Last night was one of the best times of my life. Lucy had her Christmas program at school. It was a crazy night, Bethany was late getting home from work, we had house church meeting at our home, and I was responsible for making dinner. We would be leaving shortly after everyone arrived, and returning hopefully sometime before it was scheduled to end.
I got both kids dressed and out the door. We were walking into the school’s play ground when the Wife called out to us and we were able to walk in together. Bethany and Jack found their way to the auditorium and I got Lucy situated in her classroom. Then, I joined the others in the auditorium.
This was Jack’s first time sitting in “bouncy seats.” You know the seats that are spring loaded like in movie theaters? He was having a blast making them bounce. He would raise his legs and let the seat come up, then grunt and push his legs down to make the seat go back down. It was endless entertainment.
Finally, students started to appear on stage, the principal made an announcement and then the curtains opened. It took only a few seconds for us to spot Lucy, but it took her minutes to locate us, despite our best efforts to waive and move so she could spot us. I guess we weren’t the only parents trying to employ this strategy. Eventually she spotted us, made a waive of her own, and promptly got lost in the singing/performing experience.
They sang several songs, some of which I had only heard previously by Lucy singing them at home to “practice.” Lucy was sitting on the upper level of the risers to the left of the stage (as we were looking at it). She was fidgety. She would play with her hair, bounce it into her face, or not so discretely pick her nose. Bethany and I were laughing really hard. We laughed the hardest when they started the 12 days of Christmas. It wasn’t your typical gifts, but they hung different things in the tree and when they said them, the students would hold up cutouts of the items. The first gift was a bird feeder, the 2nd day was 2 teddy bears, and the 3rd was 3 penguins. Lucy was a penguin. Well, she tried to be anyway.
She got a little distracted at times and missed her cue, or was early, but was rarely Johnny on the spot. Sometimes she would thrust up the penguin with such exuberance that it would flip over her hand and we would end up being mooned by the penguin. All of this is happening despite there being a teacher off to the side of the stage trying to coach the 2 girls and prompt them to act on time.
It wasn’t until after the program while I was relaxing at home that I remembered a story that Jared had told me once. He had gone back to his high school to compete in the annual alumni soccer match against the current players. While he was out there running around, he bends over, plucks a dandelion from the ground, races over to the stands and gives it to his father, who tears up remembering his son not caring about the soccer ball at all, but sitting on the field and plucking dandelions for minutes at a time.
I can only hope, that in the years to come, I will be able to experience more “penguin” moments with Lucy, and that in turn, she will remember them and return them to me in a moment of fondness at a later date.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
A Walk to Remember
I am battling this stupid cold or something and it has pretty much wiped me out. Bethany has again been a super wife/mom and stepped up and gotten a lot done and handled everything around the house beautifully. I would rise out of my sick/sleep state and give breaks where I could throughout the weekend. It was during one of the breaks that I realized that the kids have a certain tone or pitch to their voice that just makes you go from zero to angry in the snap of a finger. Bethany agreed that she felt the same, and we tried to make the best out of a bad situation, and get the kids to play quietly or watch shows or whatever, nothing seemed to work. It wasn’t a good time.
At this point, I was reminded of a childhood memory. Well, it wasn’t really childhood, as much as teenaged. My family was on our way home from Winamac, and we were traveling in our minivan. We three kids were being.. we three kids. We were arguing, bickering, poking, pushing, yelling, you remember those days, right?
After about 15 minutes of this non-stop fun, my parents snapped. Dad pulled off to the side of the road and told all of us kids to get out and walk home. They had had enough and needed a break. We were about 3 miles from home. Growing up in the country, we knew everyone that lived in the houses that we passed, and mom and dad felt safe with this decision. I don’t know if they would in today’s environment though.
Anyway, Rose and I were somewhat devastated. We couldn’t believe Mom and Dad would treat us like this. It was John that was the trouble maker, not us. When we watched them drive off, we knew that we had to walk. It wasn’t going to be a good afternoon.
We were walking west on the Francesville Pulaski blacktop (that’s the actual name of the road), and we come to a bridge. Being who we were, we had to explore: we grabbed rocks and dropped them off, we climbed down the bank and scared the pigeons out from under the bridge, and we tried to hit fish with rocks. It was a good 30 minutes before we got bored, and decided to walk again.
We walked past Lowry’s, both Hansen’s homes, Bush Farm service, and made it to the corner of our road. Smith’s live at the intersection. They have really nice flowers that grow along the road. Again, being who we were, we decided that the best thing we could do to make this better between us and our parents was to pick some of these flowers and take them home to Mom. We each grabbed a handful.
