Encouraging an ant
to do something good for humanity.
Sticking your head in the freezer,
fully expecting to find a plate of hot nachos.
Marching down the street in clown regalia,
certain that if you march long enough
eventually the parade will come
and it will be grateful for your participation.
Peeing into the wind.
Sweeping up the kitchen floor.
Except that it's a floor of quicksand
that squeals and laughs at you
when you calmly but firmly say,
"No, floor. No.
Now stop swallowing me."
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Warm Cheek
Your cheek when you wake up
is perfect.
Warm,
Soft,
Plump,
it gives a little
when I lean my head in
to say, "Hello, sweetheart.
How was your nap?"
Cozy,
Precious,
Sleepy,
how irreplaceable
you are to me.
Rosy,
Toasty,
Happy,
a simple pleasure
entirely new.
Your cheek when you wake up
is perfect.
And it's a good thing
because sometimes
you are a really difficult child.
is perfect.
Warm,
Soft,
Plump,
it gives a little
when I lean my head in
to say, "Hello, sweetheart.
How was your nap?"
Cozy,
Precious,
Sleepy,
how irreplaceable
you are to me.
Rosy,
Toasty,
Happy,
a simple pleasure
entirely new.
Your cheek when you wake up
is perfect.
And it's a good thing
because sometimes
you are a really difficult child.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Jealous of my One-Year-Old’s Downward Dog
I am jealous of my one-year-old’s downward dog.
It is perfect.
He nonchalantly bends
into the pose
Often.
Easily.
Without strain.
Knees straight.
Head tucked.
Taunting me.
Or teaching me?
I have never been able to do that.
Bow to the one-year-old.
My Yogi.
It is perfect.
He nonchalantly bends
into the pose
Often.
Easily.
Without strain.
Knees straight.
Head tucked.
Taunting me.
Or teaching me?
I have never been able to do that.
Bow to the one-year-old.
My Yogi.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Mother's Pride
Today I found a child at the toilet seat.
The ring you sit on.
He was gnawing on its top,
slurping the sides,
and beating his hands
to some native beat
on his holy doo-doo drum.
I sanitized him
in the other room.
And meanwhile the other one
crawled in ringside,
and began his own
sickening ceremony.
Gnaw...
Slurp...
Beat...
But today I am proud
not of their accomplishments.
No.
I am proud because,
After all of this,I did not kill either one of them.
Neither. one.
The ring you sit on.
He was gnawing on its top,
slurping the sides,
and beating his hands
to some native beat
on his holy doo-doo drum.
I sanitized him
in the other room.
And meanwhile the other one
crawled in ringside,
and began his own
sickening ceremony.
Gnaw...
Slurp...
Beat...
But today I am proud
not of their accomplishments.
No.
I am proud because,
After all of this,I did not kill either one of them.
Neither. one.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
French Revolution
It’s the French Open men’s final
and it hints
at the banter
to come
between my
children.
If only John McEnroe could be here
to commentate.
I could sit back and watch.
Maybe sip a pink lemonade.
Serve it up, boys.
and it hints
at the banter
to come
between my
children.
If only John McEnroe could be here
to commentate.
I could sit back and watch.
Maybe sip a pink lemonade.
Serve it up, boys.
Chump Nap
Sometimes my kids take a chump nap.
As in, areyouevenkiddingme, that was not even a nap.
(Wrong answer buzzer sound)
(Another one)
Wrong.
What was it?
That was an event.
That was an experience.
That was something to talk about at nursery school.
(If you were two years older and actually went to nursery school.)
That was bonding with your twin brother in your room.
But that was not a nap,
my darling chumps.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Skin In The Game
My parents were both teachers. My wife was an educator. We like education in this house.
I remember hearing about the bond referendums that my school district would put up for a vote when I was a kid. I grew up in a town that was growing like a weed and building a new elementary school every other year to keep up with demand. Referendums came fast and furious, but my town was willing to support the blossoming student population and kept approving the referendums.
Then the population plateaued and the student population shrank and the district closed an elementary school and then the referendums suddenly were very unpopular among the population that no longer had students in the district.
Today I cast a vote in election that involved the school district in which my children will attend. Now, they won't be students for a few more years, but there's no harm in laying a good foundation, right?
This election, it was a little more...um...real? Now that I'm a parent, these votes matter a whole lot more to me than as a childless someone who just generally supported learnin' and such. This election will directly affect my kids. My perfect children who will be the first twins to be simultaneously elected Presidents of the United States. These kids.
When I was sitting at the poll, reading over the ballot that described for what the proposed budget increase would be used, I thought, "Yes, I do support the purchase of security cameras for the entrances to the elementary schools, and for newer, safer, school buses, and for the proper maintenance of athletic facilities that my kids would enjoy, and for the purchase of new technologies so that education can adapt with the changing times."
The guy next to me sighed a disgusted sigh and said, "Well, [insert my town here] is asking for damn Astro-Turf again."
Civic duty. It's what's for dinner.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Exponential growth never felt so good
Last week, my oldest son went to the hospital. It wasn't very fun.
He had to get poked and prodded and had lots of bruises everywhere and was Generally Unhappy.
