11.26.08
BCA Jr.
I’ve always wanted to be a rock star. That was my fall-back plan if my chemical engineering degree never quite panned out. In college, I was one of the many rotating guitarists for the Blue Collar Astronauts, and — while I never was any good at it — it fuelled my desire to be on the stage with nimble fingers stringing together legendary riffs. As it stood, I never could get my rhythm down, and I still only know about 2-1/2 chords (just 1/2 chord shy of the Ramones’ repertoire).
All that to say, my heart is glad to see Nathaniel carrying on with similar hopes and dreams.
03.31.08
Hopping Along
Naomi is up on crutches due to a mysterious foot ailment, so I’ve been doing my best (or so I claim…do any of us ever really do our best?) to maintain a hint of sanity around our household. It has been a frustrating excercise in futility. I’m guessing all my excercise is really paying off, though, because I am becoming quite adept in this area….heck, I’m probably an expert in futility.
Through it all I am becoming much more empathetic to the struggles of Naomi’s plight as a homemaker (a term she disdains…she prefers the title “ringmaster”). I took Amelia to Church Sunday morning, and in the two hours (ish) we were away, the other two kids had managed to dump a nearly full box of sticky, tiny, granular, rainbow colored cereal all over the living room. Naomi, confined to the recliner had watched helplessly through through the fuzz of painkillers.
Actually, I exagerate. The painkillers Naomi was on have been fairly mild and non-haze-inducing. But, I imagine the flying rainbow speckles would have made for quite an experience if she had been a bit loopy.
Our kitchen is in a particular shambles at the moment, so we set up a blanket in the living room to have a “picnic” lunch. Unfortunately, that first required vacuuming up the sticky, specks of technicolored cereal. So the kids waited patiently as I cleaned up their mess.
Actually, I exagerate again. The girls ran screaming into our room and slammed the door behind themselves. Nathaniel scrambled up the couch in a desperate attempt to save his life from the certain peril of the vacuum cleaner. Scale is apprently a concept lost on them. But before I poke too much fun, Naomi recalled a time when she was terrified by the certain doom contained within the swirling vortex of an unstopped bathtub. I have vague memories of a similar terror.
After we had had our picnic, and cleaned up the resulting mess, I went to the pharmacy to get Naomi’s prescription filled. When I returned, frustrated as always, from my pharmacy misadventure, I walked in the door to find a can’s worth of chips crumbled into the carpet. Once more, the kids had taken advantage of Naomi’s state of helplessness and run amock in the living room. Once more, I did another repetition in my exercise regimen.
We are fortunate to live close to both sets of parents, so in a state of overwhelmsed crisis, we called for backup. Nathaniel went home with my mom, and Amelia went to Naomi’s folks. We spent the evening with just Arden, who is the most self-sufficient of the three, but who was disappointed because she had to stay with someone “boring”.
We watched Ella Enchanted from the warmth of a blanket fort (apparently, it was snowing in the living room, or so Arden claimed) before playing a game of Dora the Explorer “Membory.” She then got to sleep in our floor in a Dora Futon sorta’ thing. I think that while the other kids are away, it will be a nice chance for her to spend some quality one-on-one (and -two) time with Naomi and me.
Hopefully she won’t be too bored these next few days with the “boring” one(s), but I guesss if things get to be too much of a ho-hum drugery, I can always fire up the ol’ vacuum cleaner to liven things back up. The living room could use it again.
03.27.08
Ubiquityberry
Naomi tells me of a bumper sticker she once saw. It said something to the effect that if God didn’t want us to eat animals, He wouldn’t have wrapped them in meat. I can appreciate that. I like meat.
I’m also a bit squeamish, though, when it comes to blood and guts and killing things (unless they’re covered in pixelated polygons). In a less sophisticated world, I would probably be a gatherer rather than a hunter…at least for a while until I built up a stronger tolerance for blood.
That being said, I guess I probably do like berries and nuts as much as the next guy (assuming the “next guy” likes berries and nuts about as much as I do), but I have to wonder why berries are such a staple to the marketing industry.
This isn’t a new trend. I grew up with Booberry and Frankenberry cereals. And, when the apocalypse wipes away civilization as we know it, I’m going to definitely plant some Crunch Berry bushes in the backyard. Those were all sensible (and tasty) creations, but today, things are just getting plain silly.
