Parent of the Year (POTY) award, timely reminders that it is high time for our annual award ceremony. For newer readers, the POTY is an award bestowed each year in our house since we embarked on our childrearing adventures. For those of you keeping score at home, Deanna has won three of the previous five contests (with the help, I might add, of an “automatic” victory rule for the two years she actually gave birth – a rule I wisely never choose to argue with). I was able to bring home the hardware in 2004 and last year, in a surprise win, the award went to Suzy the nanny. Returning to the winner’s circle this year, for the fourth time in six years, is none other than our very own Deanna. The trophy this year, for those who are curious, is a model of a puking child fashioned from scraps of old soap.
While I was solid throughout the year, Deanna was, in a word (or non-word, depending on how hung up on proper grammar and English you are), solider. She also had some game-changing moments. Long-concerned about the twins’ nighttime reliance on pacifiers, for example, she decided one summer weekend that we needed to suck it up (pun-intended) and make them go cold poult. It worked, and their lips have not graced rubber since (random chewing on hot wheels tires notwithstanding). And, frankly, it wasn’t even the weekend long hysterical-cry-fest I had anticipated and dreaded.
A more telling example occurred in mid-summer: Owen was in the middle of a four week run of every day swim lessons when he was unexpectedly promoted from Level 1 (populated by those at risk of drowning in a ½ inch-deep puddle) to Level 2 (populated by those with a 50% chance of survival if tossed into two feet of water despite being almost four feet tall). He was upset at leaving his beloved teacher, Ms. Colleen, as well as his little compatriots down at the shallow end, and being made to engage in life-risking behaviors such as putting his face in the water. There was crying and uncooperative behavior.
The next day found him back at Level 1. His grandparents, who had dropped him off, witnessed some disturbing behavior during the lesson: a fairly obvious lack of effort in an attempt to stay at the relative safety of Level 1 (I was working on some good swimming stuff here using “dog(paddl)ing it” and “throwing in the towel” but have given up and am moving on). That night, Deanna and I, advised of this behavior, sat him down for a little heart to heart. Before I could even start, Deanna launched into a firm, persistent but caring monologue to him about our expectations of him and the fact that a lack of effort was unacceptable. Those words don’t due it justice really - she had just the right touch and you could see the lesson seeping into what sometimes seems like the impenetrable skull of our little five-year-old. It was just a damn fine bit of parenting, the likes of which one doesn’t see every day. I sat by amazed and largely silent (other than the occasional shout of “Amen” following particular good turns of phrase). Damned if he didn’t go out and nail the “Swimmer of the Day” award at class the very next day. And, as summer wound its way on, his swimming progressed by l(e)aps and bounds. Simply brilliant.
So how does one compete with masterful parenting flourishes like that? There were really only two chances for me at that point. One was to single-handedly potty-train the twins. While I did actually focus on this for awhile, they seemed only vaguely interested, and in the end they simply weren’t ready.
The second was for Deanna to falter - to fall off the beam, to put it into Olympic terms in what was an Olympic year – but who wants to win like that in a parenting competition. While Deanna generously tried to give me a fighting chance by dropping Cooper on his head several days before the end of the year, a fact appreciated by me if not by Cooper, it was simply too little, too late.
So, while our annual POTY competition here on CloudEight is fierce, and the kids always willing to present new and exciting challenges to our parenting abilities, I, for one, am proud to be co-parenting with our household's four-time champion. Winter hats off to you, Sunny D! And now, on to this years competition...
While I was solid throughout the year, Deanna was, in a word (or non-word, depending on how hung up on proper grammar and English you are), solider. She also had some game-changing moments. Long-concerned about the twins’ nighttime reliance on pacifiers, for example, she decided one summer weekend that we needed to suck it up (pun-intended) and make them go cold poult. It worked, and their lips have not graced rubber since (random chewing on hot wheels tires notwithstanding). And, frankly, it wasn’t even the weekend long hysterical-cry-fest I had anticipated and dreaded.
A more telling example occurred in mid-summer: Owen was in the middle of a four week run of every day swim lessons when he was unexpectedly promoted from Level 1 (populated by those at risk of drowning in a ½ inch-deep puddle) to Level 2 (populated by those with a 50% chance of survival if tossed into two feet of water despite being almost four feet tall). He was upset at leaving his beloved teacher, Ms. Colleen, as well as his little compatriots down at the shallow end, and being made to engage in life-risking behaviors such as putting his face in the water. There was crying and uncooperative behavior.
The next day found him back at Level 1. His grandparents, who had dropped him off, witnessed some disturbing behavior during the lesson: a fairly obvious lack of effort in an attempt to stay at the relative safety of Level 1 (I was working on some good swimming stuff here using “dog(paddl)ing it” and “throwing in the towel” but have given up and am moving on). That night, Deanna and I, advised of this behavior, sat him down for a little heart to heart. Before I could even start, Deanna launched into a firm, persistent but caring monologue to him about our expectations of him and the fact that a lack of effort was unacceptable. Those words don’t due it justice really - she had just the right touch and you could see the lesson seeping into what sometimes seems like the impenetrable skull of our little five-year-old. It was just a damn fine bit of parenting, the likes of which one doesn’t see every day. I sat by amazed and largely silent (other than the occasional shout of “Amen” following particular good turns of phrase). Damned if he didn’t go out and nail the “Swimmer of the Day” award at class the very next day. And, as summer wound its way on, his swimming progressed by l(e)aps and bounds. Simply brilliant.
