This is a bit dated, but here's some video we took the first day we put the toddler bed in Caleb's room. I think he mistook it for a trampoline, but, nevertheless, he was pretty excited.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
blah blah Wednesday
I don't suppose I've written much about this, but about two months ago my publisher decided to reorganize itself around SPU's or "spews" if you like: strategic publishing units. Gone is the comfortable fireside glow of the word "imprint" to be replaced by this term only modernity could love. My imprint, W Publishing Group, was split in two, one side becoming practical theology or "practical living" and the other side systematic theology or "spiritual growth." This term spiritual growth is amusing. We publish Hank Hanegraaff, Brian Maclaren, Mike Erre--authors that investigate spiritual themes (some books, lets face it, are really extended sermons), but rather than call us something like "ideas and issues" we get the postmodern-lite spiritual growth. At first it seemed like, aside from some book shuffling, nothing much was changing. A few added responsibilities. Some new skills. But then my boss turned in his resignation, and now the forces of opportunity and chaos have switched into a much higher gear.
L. is continuing her transformation into a successful freelance writer. She just picked up another gig a week or so ago for wcities.com, and she's probably going to pick up more before Summertime. This is what she went to school for, and I'm glad to see her doing it. When we were dating, she wrote editorial pieces for The Elizabethton Star, and shortly after we moved to Massachusetts she wrote for a Christian rag based in the North Shore. Words make you aware of things. You start writing, you start coming aware. Our conversations around the house are made that much more interesting with every new piece she's doing. I like it.
God gave Kara a math brain. She's bringing home tests--yes they test you in first grade now because, you know, life is so urgent for us here in the twenty-first century--of eighty or so math problems and she's doing well on them. The other night for fun I substituted an x for a number in an equation and gave it to her. So, I said, what do you think the x stands for? She barely looked over from her coloring: five. What about this? Two. Her spelling is getting better also. Really, whatever funk Kara was in last year, she seems to be pulling out of it now.
L. is continuing her transformation into a successful freelance writer. She just picked up another gig a week or so ago for wcities.com, and she's probably going to pick up more before Summertime. This is what she went to school for, and I'm glad to see her doing it. When we were dating, she wrote editorial pieces for The Elizabethton Star, and shortly after we moved to Massachusetts she wrote for a Christian rag based in the North Shore. Words make you aware of things. You start writing, you start coming aware. Our conversations around the house are made that much more interesting with every new piece she's doing. I like it.
God gave Kara a math brain. She's bringing home tests--yes they test you in first grade now because, you know, life is so urgent for us here in the twenty-first century--of eighty or so math problems and she's doing well on them. The other night for fun I substituted an x for a number in an equation and gave it to her. So, I said, what do you think the x stands for? She barely looked over from her coloring: five. What about this? Two. Her spelling is getting better also. Really, whatever funk Kara was in last year, she seems to be pulling out of it now.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Caleb finally sleeps in the truck
Shhhhh! Caleb is sleeping in his toddler bed for the first time! Don't wake him. L. found him curled up with blankets around his little people airport. She would have taken his photograph, flash and everything, if the batteries hadn't run out. As it was, I took some night-vision Hi8 video of the sleeping lad--who knows if that will ever be converted into something available to the twenty-first century.
But wait . . . did you know about the recent addition of the toddler bed? Have I mentioned it in all of its amazingly adorable fire-engine sweetness? Did I say something about the real working light on top of the plastic cab?
I'm on day three of a neck cramp. I got these a few times in Junior High, and then again when I was writing my thesis, and then suddenly Friday morning I woke up with it. Not a thing you can do, really, just find a place to put your head and wait it out. I have taken a zillion milligrams of Ibuprofen in the last 52 hours, applied that marvelous chemical substance Icy Hot quite liberally to my neck and shoulders, and alternated cold and hot presses. Nothing really works. See, it is exciting things like this that keep you coming back to this blog.
Several large organizational projects have been put into the past tense in recent weeks. We got rid of a lot of stuff. The Pampered Chef stuff has been weeded like tares at the last judgment. Caleb's clothes were picked through, and my bookshelves migrated into the living room. (It is not commonly known, but bookshelves do slowly move around a house in the manner of subject-specific ents.) Besides completing household projects, L is also between writing assignments, though she has picked up a travel-writing gig. We'll blog more on that later. The resulting hiatus means that L is scrapbooking again.