We like Pop Tarts. Our kids like Pop Tarts. We buy our fair share of Pop Tarts, and we have tried many of the trendy, exotic flavors. I would think SpongeBerries probably have a bizarre texture, but as long as they taste alright (apparently, much like strawberries), then I’m okay with them in my Pop Tarts. ScoobyBerries, on the other hand, just sound disgusting, and have no place as part of my less than balanced breakfast.
In the name of catering to the whims of our kids, however, we have purchased many cartoon-induced “Berry” flavored foods along the way. I’ve tried Ogreberry Gogurt during the Shrek III craze, and, yes, I’ve even been desperate enough to try the ScoobyBerry Pop Tarts. They, too, tasted like strawberries — the chicken{berry} of the berry world, I guess.
But as desperate as my food scrounging may get at times, I plan to forever steer clear of the Bikini Bottom Berry Gogurt in our fridge. That just sounds unpleasant, and quite possibly contagious.
03.24.08
Easter Pictures
We went up to Gadsden this Easter to visit with Naomi’s immediate and extended family.
Here are pictures of the kids with their cousins Jackson, Malyn and Micah.
Then we ran the cousins off (okay, not really) and got a picture of Amelia, Arden, and Nathaniel in their Easter clothes. 
Nathan got a mandolin recently, so he, Scooter, and Aron performed for us all.
Nathaniel’s square dancing turned to slam dancing as he started to get a bit dizzy.
Arden enjoyed some egg hunting. 
…both with and without cousins. 
12.05.07
One of those days
Some people are quite emotional.
They wear their hearts on their sleeves as they passionately ride along the ebbs and flows of each passing moment. There is a vibrance and air of anticipation as I talk with these people, because each conversation has the thrill potential of a roller coaster (With a broken axle). I am not one of these people.
Generally speaking, I am fairly calm and reservered (probably even monotonous) and I roll with the punches of life with a stolid stoicism that I have somehow aquired through life’s myriad of influences. That being said, there are times I find myself frustrated by my cool and collected tendencies. There are days I want to self-destruct, but I really just don’t know how. Today is one of those days.
As an update: Nathaniel had surgery a few months back to fix his broken leg. He has congenital pseudoarthrosis, which basically means some of his bones formed false joints. Because of this, the bones in one of his legs have weak spots and low blood flow. Because of that, they’re curving, and one of them broke. Additionally, his condition complicates the normal “fixability” of a standard fracture. He is two and a half years old and has a lot of growing yet to do; at this point, we’re not really sure how well is leg is going to keep up.
This is a relatively rare condition and is usually a symptom of another disease called neurofibromatosis (I believe) or NF I , which has potential symptoms that run the gamut from splotchy skin to chronic pain and blindness (among many other things).
A few months back, Nathaniel’s surgeon performed a bone graft on his broken leg using a piece from his hip bone. The hope was that the bone would “take” and would fill in the gap and serve as the bridge between the fragmented ends in such a way that the bone would heal and continue to grow. He was going to be confined to a cast for about three months. This was Plan A.
Six weeks ago, Nathaniel’s pediatrician suspected an infection beneath the cast, so we had the cast removed just long enough to check things out and get a quick X-Ray. The x-Ray revealed that the bone was healing and Plan A seemed to be working.
The surgeon, who originally diagnosed Nathaniel’s condition felt fairly certain that he did not have NF I, but a second surgeon felt pretty sure he did, so we had blood work done a few weeks ago.
Yesterday, the results from the bloodwork came back positive, which means that Nathaniel has NF I. At this point no one knows what symptoms may crop up, and this news scares me.
This morning, he had his cast removed “for good,” and the X-Ray revealed that the growth we saw six weeks ago didn’t take like the doctor had hoped. The bone is not healing, and Plan A did not work. This news scares me as well.
Meanwhile, Amelia’s therapy is going well, I believe, and she is making progress towards — hopefully — walking with quad-canes before too long. Having two crippled children, both with uncertain futures and a third child – whose skin also seems somewhat splotchy – troubles me and feels overwhelming at times.
But here I am. At work. In front of my computer doing what it is I do (whatever that is). Life goes on, and other than writing my (monthly’ish) blog entry I will probably go about my usual routine as always: even-keeled and collected. I’m not sure how to bring this up in everyday converstaion (I’m not even sure what “this” is), and I doubt I would if I could, so I will continue to function in my little sphere and I will continue to smile and bob my head to passing colleagues. My day will continue to be a mostly-honest “fine.”