We walked the remainder of the way, maybe 1.5 miles and somewhere along the way, the number of flowers we had picked had dropped, and we each had 2-3 flowers to give to Mom; a paltry offering.
When we got home and walked into the house, mom and dad were upset with us. Even after giving them the flowers. They expected us to be home a lot sooner than we had made it. We were punished again for not being more prompt and listening to them and coming straight home. Oh well.
The thing that made the biggest impression on me about this particular punishment, wasn’t that we didn’t argue as much in the van, or not simmer down a little when Mom and Dad threatened to make us walk home, but that we later learned that 4 neighbors had called to make sure everything was ok because they recognized us and saw us walking without our parents.
Looking back on this memory, now that I too am a parent, I actually admire my parents and their decision. I don’t know if I could do the same thing they did. It took a lot of courage, but it also took a lot of faith in our community. They knew that we would be safe, and that nothing would happen to us. I miss that community, the genuine compassion and concern.
It has taken me years to find anything similar, but I believe that my family now lives in a similar community, in a city nonetheless. But that story is for a different day.
At this point, I was reminded of a childhood memory. Well, it wasn’t really childhood, as much as teenaged. My family was on our way home from Winamac, and we were traveling in our minivan. We three kids were being.. we three kids. We were arguing, bickering, poking, pushing, yelling, you remember those days, right?
After about 15 minutes of this non-stop fun, my parents snapped. Dad pulled off to the side of the road and told all of us kids to get out and walk home. They had had enough and needed a break. We were about 3 miles from home. Growing up in the country, we knew everyone that lived in the houses that we passed, and mom and dad felt safe with this decision. I don’t know if they would in today’s environment though.
Anyway, Rose and I were somewhat devastated. We couldn’t believe Mom and Dad would treat us like this. It was John that was the trouble maker, not us. When we watched them drive off, we knew that we had to walk. It wasn’t going to be a good afternoon.
We were walking west on the Francesville Pulaski blacktop (that’s the actual name of the road), and we come to a bridge. Being who we were, we had to explore: we grabbed rocks and dropped them off, we climbed down the bank and scared the pigeons out from under the bridge, and we tried to hit fish with rocks. It was a good 30 minutes before we got bored, and decided to walk again.
We walked past Lowry’s, both Hansen’s homes, Bush Farm service, and made it to the corner of our road. Smith’s live at the intersection. They have really nice flowers that grow along the road. Again, being who we were, we decided that the best thing we could do to make this better between us and our parents was to pick some of these flowers and take them home to Mom. We each grabbed a handful.
We walked the remainder of the way, maybe 1.5 miles and somewhere along the way, the number of flowers we had picked had dropped, and we each had 2-3 flowers to give to Mom; a paltry offering.
When we got home and walked into the house, mom and dad were upset with us. Even after giving them the flowers. They expected us to be home a lot sooner than we had made it. We were punished again for not being more prompt and listening to them and coming straight home. Oh well.
The thing that made the biggest impression on me about this particular punishment, wasn’t that we didn’t argue as much in the van, or not simmer down a little when Mom and Dad threatened to make us walk home, but that we later learned that 4 neighbors had called to make sure everything was ok because they recognized us and saw us walking without our parents.
Looking back on this memory, now that I too am a parent, I actually admire my parents and their decision. I don’t know if I could do the same thing they did. It took a lot of courage, but it also took a lot of faith in our community. They knew that we would be safe, and that nothing would happen to us. I miss that community, the genuine compassion and concern.
It has taken me years to find anything similar, but I believe that my family now lives in a similar community, in a city nonetheless. But that story is for a different day.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Every Little Thing She Does...
This weekend was a rough one. On Thursday night/Friday morning, Lucy got the flu. She vomited 6 times during the night. Things have progressed on this front though. When she was little, she wanted to be held while she vomited, which meant that I ended up with it all over my front side. Not a pretty looking or smelling picture. Now, she is able to use a large bowl, or even better, make it to the restroom and aim for the toilet.
The other thing that happened that night was that I too became ill. I developed a fever around 101 that night and it rose to a high of 102 over the next day or so. Luckily, Doc prescribed me some antibiotics and I am feeling much better.
With Lucy being sick, and me way down for the count the wife, a.k.a. Bethany, stayed home from work on Friday to nurture all of us back to health. She was amazing; everything that you would want in a wife and or mother of your children. Thursday night, she came down stairs to wake me from my fitful slumber on the sofa (I have been falling asleep watching TV lately) to inform me that Lucy was sick. She saw that I was sick too and quickly became SUPER MOM.
