To Own Their Own First Takes

Life is a series of first runs that we rerun with fragile memory. No matter the amount of fretting and anxious prep, every scene is a first take -- no do overs or over-produced multi-edits -- one take whether we're ready or not.

And most of the time we're not. But that's okay, because this reality show is the realist of them all, and one with script after script of blank pages, where the story appears as we live it, the reappearing ink full of light and shade, color and smell, taste and touch, and plenty of tears and smiles.

The first days of school each year for many children are full apprehension and fear, the pits of stomachs holding fast rabid squirrels bouncing off rubber walls. I remember my first days of kindergarten still to this date, over 45 years ago. And while most of the details have since washed away over time, the feelings I had are still quite vivid: my nervousness, my shyness, the longing for home and my mother who had just dropped me off, and the sheer terror of meeting strange adults and other children I had never met before in my life.

The years to come were filled with less and less fear and a greater social stability, one that I would enjoy well into adulthood, and continue to in my unwritten pages of today. As parents, that's one of the best things we can hope for with our children beyond the security of food and shelter.

The past few years for Beatrice included auditory processing delays and a social angst that hurt our hearts to witness. All we could do was encourage healthy responses to these transitions and do whatever we need to do to support her, and her sister of course, who continues to break stuff while dressed as a princess.

Bryce has no social qualms whatsoever, but her aggressive tendencies (i.e., hitting and kicking) are a work in progress for sure. Bryce still struggles with exotropia as well and the eye doctor still isn't sure she'll need eye surgery in the future or not. Until then her cute little pink glasses with transitional lenses rock our world, just as much as she does.

While always being "on" academically since her preschool days, Beatrice has now blossomed socially and is more comfortable than she's ever been in social situations. She couldn't wait to start second grade. Frothing at the mouth to start, those rabid squirrels driving her onward to new life experiences. She may be more "boyish" than "girlish" at the moment, but that doesn't matter to us because the only moments that do matter are those when she happily adapts and enjoys her scenes.

Bryce made the leap to kindergarten this year, and due to dropping enrollment in our district, she was put into a combined kinder/1st grade classroom. We were a little apprehensive, as was she, but what was perfectly clear on her first day was her reaction sitting at her new desk with her name tag proudly displayed in front of her -- she kissed us each goodbye and sent us on our merry parent way. No crying or fear, just ready to rock her next feature film.

We definitely have the Bridges to Kinder preschool program to thank in helping develop both girls early on. Of course I have the Mama to thank for her tireless parental guidance, Kidpowering and helping me play my best supporting Daddy role.

We know we are blessed and never take for granted our family's pivot points and plot twists, because we want our girls to own their own first takes, regardless the memories replayed again and again, and replayed they will be.

From Patches to Magic Glasses

"Her vision overall is good," said the eye doctor.

It was our latest visit with him with Bryce, and he went on to tell us that her close-up vision is pretty normal, but it's her long-distance eyesight that struggles and when her left eye wanders out. That's when the brain-eye wiring shuts down on that side, what we need to correct.

So from patches to magic glasses Bryce goes. She continues to struggle with exotropia, a vision problem where one eye migrates outward and binocular vision can be difficult. Wearing an eye patch for one hour each day for a few months helped a little, but not enough.

We were worried about her actually wearing the glasses. After an initial fitting the Mama brought Bryce home with her new peepers and the initial reaction was "no."

As in, "I don't want glasses!"

That's why we dubbed them magic glasses, and in a sense they are -- lovely little pink frames with transition lenses that darken in sunlight that will hopefully eventually help strengthen that left eye.

The morning after we brought the glasses home, the idea was to have Beatrice wear the magic glasses so that when Bryce woke up, she'd immediately want her glasses back. And that's exactly what happened.

"My glasses!"

Right on. So far, she's never looked back (or "looked" better). Thank goodness it didn't take a long time for her to fully acclimate. Yes, she fights a little here and there, but the key is that they're helping her see better, and she's "seeing that the more she wears them. The Mama had to get the glasses adjusted one more time to fit tighter around her ears and on her nose and lose the head strap, but her magical specs are now spectacular.

Add that to the fact that both girls love throwing rocks and playing with big trucks and now we have an unconventional yet formidable combination.

Look out world.

In Light and Shadow

I stood up from the couch and then a little voice said:

"Stay, Daddy. Sit here."

I looked down. There was youngest's bright, smiling face and clear blue eyes beaming back at me like a lighthouse on a foggy summer morning. And so I sat in safe harbor next to Bryce, the Mama on the couch next to her and Beatrice on the floor in front of us, just a few minutes from leaving on another work trip.

My flight, diverted from San Francisco to Oakland due to the Korean airline accident yesterday at SFO, nagged at me. I have no fear of flying and never have. I'm sure there were many passengers on the flight yesterday who felt the same way. But it's not the flying, what may or may not happen in transit or at the final destinations, or the business travel itself -- it's the being away from the girls. Fortunately they are powerful homing beacons; signals so strong that I will always find my way back, no matter what happens or where I'm at.

I love them both so much, and while neither is a favorite as parents of two-plus children joke about, there is a little stronger affinity with Bryce, probably because there's a "male" energy in her, much more than Bea has had to date. Bryce is a rough-and-tumble, no-fear, highly expressive little girl. Bea is not (although being around Bryce all the time has helped Bea with her own confidence). And while Bea has made huge strides with her processing delay and her communication skills, Bryce has no such similar issues that we've identified so far.

However, she's had her own physical problem that's become more prominent during the past year. She has exotropia -- a vision problem where one eye migrates outward and binocular vision can be difficult. It affects only about 5%-10% of children and show's itself between 2-3 years of age. There are exercises we've encouraged her to do via our visits to the eye doctor, with limited success (because it's hard telling a two-year-old to work her eye), but it may be something that will self-correct in the next few years, especially if she works to strengthen the weaker eye and her visions aligns. She does make a conscious effort with or without our prompting, although glaring light on foggy/overcast days really bothers her. We've even bought a viewfinder to look through to help her work on the weak eye. Otherwise, if it doesn't self-correct, there's surgery, something we don't want to have to do, since multiple surgeries tend to be the norm before the correction takes hold.

One thing I've come to know quite well in my lifetime is that we're all imperfect. It's the tiniest of flaws, a mere matter of degrees, failed cells and synapses, that force us to adapt, fusing survival with everyday struggle and success. It's in these imperfections where our love can grow stronger if we so choose, forever tethered in light and shadow.