Are celibate and castrate in the same word family? Or perhaps it is castrate and celebrate (but not necessarily in that order). Do I need to help him to use them in a sentence? Maybe we should practice over dinner.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Second Grade
So should I contact the teacher? And to which would I object first? Whether he spelled it wrong, or the selection of the spelling words?
Are celibate and castrate in the same word family? Or perhaps it is castrate and celebrate (but not necessarily in that order). Do I need to help him to use them in a sentence? Maybe we should practice over dinner.
Are celibate and castrate in the same word family? Or perhaps it is castrate and celebrate (but not necessarily in that order). Do I need to help him to use them in a sentence? Maybe we should practice over dinner.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Safety First
But stupidity is a close second.
Hell must have frozen over because y'all, we have acquired a trampoline. I'm somewhat afeared of various injuries to be had by my children playing on the mammoth thing (my husband insisted on the largest model). But I'm much more afeared since reading the 26 safety precautions in the instructions. Not only for the safety of my children, but for the increasing rate of stupidity that has made such "important precautions" well, important enough to print. My favorites:
#15: Do not jump on the trampoline while you have or are holding any objects, especially something sharp or breakable.
#16: Do not use the trampoline and enclosure if you have been using alcohol or drugs. These things cause you to not be able to move as fast, have poor judgment, and have poor physical coordination.
and
#22: Do not try to jump over the netting.
Ya think?
I have full intention of bending rules numbered 1 (sometimes), 3 (only slightly), 5 (although it's very vague), 6 (when the mood strikes), 7 (just the end), 11 (all the time), 12 (see below), 13, 17, and 26.
I have a question regarding #12: This trampoline enclosure is made for users who do not weigh more than 250 pounds and children less than 6 years old should not use it. And that goes double for children under six who weigh more than 250 pounds!
So what I want to know is if I'm going to bend #12 by allowing my 5 year old to jump, do you think I could bend the rules to allow my 280 pound self jump despite the 250 pound limit? It's only 30 pounds . . . I mean really, hows we fat people supposed to lose weigh if the exercise equipment is made for skinny people? (I know, a trampoline isn't necessarily exercise equipment, but it could be).
Or do you think the weight rule is less about capacity as it is about aesthetics? Because when you're jumping, the whole neighborhood can see you over the fence. You know like the rule that low-rise jeans should not come in plus sizes. I mean just because they fit, doesn't mean you should wear them, you know? So maybe they needed to add a #27: Do not jump naked, especially if you weigh over 250 pounds.
Hell must have frozen over because y'all, we have acquired a trampoline. I'm somewhat afeared of various injuries to be had by my children playing on the mammoth thing (my husband insisted on the largest model). But I'm much more afeared since reading the 26 safety precautions in the instructions. Not only for the safety of my children, but for the increasing rate of stupidity that has made such "important precautions" well, important enough to print. My favorites:
#15: Do not jump on the trampoline while you have or are holding any objects, especially something sharp or breakable.
#16: Do not use the trampoline and enclosure if you have been using alcohol or drugs. These things cause you to not be able to move as fast, have poor judgment, and have poor physical coordination.
and
#22: Do not try to jump over the netting.
Ya think?
I have full intention of bending rules numbered 1 (sometimes), 3 (only slightly), 5 (although it's very vague), 6 (when the mood strikes), 7 (just the end), 11 (all the time), 12 (see below), 13, 17, and 26.
I have a question regarding #12: This trampoline enclosure is made for users who do not weigh more than 250 pounds and children less than 6 years old should not use it. And that goes double for children under six who weigh more than 250 pounds!
So what I want to know is if I'm going to bend #12 by allowing my 5 year old to jump, do you think I could bend the rules to allow my 280 pound self jump despite the 250 pound limit? It's only 30 pounds . . . I mean really, hows we fat people supposed to lose weigh if the exercise equipment is made for skinny people? (I know, a trampoline isn't necessarily exercise equipment, but it could be).
Or do you think the weight rule is less about capacity as it is about aesthetics? Because when you're jumping, the whole neighborhood can see you over the fence. You know like the rule that low-rise jeans should not come in plus sizes. I mean just because they fit, doesn't mean you should wear them, you know? So maybe they needed to add a #27: Do not jump naked, especially if you weigh over 250 pounds.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
The Iron Age
Elliotism of the day:
Iron Man . . . Iron Rod . . . Iron . . . Iron
I bet they named the Iron Rod after Iron Man . . .