His immune system beat his platelets to a pulp. His levels dropped as low as 1,000 per microliter (typical numbers, according to the National Institutes of Health, are 150,000-400,000/mcL). Slowly, they climbed.
Just a wee bit at first, mind you. All the way to 2,000/mcL. And that was probably still within the margin of error for the test. So quite possibly, it didn't rise at all.
But then a little more. 4,000/mcL this time. Then 8,000/mcL.
And then...26,000/mcL. This was a magic number.
This meant that our boy could go home. Anything over 20,000 meant that the risk for spontaneous bleeding was reduced to the point where it was safe to keep him at home.
So when we brought Bruiser home, we recorded the reunion with his little brother. It went a-something a-like a-this.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Idiopathic thrombocytopenia
Big words, those.
They really kind of suck.
They suck because they make my adorable little boy look like he went 12 rounds with a heavyweight and lost. I know he's making his tough face in this picture:
But he's really a lover, not a fighter.
So what is idiopathic (also known as "immuno-") thrombocytopenia? In layman's terms, Benjamin's platelet count is down. Waaaaaaay down. Like, less than 1/25th of what it should be kinda-down. So what's the big deal about low platelets? Well, turns out you need those platelets to prevent minor things like bleeding. Platelets are the things in our bloodstream that form clots when you have a boo-boo. With levels as low as his are/were, he was at a risk for spontaneous bleeding in places where spontaneous bleeding is not welcome, thank you very much.
It all began when Mama noticed little, red, pinprick-sized dots on Benjamin's legs after a nap. The entire household had been fighting a cold the last week and he was enjoying a ragged, persistent cough. Mama thought a trip to the pediatrician would be prudent.
Mama is very wise.
Dr. Pediatrician realized that it wasn't a rash, but purpura. Say it with me now. "Purpuraaaa....." Purpura means "tiny little bruises that look like a connect-the-dot pattern all over your body." Benjamin didn't have a rash, but he had many, many wee bruises, some of which were forming big bruises. Dr. Pediatrician ordered some blood work and lo, Benjamin was found to be sorely lacking in the platelet department.
Soon we were off to Helen DeVos Children's Hospital.
Shiny, isn't it?
And here we sit. The doctors here believe this all started with the aforementioned cold that we've been contesting. Since everything else in Benjamin's blood work is hunky dory, the hematologists believe that Benjamin's immune system morphed into an ancient Viking warrior and went berserker-rage style on anything and everything in sight, including his platelets. Poor little guys didn't stand a chance.
He's on dose #2 of an IV therapy that is attempting to rein in the berserker immune system and allow the platelets to replenish themselves. After dose #1, his numbers went up. A titch. Not close to the magic number of platelets that will allow him sweet, sweet freedom, but it's going in the right direction. Dose #2 may be the magic bullet. Maybe.
A re-enactment of Benjamin's immune system as represented by the Battle of Hastings.
In the meantime, Benjamin and Eli seem to both be enjoying heavy doses of undivided attention. If you are so inclined, a prayer, some positive energy, or kind thought, or whatever your spiritual currency may be, would be most welcome.
They really kind of suck.
They suck because they make my adorable little boy look like he went 12 rounds with a heavyweight and lost. I know he's making his tough face in this picture:
But he's really a lover, not a fighter.
So what is idiopathic (also known as "immuno-") thrombocytopenia? In layman's terms, Benjamin's platelet count is down. Waaaaaaay down. Like, less than 1/25th of what it should be kinda-down. So what's the big deal about low platelets? Well, turns out you need those platelets to prevent minor things like bleeding. Platelets are the things in our bloodstream that form clots when you have a boo-boo. With levels as low as his are/were, he was at a risk for spontaneous bleeding in places where spontaneous bleeding is not welcome, thank you very much.
It all began when Mama noticed little, red, pinprick-sized dots on Benjamin's legs after a nap. The entire household had been fighting a cold the last week and he was enjoying a ragged, persistent cough. Mama thought a trip to the pediatrician would be prudent.
Mama is very wise.
Dr. Pediatrician realized that it wasn't a rash, but purpura. Say it with me now. "Purpuraaaa....." Purpura means "tiny little bruises that look like a connect-the-dot pattern all over your body." Benjamin didn't have a rash, but he had many, many wee bruises, some of which were forming big bruises. Dr. Pediatrician ordered some blood work and lo, Benjamin was found to be sorely lacking in the platelet department.
Soon we were off to Helen DeVos Children's Hospital.
Shiny, isn't it?
And here we sit. The doctors here believe this all started with the aforementioned cold that we've been contesting. Since everything else in Benjamin's blood work is hunky dory, the hematologists believe that Benjamin's immune system morphed into an ancient Viking warrior and went berserker-rage style on anything and everything in sight, including his platelets. Poor little guys didn't stand a chance.
He's on dose #2 of an IV therapy that is attempting to rein in the berserker immune system and allow the platelets to replenish themselves. After dose #1, his numbers went up. A titch. Not close to the magic number of platelets that will allow him sweet, sweet freedom, but it's going in the right direction. Dose #2 may be the magic bullet. Maybe.
A re-enactment of Benjamin's immune system as represented by the Battle of Hastings.