It may seem as if this stoicism is a form of faith — and in some ways, I suppose it is — but I’m afraid I’ve somehow crossed the line between faith and fatalism. I do believe in a sovereign God who intimately continues to sustain the fabrics of creation — from the robust purple mountain majesties to the delicate, numbered (and increasingly fleeting) hairs on my head. I believe that He intends the fall of each sparrow, and He is well aware of the braces now worn by both Amelia and Nathaniel.
This leaves me without excuse for doubt and worry (though I continue to do both), but it also offers no excuse for apathy. It’s a mystery, to be sure, but we are called to live the days that have been documented already and boldy follow the steps that were mapped before the world was made, and we are called to do so with eyes wide with wonder and worship rather than the stony stare of a stoic.
09.23.07
Lake Chinnabee
I realized that I hadn’t posted a blog entry in quite a while. Since we had a fun family outing to Lake Chinnbee recently, I figured it might be fun to post some pix. (Plus, since pictures are worth like a bazillion words – at least words in my blog — then this should make up for lost time).
We spent a good bit of time on the swings, since that’s a favorite of all three (5?) of the kids in our family.
Here is a scenic view of what little water was left after the drought we’ve had this summer
Since the water was so tranquil and serene, here is a picture of Arden, Nathaniel, and me riling up things by poking them with sticks.
And here is Amelia, stuffing her pockets full of souvenier rocks (because we don’t have enough of those around our house).
05.25.07
The Taste of Summer
There is a Chinese buffet in town that we frequent and the kids love. Amelia loves crab (as well as the krab) and they all look forward to the rainbow ice cream that is often available (what’s ironic is that it’s actually vanilla flavored. It seems like a cruel joke to add superfluous, clothes-staining coloring to an ice cream that is “naturally” white).
On one trip, I teased Amelia by combining her two favorites and asked if she was going to have the Krab Ice Cream (I believe that fatherhood has made me less clever over the years…but some would probably argue that very little has changed). I thought my creativity made up for the lack of “clever”, but apparently I have been beaten to the punch (so to speak) with my dessert ideas.
Here are links to the wacky, wackier, and wackiest world of Japanese ice cream…
01.19.07
On a lighter note…
I know this is kind of old, but there has been a bulletin circulating around MySpace with the following information:
fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too**
Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55% of plepoe can.i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg.
The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at
Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno’t mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a
wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be
in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and can sitll raed it
whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey
lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I
awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs frowrad it.*
I was pretty stoked at frist, becuase I colud raed taht pretty well. A cuopel of wrods took a litle figruing uot, but baiscaly, I cuold decipehr teh mess of lettres nito a fiarly choerent messge.
But then I realized that it was probably just a sign that I had been indoctrinated with the l337 5p34k (or “leet speak,” which is short for “elite speak” for you n00bs) that is so prevalent in our www.internet.culture. We have made the move from careful proof-reading to a blind faith in electronic spell-checking to, finally, broad acceptance of the fact that the joys of instant (message) gratification carry with them the burdens of haste and carelessness. We’re accustomed to misspelled words, and they now camouflage themselves nicely in emoticon-driven IM communication, where we are not only allowed to type sloppily, but rather encouraged to do so…
…and taht makse me 
!!!1!! (lol)
09.15.06
Friendly Forks and Balloons
There is a new name around our household. Much like the bar from the all-time favorite, Cheers, Norm is often mentioned with great affection these days. At this point, I should probably mention that Norm is a balloon. Not just any ol’ run-of-the-mill, normal balloon, no! Norm is a popped balloon. Amelia deliberately poppped the last balloon from Naomi’s birthday, and named the little rubber skin Norm. She had made a little bed for Norm (who is a girl, by the way), out of cling wrap, and at night, Amelia gently wads up her little friend in the plastic film (don’t try this with REAL friends), and stuffs her into a closet built into a “Little People” stair case. I am hoping that one day Norm will go off to Hogwarts to become a famous wizard…(okay, I’ll admit: I read too much Harry Potter).
I got in trouble the other night because I was being too loud. Amelia was afraid I was going to wake Norm. Being the wonderfully sensitive father that I am, I replied “But you already killed Norm when you popped him.” (I assumed Norm was a boy, but I was sternly corrected for that, too). Fortunately, my callous tone went unnoticed, and Amelia gently explained that Norm wasn’t Norm until she had popped the balloon. (There’s probably some kind of metaphor potential here, but I will have to save it until a good moment).