(If you don't get the Iron Rod reference, you are probably not a Mormon--in case you were unsure. You can go here to read the allegory of the Tree of Life in the Book of Mormon)
Iron Man . . . Iron Rod . . . Iron . . . Iron
I bet they named the Iron Rod after Iron Man . . .
(If you don't get the Iron Rod reference, you are probably not a Mormon--in case you were unsure. You can go here to read the allegory of the Tree of Life in the Book of Mormon)
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Reverence
In church today we pulled out the wire-bound picture kit during the sacrament and started flipping through it to help Elliot remain occupied and relatively reverent. We came to the baptismal font picture. . .
"Hey, it's a hot tub!"
"Hey, it's a hot tub!"
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Shoot Me Now
I think I mentioned that my child has taken ill recently. This is his third bout of strep throat in 2011 and since we weren't having enough fun, we decided to throw in a little influenza A. All this in the midst of a job and insurance change (with an $1800 deductible, thank you), throw in some COBRA payments, some MRIs, X-Rays, CT scans, an ambulance ride and all sorts of other medical excitement (that's all Matt's stuff, Ethan didn't require nearly as much excitement) and we are having an expensive medical party! Wanna come? I really need to post about the valentine/birthday party ambulance trip--it was really exciting. But back to the topic at hand--the child with the flu.
In my defense, getting a flu shot in Michigan is about as easy as a triathlon. I'm only exaggerating a wee bit. Our first year in Michigan I tried to get my children a flu shot. This was the year of the swine flu, but nonetheless, even the standard flu shot was not readily available. My doctor apparently didn't get any childrens vaccine from the the state so the other option was to go wait in line at the county health department on a particular day with every other county resident and their children for several hours to try and get a flu shot. I drove down there and saw that the line snaked around two city blocks in freezing temperatures and decided given we'd all probably die of hypothermia and boredom before getting shot, I bagged it. And nobody got the flu.
This year no swine flu, so surely my doc would get the shot. No such luck. Nobody retail will stick a kid--oh, and Elliot would have to go through the routine twice. So, this year I got my shot at the drugstore as did Matt and I missed the flu shot clinics for the boys before I realized they were even being held. It's amazing every child in Michigan doesn't die of the flu before the year is out. In February, shortly after Ethan's second round of strep, they shut his school down for a couple of days because there was too much flu going around. Ya think? Perhaps if they made the shot more readily available, we could avoid this.
I digress. So, even though it makes me look like a selfish and bad parent, I've just showed up in Texas and my child takes ill and I have to explain to the doctor that no, I didn't get either child shot, and yes, my husband and I got ours . . . but in my defense . . . nobody wants to hear my excuses amidst the condescending looks and clicking tongues. Besides people, I am being punished for my sins. I really, really, really am.
You see, when Elliot was a mere newborn and Ethan was nigh upon 3 years old, Ethan contracted influenza A. Again I was punished for my selfishness. I had gotten my shot at one of my OB visits, and had never gotten around to getting Ethan his. Does anyone out there have a strong-willed, belligerent, bull-headed child? Then you understand this. I spent two weeks of pure hell quarantining the baby from the three year old who refused to take any kind of fever reducer of his own free will. His fever spiked to 106 multiple times. We spent a good three evenings in the ER where the nurses kindly pinned him down and administered tylenol while he screamed. He spat $80 tamilfu exorcist style all over his bedroom walls. He learned how to spit medicine out of the back of his throat while his head was pinned down and his jaw held open by his desperate parents. I once turned on a cold shower and threw him in fully clothed to follow through on my threat that if he did not take his medicine, I would hold him under a cold shower to get his body temperature down. It did only take one cold shower for him to be somewhat more cooperative--but only slightly more so. Once the fever finally broke--8 days after it began--it immediately returned with searing ear pain. We took him to the doctor who just barely dodged the brunt of a full-force three-year-old kick to the groin while attempting to examine his ear.
I swore I would get a flu shot for my children from then on out. So much for swearing. Here we are again, and though he doesn't spit the medicine back out at me, and he doesn't typically require being pinned down, he is certainly not cooperative or pleasant about the whole thing. In an effort to keep his fever from spiking to the point where he is really miserably uncooperative, we've been waking him up every three hours at night to administer fever reducer. This morning at 3am, I spent 20 minutes arguing with him about swallowing one stinking pill so he could go back to sleep and not wake up in pain. We've had tantrums, night sweats that end in screaming matches because somehow it's my fault that he's soaked in sweat and refuses to let me help him change his clothes or take medicine, hunger strikes, bellyaches (of every variety) and just plain unpleasantness. Try explaining to a 7-year-old at 2am that you would like to help him, but rudeness, belligerence, and screaming at your mother typically don't make her want to help you very badly.
