Category: family

Pots a-Bubbling

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October seems to have ended up very eventful with November proving to be no less so.  I’ve been very busy at work (sorry to my handful of readers), there have been a number of activities at home including a birthday for Grasshopper (he’s 4 now), a number of events for the kids including Y classes and Daisy troop events for Cricket, and a new addition to the family, and between voting, jury duty and a scheduled surgery there are plenty of events on the horizon.

Wait what?!  New family member??  Yes.  We adopted a kitten from a work colleague who had a litter to offload.  Penelope is about 10 weeks old and has been part of the household now for about a week.  After a half-hour car ride to my office, a brief period of ogling by various ladies who sit nearby, and then another half-hour ride to her new home, she was sufficiently traumatized such that she spent 2 days hiding under the couch.  But since then she has come out of her shell and has become much more playful and exploratory.  We took the pet plunge because we had promised Cricket back at the beginning of the summer that we would consider it.  Since she seemed ready for it and open to being partially responsible for it, we took the opportunity when one came up.  Ironically, Cricket has been a bit timid with her due to an early scratching, and conversely Grasshopper (the human Tonka truck) has been incredibly gentle and affectionate with her.  On a similarly ironic note, despite my wife’s mild allergy towards cats and my concerted and successful effort in acclimating the kitten to its new home, most evenings after the kids are in bed, Penelope opts to cuddle with my wife on the couch (often resulting in her putting Penelope aside several times due to sneezing fits).

Yes, I did mention surgery.  On Friday I go under the knife (or more precisely the big needle).  I will be undergoing a procedure called Percutaneous Nephrostolithotomy to remove a kidney stone that is approximately 1.2 inches in diameter with 2 or 3 stag horns protruding from it.  The procedure will involve putting a 1 cm tube through a hole in my back in order to pulverize and extract the stone (so no souvenir necklace is likely).  I’ll be in the hospital for one day (possibly 2, but not likely) and then on bed rest for a week.  After that I’m sure I’ll be getting a list of instructions on what sorts of dietary changes I may need to make to avoid reformation.  My dad, who has gout issues, seems pretty confident that my stones are based on the same chemical build-up as his flare-ups, thus he has been giving me advice on homeopathic treatments I should consider.  Though in truth there is only about a 5% chance that they share a common cause.

So in preparation of all these events, it seems I will be spending my lunch hour today at the drivers license office so that I have a valid, unexpired license in time to vote, attend my jury summons, and in general not face the complications of handing over 3 other pieces of paper each time I need to show my license.  My wife seems of the mindset that I cannot accomplish this in the confines of an hour on a weekday, but I am optimistic.  And hopefully I will find time in the following weeks to write more about the events on the near horizon.

Ebony, Ivory, and Other Hard Woods

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This weekend had been significantly more eventful than most recently.  Among these events were a couple of parties, a couple of changes to the household, a couple hours of work that I could have done without, and a couple more projects on my to do list.  Most of these (except the work-related part) can be traced back to my mother coming to visit, and all seem to be related to wood in some way.

My parents as well as my wife and I were invited to a surprise 25th-anniversary party on Saturday for my uncle (the party being the surprise part – I’m pretty sure they were aware of the marital milestone).  My mom, being the opportunist that she is, planned to come up on Thursday so that she could get in some visitation with the kids.  As usual, this visit seemed to dovetail into tackling projects that we had otherwise left in a primordial phase (for some reason my wife thought she could stave this off by tackling all open painting projects earlier in the week – so silly).  The first to bubble up was tearing up the carpeting in the living room – something my wife had been wrestling with for weeks (weighing her hatred for the state of the carpet with her fear of the state of the floor beneath it).  Naturally we dove into it and less than an hour later our living room floor was bare.  As it turns out, it is going to need some work – I now have the pending projects of sistering the joists, tacking the floorboard more firmly to the new joists, patching, sanding,  polishing and finishing the floor, and then debating with my wife over whether we should top it with a new floating floor.  But at least I don’t have to hear any more about the carpet.

The next conversation thread that came up on Thursday night after we were settled on our newly repositioned couch was Christmas – specifically gift ideas.  My mom had the idea that she wanted to get each family a very high-end electronic piano (apparently as part of this plan she had already bought one that my sister declined – my mom conveniently claimed that one as her own with, I’m sure, no regrets).  In our case she decided to have the conversation before dropping the chunk of change.  And apparently our consent to the idea cascaded to a shopping trip on Friday so that by the time I got home on Friday evening my kids were already accustomed to fighting over who gets to play next (my wife is slightly more patient, though this gift will likely parallel that of Rock Band last year in that most nights as I’m saying goodnight to the kids she will already be engrossed in playing – at least with this she can wear headphones and not pique the kids’ curiosity to any noise sources).  I have to say that it is an awesome keyboard – it is a full set of 88 keys, full-sized and fully weighted.  If has plenty of options including a built in metronome and a variety of very realistic instrument voices.