She charted Lucy back and forth between the bed and bathroom, cleaned-up a miss in the hallway, and somehow managed to keep Jack asleep in his own bed the whole night!
Friday was much the same; she was a work horse. Fortunately, Lucy was so wiped out that she slept most of the day, and I was still very wiped out, so I slept too, which left
Saturday, was a little better. Lucy was up, not running, but she was up and about. She was beginning to eat a little, which is more than can be said for me. The cold I had wiped out my sense of smell and with it, my love of taste; so I was not hungry at all. Jack was still very much Jack and running wild and doing great with individual play.
Saturday night, Jack got sick. One bathroom floor clean-up and some new P.J.’s later; he was sleeping with me on the couch. That didn’t last too long and we moved to the big bed. That lasted an even shorter amount of time, as Jack had to vomit again. After that, I had no clue what happened the rest of the night because the Nyquil kicked in and I was done.
Sunday morning,
I don’t know how she did it, but Bethany managed to stay healthy (mostly, a stuffy nose is small compared to the rest of the potential ills), prepare meals, do dishes, clean the entire upstairs’ bed rooms, and leave the house looking better than when it started the weekend. I couldn’t believe it. She is amazing and the love of my life.
I just hope that this little blog of her weekends’ miracle work won’t jinx her or me because I don’t know if I could do nearly as good of a job as she did under similar circumstances. Thank you, wifey.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The Proverbial Apple
The other day, I was sitting in our red chair in the living room, Jack comes be-bopping along and plops down in the brown chair that sits in the corner of the room. He’s sitting there mumbling to himself mostly or talking to himself while he plays. At this point, I have become pretty accustomed to tuning him out. When he started to call my name over and over again, I reluctantly pulled myself away from the television to engage my son.
He was sitting with his head lying on the arm of the chair. One eye covered up. Saying, “Daddy, I am a Cyclops. Did you know Cyclops only have one eye?”
I laughed really hard and told him that I did know that but appreciated him refreshing my memory. He later grabbed the DVD case for Monsters Inc. and pointed out that, “The little green guy is a Cyclops too; ‘cause he only has one eye too; but the big blue guy has two eyes, so he isn’t a Cyclops.”
After this, I realized that the saying of “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” is more accurate than I first believed. It was several years ago when Bethany and I were engaged that we traveled to
Both memories will be special for many years to come and now are inevitably linked in my brain. I hope that through the next several years, I will have more, “Aha,” moments with my kids and realize that indeed, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
A Family Circus Kind of Day
The past couple of weeks have eerily reminded of the comic strip Family Circus. I know we all remember it. It was the comic that followed a family, (I am always one to point out the obvious) a dad, mom, 2 boys and a girl, through their day to day lives. It was filled with funny little thoughts or things that were said.
It also had 2 recurring characters that I didn’t understand at the time, but now have seen come to life in my own realm. It’s been a little weird. Do you remember, “Not me,” and “Ida Know?” They were the ghosts that would do all the wrong things. Inevitably the mom or dad would ask the kids how something happened, who broke what, or whatever, and the kids would respond, “Ida Know,” or “Not me.”
This was personified in my son and you probably have read my entry about the Pee Bandit. I am glad that the culprit wasn’t a ghost, and thankfully, Jack has been doing better about not peeing on the floor too. Other examples of these friendly ghosts pop up all the time too whether it’s: Mysterious crayon on the walls/doors/carpeting/furniture, cushions thrown off of the furniture and onto the floor, milk spilled on the kitchen table, a handprint of purple paint on the wall heading up the stairs, all of the drawers on both dressers being wide open and every bit of clothing on the floor, or finally “Who tooted?”
Other examples of Family Circus have popped up too. Take for instance this illustration. Does it look familiar?
That is Jack, he may go by Jeffery or Billy in the comic, but that is definitely my son.
I spent about 20 minutes perusing the internet looking up different Family Circus comics that were posted online and found that almost all of them made a lot more sense now that I am a parent. I only hope that one day; I will be able to make sense of my children.
It also had 2 recurring characters that I didn’t understand at the time, but now have seen come to life in my own realm. It’s been a little weird. Do you remember, “Not me,” and “Ida Know?” They were the ghosts that would do all the wrong things. Inevitably the mom or dad would ask the kids how something happened, who broke what, or whatever, and the kids would respond, “Ida Know,” or “Not me.”