I think he's on themend. At least I really really really hope he's getting better, for all of our sakes.
P.S. Should I feel bad that I sent him to school for a day after two days on the antibiotic (for the strep) assuming that his crankiness was due to just being home too long rather than to (as we later found out) the flu?
P.S.S. Do you think we brought this with us from Michigan, or did he catch it after he got here? How long does it take to incubate?
P.P.S.S. What are the chances Elliot won't get it?
P.P.P.S.S.S. Did I mention that if the strep keeps coming back they want to do a CT scan to look for an abscess on his tonsils or throat which would have to be surgically drained? That should make for a fun recovery.
In my defense, getting a flu shot in Michigan is about as easy as a triathlon. I'm only exaggerating a wee bit. Our first year in Michigan I tried to get my children a flu shot. This was the year of the swine flu, but nonetheless, even the standard flu shot was not readily available. My doctor apparently didn't get any childrens vaccine from the the state so the other option was to go wait in line at the county health department on a particular day with every other county resident and their children for several hours to try and get a flu shot. I drove down there and saw that the line snaked around two city blocks in freezing temperatures and decided given we'd all probably die of hypothermia and boredom before getting shot, I bagged it. And nobody got the flu.
This year no swine flu, so surely my doc would get the shot. No such luck. Nobody retail will stick a kid--oh, and Elliot would have to go through the routine twice. So, this year I got my shot at the drugstore as did Matt and I missed the flu shot clinics for the boys before I realized they were even being held. It's amazing every child in Michigan doesn't die of the flu before the year is out. In February, shortly after Ethan's second round of strep, they shut his school down for a couple of days because there was too much flu going around. Ya think? Perhaps if they made the shot more readily available, we could avoid this.
I digress. So, even though it makes me look like a selfish and bad parent, I've just showed up in Texas and my child takes ill and I have to explain to the doctor that no, I didn't get either child shot, and yes, my husband and I got ours . . . but in my defense . . . nobody wants to hear my excuses amidst the condescending looks and clicking tongues. Besides people, I am being punished for my sins. I really, really, really am.
You see, when Elliot was a mere newborn and Ethan was nigh upon 3 years old, Ethan contracted influenza A. Again I was punished for my selfishness. I had gotten my shot at one of my OB visits, and had never gotten around to getting Ethan his. Does anyone out there have a strong-willed, belligerent, bull-headed child? Then you understand this. I spent two weeks of pure hell quarantining the baby from the three year old who refused to take any kind of fever reducer of his own free will. His fever spiked to 106 multiple times. We spent a good three evenings in the ER where the nurses kindly pinned him down and administered tylenol while he screamed. He spat $80 tamilfu exorcist style all over his bedroom walls. He learned how to spit medicine out of the back of his throat while his head was pinned down and his jaw held open by his desperate parents. I once turned on a cold shower and threw him in fully clothed to follow through on my threat that if he did not take his medicine, I would hold him under a cold shower to get his body temperature down. It did only take one cold shower for him to be somewhat more cooperative--but only slightly more so. Once the fever finally broke--8 days after it began--it immediately returned with searing ear pain. We took him to the doctor who just barely dodged the brunt of a full-force three-year-old kick to the groin while attempting to examine his ear.
I swore I would get a flu shot for my children from then on out. So much for swearing. Here we are again, and though he doesn't spit the medicine back out at me, and he doesn't typically require being pinned down, he is certainly not cooperative or pleasant about the whole thing. In an effort to keep his fever from spiking to the point where he is really miserably uncooperative, we've been waking him up every three hours at night to administer fever reducer. This morning at 3am, I spent 20 minutes arguing with him about swallowing one stinking pill so he could go back to sleep and not wake up in pain. We've had tantrums, night sweats that end in screaming matches because somehow it's my fault that he's soaked in sweat and refuses to let me help him change his clothes or take medicine, hunger strikes, bellyaches (of every variety) and just plain unpleasantness. Try explaining to a 7-year-old at 2am that you would like to help him, but rudeness, belligerence, and screaming at your mother typically don't make her want to help you very badly.