In the meantime, Benjamin and Eli seem to both be enjoying heavy doses of undivided attention. If you are so inclined, a prayer, some positive energy, or kind thought, or whatever your spiritual currency may be, would be most welcome.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Red wine, almonds, and grown-up worries
I was 24. Maybe 25. Definitely at an age when one's health was a low, low priority, far behind items like "playing video games" and "eating pizza" and "playing video games while eating pizza." I went to the doctor for a physical ahead of a minor knee surgery. The nurse drew some blood. I got a Scooby-Doo Band-Aid.
A few weeks later, my doctor called me with the results of my bloodwork. My cholesterol numbers came back in the range likely reserved for blue whales, but I was not concerned as I had not fasted before the blood draw. It was expected that my numbers would be sky-high. He would, however, like me to come back for another follow-up check. Just to be sure. And could it be in the next few days? And could you be sure to fast? Thanks. Another nurse, another Scooby-Doo Band-Aid.
The results were not much better. The fasting brought the numbers back down to Earth, but still way too high. Mt. Everest high. Not only was the total high, but the mix of good and bad cholesterol was all wack-a-doo wrong. The stuff that was supposed to be high was low. The purported low stuff was flaunting its highness.
Since then, I've "tried" to keep my cholesterol numbers down. "Tried" in that I think about it whenever I eat pizza or get fast food. The total numbers always hovered slightly higher than they should have been, but no doctor ever put me on medication and always told me to eat healthily, get some exercise, blah de blah de blah.
Since we said Yes! to Michigan last summer, I got a new physical with a new doctor. Once again, the total numbers came back high with a bizarro mix of good and bad cholesterol. This time, Mr. Doctor Man gave me some actual advice. Raw almonds, he said. They can help get that mix of good and bad cholesterol back to where it should be. A small glass of red wine every other night will help with that too. Losing some weight would be good. Getting some exercise helps a ton. And simply watching what you eat can make a big ol' difference.
My doctor gave me a bunch of options to try. I am opting for www.myfitnesspal.com, a free website where you can enter your food and exercise for the day. It's no magic bullet, but it is interesting for me to actively track my meals every day. Kinda shocking too. I am paying closer attention to calories than ever before. I am learning which foods are good snack options and which are fat bombs. I am enjoying my small glass of red wine. Tonight's was a lovely malbec.
The doctor also gave me an ultimatum: re-check the cholesterol in four months and if there hasn't been a change (and assuming I did my part to lose the weight, eat healthy, etc.), it was time to talk about medications. I'm not anti-pharmaceuticals by any means, but I would sure like to avoid going on cholesterol medication before I'm 35 if I can help it.
I haven't lost any weight to speak of yet. But, hey, the journey is new and I'm still in the newlywed phase, so let's keep at it while the motivation is still there. After all, I want to be able to do this again.
Think it will happen?
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
A Place of Our Own. Lessons in Gravity.
Since the fall of 2010, when we discovered that, not only were we having one but two babies, life has been constantly red-lining and occasionally feeling like the wheels are coming off. Let's recap some of the highlights:
Here's one.
Number two.
Three!
We have lived in four houses. F-O-U-R.
Here's one.
Number two.
Three!
...and four.
Along the way, we started a family. The first few weeks of parenting twins were...rough. However, we were never without an endless supply of help from family and friends for which we are eternally grateful.
Such as here.
And here.
Also here.
(I remember our friends Becca and Joe, themselves the parents of twins about 7 months older than ours, coming over to help us on numerous occasions during those maddeningly sleep-deprived early weeks. I also remember marveling at the fact that they both seemed so...competent...at this twin-parenting thing and not at all tired or walking into furniture. And finally, I remember Becca and Joe telling us that it would get better. I didn't believe them then because I simply couldn't make my brain work through the tired fog. I believe them now. Thank you, guys.)
I graduated from school, passed my boards, got a job.
My wife transitioned from her career to full-time motherhood, saying goodbye to dear friends with whom she had battled through the junior high trenches for years. Now she gets to play with these munchkins all day.
We are getting settled bit by bit into the new place. The mountain of empty boxes shrinks daily, and every day I find new possessions I forgot I owned, they've been boxed up for so long. And apparently I've lost some weight over this stressful year as my skinny skinnier jeans fit again.
Now I leave you with this gem of the boys playing in their new room. It's long, kind of boring in parts, but Eli makes kissing noises and then bangs his head, while his brother flails on the floor and then maybe eats some lint. I'm very proud of my boys.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Old Friends Who Just Met
Every evening, typically after a few big yawns and chubby fists shoved into squinted eyes, it becomes bedtime for Benjamin and Eli. The vibe gets mellow. Backs get rubbed. Voices get softer. Life, it gets slow, man. Shhh.
Anna and I have sung to the boys at bedtime since they were wee high. Not sure how we settled on it, but we quickly worked up a not-half-bad a capella version of "Good Night Sweetheart." Way better than Selleck, Danson, and Guttenberg. We harmonize, dammit.
Lately I've been tinkering with a solo version of one of my personal favorites. Someday I'll work up the harmonica line and really do it up right.
I still have a tough time making it through that one without an inconvenient throat lump. Stupid Muppets and their nostalgia.
