Dainty Wipes

Anyone who has ever fed a baby knows that the clean-up can be tricky. Those sweet, little boogers can turn their heads like owls! You grab a moist cloth and the chase for the sticky mouth is on. Our babies are no different.

We have learned with Lisse that she is especially an owlet, only it's like she's an owl-banshee hybrid. The moment we come close to wiping that goo off her face, she begins pivoting maneuvers. It's like she can do both a 360 degree rotation, as well as touch the back of her head to the middle of her shoulder blades! You can imagine that getting all the offending organic material off her face is nearly impossible under these circumstances. In steps a little creative parenting...

First, to throw her off I soften and sweeten my voice. Next, I gently move my hand toward her face and begin dabbing in a very lady-like fashion at the corners of her mouth, all the while almost cooing the words "dainty wipe, dainty wipe". She gets it. She's secure in the knowledge that I'm not going to drag some rough, wet cloth across her face, making her feel like I'm trying to reposition her lips, cheeks, and nose. Suddenly she becomes completely motionless and compliant allowing the cleaning to commence. Historically I only have her in that state for a few moments, so I know my movements must be altogether gentle, stealthy, and efficient. I think I may have it down to about three to five seconds now depending on what she ate for that meal.

This morning, the babies had their breakfast and were settled comfortably in their play area while Arie and I made our own morning meal. Amazingly we were able to make coffee, toast, and omelets with hardly a peep out of the kids. We couldn't believe how quiet the house was. We sat down at the kitchen table and Arie said our breakfast prayer. He asked God to bless the food give us a peaceful day. I think God was listening since we sat in pure, quiet tranquility and had our whole meal. No little munchkins running around our legs stretching their necks up like little birds waiting for a bite of our eggs, or trying to wriggle their way onto our laps. It was heavenly! I suddenly couldn't recall the last moment we had like that in our own home.

Since we were having toast and jam, Arie asked me if I would like my napkin wet or dry. Before I could say "dry", I inadvertently rested my arm in a sticky spot on the table - go figure. I said, "uh wet", as he glanced at me and chuckled at my raised, sticky arm.

At the end of breakfast, I reached for my wet paper towel to clean my face. In a burst of inspiration I dabbed at the corners of my mouth. I nearly felt like pumping my fist in the air in a show of solidarity with Lisse. The moist cloth and soft strokes around my mouth felt not only good, but refreshing - the sort of refreshing that comes with that hot, moist towel they give you when you're blessed enough to ride in first class. I wondered if that felt so nice, how then must it feel to have that same towel drug across your face at speeds of 20 mph and five pounds of pressure per square inch. So I tried it on myself. Wow, no wonder babies hate that! If I were Lisse I'd be a owlet banshee too!

Arie thought I was being a little silly until I tried both methods on him. First I tried the dainty wipe and he didn't flinch. When I switched to the "regular" method, he turned into an owl minus the banshee. (Losing the banshee does come with maturity, so that part didn't surprise me.) He was sold on the dainty wipe too! Without saying it, I think we both resolved to be more "dainty" when cleaning the babies faces.

If Lisse could talk she would probably say, "Thanks! It's about time you put yourself in my shoes." How many other ways should we be doing that as parents? I already taste all the food I feed them before I give them a bite, but I'm sure there are ways I'm not relating to them. I've gotta ponder that one a little more.

*Author's notes: While contemplating the word hybrid, I nearly said she "was hybred", thinking I was using the past tense. Then it occurred to me that perhaps that wasn't a word since I've never heard it used in that way. You may be interested to know that hybrid is not a verb and therefore doesn't have a past tense. So, only use it as a noun or adjective.

In the event that you may think I have a hefty grasp on the English language, let me just say I also had to look up the term for a baby owl. Who'd have thought owlet? In a moment of digression, let me also say that in Japanese, a baby dragonfly is called a yago, whereas the adult form is called a tonbo. When asked by the principal what Americans call a baby dragonfly in English, I paused before saying unassuredly, "baby dragonfly"? Yeah, that was an intelligent moment! For the record and in case you're interested the correct term is nymph. You really never know when you might be called on to discuss nymphs. You have to cut me some slack on this one. How many English speakers are fluent in baby animal names?

Lastly, when determining which word most closely described the sound Lisse makes, I recall hearing as a kid that someone was "screaming like a wild banshee Indian". If you know me, you know I'm sensitive to stereotypes and would never want to use derogatory language in reference to a race of people. However, all of this got me to thinking about what exactly a banshee is. Here is the dictionary's definition:
"–noun (in Irish folklore) a spirit in the form of a wailing woman who appears to or is heard by members of a family as a sign that one of them is about to die." Having said that and lest you think badly of me for referring to my sweet little girl's sound as banshee...if you've heard it, you understand. LOL