I always like it when she does this. People really love the scrapbooks she has made over the years--we have a whole shelf of them. People love flipping through them, and their thematic quality provides a lot more narrative shape to what they are looking at than if we'd just thrust a pack of four-by-sixes at them. Plus it is always interesting to see the crafty stuff that she adds to it. Like just now she is scrapping our visit to the aquarium in Gatlinburg last summer. Funky scissors and multicolored paper come together and next thing you know she's made all this interesting coral with fish swimming around it as a frame for the lower portion of each page.
Finally, I've been reading the final draft of a new book coming out by Bible Answer Man Hank Hanegraaff (my neck was stuck in a downward position, may as well put that to good use.) It is amazing to me that dispensationalism even exists. Once you expose the silliness that God has a separate soteriological track for Jews and Gentiles--an error patently obvious for anyone even casually reading the New Testament without reference to eisegetical "here's how to think" notes--the whole of its nineteenth century architecture crumbles.
But wait . . . did you know about the recent addition of the toddler bed? Have I mentioned it in all of its amazingly adorable fire-engine sweetness? Did I say something about the real working light on top of the plastic cab?
I'm on day three of a neck cramp. I got these a few times in Junior High, and then again when I was writing my thesis, and then suddenly Friday morning I woke up with it. Not a thing you can do, really, just find a place to put your head and wait it out. I have taken a zillion milligrams of Ibuprofen in the last 52 hours, applied that marvelous chemical substance Icy Hot quite liberally to my neck and shoulders, and alternated cold and hot presses. Nothing really works. See, it is exciting things like this that keep you coming back to this blog.
Several large organizational projects have been put into the past tense in recent weeks. We got rid of a lot of stuff. The Pampered Chef stuff has been weeded like tares at the last judgment. Caleb's clothes were picked through, and my bookshelves migrated into the living room. (It is not commonly known, but bookshelves do slowly move around a house in the manner of subject-specific ents.) Besides completing household projects, L is also between writing assignments, though she has picked up a travel-writing gig. We'll blog more on that later. The resulting hiatus means that L is scrapbooking again.
I always like it when she does this. People really love the scrapbooks she has made over the years--we have a whole shelf of them. People love flipping through them, and their thematic quality provides a lot more narrative shape to what they are looking at than if we'd just thrust a pack of four-by-sixes at them. Plus it is always interesting to see the crafty stuff that she adds to it. Like just now she is scrapping our visit to the aquarium in Gatlinburg last summer. Funky scissors and multicolored paper come together and next thing you know she's made all this interesting coral with fish swimming around it as a frame for the lower portion of each page.
Finally, I've been reading the final draft of a new book coming out by Bible Answer Man Hank Hanegraaff (my neck was stuck in a downward position, may as well put that to good use.) It is amazing to me that dispensationalism even exists. Once you expose the silliness that God has a separate soteriological track for Jews and Gentiles--an error patently obvious for anyone even casually reading the New Testament without reference to eisegetical "here's how to think" notes--the whole of its nineteenth century architecture crumbles.
Monday, January 22, 2007
stuff we got for cheap and some Greek
Some of you may remember that I have often mentioned doing this. Well, it is done. I was just going to by the wireless card ($40), but the router was there, and you know that bit about how it is better to ask forgiveness than permission? I haven’t installed the router yet, and for those of you who don’t know what a router is: a router takes the internet connection that is in a cable and broadcasts it like a radio station. You password encrypt your station broadcast, your router, and then you tune your wireless receivers—in this case the wireless card plugged into the laptop—to your personal router’s signal. The rush of internet- available freedom was palpable. Even L had to admit the real benefits. See, our computer is in Kara’s room, so unless Kara is at school it is off limits. If you are on the computer while Kara is at home, give it up, because she’ll want to play solitaire or go to the Barbie website or something, and will bug you the whole time until you give in. Now, however, L can research her essays from the comfort of the living room couch. She was able to get a jump on her essay-crunch right away after the kids were in bed. And I was able to work on my Greek without the annoyance of the TV being on. I’m hoping now that we have Internet access from the living room that we will see a lot less mindless TV and a lot more other things like reading, flipping vocab cards, and even, who knows, talking. Maybe we will even blog (gasp!)
Yeah, I worked on Greek for about two hours last night and discovered, much to my surprise, that I may only be one hundred to one hundred fifty words away from Basics of Biblical Greek vocabulary wholeness. From years of just splashing around in it, making sorties here and there, I know a great deal more Greek than I thought. Where I lose it is in the ability to quickly parse verbal forms and in truly understanding how participles are operating in the syntax of a given pericope. Anyway, here’s to a new horizon for intellectual pursuits.