No matter what the song, however, my favorite part is the fleeting moment when whomever I am holding gives up the fight and puts their head on my shoulder and begins to drift...off...to...sleep. Their fine motor control has improved to the point where they put their little chubby arms around my neck when they start drifting.
My sons, they hug me good night.
I could get fired, mugged, called ugly, have my Chipotle spill all over my J. Crew clearance khakis, and get into a car accident, and my day would still be good as long as I get me a tiny little good night hug.
PS: Someone recently asked why the boys don't share a crib anymore. This is why.
Anna and I have sung to the boys at bedtime since they were wee high. Not sure how we settled on it, but we quickly worked up a not-half-bad a capella version of "Good Night Sweetheart." Way better than Selleck, Danson, and Guttenberg. We harmonize, dammit.
Lately I've been tinkering with a solo version of one of my personal favorites. Someday I'll work up the harmonica line and really do it up right.
I still have a tough time making it through that one without an inconvenient throat lump. Stupid Muppets and their nostalgia.
No matter what the song, however, my favorite part is the fleeting moment when whomever I am holding gives up the fight and puts their head on my shoulder and begins to drift...off...to...sleep. Their fine motor control has improved to the point where they put their little chubby arms around my neck when they start drifting.
My sons, they hug me good night.
I could get fired, mugged, called ugly, have my Chipotle spill all over my J. Crew clearance khakis, and get into a car accident, and my day would still be good as long as I get me a tiny little good night hug.
PS: Someone recently asked why the boys don't share a crib anymore. This is why.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Baptisms
Parenthood is, in part, a series of decisions made on behalf of one's child(ren). These decisions are made with the child's best interests at heart and little thought is given to the child's approval or disapproval of said decision. Parents choose what their children will eat, what they will wear, what schools they attend. Will they play video games? Will they wear a bike helmet? Will they be allowed to see R-rated movies when they're seven years old?
We had our sons baptized this past weekend. We, as parents, decided for our children that they should know Jesus.
Their grandfather performed the baptisms. Anna decided to get baptized with the boys, as she and her brother were dedicated as infants. An unexpected but perfect addition to the ceremony. It was a wonderful moment full of lumpy throats and beaming prides.
I don't intend to proselytize or set off anyone's religious Spidey-Sense. You believe your beliefs, I'll believe mine.
Yet here's the irony about the whole thing. We decided for our children what they will believe. Or, at least, what they will be taught in Sunday school. We hope that they will come to terms with, and take ownership of, these Christian beliefs that will be presented to them, but in reality they will have the freedom to make their own way in the spiritual world. I know I certainly took a roundabout path to my beliefs. I am glad it happened for me this way as I feel like my beliefs are my own and not merely a set of doctrines handed down from generation to generation.
I hope the boys will listen to the Beatitudes. I hope they come to understand the intricacies of grace and forgiveness and knowing enough to know that they will rarely know enough about a situation to make judgments, especially mean ones, so that might as well be left to Someone More Qualified.
I hope they learn that Jesus was many different things. He was forgiving. He hung out with the uncool. He was wise. He stood his ground. He loved.
I hope they learn about love in the face of imperfection. I hope they are curious and want to learn about other religions, other peoples, other places. Their mother and I will do our best to expand their horizons but no matter how successful we are, the world will be immeasurably bigger than they will comprehend.
I hope they make their own decisions.
We had our sons baptized this past weekend. We, as parents, decided for our children that they should know Jesus.
Their grandfather performed the baptisms. Anna decided to get baptized with the boys, as she and her brother were dedicated as infants. An unexpected but perfect addition to the ceremony. It was a wonderful moment full of lumpy throats and beaming prides.
I don't intend to proselytize or set off anyone's religious Spidey-Sense. You believe your beliefs, I'll believe mine.
Yet here's the irony about the whole thing. We decided for our children what they will believe. Or, at least, what they will be taught in Sunday school. We hope that they will come to terms with, and take ownership of, these Christian beliefs that will be presented to them, but in reality they will have the freedom to make their own way in the spiritual world. I know I certainly took a roundabout path to my beliefs. I am glad it happened for me this way as I feel like my beliefs are my own and not merely a set of doctrines handed down from generation to generation.
I hope the boys will listen to the Beatitudes. I hope they come to understand the intricacies of grace and forgiveness and knowing enough to know that they will rarely know enough about a situation to make judgments, especially mean ones, so that might as well be left to Someone More Qualified.
I hope they learn that Jesus was many different things. He was forgiving. He hung out with the uncool. He was wise. He stood his ground. He loved.
I hope they learn about love in the face of imperfection. I hope they are curious and want to learn about other religions, other peoples, other places. Their mother and I will do our best to expand their horizons but no matter how successful we are, the world will be immeasurably bigger than they will comprehend.
I hope they make their own decisions.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
I have been a professional for nearly a month. To my knowledge, I haven't killed anyone.
Note: not one of my patients.
I have been a parent for three months now. To my knowledge, we haven't lost anyone yet. Unsure whether I have permanently scarred them already or not.
Yep. Still two kids.
I have been a Michigander for a little over a month now.
Pretty.
I'm learning the language and blending in with the locals. "Party store" is not a place where you buy streamers and balloons. Saying you went to "U of M" here means you are a Wolverine, not a Gopher. (I also learned that maize and blue are polar opposite color schemes to spartan green and white.) And they are called "cottages," not "cabins." What strange and interesting folk, these Michiganders.
