Mini Post: Quote from Ki

DS was playing the other day. He brought a bunch of toys out to the family room, then clipped a lightsaber on each hip, grabbed his gladiator sword and headed back to his room for more. As the door to the hallway closed behind him, I heard him mutter "How do the Star Wars guys walk with these things?"

Thoroughly Fed Up

This post was originally going to be about global warming and the US government's continued lack of action. Then I had an epiphany – or maybe it was more of a collision between several trains of thought. Whatever.
In one such train, I realized that one more blog post on the subject wasn't going to convince the bone heads in power that are resisting change. These idiots still think the sun revolves around the Earth, and I'm no Galileo. What I can do, and what I should be doing, is changing those things I actually have control over.
At the same time, I was attending a national conference. Over the course of several presentations and conversation with other attendees, I realized "these are some pretty smart people!" Which inevitably lead to the question, "Are they smarter than me?" Did it matter?
Now, I'm damn good at my profession, but at the end of the day – or more importantly, life – how important will that be? Is the world as a whole going to be any different because of the quality of the software I produce? Quite frankly, no. And what good is it to be in the top of my profession if the rest of my life is solidly middle-of-the-road?
And that's when the real epiphany occurred. I need to change the way I'm living my life, so that it visibly reflects what I value. If you asked someone who casually knew me what I felt was important, would they be able to tell? Definitely not at this point in time, but I'm committed to changing that. Not everything at once; that would be doomed to failure. A solid, certain and deliberate change.
The first change I'm making – which I started last week – is to stop being a fat tub o' lard. I'm not counting calories, just cutting back on how much I eat and eliminating all of the junk. Trust me, there was a lot of junk; I've dropped 6 pounds in the past 6 days. Spring's here, so I won't have trouble increasing my activity level (lots of yard work to be done), but I also want to start doing more outdoor activities with my kids.
And that's the second set of changes I've started making. I am not proud of who I am as a father and husband. I'm not horrible, mind you, but I'm no where near where I want to be.
You see, that's where the real difference comes in. I'm going to be thinking a lot more about my life and how I'm running it. Does that mean that I'll be using less of my brain power for issues at work? Probably. But you know what? Fuck work. That's not the end all of who I want to be.

Adventures in Autism

I've certainly been reading a lot more about Autism Spectrum Disorders that I ever thought I would be. DD's primary delays are in the realm of "expressive and receptive language". The team diagnosed other symptoms to a mild degree, but I have yet to be convinced whether any of those are part of her ASD, or are a result of her primary challenge, or are just normal individual variation. That's one of the things that has struck me about ASD -- the large number of symptom-groups and how much individual kids vary in which ones they have and to what degree. Bobby might have severe delay in A & B and a milder difficulty with D, while Billy has a lot of trouble with C and some issues with B & E.

The other thing that's struck me is the wide range of treatments and the fact that nothing's definitely effective in all cases. While my own science background is not in biology, the studies I've read and the widely varying anectodal evidence strongly suggests that there is not just one cause of ASD. There are likely multiple causes and therefore different kids will have different results for a given treatment. For DD, a glutin-free casein-free diet has definitely made a difference. This suggests that an opiate reaction may be part of what's causing her symptoms. Again, however, I don't believe there is necessarily a single cause for ASD. So while she will be starting Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy soon, we will also be pushing for more tests to be done where appropriate.