Arden is developing quite an imagination as well. Naomi claims that I have a knack for personifying mundane household items, but I don’t believe her. Arden has apparently inherited my alleged imaginative tendencies. She has two-way conversations between stuffed animals, dolls, Little People, and silverware.
I remember her dropping a fork onto the seat at Cracker Barrel one evening. Being the sterile and conscientious father that I am, I blew it off and said “I think it will be alright; it just landed on the chair,” as I handed the utensil back to her grabbing hands. She looked the fork square in the…uhm…fork-equivalent of a face? and asked it if it was ok. “I will be alright,” the fork replied, throwing its Ardenesque voice to give the appearance of Arden speaking, “I just landed on the chair.” Since then, I have caught several discussions between forks and spoons.
My mom likes to tell the story of one of my favorite toys as a kid. Apparently, I when I was younger, I had a SpiderMan action figure. It was one of the larger ones with many joints and changeable outfits. (Like a Ken Doll, only much, much cooler) Over time, the dol..er…action figure broke, and most of the accessories disappeared. The only thing I had left was the SpiderMan suit, which became a persona all its own: Spider-Clothes! Spider-Clothes used to fly around the house having all kinds of adventures and saving many a damsel and many a day. Genetics is a funny thing, as I see hints of Spider-Clothes in Norm (I would have guessed that the S-C gene would have been recessive), and personification of stuffed animals and assundry knick-knacks in Arden’s conversaions (I was lonely as an only child).
A child’s imagination is wonderful. It’s refreshing to see them living in their own fantastic realms, where dolls (and forks) talk, and ripped balloons make wonderful friends. More than just the activeness of their daydreaming minds, though, it’s refreshing to see the lack of pretense as they carry on with their fantasies without a single care as to what others will think. Arden isn’t concerned that I’m going to send her to the Loony Bin because forks don’t talk, and Amelia isn’t worried that I’m going to send her to a shrink to discuss “Norm”. It’s humbling, because they live out their whimsies and dreams with far fewer reservations than I have doing perfectly mundane activities. As I pull up to a redlight, I stop singing, becuase I don’t want the people in the cars next to me to know that — GASP — I sometimes sing on my commute.
Maybe I should scrounge through my old toy boxes in my parents attic. When my pretentious lips freeze as a car pulls up to me, maybe I should force myself to pull Spider-Clothes out from my arm rest and start flying him around the car at the redlight. I think it would do wonders for my spirit and attitude to indulge in a little child-like wonder, and I think Spider-Clothes will keep me good company in my padded cell.
09.14.06
The Annoying Thing
My wife is a softie when it comes to the kids. I can say that because I am not a softie when it comes to the kids. I can say that because I can hold out just long enough to let her cave in first; that way I can cross my arms stolidly and be the non-softie one. She never has to know how close I come to caving in, because that’s irrelavent. What’s important is that she caves in and I do not…
This past Friday evening during our semi-regular family trip to the local Target, Naomi gave in to the tempation to indulge one of our children. Nathaniel never asks for much (of course he speaks in syllables more than words) but he fell in love with a little singing/dancing stuffed animal called “The Annoying Thing”. This thing “sings” the Crazy Frog song while waving his hands around wildly. As luck would have it, the annoying things were half off (go figure!), and it was hard …for my wife .. to resist buying Nathaniel the toy. Every time we walked by one, he smiled and reached, and as soon as the magic button was pressed and the song began, Nathaniel would dance and giggle. I have to admit it was pretty adorable (good thing my wife is such a softie)
As far as annoying things go, though, I must say this one is a bit of an exaggeration. I have three small children around the house, and I have seen and/or received toys much more deserving of the title than the little stuffed monster we bought for Nathaniel. Rumor has it classical music exposure is supposed to do wonders for small children, but I find it hard to believe that the 14 different off-key beep-boop-beep renditions of Fur Elise we have as the theme song to our living room are really making my children any smarter.
As far as educational (and Sanity-preserving) toys go, The Annoying Thing actually gets my approval more than many of the Mozart ringtone-spewing toys out there. Plus, as Naomi points out, if Nathaniel develops a clinginess to this critter, he will be less likely to be picked on than the boy with the soft pink blanket. No one is going to mess with the kid with the crazy-eyed, blue bug wearing a black motorcycle jacket.