We have begun an earnest search for a house. The biggest challenge will be narrowing down our options, as houses for sale are as plentiful as dirt (nearly as cheap too). We have a working list of features we'd like in a house which might narrow the field a bit: monkey butlers, robot maids, and Japanese-style toilets.
Ooo...it oscillates!
The boys? The boys are doing just super. Three months old yesterday and sleeping 8-10 hours at night now. Occasionally I have woken up in the morning to my alarm! Not the baby monitor! It is bliss unlike anything I have encountered. I imagine that entering Heaven feels much the same way.
Note: not one of my patients.
I have been a parent for three months now. To my knowledge, we haven't lost anyone yet. Unsure whether I have permanently scarred them already or not.
Yep. Still two kids.
I have been a Michigander for a little over a month now.
Pretty.
I'm learning the language and blending in with the locals. "Party store" is not a place where you buy streamers and balloons. Saying you went to "U of M" here means you are a Wolverine, not a Gopher. (I also learned that maize and blue are polar opposite color schemes to spartan green and white.) And they are called "cottages," not "cabins." What strange and interesting folk, these Michiganders.
We have begun an earnest search for a house. The biggest challenge will be narrowing down our options, as houses for sale are as plentiful as dirt (nearly as cheap too). We have a working list of features we'd like in a house which might narrow the field a bit: monkey butlers, robot maids, and Japanese-style toilets.
Ooo...it oscillates!
The boys? The boys are doing just super. Three months old yesterday and sleeping 8-10 hours at night now. Occasionally I have woken up in the morning to my alarm! Not the baby monitor! It is bliss unlike anything I have encountered. I imagine that entering Heaven feels much the same way.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Orators of the future, speak up!
One week into our new adventure in our new home state. The dust is settling and some of the boxes are being unpacked and a few routines are emerging from the clutter. A new "normal" is here.
Benjamin and Eli are growing, as every sensible baby should. Our last (very) unofficial weigh-in showed that Benjamin is hovering around thirteen pounds while Eli is somewhere in the ballpark of eleven. Feedings are often preceded by inpatient and indignant cries and wails from the boys, indicating that 1) they are displeased with the rate of service and 2) they LOVE formula.
Overall, however, temperaments are cooling and the boys are learning to enjoy life a little more. Smiles are abundant these days, as are the beginnings of language.
Benjamin and Eli are growing, as every sensible baby should. Our last (very) unofficial weigh-in showed that Benjamin is hovering around thirteen pounds while Eli is somewhere in the ballpark of eleven. Feedings are often preceded by inpatient and indignant cries and wails from the boys, indicating that 1) they are displeased with the rate of service and 2) they LOVE formula.
Overall, however, temperaments are cooling and the boys are learning to enjoy life a little more. Smiles are abundant these days, as are the beginnings of language.
The boys are learning what sounds a dove makes.
Sleep is more plentiful. The pace of life is more manageable. Things are good. One last day of "vacation" and then I begin my career as a professional grown-up. No more fartin' around. Time to get serious.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
After all that, now this.
A year ago, I was a child-less student with a mortgage and no minivan. Today, I am a father of two, a professional, a minivan-owning transient. This week marks the end of our time in my home state of Minnesota and the beginning of our new life in Anna's home state of Michigan.
The last couple weeks have been full of pomp and circumstance and studying and celebration. After too many years, I finished my academic career and graduated with a fancy title that no one will use. A week and a half later, I took (and passed) my board exams to make myself officially qualified to practice my craft. Somewhere in there, I accepted a job in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was a busy time.
Now, 3/4 of my family is in Michigan and I am still here in Minnesota, tidying up the loose ends and getting ready to load up the U-Haul. I will have had two days to finish packing and organizing, which I feel is plenty of time, and yet I will never feel comfortable that everything is truly done. Knowing me, I will likely have forgotten somethings. Several somethings.
I don't exactly know what to expect now. No more studying. No more planning for the kids' arrival. No more planning for our move. No more looking for a job. These are all checked off the list and now...there's nothing left on the list. I guess we get to relax a bit? Play with my kids a whole lot more? Maybe go up to the cottage for a time? Hope and pray that the NFL gets its act together so I can finally enjoy a season without having to worry about studying during halftime?
Oh wait. We have to "unpack" and also "look for a more permanent place to live." Forgot about those things.
Honestly, how can you resist the siren call of the Great Lakes State?
The last couple weeks have been full of pomp and circumstance and studying and celebration. After too many years, I finished my academic career and graduated with a fancy title that no one will use. A week and a half later, I took (and passed) my board exams to make myself officially qualified to practice my craft. Somewhere in there, I accepted a job in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was a busy time.
Proof!
Now, 3/4 of my family is in Michigan and I am still here in Minnesota, tidying up the loose ends and getting ready to load up the U-Haul. I will have had two days to finish packing and organizing, which I feel is plenty of time, and yet I will never feel comfortable that everything is truly done. Knowing me, I will likely have forgotten somethings. Several somethings.