As a welcome distraction from our creaky floor and the kids slowly learning not to abuse their new toy, we headed to the surprise party Saturday afternoon.  There my wife, mother and I enjoyed a reconnecting with a number of relatives we don’t get to see often as well as others we didn’t even know we had (some of them classifiable by the third part of this post’s title).  My cousin did a splendid job not only preparing for and conducting such a party, but managing to keep knowledge of it from its victims right to the moment they walked in the door (right down to making sure no suspicious cars would be parked near the house).  It was great to have that time with them.  My aunts even made time to join us for breakfast the next morning before getting back on the road for their long journey to upstate New York.

As this post has grown longer than intended, I will close with on final story that may seem like a non-sequitur, but isn’t quite.  This morning our routine was convoluted more so than usual by the fact that my wife’s car needed to be dropped off for service due to a scraping noise coming from the front, driver’s-side corner.  If I had had the time, I may have looked into it myself to some extent, but I got home late from work the night before and didn’t have any time in the morning to do more than drive it around the block before committing to the tasks before us.  My wife, as is characteristic, worried her way through a variety of ridiculously expensive possibilities such as  a broken brake shoe, blown shocks or struts, or even a cracked axle.  As it turned out, the true culprit was a piece of wood – a tree branch wedged in the suspension.  Supposedly in the process of correcting this issue, the shop noted wear in the sway bar and still managed to score around $300 from us.  But all said it seems wood is the theme ingredient of my week.

Dawn of a New Day

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This week my wife received a rare gift – freedom.  For the first time in at least 4 years my wife had the benefit of time in a day without a kid in tow or a phone-call away from needing to be picked up.   You see when we discovered we were having a second child, it quickly became evident that daycare costs strongly outweighed the benefits of a second income (at least at the level of income we were accustomed to earning).  So my wife drew the short straw of being the stay-at-home parent and has subsisted at some level of harried-ness ever since (I could often gauge that level by how early in the day I’d get the IM asking when I’d be coming home – 5:00=relatively good day, 2:30=pick up gin on the way home).  But this week that all changed.  This week both children started a new school year – Cricket in first grade and Grasshopper in pre-school.

Tuesday was Cricket’s first day.  The night before seemed to require a number of pep talks due to nerves and fears over the changes to her routine (new teacher, new room, some new classmates).  After my wife’s pep talk seemed to leave her more skittish, I gave her a relate-able story from my own youth that got her not only out of her funk, but looking forward to school.  She was all set in the morning in her pink flowery outfit and sporting her new princess backpack (the pink fedora got nixed in favor of pigtails despite her pleading).  As a family we all walked to her school (it is only a few blocks away within our neighborhood), got her in the right line into the school, and made the trek back home where I hopped in the car and headed to work and my wife and Grasshopper got to some fun mommy-son time (probably involving sword-fighting).

Wednesday was Grasshopper’s first day.  Though his was somewhat abbreviated as it was an orientation day and he insisted that I be the one to go with him to it (good thing my office is fairly flexible about when I get in).  So he and I got to play in his new classroom with all his classmates and their moms.  Since it is the same pre-school that Cricket went to, several of the teachers and administrators came and fawned over him as the young male version of his sister (it won’t take them long to figure out how different they are from each other).  He played at almost every station in the room with the possible exception of the dress-up station (which I took with relief as I knew he would likely have put on a cape and possibly started to refer to himself as Captain Cockwarts – I have no explanation for this one, he seemed to just make up this persona this weekend).  At the end of the day, mommy came to pick him up so I could jet on to work from there.

So going forward, my wife will have Tuesdays and Thursdays with just Grasshopper, and the rest of the weekdays to herself until after lunch.  I’m sure she is already planning how these slots of time will be filled.  I’m also sure she is bittersweet about it as it is time she will miss spending with her babies (I almost said angels, but that would be grossly inaccurate).  I’m fairly certain that I won’t get nearly as many 2:30 pleas as to when I’ll be coming home, but I’d also be willing to bet I’ll get a lot more IMs from her before lunch (if I worked closer to home, maybe I’d go home for … lunch).  The point is that she will finally have a share of personal freedom in her life to do with as she pleases.  My calendar, however, already seems to be filling up with more items (e.g., back-to-school nights, parent events, taking the kids to YMCA classes).  Ah well.

Big Hearts, Short Sleeves

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It is interesting how much emotion can be conveyed with a small amount of words.  For instance, this morning as I was getting ready to leave the house I called up the stairs to everyone to let them know that I was leaving for work.  Each of my family members replied in turn in their own unique ways:

Grasshopper: BYE DADDY, I LOVE YOU!

Cricket: I belong to you, Daddy!

My wife: The money is on the table.

The last sounds odd out of context, though in truth there was no immediate conversational context to it – my wife and I just have a very down-to-earth relationship and have a knack for picking up random long-dead conversation threads and/or answering each others unasked questions.  But the tone of each response reflects much greater depth of the emotions behind them than the words themselves convey.  My kids are full of exuberant, idealistic affection for the father that they only see in passing in the morning and for a few hours in the evening. My wife, already in the trenches of dealing with getting the kids ready for the day, sticks with purposeful messaging (the love we share is known, implied, and not in need of constant reinforcement).