Our own little Mount Ve-spew-vius

Earlier this evening, I was working in the home office when I heard my wife call out my name in that tone, instantly recognizable to all parents, that indicates the $#!& has hit the fan. I saved my work (safe computing before all else) and hustled downstairs. A glimpse into the dining room revealed DD in her highchair and DW standing holding the tray away from both of them in the universal manner that indicates ...here there be vomit. "Get something to clean her up", DW calls. I hurry to comply and when I return to the dining room I am able to take a closer look at the carnage. DD's left sleeve is covered and there's a fist size pile in her lap. The highchair tray is covered with a similar quantity. Not much for you or I but sizable for a one year old. Just as I arrive, however, she hurls again. Soundlessly, a tube of partially digested mystery lunch arcs down from her mouth and joins its cousin in her lap. The smell of bile and overcooked meat fills the room. Quickly, DW and I strip her out of her onesie and clean off her face and neck. I hold our diaper-clad daughter to my chest and grab a blanket from the pack-n-play while my noble wife starts the clean up effort. A few minutes later, DD gags and pushes herself away from my shoulder. Once again her mouth opens and emits a stream of hurlage. I don't think I could have contained it all even if I had had both hands free and the composure/lunacy to try to catch it. Instead, the gack landed securely in the crook formed between her body and my prodigious belly. I began walking her from the living room to the kitchen, where my saintly wife had moved on to rinsing the outfit that was the first victim of the evening's retch-fest. No sooner did I arrive at her side, when DD yacked again, and again it was voluminous. I am convinced that the episodes had by now produced regurgitations equal to her own weight. Freshly cleaned, DD was laid in the pack-n-play by my wife while I added my sweat- & tee-shirts to the growing pile of debris. How could she possibly have had that much food in her body in the first place? At least it was all out now. ...or so I thought, for as I was donning a nice, clean, dry shirt, the puke-o-rama was claiming another victim, this time in the form of the pack-n-play sheet. Should we call FEMA? DW and I continued the cleaning -- okay, it was still mostly DW -- and joked about the evenings events. We heard a happy coo from the other room and I remarked that at least everything seemed to be hunky-dory now. DW replied, "Don't you mean chunky-dory?"

Four's a Fun Age

I'm finding four to be a fun age. Sure, there are a lot of times that Ki will stomp on my very last nerve, but that's the definition of "child" isn't it? Recently, however, he's really started to be interesting to talk with.
For one thing, he's trying out all sorts of new phrases. I guess it's the next logical step after vocabulary building. Some of these phrases are things he's picked up from his more-than-it-should-be-but-hopefully-still-not-too-bad movie watching. Several nights ago as I was drawing him a bath, I suggested that he pick out some toys; "I'm on it!" he replied. And yesterday he said to his Mom "Has anyone ever told you you have beautiful eyes?" Sure, it's really not a line you'd use on your mother, but still endearing that he's experimenting.
Other phrases he's been trying on are things he hears his mother or me saying. Aside from the things that you really wish he hadn't heard from you the first time, it's a real kicker to hear him utter not only the words, but use the exact intonation that you'd use too. It's particularly amusing when he mutters them to himself while he's playing. The hard thing is that all this is so charming that you want to laugh, and often do; but that only serves to annoy/confuse him and make him self-conscious. How do you express your joy at their attempts without making them think you're laughing at them?

One corollary to this new verbal stage --– and to those that preceded it --– is that his aural comprehension drops off a bit. I suspect that before now he'd just ignore the words or constructs that he didn't understand and assemble the meaning from what was left; now, however, he's trying to make sense of all of the words and how they fit together. The net result of this is that the most frequently word in his vocabulary is currently "what?", said so quickly it's almost "wht?"

The other fun thing about age four is his growing curiosity about the world around him. What things are, and why, and how does it work? As a science/engineering type, I love the challenge of trying to answer his questions truthfully but at a level that he might begin to understand. More intriguing than answering his questions is listening to him state his hypotheses. I'm sure there are many that would say I should use that opportunity to "correct" his assumptions, but my own curiosity into how his mind works (not to mention the fact that I thinking learning reasoning skills is more important than learning rote facts) causes me to ask him probing questions instead. Sometimes, probably most of the time, he finds me annoying and will simply ignore my questions. But other times, he'll answer. And I'll get a brief, treasured glimpse into the wonder that is the developing human mind.

Kids really do say the darnedest things

The whole family went for a drive this weekend to check out a piece of property (more on that later). It actually can be a rather enjoyable experience as long as no one is getting overly upset. When he was younger, I think Ki would feel left out from the conversations as he'd just interrupt for the sake of interrupting. He's pretty much outgrown that, however, and his contributions offer a fantastic glimpse into the world according to 4-year-olds. On this particular drive, two instances stood out in particular.

Ki's school is introducing letters by way of phonics -- in other words they call the letters by the (most common) sound they make, so "B" is "buh", etc. At one point during the drive*, Ki asked "What begins with 'Lake'?" Understanding his question and not wanting to diminish his curiosity, I ignored the logical/grammatical transposition and replied "Well, let's see if we can figure it out. Say the word very slowly." Without a pause, he followed my instructions (as understood by a pre-schooler) and said "very slowly".