I don't exactly know what to expect now. No more studying. No more planning for the kids' arrival. No more planning for our move. No more looking for a job. These are all checked off the list and now...there's nothing left on the list. I guess we get to relax a bit? Play with my kids a whole lot more? Maybe go up to the cottage for a time? Hope and pray that the NFL gets its act together so I can finally enjoy a season without having to worry about studying during halftime?
Oh wait. We have to "unpack" and also "look for a more permanent place to live." Forgot about those things.
Friday, June 10, 2011
What have we learned in four weeks?
I have been a parent for nearly a month now. I've picked up some tips along the way:
Always use the pee pee teepee. Always.
The human body can function on very little sleep. It doesn't function well, but it functions.
The battery companies and the baby gear companies are colluding with each other. Seriously, the SEC should look into this.
White noise white noise white noise. Don't try to sleep without it.
Minivans. Drink the kool-aid.
Every time the alarm goes off for the midnight feeding, I cringe. Then every time one of my sons sleepily looks at me or nuzzles into my neck, I un-cringe. It's wonderful.
If we could derive energy from unsolicited parenting advice, we could power the planet until it is a charred husk about to be devoured by a dying sun.
On the flip side, good parenting advice is worth its weight in gold. Parents have been doing this for years so something must work.
In the end, you have to make your own decisions. And it will be ok.
Finally, the boys seem to already be settling their differences themselves.
Hope you are (sleeping) well.
Always use the pee pee teepee. Always.
The human body can function on very little sleep. It doesn't function well, but it functions.
The battery companies and the baby gear companies are colluding with each other. Seriously, the SEC should look into this.
White noise white noise white noise. Don't try to sleep without it.
Minivans. Drink the kool-aid.
Every time the alarm goes off for the midnight feeding, I cringe. Then every time one of my sons sleepily looks at me or nuzzles into my neck, I un-cringe. It's wonderful.
If we could derive energy from unsolicited parenting advice, we could power the planet until it is a charred husk about to be devoured by a dying sun.
On the flip side, good parenting advice is worth its weight in gold. Parents have been doing this for years so something must work.
In the end, you have to make your own decisions. And it will be ok.
Finally, the boys seem to already be settling their differences themselves.
Hope you are (sleeping) well.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
A Fight To The Birth
On Tuesday, May 10, we had our last prenatal appointment. We knew it was our last because we were entering the 38th week of Anna's pregnancy. The finish line. Our OB, Dr. Mahan, was pleased as punch that Anna was doing as well as she was. We scheduled the induction to begin on Thursday evening with the goal of having two healthy boys arrive sometime Friday.
After we got there, the nurses hooked Anna up to all sorts of doodads and whatnots and told her to relax as much as someone can when they are going to give birth to two human beings within a matter of hours.
Fortunately, some good friends stopped by that night and provided Anna with some distracting and highly entertaining reading material.
This is a real thing you can buy at a real gas station. God bless America.
Our dear friend Becca was Anna's nurse for the first night. Since she was playing a major role in the birth of our children, we gave her a hint that the names started with B and E. When no further hints were given, she made up her own and wrote them on the board, eliciting many awkward compliments from other nurses who would come through the room.
Etoile? Really? Really?
Anna's water broke about 3:00 AM on Friday. She was started on Pitocin around 9:00 AM and valiantly labored for several hours before getting an epidural and some much needed rest. The real fun began about 6:00 PM. She pushed and pushed and pushed some more before finally getting dilated enough to head to the C-section room.
Our doctor was going to let Anna try to deliver these kids naturally but wanted the added security of being in the OR suite Just In Case.
She huffed and puffed and pushed and did pretty much the most amazing thing that can be done on this planet, which is give life to another human being. And she did it TWICE. Benjamin Daniel emerged at 8:15 PM CST on Friday, May 13, all pink and gooey and screaming. He weighed in at a hefty 7 lb 15 oz and a gargantuan 15" head. It was, as anyone who has witnessed it will tell you, the most amazing thing you will ever see. I saw my son be born and he was beautiful (under all that goo).
We were all full of oohs and aahs when Benjamin arrived, so much so that we did not notice the sudden busy-ness with which the medical team was working. The change in tone was palpable: the doctor and nurses were no longer encouraging Anna but were quietly and purposefully talking to one another. I became concerned and asked if something was wrong.
"Baby B's heart rate has dropped to about 60 beats per minute for three minutes now. We need to get him out right away," said a nurse. This was not spoken with panic or dread, but with cool professionalism and more than a little urgency. A vacuum extractor was brought out and attached to Baby B's crown. The doctor told Anna to give one long push. As she did, the doctor pulled on the tube attached to the vacuum extractor attached to my son's head, and out he came.
Instead of a gooey, pink, screaming baby, we had a gooey, purple limp baby. Along with the sight of him came the instant sensation of a lead brick in my stomach, a lump in my throat, and tears in my eyes, all of which I tried to fight back because suddenly I had to be the strong father for my kid. This person I have only just seen and not even touched somehow required my show of strength for his benefit.
Eli Harrison was born at 8:25 PM CST, weighing in at 6 lb 14 oz, though we did not find this out until later. Eli was whisked to a nearby warming table where the neonatal nurses immediately went to work on him, rubbing their hands on his body and forcing air into his tiny lungs. He was breathing, but only just and with the greatest difficulty. I found myself timidly asking a nurse through trembling lips if he was going to be ok. They calmly told me that yes, he would be fine, but he needed immediate care in the nursery. And off he went. And once again I felt that brick and a crushing sense of helplessness.