I can’t help but wonder sometimes, when in my own life the level of emotional openness and heightened expression that my kids seem to exude had faded.  What are the factors that delay or expedite this process?  When should I expect my daughter to transition from her current puppy-dog phase to something more similar to the cynical teen that I’m sure she might become?  Should I try to stave it off or just accept what comes?

The oddity of it is that it is so dissimilar to my own attitude I find myself sometimes wondering if we are really related.  I wouldn’t necessarily call myself cynical (though I certainly maintain a healthy level of cynicism), but I’m definitely a picture of nonchalance.  A perfect example of my cool under pressure demeanor is one that is often cited by my in-laws – usually around Thanksgiving.

The event in question happened during a Thanksgiving about a decade ago at my wife’s aunt’s house.  While my aunt-in-law and several other of the matriarchs of the family were buzzing about the kitchen and the majority of the men and children where engrossed in whatever football game happened to be on, I walked through the dining room to grab a snack from the kitchen island on the other end of it.  As I did so, I noticed that one of the drip candles that were on the table seemed to have dropped a piece of wick and as a result a circle of the tablecloth about two inches across had been charred and was slowly edging wider by some very low flames.  I calmly walked into the kitchen and asked my aunt-in-law “Aunt Ann, your table is on fire.  Do you have a pot holder I can borrow?” to which she responded with a flabbergasted “What!?”.  While she wended through the people in the kitchen to get to the dining room and see what I was referring to, I grabbed the first thing I could find to handle the task – a damp dishrag.  By the time I got back there, she and two of my wife’s cousins were watching the now soda-can diameter ring of fire in abject shock.  I skirted around them and patted the fire out with the dishrag, blew out the candles to avoid any possible recurrence, and grabbed a couple of sweet gherkins from the pickle tray and went about my business.    The rest of the ladies seemed to bustle about it for a while before the table was retrimmed and the commotion reformed in the kitchen where it previously resided.  Many of the men didn’t even seem to notice anything had happened.  But my aunt-in-law tells the story of it almost every year.

Anyway, I know that I am somewhat unique in my lack of excitability.  But there are times when I wish a little of it would rub off on my kids (and perhaps at moments my wife as well).  While I appreciate the positive end of their heightened emotional state, the negative side of it is rarely much fun.  Cricket is a picture of indecisiveness – she can easily waste a half-hour trying to decide whether pink or yellow shorts go better with the brown shirt she is wearing (and then throw on leprechaun socks).  Grasshopper will have a 20-minute stand off over not liking green beans (including throwing silverware and having a tantrum across the house) before finally eating a forkful and realizing he loves them.  The trouble with family drama seems to be the balance – keeping the levels of comedy and tragedy in line and not pegged at 11.

End of the Line

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I wish I could say that I was sitting comfortably and at ease as I write this.  But that is, for the time being, not possible.  I currently feel generally like I’ve been kicked where it hurts, and the feeling is likely not going to go away for a while.

See, this morning I took action on a decision my wife and I have made regarding the growth of our family – namely that it is done growing.  So after having talked to my doctor and then a urologist, this morning I went under the knife (more like a needle, a scalpel, and a cauterizing gun).  The procedure was pretty simple (note the use of the word simple, not easy) – in less than an hour I was in and out and on my way home.  Unfortunately within that hour I had to be cleaned, shorn, injected with Novocaine, and have things pushed, pulled, and poked around (parts of which were performed by a nurse so burly that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see prison tattoos on her arms).  Of course, as the doctor is going through these steps he is also chatting with me about things like work, computers, etc.  While I appreciated the distraction, it is hard to concentrate on talking about what my company does while someone is trying to shift things into position by hand.

The good part of the aftermath is that my wife was kind enough to have the kids at her mom’s house for the day.  The last thing I need right now is Grasshopper being the Kamikaze ninja that he often seems to pretend to be all over me as I try to sit and relax on the couch.  The down side is that it is almost too quiet around here – I have a feeling the day will tend to drag out as a result.  Though I’m not really willing to sacrifice my safety and comfort in the name of making the time more interesting with the kids around.  I’m sure I’ll manage to keep myself occupied.

Another down side is that this is not the only medical concern I have to deal with right now.  I potentially have at least two more procedures to endure in the near future related to other issues.   For one, I seem to have a tooth that needs to be pulled and replaced with an implant (neither of which I’m looking forward to).  Secondly, I have a kidney stone that is about an inch in diameter that will need to be surgically removed (at least I won’t have to pass it).  If I were an optimist, perhaps I would feel good in the fact that I’ll have an excuse to use up some vacation days before the end of the year (though not really in forms that could be considered enjoyable).

So, barring any unforeseen complications with today’s events, I am highly unlikely to have to worry about having any more children.  While there is no doubt that I love the two I have, two is a fine number to have (and I’m not really up for another infant – I’m done with diapers).  In a world growing as rapidly as it is, I’ll stick with breaking even in my own contributions to it.  And now I can just sit back and enjoy what I have (aside from some temporary discomfort).