So how does one compete with masterful parenting flourishes like that? There were really only two chances for me at that point. One was to single-handedly potty-train the twins. While I did actually focus on this for awhile, they seemed only vaguely interested, and in the end they simply weren’t ready.
The second was for Deanna to falter - to fall off the beam, to put it into Olympic terms in what was an Olympic year – but who wants to win like that in a parenting competition. While Deanna generously tried to give me a fighting chance by dropping Cooper on his head several days before the end of the year, a fact appreciated by me if not by Cooper, it was simply too little, too late.
So, while our annual POTY competition here on CloudEight is fierce, and the kids always willing to present new and exciting challenges to our parenting abilities, I, for one, am proud to be co-parenting with our household's four-time champion. Winter hats off to you, Sunny D! And now, on to this years competition...
1.09.2008
POTY Hopes Down the Drain
For those of you who have been on the edge of your seat since my September post, the votes are finally in, the ballots have been counted, the red (and somewhat stained) carpet has been rolled out, and the winner of the Parent Of The Year Award here on Cloud Eight is … Hey there. Stop rifling through the goodies in your POTY Award giftbag and pay attention. There will be plenty of time later to enjoy that sample size Head and Shoulders shampoo and leftover Halloween candy each lucky attendee will be taking home.
Anyway, the winner is … whoa, a dark horse candidate has swept in from nowhere to claim the prize. No, not Hillary Clinton. This is Illinois damn it, Obama country. Anyway, we are pleased to announce that this year’s award goes to none other than ... Suzy the Nanny.
That’s right, when it came right down to it, despite a year of solid parenting by both me and Deanna, neither of us were able to really distinguish ourselves from the crowd (I made a last ditch effort, but my attempt to potty-train 18-month old Cooper only pissed the boy off, sending my hopes, but nothing else, swirling down the drain). In the end, it is only right to give the nod to our awesome nanny who, in addition to taking such great care of the kids on a daily basis, keeps our chaotic lives and household afloat in a myriad of ways. She is, in all seriousness, truly a blessing. Well done, Suzy.
All right, enough of that, lets eat some three-month old Nerds.
Anyway, the winner is … whoa, a dark horse candidate has swept in from nowhere to claim the prize. No, not Hillary Clinton. This is Illinois damn it, Obama country. Anyway, we are pleased to announce that this year’s award goes to none other than ... Suzy the Nanny.
That’s right, when it came right down to it, despite a year of solid parenting by both me and Deanna, neither of us were able to really distinguish ourselves from the crowd (I made a last ditch effort, but my attempt to potty-train 18-month old Cooper only pissed the boy off, sending my hopes, but nothing else, swirling down the drain). In the end, it is only right to give the nod to our awesome nanny who, in addition to taking such great care of the kids on a daily basis, keeps our chaotic lives and household afloat in a myriad of ways. She is, in all seriousness, truly a blessing. Well done, Suzy.
All right, enough of that, lets eat some three-month old Nerds.
9.11.2007
Parent of the Year (POTY) Competition
Each year since Owen was born, we have bestowed upon a lucky parent in our house a Parent of the Year (POTY) award. Competition among the two fairly competitive nominees has always been fierce. Sadly, I have only been able to eke out a victory once, in 2004, largely on the strength of my willingness to continue to get up in the middle of the night for bottle feedings while Deanna, who needs more sleep than me, slumbered happily on. My narrow victory was of course helped along by my arsenal of other parenting skills (such as my unique ability to quickly dress a struggling baby/toddler) and innovations (such as the creation of "the knockout punch" - essentially getting then-baby Owen to regularly fall asleep with the aid of a final extra two ounces of formula after an earlier pre-bedtime bottle). Other years have not featured such close battles. Deanna has successfully (fine, deservedly) played the "pregnancy/giving birth" card to propel her to easy victories in 2003 and 2006. In the face of carrying around 13-odd pounds of babies while moving, setting up a new household, mothering then three-year old Owen, and holding down a demanding full-time job (including working late the night before giving birth to said 13 odd-pounds of twinage), my clear edge in lesser categories such as "skill at swaddling" and "most animated interpretations of children's books" just didn't seem to get me much traction with the voters. 2005 was a closer contest but, despite a year of solid parenting, I found myself once again giving my "happy just to have been nominated" speech to the largely uninterested crowd in the press room.
This year, however, readers o' mine, I have my eyes set firmly on the prize once again. Sure, Hayden's poop-eating incident and Christmas ornament glass eating incident have both been on my watch, but I am optimistic that those hiccups (non-poop scented, if you are lucky) in my record will be overlooked in favor of what has been a year of outstanding parenting. This is my time. Stay tuned for further developments.
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