In the meantime, I had one healthy son and an exhausted but absolutely beautiful wife still in the room. Benjamin was getting pinker by the minute. I was able to hold my oldest son for the first time and it was marvelous.
One of my favorite pictures of all time, taken by my wife while she is still on the delivery table. Amazing.
Benjamin was eventually placed in the special care nursery alongside his brother for some preventative antibiotic treatment. We wheeled Anna back to her room as the grandparents arose from their seats in the waiting room, eager for some news. They saw us come out with no babies so they must have assumed something was amiss. We got Anna settled in the room and I went out to talk to the grandparents and give them the news. I got through the story of Benjamin's birth but as soon as I started telling about Eli's rough entrance, I broke down. Even though I knew by this point that he was breathing room air and pretty much making a full recovery, the weight of that worry and helplessness and those bricks simply became too much. I got extra big hugs from my parents and suddenly I realized how much they loved me and understood what I was feeling.
Benjamin and Eli both made outstanding strides in the nursery. The antibiotics worked wonders, Eli was breathing normally, and we eventually got to keep them in our room. The grandparents played paparazzi and smiled big smiles that must have hurt after a while.
In the end, all was well. In the end, we had a new beginning. Two sleep-deprived and frightened adults took two sleepy and adorable babies out of the hospital and into the world and a family was born.
After we got there, the nurses hooked Anna up to all sorts of doodads and whatnots and told her to relax as much as someone can when they are going to give birth to two human beings within a matter of hours.
Fortunately, some good friends stopped by that night and provided Anna with some distracting and highly entertaining reading material.
This is a real thing you can buy at a real gas station. God bless America.
Our dear friend Becca was Anna's nurse for the first night. Since she was playing a major role in the birth of our children, we gave her a hint that the names started with B and E. When no further hints were given, she made up her own and wrote them on the board, eliciting many awkward compliments from other nurses who would come through the room.
Etoile? Really? Really?
Anna's water broke about 3:00 AM on Friday. She was started on Pitocin around 9:00 AM and valiantly labored for several hours before getting an epidural and some much needed rest. The real fun began about 6:00 PM. She pushed and pushed and pushed some more before finally getting dilated enough to head to the C-section room.
Our doctor was going to let Anna try to deliver these kids naturally but wanted the added security of being in the OR suite Just In Case.
She huffed and puffed and pushed and did pretty much the most amazing thing that can be done on this planet, which is give life to another human being. And she did it TWICE. Benjamin Daniel emerged at 8:15 PM CST on Friday, May 13, all pink and gooey and screaming. He weighed in at a hefty 7 lb 15 oz and a gargantuan 15" head. It was, as anyone who has witnessed it will tell you, the most amazing thing you will ever see. I saw my son be born and he was beautiful (under all that goo).
We were all full of oohs and aahs when Benjamin arrived, so much so that we did not notice the sudden busy-ness with which the medical team was working. The change in tone was palpable: the doctor and nurses were no longer encouraging Anna but were quietly and purposefully talking to one another. I became concerned and asked if something was wrong.
"Baby B's heart rate has dropped to about 60 beats per minute for three minutes now. We need to get him out right away," said a nurse. This was not spoken with panic or dread, but with cool professionalism and more than a little urgency. A vacuum extractor was brought out and attached to Baby B's crown. The doctor told Anna to give one long push. As she did, the doctor pulled on the tube attached to the vacuum extractor attached to my son's head, and out he came.
Instead of a gooey, pink, screaming baby, we had a gooey, purple limp baby. Along with the sight of him came the instant sensation of a lead brick in my stomach, a lump in my throat, and tears in my eyes, all of which I tried to fight back because suddenly I had to be the strong father for my kid. This person I have only just seen and not even touched somehow required my show of strength for his benefit.
Eli Harrison was born at 8:25 PM CST, weighing in at 6 lb 14 oz, though we did not find this out until later. Eli was whisked to a nearby warming table where the neonatal nurses immediately went to work on him, rubbing their hands on his body and forcing air into his tiny lungs. He was breathing, but only just and with the greatest difficulty. I found myself timidly asking a nurse through trembling lips if he was going to be ok. They calmly told me that yes, he would be fine, but he needed immediate care in the nursery. And off he went. And once again I felt that brick and a crushing sense of helplessness.
In the meantime, I had one healthy son and an exhausted but absolutely beautiful wife still in the room. Benjamin was getting pinker by the minute. I was able to hold my oldest son for the first time and it was marvelous.
One of my favorite pictures of all time, taken by my wife while she is still on the delivery table. Amazing.
Benjamin was eventually placed in the special care nursery alongside his brother for some preventative antibiotic treatment. We wheeled Anna back to her room as the grandparents arose from their seats in the waiting room, eager for some news. They saw us come out with no babies so they must have assumed something was amiss. We got Anna settled in the room and I went out to talk to the grandparents and give them the news. I got through the story of Benjamin's birth but as soon as I started telling about Eli's rough entrance, I broke down. Even though I knew by this point that he was breathing room air and pretty much making a full recovery, the weight of that worry and helplessness and those bricks simply became too much. I got extra big hugs from my parents and suddenly I realized how much they loved me and understood what I was feeling.
