Ah, parenthood. That glorious, messy, sleep-deprived journey that simultaneously fills your heart with a love you never knew existed and makes you question every single decision you’ve ever made. If you thought me losing my job back in 2024 was an adventure (as recounted in this Substack), then strap yourselves in for the rollercoaster that is raising our daughter, Zenya.
From the moment Zenya entered our lives on Feb. 23rd, 2016, it was clear she had a flair for the dramatic… and a surprisingly strategic little mind. As a baby, she was the epitome of cute deviousness. Picture this: a bloodcurdling scream that would have you rushing to her crib in a panic, only to be met with the widest, most triumphant grin the second Jon scooped her up. Her tiny plan had worked flawlessly.
Then there was the pee incident.
Freshly swaddled in the most adorable little robe, perched on Jon’s lap for a picture-perfect moment, she decided his leg was the ideal target for a warm, unexpected shower. The look on Jon’s face was priceless. The look on Zenya’s face? Pure contentment. She couldn’t have cared less.
At around 5 months, Zenya learned to crawl. Her first move was straight across the bed to the TV remote. Classic. As she approached eight months, "active" didn't even begin to cover it. Naptime and bedtime became epic battles of wills. We’d lay her down in her crib, all snug and sleepy-eyed, only to hear the determined grunts and shuffles as she gripped the railings with surprising strength, inching her crib across the room like a tiny, determined crab.
And the nibbling phase? That was an education in baby-sized appetites. I vividly remember Jon saying goodbye, a banana in hand, when Zenya reached out to him and gave him a sweet, happy smile. He offered a polite nibble, and she responded by inhaling roughly three-quarters of the banana in one go. Poof. Gone.
It was fascinating to witness this tiny human evolve so rapidly, each new quirk and milestone a source of both wonder and exhaustion. As parents, Jon and I just tried our best to be present, especially as those naps dwindled and the need for interactive toys, endless songs, impromptu dance parties, and extra story time skyrocketed.
When Zenya was around two and a half, we traded the Texas heat for the Wisconsin chill (a move I mentioned in my gaming story). While spacious, our Janesville house wasn't exactly a paragon of structural integrity. Let’s just say running the vacuum and the dishwasher simultaneously was a surefire way to plunge the house into darkness. But the space! Oh, the space. Zenya had a sprawling playroom connected to her bedroom on one side and ours on the other.
And, being so cute meant she was thoroughly and lovingly spoiled by her grandparents, and -okay, I’ll admit it- by us too. This meant she had buckets and buckets of toys, and even a rather large trampoline, all feet away from her bedroom. This -a child’s dream and parents’ blunder- had consequences.
Carelessness with toys became the norm. Bossiness crept into her vocabulary. Her room resembled the aftermath of a college dorm party. And then came the biting incident. Yes, she actually bit me. That earned her a time-out, complete with a soundtrack of indignant toddler screams. And I’ll be honest, I don’t think there was a remorseful bone in her body. If anything, she seemed offended that she got a timeout.
Rewards for good behavior were a bust until we implemented a proper reward chart with specific, achievable tasks. Consistency and prizes she wanted finally started to make a dent. But the persistent chewing habit, coupled with the apocalyptic state of her playroom, led us to a rather drastic measure: we took away almost all her toys. Books were the only survivors.
Slowly, painstakingly, she earned her toys back. This wasn’t a one-time fix. We’ve employed less extreme versions of this "toy tune-up" since then. Being an only child, homeschooled during her preschool years (thanks, COVID), incredibly smart and creative, and possessing the energy of a thousand suns meant we had to establish boundaries and make sure she understood that even her level of adorableness couldn't excuse absolute mayhem. I firmly believe that every child is different, and what works for one might not work for another. But for Zenya, a blend of structure and freedom has been instrumental in her growth.
Our move to Illinois, in pursuit of better schools, better food options, and the urban vibe we missed from our Dallas days, proved to be more challenging for Zenya than we anticipated. However, we found a fantastic swim school, and an even more significant development: Jon and Zenya started taking kung fu together (I was sidelined in a wheelchair after a Christmas Eve ankle-breaking incident when they first began).
Let me tell you, this wasn't your average kiddie karate class. Kung fu, the real deal, demands acrobatics (Zenya is currently working towards a backflip from a standstill!), incredible core strength (300 sit-ups in one class because a classmate declared they were tired at 200!), and a memory that rivals a computer (she has to memorize four different forms for the performance team in addition to her regular belt forms, some involving weapons).
Now at nine, Zenya is a force of nature in the best possible way. Even earlier this year, her teachers had her on a special chart to address impulse control issues. But she "graduated" from that program and hasn't looked back. Her sassy, hilarious comments are a daily occurrence, and her smile could genuinely light up the planet.
Speaking of those hilarious comments, here are a few gems from the Zenya archives:
Age 3: (Regarding her dinosaur nuggets) "The ketchup is the bloooood of the dinosaur nuggets."
Age 8 (Out of the blue during lunch):
Zenya: If you time-traveled to the past, would that ruin the future?
Me: Hypothetically.... (followed by a lengthy, probably overly complicated explanation of hypothetical paradoxes).
Zenya: Hypothetically, since we don't know, we should use bad guys to test it out... or a tuna sandwich.
Me: A tuna sandwich??
Zenya: Nods emphatically. Can I have a mohawk?
And a lifelong Zenya-ism: if she doesn't remember the actual lyrics to a song, she simply makes up her own, often with surprisingly fitting, and occasionally wildly inappropriate, results.
Raising Zenya has been a masterclass in patience, adaptability, and the sheer joy of watching a unique little human navigate the world. It hasn't always been easy. There have been tantrums that tested the limits of our sanity and messes that defied explanation. But through it all, witnessing her growth – from a tiny, scheming infant to a whip-smart, determined, and hilariously witty kid – has been the most rewarding adventure of our lives.
And while I wouldn't necessarily recommend taking away all your child's toys as a first resort, I will say this: finding what truly motivates your child, establishing consistent boundaries, and allowing them the space to grow and learn can make all the difference in weathering the inevitable storms of parenthood.
Thanks for joining me on this peek into the wonderfully exciting world of raising Zenya. Every day is a new lesson, a new laugh, and a whole lot of love.
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