In other news,
This weekend, L discovered that we had a slow leak coming from the dining room wall that was beginning to soak the carpet padding—that was Saturday night. An hour later, the maintenance guy had carved a six-by-six inch hole in the drywall. You could feel droplets of water spit-raining down from the floor above inside the wall. Turned out to be a busted washing machine valve upstairs. Thank God L caught it early, because it could have been worse than it was. As it is, we have this gigantic blower drying out the carpet next to the dining room wall. This thing is loud, but not annoying with a smooth, rushing sound. You could sleep to it, but it drowns out other noises like phone calls and such. And why not make it louder?
Sunday afternoon, for example, we were trying to watch the football game, and Kara and Caleb were in full-on scream mode, playing hard together in Caleb’s room. I couldn’t hear what L was saying to me from one couch to the other. L called this afternoon and told me they had taken away the blower, but the hole is going to remain another day or so.
Because of potential flooding, we transported my bookshelves into the living room, and, you know, they actually look better there. We re-sorted so that (as L says) “pretty books” are on the outside and paperbacks and cheap dented stuff is on the inside. It really looks good, and adds a great deal of comfort to the space. I feel better just lounging next to my bookshelves—there’s something about it that just jazzes the mind. Who cares where the remote is when you can pick up Aquinas, Moltmann, Pannenberg, or Barth simply by extending your arm!
Finally, we were selling some things at a consignment shop this weekend and discovered Caleb’s toddler bed. I connected the minute I saw it: there it is! Sure, he’s a little young, but this thing is perfect. It is a big, plastic, red fire engine with a real fire engine light on the top. I pretty much wanted to throw it in the truck the minute I saw it, but we restrained ourselves until L could take her mom to the shop this morning. Now all three of us just want to throw it in the truck—and, here’s the best part, thanks to our selling stuff to the shop, the bed is pretty much free. You know, maybe Caleb would like our bed and I, um, we can have the fire engine. Kara’s going to stick to that thing like a six-year-old, gangly barnacle. “Kara, it is time to go to bed. L, hon, can you get the pry-bar?”
Yeah, I worked on Greek for about two hours last night and discovered, much to my surprise, that I may only be one hundred to one hundred fifty words away from Basics of Biblical Greek vocabulary wholeness. From years of just splashing around in it, making sorties here and there, I know a great deal more Greek than I thought. Where I lose it is in the ability to quickly parse verbal forms and in truly understanding how participles are operating in the syntax of a given pericope. Anyway, here’s to a new horizon for intellectual pursuits.
In other news,
This weekend, L discovered that we had a slow leak coming from the dining room wall that was beginning to soak the carpet padding—that was Saturday night. An hour later, the maintenance guy had carved a six-by-six inch hole in the drywall. You could feel droplets of water spit-raining down from the floor above inside the wall. Turned out to be a busted washing machine valve upstairs. Thank God L caught it early, because it could have been worse than it was. As it is, we have this gigantic blower drying out the carpet next to the dining room wall. This thing is loud, but not annoying with a smooth, rushing sound. You could sleep to it, but it drowns out other noises like phone calls and such. And why not make it louder?
Sunday afternoon, for example, we were trying to watch the football game, and Kara and Caleb were in full-on scream mode, playing hard together in Caleb’s room. I couldn’t hear what L was saying to me from one couch to the other. L called this afternoon and told me they had taken away the blower, but the hole is going to remain another day or so.
Because of potential flooding, we transported my bookshelves into the living room, and, you know, they actually look better there. We re-sorted so that (as L says) “pretty books” are on the outside and paperbacks and cheap dented stuff is on the inside. It really looks good, and adds a great deal of comfort to the space. I feel better just lounging next to my bookshelves—there’s something about it that just jazzes the mind. Who cares where the remote is when you can pick up Aquinas, Moltmann, Pannenberg, or Barth simply by extending your arm!
Finally, we were selling some things at a consignment shop this weekend and discovered Caleb’s toddler bed. I connected the minute I saw it: there it is! Sure, he’s a little young, but this thing is perfect. It is a big, plastic, red fire engine with a real fire engine light on the top. I pretty much wanted to throw it in the truck the minute I saw it, but we restrained ourselves until L could take her mom to the shop this morning. Now all three of us just want to throw it in the truck—and, here’s the best part, thanks to our selling stuff to the shop, the bed is pretty much free. You know, maybe Caleb would like our bed and I, um, we can have the fire engine. Kara’s going to stick to that thing like a six-year-old, gangly barnacle. “Kara, it is time to go to bed. L, hon, can you get the pry-bar?”