Later in the trip, and in reference to an earlier conversation about barns, I pointed out a dilapidated structure and jokingly said to my wife "There's a barn for ya." From the back seat, Ki asked "What barn? Barn and Noble?" I think someone's got your number, Mom.


*More than seventeen years into our relationship, La and I frequently have conversations that hop all over the map and only rarely is the other person not able to follow the unspoken train of thought that links everything together. This was not always the case. Early on in our relationship, I would often be baffled by the speed and complexity of the connections that La would silently put together. I'd frequently stop the conversation to puzzle out exactly how she got from A to B. That said, I am completely befuddled by the links between the things uttered by our son. The inner workings of the four-year-old mind are apparently well beyond the capabilities of this tired old man to decipher. ;P

Things I wish I'd written (TIWIW)

I have a real fondness for the well turned phrase. Perhaps it's because I have such a hard time expressing things with words. I stutter and stumble and struggle against the long pauses that occur as I try to come up with the words to convey whatever it is that my mind silently grasps.

Whether it's a quote from a famous person, the lyric in a song, or a passage in a novel (usually by a British author, it seems), I really admire good writing. And there's a lot of it that originates right in my own "back yard", as it were. A few of the more recent gems:

"I feel like a UN translator for toddlers doing haiku narratives"

"While many admire the premise, it seems like [Woody] Allen's continuing his grim march into mediocrity"

"[She] involves her whole body in taking a poop: facial grimacing, guttural noises, legs scrunched up... If we adults did that, we'd be committed. Particularly if we did it in our pants, in public."

Giggle fest

Anyone who's met our dear daughter will know what a fantastic grin she has: wide and toothless, raising dimples in her cheeks, which in turn refashion her wide sparkling eyes into little quarter moons of joy. Often her smiles are accompanied by a coy little sidewards glance, as if she has some inborn knowledge of just how cute she really is. She willing bestows this gift upon almost anyone who meets her eyes.

This morning – as she sat nestled in my crossed legs, watching her big brother cavorting with our 5-pound Yorkshire terrier – she shared with us a new expression of joy: a full-on giggle fest. While not quite as infectious as that of her older brother, her laugh was so unrestrained and unforced, that her brother was compelled to continue his antics until he practically collapsed with exhaustion (something I was not even sure was possible!).

I feel so blessed to have shared that moment with the two of them.

Even worse than a Turkish Delight

In honor of the original holiday, we held an Ostara egg hunt for our son this afternoon. One of the treats delivered by the good bunnies was a "candy"-filled plastic Scooby-Doo egg (yeah, I know, kinda contradicts the whole Ostara angle). At any rate, the quotes are deliberate 'cause when we sampled the concoction, its flavor was rather reminiscent of...well... soap. As one, Ki and I rushed to the kitchen in search of anything to remove the vile taste from our mouths. It was an amusing moment of father-son bonding as we both clawed at our tongues and uttered "bleagh!"

Mixed in with the initial revulsion was a flashback to the trip my DW and I took to Ireland some twelve years ago. During our wanders, we found a shop that sold actual, honest to goodness "Turkish Delights". As childhood fans of the entire C. S. Lewis Chronicles of Narnia series, we couldn't wait to try the jellied candies that the Snow Queen had used to entice Edward to her cause. Ever had to sit in church behind a little old lady who has apparently bathed herself in gallons of rose-scented perfume? That's what Turkish Delights taste like; like some evil prankster had added a packet gelatin to a cheap bottle of drug store perfume and foisted it off on unsuspecting tourists. Apparently, some cultural boundaries aren't meant to be crossed.

Ever want to just slap someone?

This weekend, my birth-mom and her family came up to visit. It was great to see them and made me realize that we don't see them nearly as much as we should. Must work on that this year.

As part of their visit, they took us out for brunch at a local restaurant, Slates. Great food in a casually eccentric (if somewhat cramped) atmosphere. In all there were seven of us: four adults and three kids aged 12, 4 and 4 months. As we were filing in to our table, I happened to spy a fellow sitting at a nearby table. He was looking at our entourage as if he had just chomped down into a steaming pile of cow dung. Okay, I know that some folks just aren't "kid friendly", but really... we're talking about Sunday brunch in a bohemian restaurant, not dinner at the Russian Tea Room.

No doubt about it, parenting is HARD

Two children is definitely more than twice the work of one and DW, gods bless her, has to deal with the lion's share of that work. Who am I kidding, I'm like the relief pitcher who takes over in the 9th with a 10 run lead. She does all the heavy lifting; I just bring in the cash.