This was personified in my son and you probably have read my entry about the Pee Bandit. I am glad that the culprit wasn’t a ghost, and thankfully, Jack has been doing better about not peeing on the floor too. Other examples of these friendly ghosts pop up all the time too whether it’s: Mysterious crayon on the walls/doors/carpeting/furniture, cushions thrown off of the furniture and onto the floor, milk spilled on the kitchen table, a handprint of purple paint on the wall heading up the stairs, all of the drawers on both dressers being wide open and every bit of clothing on the floor, or finally “Who tooted?”
Other examples of Family Circus have popped up too. Take for instance this illustration. Does it look familiar?
That is Jack, he may go by Jeffery or Billy in the comic, but that is definitely my son.
I spent about 20 minutes perusing the internet looking up different Family Circus comics that were posted online and found that almost all of them made a lot more sense now that I am a parent. I only hope that one day; I will be able to make sense of my children.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Breaking the Chains of Monotony
I don’t think there is anything better in my life right now, than taking my daughter to school, and the subsequent tradition that has developed for Jack and I. I don’t know when or how we got started doing this, but I don’t really care either, because it is what helps me to get through a sometimes monotonous day filled with, “Play with this toy,” or “I’m hungry/thirsty,” or “I want to watch Diego.” Don’t get me wrong, I love staying at home and raising my son; it is really fulfilling, and Jack is such a fun little guy that is growing physically and intellectually everyday.
A couple of weeks ago, we drove to the elementary school to drop off Lucy, which should tell you two things. 1. We were running late, because the school is only 3 blocks away and we could easily walk there. 2. It had been a rough morning. Both of which were definitely true on that day. Lucy had woken up at 6, and decided she didn’t want to be alone, so she woke up Bumby as well. Now, both kids are up, which means that at least 1 adult needs to be up too; otherwise pure pandemonium can ensue before anyone is the wiser.
By the time it was ready to leave for school, only Lucy had eaten breakfast and Jack had already experienced 3 separate meltdowns. I needed to do something to shake things up and get his day off to a better start; so, I decided to do donuts. Not just any donuts, although lately it has just been the little chocolate covered Hostess donuts from Speedway, but real donuts for Busken Bakery. Jack loves the chocolate glazed ones, and I will get a chocolate glazed, custard filled donut. We will sit in their little eating area and eat our donuts and drink our milk. It is a precious time, just the two of us.
Today, we went to Speedway. We parked and headed across the parking lot to the door. Jack is holding my hand and then he starts to gallop. After a few strides he looks up at me smiles and says, “Daddy you do it.” So Bumby and I galloped to the door. People looked at us funny and then they smiled big, appreciative smiles. Hopefully they were reliving fond memories, while my son and I made our own.
It doesn’t matter to me whether we go to Busken Bakery or to Speedway, the tradition is there and once or twice a week, Jack and I make special memories and have conversations about trains, what he wants to do today, his best friends (the list seems to grow exponentially and often includes the neighbor’s dog), house church, church, the speckled store, his bike, or his Mommy (who he loves very, very mucher), and his sister (who he only loves sometimes).
What I like the most about this tradition, is inspiring the people I meet to remember a time when life was simpler and to smile as they recall those precious memories. One day, I hope that Jack will be able to share the same types of memories with his children. I know that as long as my mind is solid, it will be one of the traditions that I cherish the most.
A couple of weeks ago, we drove to the elementary school to drop off Lucy, which should tell you two things. 1. We were running late, because the school is only 3 blocks away and we could easily walk there. 2. It had been a rough morning. Both of which were definitely true on that day. Lucy had woken up at 6, and decided she didn’t want to be alone, so she woke up Bumby as well. Now, both kids are up, which means that at least 1 adult needs to be up too; otherwise pure pandemonium can ensue before anyone is the wiser.
By the time it was ready to leave for school, only Lucy had eaten breakfast and Jack had already experienced 3 separate meltdowns. I needed to do something to shake things up and get his day off to a better start; so, I decided to do donuts. Not just any donuts, although lately it has just been the little chocolate covered Hostess donuts from Speedway, but real donuts for Busken Bakery. Jack loves the chocolate glazed ones, and I will get a chocolate glazed, custard filled donut. We will sit in their little eating area and eat our donuts and drink our milk. It is a precious time, just the two of us.
Today, we went to Speedway. We parked and headed across the parking lot to the door. Jack is holding my hand and then he starts to gallop. After a few strides he looks up at me smiles and says, “Daddy you do it.” So Bumby and I galloped to the door. People looked at us funny and then they smiled big, appreciative smiles. Hopefully they were reliving fond memories, while my son and I made our own.