I think he's on themend. At least I really really really hope he's getting better, for all of our sakes.
P.S. Should I feel bad that I sent him to school for a day after two days on the antibiotic (for the strep) assuming that his crankiness was due to just being home too long rather than to (as we later found out) the flu?
P.S.S. Do you think we brought this with us from Michigan, or did he catch it after he got here? How long does it take to incubate?
P.P.S.S. What are the chances Elliot won't get it?
P.P.P.S.S.S. Did I mention that if the strep keeps coming back they want to do a CT scan to look for an abscess on his tonsils or throat which would have to be surgically drained? That should make for a fun recovery.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Risky Business
So this morning, as my ADD-Working Mom brain jumped from considering one unfinished task to another (hmmmm, what should I do with my couple spare Saturday hours before General Conference?), I started jumping from going on a bike ride in the warm humidity of a Texas spring, to cleaning, to unpacking, hitting the community garage sale, to . . . wait a second!! Community garage sale? There is an opportunity for multi-tasking here! I hopped on my bike and began the garage sale circuit.
Yes, I am still unpacking, and up for a little garage sailing--I got rids of some stuff before the big move and would like some chairs so I can sit on the porch in the sweltering heat of the summer y'all. Then I remembered why I've switched my loyalties over the years--a rarely garage sail, I'm a pretty strict Craigslister. Why? I thought you'd never ask. You see, garage sailing typically results in a lot of time combing through somebody's junk coming home with a lot of stuff I didn't need in the first place, whereas Craigslisting is much more pinpointed--get in, find what you want, get out. Nevertheless, garage sailing, particularly close to home, can sometimes result in great treasure. However, bikes are not great for hauling said treasure home. Especially considering I gave away my bike trailer in the move.
So back to my story. I'm on my bike, doing the old garage sale drive-by. You know, slow down, try and act like you're just on a little ride, not evaluating their junk in the blink of an eye. You may even circle back and holler out "GOT ANY PATIO CHAIRS?!!" But that feels a bit impolite. If you're going to ask, you may as well stop. But what about when you've decided to stop, but by the time you've stopped your bike (or car), you've realized you really shouldn't have? How much time are you obligated to spend gazing at mounds of baby clothes and chipped dishes before you say "thanks a lot!" and head out without feeling like a rude schmuck who's just spent all of 12 seconds gazing condescendingly on their preciously priced stuff and declared it all worthless junk? There was so much baby gear out there today that I was concerned it might be contagious, even in a drive-by. Besides, I had very limited time before first session. The good thing about garage sailing on a bike is that you're very limited on what you can carry away, so while you think--hmmm, that fat Buddha lamp just might go well in the living room, since you can't strap it to your back too easily, you're bound to walk away and think about it. The distance of course is bound to bring you back to your senses and ask yourself "What the @!*! was I thinking? I need a lamp of Dionysis in the living room, not Buddha!
I digress. So I had picked up a hedge trimmer for $3 and was balancing it on my handlebars when I stopped at one last sale Just as I was contemplating picking up a box of adult diapers (you never know), I saw it. Just the thing I must have unknowingly come seeking this day--or perhaps it sought me. RISK, the game of World Domination. Do you have any idea how many hours of my childhood were spent in pursuit of World Domination? I have successfully indoctrinated my children into George Lucas's world of Star Wars (much to my husband's dismay), really, what is left besides Risk? Ethan turns 8 in a couple of weeks. I think given his obsessive, belligerent, dominating personality, he will be a natural and is likely ready to assume the quest for World Domination. And, it was only a dollar.
So with my two purchases of the day carefully balanced, I made my way home. The thick humidity was already upon me for this my first bike ride of the new climate. Have you noticed how much more you smell things when you're on a bike? I o. My husband thinks my sniffer is a bit supercharged (I can't believe he can't smell the cat box sometimes, but then again, he couldn't seem hear the baby in the middle of the night either . . . ), but sometimes, a good whiff is all it takes to bring back a memory (for good or bad) so strong you nearly drop your hedge trimmer and board game and fall off your bike.
Today smelled like Florida. Totally Florida. I spend 9 months biking around Vero Beach when I was 25. It was a great time. Weird, but a great time. And today Texas smelled like Florida. I guess that makes sense. It was comforting, in a weird sort of way. I was only in Vero for 9 months, but I guess a familiar scent makes a new situation at least familiar. If you know what I mean.
