Saturday, July 4, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
I Thought We Were Over This Part...
0245 local
Me: ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Kid (via Baby Monitor): Daddy? Mommy?
Me: Snort. Huh? Wuh?
Kid (via Baby Monitor): I hungry. Need hummus.
Me: [groan]
Kid (audible without monitor): WAAAAAAAAAAA!
Me: [grumble]
I walk (stumble, really) into The Kid's room. She's standing in the crib, tears running down her face. She wasn't feeling well earlier in the evening, and didn't have much in the way of dinner. Truth be told, she doesn't actually want to eat. She wants to be all better, and mommy and daddy can do that, right.
Turns out that as parents we're not endowed with magical powers to heal the sick, as much as we may want to. It also turns out that a good hug and a reassuring rub on the back can work wonders. We rocked in the chair, the two of us, in the dark.
Once I was relatively confident she was back in dreamland, I carefully put her back in the crib, making sure she had her blanket and paci-FIRE*.
I gave her a kiss on the forehead and tucked her in.
As I turn away, I hear a muffled "I love you, Daddy."
Hard to go to get back to sleep after that. In a good way.
Me: ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Kid (via Baby Monitor): Daddy? Mommy?
Me: Snort. Huh? Wuh?
Kid (via Baby Monitor): I hungry. Need hummus.
Me: [groan]
Kid (audible without monitor): WAAAAAAAAAAA!
Me: [grumble]
I walk (stumble, really) into The Kid's room. She's standing in the crib, tears running down her face. She wasn't feeling well earlier in the evening, and didn't have much in the way of dinner. Truth be told, she doesn't actually want to eat. She wants to be all better, and mommy and daddy can do that, right.
Turns out that as parents we're not endowed with magical powers to heal the sick, as much as we may want to. It also turns out that a good hug and a reassuring rub on the back can work wonders. We rocked in the chair, the two of us, in the dark.
Once I was relatively confident she was back in dreamland, I carefully put her back in the crib, making sure she had her blanket and paci-FIRE*.
I gave her a kiss on the forehead and tucked her in.
As I turn away, I hear a muffled "I love you, Daddy."
Hard to go to get back to sleep after that. In a good way.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Hester von Prynnenstein, Duchess of Bavaria
This is my cat.Her name is Hester Prynne (don’t ask). Truth told, her full name is Hester von Prynnenstein, Duchess of Bavaria. We call her Prynnie for short.
I’ve had her for 14 years. Got her as a kitten, and she has been my constant companion over the years.
Those who know me are well aware that the two of us are virtually inseparable. She sleeps on my pillow every night, and is never far from one of our laps.
About 2 weeks ago, she was losing her appetite and, not to put too fine a point on it, piddling where she oughtn’t. A trip to the vet was in order, so on Friday last I got her in the carrier (no easy task), and took her over to the local Cat Clinic for a look-see.
14 year-old cats are approaching old age, and, like us, begin to have health issues. I am a rational adult, and fully aware of the circle of life and all that crap. Still, it’s never easy to confront.
Blood tests were done and results acquired. Although the doc said “we don’t like to use the term ‘kidney failure’”, the term “early stages of kidney non-functionality” sounds suspiciously like kidney failure. To me anyway. What do I know? I didn’t go to vet school, but I did take an English class or two over the years.
“There are options”, says she. There always are. “Hospitalization for fluid treatments, or you can do it at home. It’s easy. We’ll even show you how.” This, dear reader, is when money rears its ugly head. Economics have to be taken into account. There’s also that pesky “quality of life” nut to crack. Another tough one. I can’t really explain to a cat why she has to endure such things, much less endure it somewhere other than home. The Wife and I decided to go with home care. That means, dear friends, that every night, after we have all supped and The Kid safely and snuggly a-bed, we collect the cat, IV bag, and needle. 18g x 1”, for those readers who are medically trained (Hi Caroline and Lili!).
We hang the bag, insert the needle under her skin and spend the next 15 minutes or so waiting for the appropriate dosage of potassium chloride, for to restore some of that “kidney non-functionality”. Does she tolerate it? Surprisingly well, actually. After 4 weeks of this, we’ll re-evaluate. The Wife has been enormously supportive through this, further affirming the validity of the commitment we made to each other on that beautiful March afternoon. A typical conversation goes something like this; “Are you OK?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Are you lying?” “A little.” Then a hug, which I graciously accept.
It’s gonna be a long month.