It doesn’t matter to me whether we go to Busken Bakery or to Speedway, the tradition is there and once or twice a week, Jack and I make special memories and have conversations about trains, what he wants to do today, his best friends (the list seems to grow exponentially and often includes the neighbor’s dog), house church, church, the speckled store, his bike, or his Mommy (who he loves very, very mucher), and his sister (who he only loves sometimes).
What I like the most about this tradition, is inspiring the people I meet to remember a time when life was simpler and to smile as they recall those precious memories. One day, I hope that Jack will be able to share the same types of memories with his children. I know that as long as my mind is solid, it will be one of the traditions that I cherish the most.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Super Sleuth
Today has been an interesting day to say the least. I woke up with a migraine; made waffles for breakfast (for Lucy and Jack); got Lucy off to school, spoke with my Mom on the phone (a daily occurrence); had a friend over for more waffles; and then played super sleuth.
“Super Sleuth,” you ask? Yes, super sleuth. It all started about 2 weeks ago. We had been in our new house for about 2 weeks and noticed that for some reason, our bathroom already smelled like urine. Other than the smell being totally gross, we disinfected the floor and solved the problem. No more smell. Well, last week, the smell was back.
Occasionally, we would notice puddles on the floor in the general toilet area, but neither kid would admit that they missed the pot. So we would snag a towel, wipe it up, then disinfect it (the floor and towel). This morning, while I am eating waffles with Andy, Jack has to go potty. So he runs up the stairs, and then 30 seconds later he is sliding back down them, without flushing or washing his hands; oh, and without shorts or underwear. I got clothes back on Jack before he hit the bottom step and all was good, or so I thought.
After Andy left, I had to use the facilities, so upstairs I head; get to the door and lo and behold, but what do I see, a big golden puddle. Evidentially the Pee Bandit had struck again. So now, I have to clean and disinfect the floor before I can use the facilities. Arghh!
This afternoon, while I was attempting to write a totally different entry, I hear Jack come bounding up the stairs. Then I hear the distinct noise of water dripping on the floor. I'm thinking, "Yes, the Pee Bandit. I can finally catch him in the act." By the time I make it into the bathroom, Jack is standing by the toilet, shorts around his ankles, surrounded by urine that has made a line from the top of the stairs, across the carpeting, into the bathroom and gathered into a puddle the size of Lake Superior.
“Jack, did you pee on the floor?” “It wasn’t me, Daddy. I didn’t do it.” “Jack, it’s only you and Daddy that are home and Daddy didn’t make this mess. Did you do it?” “Yes, Daddy, I sorry.” “That’s ok, Bumby, just get all of your pee in the potty next time, ok?” “Ok, Daddy.”
Pee Bandit mystery solved. Now, if only I could solve how to get him further than the top of the stairs before he starts whizzing.
“Super Sleuth,” you ask? Yes, super sleuth. It all started about 2 weeks ago. We had been in our new house for about 2 weeks and noticed that for some reason, our bathroom already smelled like urine. Other than the smell being totally gross, we disinfected the floor and solved the problem. No more smell. Well, last week, the smell was back.
Occasionally, we would notice puddles on the floor in the general toilet area, but neither kid would admit that they missed the pot. So we would snag a towel, wipe it up, then disinfect it (the floor and towel). This morning, while I am eating waffles with Andy, Jack has to go potty. So he runs up the stairs, and then 30 seconds later he is sliding back down them, without flushing or washing his hands; oh, and without shorts or underwear. I got clothes back on Jack before he hit the bottom step and all was good, or so I thought.
After Andy left, I had to use the facilities, so upstairs I head; get to the door and lo and behold, but what do I see, a big golden puddle. Evidentially the Pee Bandit had struck again. So now, I have to clean and disinfect the floor before I can use the facilities. Arghh!
This afternoon, while I was attempting to write a totally different entry, I hear Jack come bounding up the stairs. Then I hear the distinct noise of water dripping on the floor. I'm thinking, "Yes, the Pee Bandit. I can finally catch him in the act." By the time I make it into the bathroom, Jack is standing by the toilet, shorts around his ankles, surrounded by urine that has made a line from the top of the stairs, across the carpeting, into the bathroom and gathered into a puddle the size of Lake Superior.
“Jack, did you pee on the floor?” “It wasn’t me, Daddy. I didn’t do it.” “Jack, it’s only you and Daddy that are home and Daddy didn’t make this mess. Did you do it?” “Yes, Daddy, I sorry.” “That’s ok, Bumby, just get all of your pee in the potty next time, ok?” “Ok, Daddy.”
Pee Bandit mystery solved. Now, if only I could solve how to get him further than the top of the stairs before he starts whizzing.
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