So this evening, Ethan and I took on the world. At 9:30 we had to back away from the table, leaving the troops in position for the night, ready to take up the battle again in the morning. (The kid has been home all week with strep and the flu, I suppose I shouldn't keep him up all night too). He's taking to the game really well (I'm so proud). I anticipate wasting some more hours of my life in the pursuit, but hey, I'm convinced Risk made me smarter--or at least kept me out of trouble--so hopefully it'll do the same for my child as well. And maybe I'll be able to beat him more often than I could my brothers . . .
Yes, I am still unpacking, and up for a little garage sailing--I got rids of some stuff before the big move and would like some chairs so I can sit on the porch in the sweltering heat of the summer y'all. Then I remembered why I've switched my loyalties over the years--a rarely garage sail, I'm a pretty strict Craigslister. Why? I thought you'd never ask. You see, garage sailing typically results in a lot of time combing through somebody's junk coming home with a lot of stuff I didn't need in the first place, whereas Craigslisting is much more pinpointed--get in, find what you want, get out. Nevertheless, garage sailing, particularly close to home, can sometimes result in great treasure. However, bikes are not great for hauling said treasure home. Especially considering I gave away my bike trailer in the move.
So back to my story. I'm on my bike, doing the old garage sale drive-by. You know, slow down, try and act like you're just on a little ride, not evaluating their junk in the blink of an eye. You may even circle back and holler out "GOT ANY PATIO CHAIRS?!!" But that feels a bit impolite. If you're going to ask, you may as well stop. But what about when you've decided to stop, but by the time you've stopped your bike (or car), you've realized you really shouldn't have? How much time are you obligated to spend gazing at mounds of baby clothes and chipped dishes before you say "thanks a lot!" and head out without feeling like a rude schmuck who's just spent all of 12 seconds gazing condescendingly on their preciously priced stuff and declared it all worthless junk? There was so much baby gear out there today that I was concerned it might be contagious, even in a drive-by. Besides, I had very limited time before first session. The good thing about garage sailing on a bike is that you're very limited on what you can carry away, so while you think--hmmm, that fat Buddha lamp just might go well in the living room, since you can't strap it to your back too easily, you're bound to walk away and think about it. The distance of course is bound to bring you back to your senses and ask yourself "What the @!*! was I thinking? I need a lamp of Dionysis in the living room, not Buddha!
I digress. So I had picked up a hedge trimmer for $3 and was balancing it on my handlebars when I stopped at one last sale Just as I was contemplating picking up a box of adult diapers (you never know), I saw it. Just the thing I must have unknowingly come seeking this day--or perhaps it sought me. RISK, the game of World Domination. Do you have any idea how many hours of my childhood were spent in pursuit of World Domination? I have successfully indoctrinated my children into George Lucas's world of Star Wars (much to my husband's dismay), really, what is left besides Risk? Ethan turns 8 in a couple of weeks. I think given his obsessive, belligerent, dominating personality, he will be a natural and is likely ready to assume the quest for World Domination. And, it was only a dollar.
So with my two purchases of the day carefully balanced, I made my way home. The thick humidity was already upon me for this my first bike ride of the new climate. Have you noticed how much more you smell things when you're on a bike? I o. My husband thinks my sniffer is a bit supercharged (I can't believe he can't smell the cat box sometimes, but then again, he couldn't seem hear the baby in the middle of the night either . . . ), but sometimes, a good whiff is all it takes to bring back a memory (for good or bad) so strong you nearly drop your hedge trimmer and board game and fall off your bike.
Today smelled like Florida. Totally Florida. I spend 9 months biking around Vero Beach when I was 25. It was a great time. Weird, but a great time. And today Texas smelled like Florida. I guess that makes sense. It was comforting, in a weird sort of way. I was only in Vero for 9 months, but I guess a familiar scent makes a new situation at least familiar. If you know what I mean.
So this evening, Ethan and I took on the world. At 9:30 we had to back away from the table, leaving the troops in position for the night, ready to take up the battle again in the morning. (The kid has been home all week with strep and the flu, I suppose I shouldn't keep him up all night too). He's taking to the game really well (I'm so proud). I anticipate wasting some more hours of my life in the pursuit, but hey, I'm convinced Risk made me smarter--or at least kept me out of trouble--so hopefully it'll do the same for my child as well. And maybe I'll be able to beat him more often than I could my brothers . . .
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