Thursday, January 11, 2007
sweet arrogance
Listening this afternoon to the BBC4's The Daily Service (I'm quite partial to Anglican services in streaming audio) it occurs to me that apologies are in order. I am sorry for the absolute lack of anything here for long periods of time. Blogging may seem like something you do in your pajamas with coffee, but it actually take a lot of work--and time. And I heard someone say today, "Blogging is arrogant. Like everyone wants to hear what you think." Well, actually, I want to hear what my friends think far more than I care what, say, Tom Cruise or Channel 4 news thinks. My father-in-law is always fond of saying, "Soldiers don't fight because of the cause. They fight because of their buddy. They fight because they don't want to let their buddy down. They fight to defend those next to them." Exactly.
As you can see, L. and I have begun experimenting with some streaming video. And, you can also see that Caleb can walk on walls. It is a little something he picked up over the holiday season. Actually, we took some video of him carting around his forty-eight hour heart monitor. He didn't even seem to notice it. Until, of course, we took if off of him. When we lifted his shirt up to reveal all those sensors stuck to his chest, his expression was the picture of stunned. We have some photos; perhaps L. will post them soon.
Two kids keep us very, very busy. Looking around, I think this is one of the busiest times of life, raising kids. There are quiet moments too. Last night, near midnight, Caleb woke up for one reason or another. He was standing up against the side of his crib, holding on, and jumping up and down. We went in to check on him, fearing he'd be cold, and he wasn't as much cold as lonely. I picked him up and, handing him a sippy cup, put him on my lap. I turned on the TV--we like to watch those educational shows about engineering and big machines--and he settled his head against my shoulder, and we just sat together for a good fifteeen minutes. I've had months go by which couldn't boast that much intense satisfaction.
As you can see, L. and I have begun experimenting with some streaming video. And, you can also see that Caleb can walk on walls. It is a little something he picked up over the holiday season. Actually, we took some video of him carting around his forty-eight hour heart monitor. He didn't even seem to notice it. Until, of course, we took if off of him. When we lifted his shirt up to reveal all those sensors stuck to his chest, his expression was the picture of stunned. We have some photos; perhaps L. will post them soon.
Two kids keep us very, very busy. Looking around, I think this is one of the busiest times of life, raising kids. There are quiet moments too. Last night, near midnight, Caleb woke up for one reason or another. He was standing up against the side of his crib, holding on, and jumping up and down. We went in to check on him, fearing he'd be cold, and he wasn't as much cold as lonely. I picked him up and, handing him a sippy cup, put him on my lap. I turned on the TV--we like to watch those educational shows about engineering and big machines--and he settled his head against my shoulder, and we just sat together for a good fifteeen minutes. I've had months go by which couldn't boast that much intense satisfaction.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Caleb Playing in his Room
Here's a video of Caleb playing in his room while he was still wearing his heart monitor. He was having such a good time. He loves to jump up and down!
Monday, January 01, 2007
Trial video of Caleb
This should be some video of Caleb on the day of his birth taken by L's mom on her phone. We'll see.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Aliens Hate Carrots!
Yesterday morning around 5am Kara showed up in our room having had a nightmare and needing the safety of Mama and Daddy. Yesterday afternoon Kara shared with me what had frightened her. In a nightmare she had Sunday night she and Thom were coming home from somewhere when a white eagle appeared with a letter telling her an alien would be living outside her bedroom window for a year. Evidently the dream ended with her running down the hall in our house trying to get away from the people-eating alien monster. This was very upsetting for Kara. Despite my best efforts to assure her that we know of no other life forms in the universe and particularly no people-eating monsters, she was still quite upset. While I was cooking something for dinner she was curled up on the couch hiding under her favorite lovey blanket not even watching the video I had put on for her and Caleb.
As I was peeling a carrot and wondering if she wanted a piece, I was struck by a moment of Mommy Genius. I walked into the living room with a small piece of carrot and said to Kara "Honey, I have a secret weapon for you. Imaginary aliens hate carrots! Would you like this?" She grabbed it right out of my hand and starting eating it, asking "What else do they hate, Mama?" "Well," I went on "they hate all healthy foods. Meat. Vegetables. Anything good for you. They can sense that it's in your body and they stay away!" Either she bought it or she enjoyed the make-believe -- either way she scarfed down a banana, a carrot and an apple within the hour! On they way to her ballet lesson she asked what the aliens thought about ballet and tap. To which I replied "They hate it! Don't want anything to do with it. Too loud!"
Over the course of the evening we learned that aliens hate ballet, tap, healthy food and children who do their homework. They are especially repelled by imagination-oriented pretend play such as playing with Legos or Barbies, but they are attracted to the playing of video games, the watching of too much television and the eating of Halloween candy! So, one must be very careful to ward off imaginary aliens by eating lots of good healthy food, doing lots of homework and playing with actual toys.