Child-rearing, however, is more than just work; it's also a lot of worry. Ironically, the main source of worry these days is not our 3-month-old little amazon, but our just-about-4-year-old son. K1 is having trouble at school and most recently at swimming lessons. And I worry. Are his issues just part of normal development for him or something that warrants more concern? Would I even recognize the difference, or do a father's love & pride remove any chance of making an objective assessment? Have I pushed him too hard to grow up, or made it too easy for him not to? He's had sleep troubles for a couple of years now; do those play a role in his difficulties and if so, have I been neglectful by not pushing for finding a solution?

I'm supposed to have the answers or at least know where to find them – it's my role, it's where I fit – and yet when it comes to knowing what's right for my son, I am completely, utterly lost. I long to find a pediatrician who cares about finding the answers as much as I do. Someone I could have confidence in. Where are the Dr. Sheehans for our generation?

I... have... HANDS!

Yes, that's right, K2 has discovered that those pink wiggly things that flit about and occasionally smack her in the face are, in fact, something over which she has a modicum of control. She is currently most fond of moving these "hands" up to her mouth where she can happily gum on the "fingers". It is a task that requires a brow-furrowing degree of concentration, and the "fingers" don't quite seem to enjoy the end results as much as she does, but it is a new skill and she is very proud of it.

Call of the Child

The cries of an infant are impossible to ignore. This is not a sentimental statement – I fully believe that we are hardwired to react to the sound of infants crying. That particular waveform triggers a cascade of neurological signals culminating in the area of the brain known as "do something about it now you bleedin' tosser". All in all, this trait is an advantage to mammals everywhere... except maybe with humans.

Sure, most of the time a crying baby lets you know that you've missed or forgotten something and, after remedying said problem, the crying stops. But then there are the days when you really can't do anything for the baby – like, say, when she has a cold. Then you get to listen to the crying during her every waking hour and the wiring in your head screams... "do something about it, do something about it, why the #%@*& aren't you doing something about it!" Meanwhile, the rational... well, conscious... part of your brain is trying to calmly explain "I did everything I can for her, it's okay, stop going into overload." Which is, of course, right up there with trying to explain to the rain that now really isn't a good time and could it please come back tomorrow.

Makes you realize that three isn't such a bad age after all.

Why? Do I look tired?

The other day, after another long ride home from the office, DS asked me:
"Daddy, why do you have red cracks in your eyes?"

Try explaining that to an almost-four-year-old!

Not always as clear as you'd like to think

We went to lunch at Panera this afternoon and Ki noticed the celophane topped toothpick in my sandwich. "Why do you have a stick in your sandwich?" he asked.
"It holds the sandwich together until I'm ready to eat it," I replied.
He mulled this over for a second, then asked "Why do you eat the stick?"

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Forgive me, reader, for it has been many days since my last blog.
We've had a few changes in our family and, while I've thought about posting, by the time I had a breather to do so, I was usually too wiped out.
It's an interesting challenge to deal with a newborn the second time around. It's accompanied by the usual sleep deprevation and complete lack of a predictable schedule, but as an added bonus, you have to try to keep life as normal as possible for the elder child. All I have to say is that you really need to have good communication with your spouse. No matter how composed you think you are, you will inevitably reach the point where your very last nerve is no more. It is critical that you have a spouse who recognizes this in his/herself and can understand when you gaze at them twitchy and bleary-eyed and grunt something like an extra from the "Beer Bad" Buffy episode: "need... break... now."
We're were lulled into a bit of complacency the first week. DD was going four hours between feedings during the night and DS seemed to be taking his new role as big brother in stride. Foolish humans. DD is on the more expected "whenever I feel like it" schedule that can run anywhere from 1.5 to 3 hours between feedings. DS still adores "his baby" but he's not too thrilled with his parents right now. Normally a reasonable lad when it comes to parental guidance (bedtime, picking up toys, etc.) he's become rather obstinate. It didn't help that the poor guy came down with an intestinal bug last Wednesday.
So at this point, we're in "survival mode", trying to maintain the barest semblance of sanity. The worst part is that I have to head back to work on Monday. Another week at home would be so much more helpful.

New addition to the blogging family

DW has started a blog of her own. She totally rocks! See what I mean at Going Feral.