Benjamin and Eli both made outstanding strides in the nursery. The antibiotics worked wonders, Eli was breathing normally, and we eventually got to keep them in our room. The grandparents played paparazzi and smiled big smiles that must have hurt after a while.
In the end, all was well. In the end, we had a new beginning. Two sleep-deprived and frightened adults took two sleepy and adorable babies out of the hospital and into the world and a family was born.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Marking Time, or Happy Pre-Mother's Day
The boys are no more than a week or so away right now. We have been ready, or at least as ready as we'll ever be, and we are getting impatient. We both want to meet our sons very badly. I also want my wife to be able to sit, stand, sleep, and move comfortably again. I'm damn proud of her for quite literally bearing the burden of growing our children.
She has been an amazing trooper through this pregnancy, putting up with stares from strangers, swollen ankles, disrupted sleeping, and most recently being housebound these last couple of weeks as the OB said her belly is too big to safely be behind the wheel.
She has been careful about what she eats and drinks. Every decision she has made regarding our boys (baby gear, birth plans, feeding options, whatever) was chosen to give our kids every opportunity to be healthy and happy. Mothers do this the world over daily without complaint or question, but now that it is about to take over my entire world, it seems I am just now appreciating it fully. I am thankful that my own mother did this for me and my sisters, and that my wife's mother did the same for her and her brother. We have two excellent models on which to base our own parenting.
Therefore any screw-ups, paste-eating, and running with scissors can be blamed directly on the grandparents.
Happy Mother's Day to all of the women in our families who have carried, birthed, and raised us. Thank you for loving us even when you didn't necessarily like us.
Three moms-to-be at three different stages of pregnancy.
She has been an amazing trooper through this pregnancy, putting up with stares from strangers, swollen ankles, disrupted sleeping, and most recently being housebound these last couple of weeks as the OB said her belly is too big to safely be behind the wheel.
Gram Wicks
She has been careful about what she eats and drinks. Every decision she has made regarding our boys (baby gear, birth plans, feeding options, whatever) was chosen to give our kids every opportunity to be healthy and happy. Mothers do this the world over daily without complaint or question, but now that it is about to take over my entire world, it seems I am just now appreciating it fully. I am thankful that my own mother did this for me and my sisters, and that my wife's mother did the same for her and her brother. We have two excellent models on which to base our own parenting.
Mother Miller and my lovely wife
Gram Vanderkolk and yours truly
Grandma Miller and my father-in-law
Happy mother's day, Mom
Happy Mother's Day to all of the women in our families who have carried, birthed, and raised us. Thank you for loving us even when you didn't necessarily like us.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Now it's personal
(Yes, we took the month of March off. We were...busy.)
We are mere weeks away (hopefully) from welcoming Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum into the world with open arms and we have been bizzay. We've moved into a wonderful little rental house with an astounding view and lots of storage space. We bought a minivan that once smelled like leftover Korean food but now just smells like industrial cleaner. Behold.
Dead sexy, no? And the van ain't too bad either.
Also, there have been job interviews, baby classes, doctor appointments, and one long ordeal of trying to sell a house.
The nursery has been set up beautifully by Mama Bear and we can't wait to fill it with wee ones. Except now we have an infestation of carpenter ants in that room. Never seen them? They look like this:
I'm not one to be grossed out by the creepy crawly things of this world, but something about the idea of these suckers taking over the nursery triggered a manly "protect my kids" reflex. I vacuumed up scores of them with a vengeance. I was like Rambo with an upright canister vacuum flamethrower. A grim half-smile crept across my face as I felt each one go "thoomp" into the hose. A tiny voice in my head said "why are you reveling in the destruction of these harmless ants?" To which I replied, "They drew first blood."
Regardless of my bravado, these things will likely have to be taken care of properly by an exterminator. Anybody with any experience of dealing with carpenter ants before? How did it go?
We are mere weeks away (hopefully) from welcoming Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum into the world with open arms and we have been bizzay. We've moved into a wonderful little rental house with an astounding view and lots of storage space. We bought a minivan that once smelled like leftover Korean food but now just smells like industrial cleaner. Behold.
Dead sexy, no? And the van ain't too bad either.
Also, there have been job interviews, baby classes, doctor appointments, and one long ordeal of trying to sell a house.
The nursery has been set up beautifully by Mama Bear and we can't wait to fill it with wee ones. Except now we have an infestation of carpenter ants in that room. Never seen them? They look like this:
I'm not one to be grossed out by the creepy crawly things of this world, but something about the idea of these suckers taking over the nursery triggered a manly "protect my kids" reflex. I vacuumed up scores of them with a vengeance. I was like Rambo with an upright canister vacuum flamethrower. A grim half-smile crept across my face as I felt each one go "thoomp" into the hose. A tiny voice in my head said "why are you reveling in the destruction of these harmless ants?" To which I replied, "They drew first blood."
Regardless of my bravado, these things will likely have to be taken care of properly by an exterminator. Anybody with any experience of dealing with carpenter ants before? How did it go?
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