I’ve had her for 14 years. Got her as a kitten, and she has been my constant companion over the years.
Those who know me are well aware that the two of us are virtually inseparable. She sleeps on my pillow every night, and is never far from one of our laps.
About 2 weeks ago, she was losing her appetite and, not to put too fine a point on it, piddling where she oughtn’t. A trip to the vet was in order, so on Friday last I got her in the carrier (no easy task), and took her over to the local Cat Clinic for a look-see.
14 year-old cats are approaching old age, and, like us, begin to have health issues. I am a rational adult, and fully aware of the circle of life and all that crap. Still, it’s never easy to confront.
Blood tests were done and results acquired. Although the doc said “we don’t like to use the term ‘kidney failure’”, the term “early stages of kidney non-functionality” sounds suspiciously like kidney failure. To me anyway. What do I know? I didn’t go to vet school, but I did take an English class or two over the years.
“There are options”, says she. There always are. “Hospitalization for fluid treatments, or you can do it at home. It’s easy. We’ll even show you how.” This, dear reader, is when money rears its ugly head. Economics have to be taken into account. There’s also that pesky “quality of life” nut to crack. Another tough one. I can’t really explain to a cat why she has to endure such things, much less endure it somewhere other than home. The Wife and I decided to go with home care. That means, dear friends, that every night, after we have all supped and The Kid safely and snuggly a-bed, we collect the cat, IV bag, and needle. 18g x 1”, for those readers who are medically trained (Hi Caroline and Lili!).
We hang the bag, insert the needle under her skin and spend the next 15 minutes or so waiting for the appropriate dosage of potassium chloride, for to restore some of that “kidney non-functionality”. Does she tolerate it? Surprisingly well, actually. After 4 weeks of this, we’ll re-evaluate. The Wife has been enormously supportive through this, further affirming the validity of the commitment we made to each other on that beautiful March afternoon. A typical conversation goes something like this; “Are you OK?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Are you lying?” “A little.” Then a hug, which I graciously accept.
It’s gonna be a long month.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Same as it Ever Was
Deployments are a part of military life, and Navy life in particular. My father flew the P-3 Orion, land-based patrol aircraft. When he was in a flying billet, he was deployed pretty much half of the time. 6 months home, 6 months away, in a never-ending rotation. It was only during a "shore duty" command that he was home more often than that.
At the time, the Army and Air Force were different. Although they didn't deploy per se, those families tended to move a lot more often, and lived in way more exotic places (back then) like Korea and Germany. I knew Air Force brats that moved pretty much every 18 to 24 months for years on end.
Me, I liked the Navy way better. Sure it sucked dad being gone, but abode stability was a small price to pay for having a dad with the coolest job in the world short of astronaut or secret agent. And those involve significantly more travel, from what I hear.
In any case, I was recently going through some old pictures that my parents converted from slides (remember them?) into the much more robust format of the digital image, and I came across this one:
Patuxent River Naval Air Station, July 1971. VP-49 is leaving for a deployment to Keflavik Iceland, a base where I would serve (if ever so briefly) some 30-odd years later.
The young LT walking across the ramp is my father, and the woman holding the infant is my mother. I'm the infant, in case you hadn't gotten that far. This scene is replayed across the Navy every day of the year. Always has been, always will be. Sailors walk away from their families to an airplane, ship or sub, or even a commercial airliner for folks that do what I do.
As a kid, what did I know? It was a part of life. Didn't all dads do that? I can't recall ever thinking, "gosh, it sucks that my daddy has to do that". I thought they all did.
I don't think it was until I had to leave my own daughter that I understood what it must have been even remotely like. And his deployments were pre email and international phone calls for less than $10 per minute. We got letters, most of which I have kept. Yes dad, I'm being a good boy for mommy and I have cleaned my room.
Have you ever watched one of those History Channel-esque documentaries on the military? And how they have the obligatory scene of the return from the deployment? Yeah, still kinda chokes me up.
But you know what? It makes me truly appreciate my family. My wife, my loving parents, and my absolutely perfect daughter.
But do you know what I thought was really interesting about this picture?
See that number on the tail? 156529?
That plane is still flying. Converted to an EP-3 and assigned to VQ-2, according to the latest information.
That means that sometime in the next 12 months or so, there will probably be another young LT walking on a ramp, towards that same plane, with his wife and infant son waiving goodbye.
At the time, the Army and Air Force were different. Although they didn't deploy per se, those families tended to move a lot more often, and lived in way more exotic places (back then) like Korea and Germany. I knew Air Force brats that moved pretty much every 18 to 24 months for years on end.