At one point she asked what kills them? I said eating healthy food. To this she replied "Mama, We're going to have dead aliens all around." I answered - Nope. They disappear when they die!
Tonight I'm going to tell her what happens to aliens when children READ! I think it might involve shrieking, running away and never, EVER coming back!
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Friday, November 10, 2006
The High Price of Gas
We all know what it was like going to school and dealing with social pressures. Not drugs and alcohol, just all the mundane irritations of staying "cool" and keeping friends. I'm starting to think it's harder even to be the parent than to be the child.
Sure, childhood has lots of wonderful things about it. You make "best friends." You have wild adventures on the playground. You get some great grades, like a 100 on a spelling test. You read your first book. Childhood is packed full of those kinds of memories. But childhood also has its fair share of trama ~ usually in the form of being teased for something, often times out of your control. For me, the memory is actually still so full of embarrassment, I don't even want to share it today. And I'm certainly not going to share Thom's for the same reason.
Well, Kara had one of those days this week. While walking silently down the hall with the rest of her class, Kara did not remember the social rule - "we don't pass gas at school". Her sad little words to me were "It was so loud, Mama." Evidently, everyone heard it and no one could stop talking about it. Later in the day Kara even overheard two of her friends, girls, talking about it. A day later, two of the boys are still talking about it.
Last night we talked about this and reminded her that EVERYONE passes gas, but we all try not to do it in front of others (well, MOST of us try not to do it in front of others, anyway ;-). At one point in the conversation, I posed the question, "what do you think most kids do when this happens?" The answer I was thinking of was "lie about it." No, Kara says "Never go back to that school ever again and find a different school?!" She said this with such hope and conviction, I couldn't help but feel badly for her. We talked some more and ultimately concluded that the kids would eventually stop talking about this and she should just move on. Tell them it wasn't a big deal and keep right on playing and being herself. So far so good, she hasn't been nicknamed "Farty Girl" and the kids are still playing with her.
The sad truth is... the idea of buying a house in a different school zone had actually crossed my mind!! Anything to keep her from feeling that awful feeling of being stuck with kids who don't like you for no decent reason. That was 4th through 7th grade for me. My big mistake -- moving to a small town where the clicks were already set in stone. And, this because my parents moved to the GOOD school district. As for Kara's issue, come on --Kids pass gas. People pass gas. We hide it while we're dating and then announce it once we're married. Why does it have to be so tramatic?
So, here I go just wanting her to be happy and have good days at school with positive experiences and relatively little embarrassment. Unfortunately, I can't safeguard her against life, no matter how much I'd love to.
Sure, childhood has lots of wonderful things about it. You make "best friends." You have wild adventures on the playground. You get some great grades, like a 100 on a spelling test. You read your first book. Childhood is packed full of those kinds of memories. But childhood also has its fair share of trama ~ usually in the form of being teased for something, often times out of your control. For me, the memory is actually still so full of embarrassment, I don't even want to share it today. And I'm certainly not going to share Thom's for the same reason.
Well, Kara had one of those days this week. While walking silently down the hall with the rest of her class, Kara did not remember the social rule - "we don't pass gas at school". Her sad little words to me were "It was so loud, Mama." Evidently, everyone heard it and no one could stop talking about it. Later in the day Kara even overheard two of her friends, girls, talking about it. A day later, two of the boys are still talking about it.
Last night we talked about this and reminded her that EVERYONE passes gas, but we all try not to do it in front of others (well, MOST of us try not to do it in front of others, anyway ;-). At one point in the conversation, I posed the question, "what do you think most kids do when this happens?" The answer I was thinking of was "lie about it." No, Kara says "Never go back to that school ever again and find a different school?!" She said this with such hope and conviction, I couldn't help but feel badly for her. We talked some more and ultimately concluded that the kids would eventually stop talking about this and she should just move on. Tell them it wasn't a big deal and keep right on playing and being herself. So far so good, she hasn't been nicknamed "Farty Girl" and the kids are still playing with her.
The sad truth is... the idea of buying a house in a different school zone had actually crossed my mind!! Anything to keep her from feeling that awful feeling of being stuck with kids who don't like you for no decent reason. That was 4th through 7th grade for me. My big mistake -- moving to a small town where the clicks were already set in stone. And, this because my parents moved to the GOOD school district. As for Kara's issue, come on --Kids pass gas. People pass gas. We hide it while we're dating and then announce it once we're married. Why does it have to be so tramatic?
So, here I go just wanting her to be happy and have good days at school with positive experiences and relatively little embarrassment. Unfortunately, I can't safeguard her against life, no matter how much I'd love to.
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