Me, I liked the Navy way better. Sure it sucked dad being gone, but abode stability was a small price to pay for having a dad with the coolest job in the world short of astronaut or secret agent. And those involve significantly more travel, from what I hear.
In any case, I was recently going through some old pictures that my parents converted from slides (remember them?) into the much more robust format of the digital image, and I came across this one:
Patuxent River Naval Air Station, July 1971. VP-49 is leaving for a deployment to Keflavik Iceland, a base where I would serve (if ever so briefly) some 30-odd years later.
The young LT walking across the ramp is my father, and the woman holding the infant is my mother. I'm the infant, in case you hadn't gotten that far. This scene is replayed across the Navy every day of the year. Always has been, always will be. Sailors walk away from their families to an airplane, ship or sub, or even a commercial airliner for folks that do what I do.
As a kid, what did I know? It was a part of life. Didn't all dads do that? I can't recall ever thinking, "gosh, it sucks that my daddy has to do that". I thought they all did.
I don't think it was until I had to leave my own daughter that I understood what it must have been even remotely like. And his deployments were pre email and international phone calls for less than $10 per minute. We got letters, most of which I have kept. Yes dad, I'm being a good boy for mommy and I have cleaned my room.
Have you ever watched one of those History Channel-esque documentaries on the military? And how they have the obligatory scene of the return from the deployment? Yeah, still kinda chokes me up.
But you know what? It makes me truly appreciate my family. My wife, my loving parents, and my absolutely perfect daughter.
But do you know what I thought was really interesting about this picture?
See that number on the tail? 156529?
That plane is still flying. Converted to an EP-3 and assigned to VQ-2, according to the latest information.
That means that sometime in the next 12 months or so, there will probably be another young LT walking on a ramp, towards that same plane, with his wife and infant son waiving goodbye.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
More Birthday Fun
And a new family member to announce...
No, it isn't another kid.
Now that the grandparents are breathing again, We went to another second birthday party today. A wonderful couple we met at our birth classes. Their kid was born a week after ours, so there's always back-to-back festivities.
No, it isn't another kid.
Now that the grandparents are breathing again, We went to another second birthday party today. A wonderful couple we met at our birth classes. Their kid was born a week after ours, so there's always back-to-back festivities.
The Kid had fun, too. A sand table filled with rice was pretty cool. A lot less clean-up for everyone.
Lastly (because I know you're dying to see what I'm talking about), the hosts had a raffle. The object was to guess the number of goldfish crackers in a jar. I guessed 502, since the date was 05/02. Figured the hosts were being clever and making it a fun game with a twist. Turns out the actual number was 600. The number itself didn't mean anything. I have a tendency to overthink things on occasion.
Anywhoo,
The actual prize was Dorothy.
So Lily, Toolbox, Grandma and Grandpa, meet your new Grandfish.
The Kid likes her, and The Cat seems mildly intrigued by the new addition.
As we were leaving the party, the birthday girl's grandparents offered us a little advice.
"It's a lot easier to replace it than explain what happened to it."
Lots of wisdom there. Probably based on experience.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Birthday Fun
As I noted last week, The Kid's birthday party was on Saturday, and what a day it was. The Wife went with a ladybug theme this year, including ladybug and flower cupcakes.
So the children played in the sandbox.
While the menfolk talked of manly things.
Remember those cupcakes with the bright red frosting? Yeah, that may have been, in retrospect, a dangerous move. Ever seen a toddler eat a cupcake?
The first thing I thought of when I saw this was "the first rule of Toddler Fight Club is you don't talk about Toddler Fight Club."
As for The Kid, I think she really enjoyed spending time with her "boyfriend" from daycare, Johnnie. I dunno. Take a look at this and tell me they're not smitten with each other
Or this one
Methinks it's going to be a rough couple of decades.
So the children played in the sandbox.
While the menfolk talked of manly things.
Remember those cupcakes with the bright red frosting? Yeah, that may have been, in retrospect, a dangerous move. Ever seen a toddler eat a cupcake?
The first thing I thought of when I saw this was "the first rule of Toddler Fight Club is you don't talk about Toddler Fight Club."
As for The Kid, I think she really enjoyed spending time with her "boyfriend" from daycare, Johnnie. I dunno. Take a look at this and tell me they're not smitten with each other
Or this one
Methinks it's going to be a rough couple of decades.
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