Shallow Thinker

I noted on my previous post that Butterfly required a colonoscopy. I have contemplated how much or how little to detail here, but my wife has solved the problem for me. (She usually does.)  Check her post for a much more substantial, and well-written, account of the trying weekend and the pending results. (click here)

Note - This first part of this post was written two weeks ago, The latter was edited today. Maybe it took up until now for my words to make sense to me. They probably won’t make sense to you at all.

—-Two weeks ago—-
I got a call this weekend that my grandfather has been diagnosed with lung cancer.  Apparently, the prostate cancer has spread and the doctors gave him a time frame of 3-6 months.  Of course, you never know where they get those numbers from, but when they start doing calculations, it’s not a good sign.  My dad and his brothers are working through trying to get both of my grandparents into an assisted living facility.  A difficult transition, to say the least.

On Sunday, Butterfly was pretty sick and we ended up having to get blood tests done on Monday.  Though she is fine-and-dandy now, the doctors think that a colonoscopy will be best to rule out major complications based on some recurring problems that we’ve noticed.  It’s a “minor” procedure for the medical community, but it’s a huge weight on the shoulders of this over-protective father and her always caring mother.

In the past month, two couple friends have experienced the loss of their unborn children through miscarriages.  Another couple that we know experienced the delivery of a still born child on Christmas morning. A friend from high school is waiting anxiously for word regarding two children that she is trying to adopt from a foreign country.

Sickness. Death. Pain. Worry. Grief. Heartache. Tears. My mind is unable to comprehend the source, cause, or reason for such suffering.  What I can understand is the fact that there are a lot of people carrying around burdens and worries that intrude into their every action. Sometimes, I wonder how many people around me are using all the energy they have just to put a smile on and get through the day while their inside cries out for rest and peace.

—-Today—-
I have been amazed at the response that we have received from friends and family regarding Butterfly’s procedure. It is truly comforting to know that our daughter is loved so deeply by so many people. Her procedure was yesterday and she has recovered well enough to fight with her sister.

I am still troubled a bit, though. A mom was in the hospital with her son having a scope done, but she was by herself. After some complications with the IV, the mom needed a minute to compose herself. After three hours in the car to get there and waiting through the procedure, she was turning around to drive another three hours back home. Carrying this burden alone. I saw a few other single parents at the hospital. While these aren’t necessarily broken homes, it was difficult to see one parent struggle alone during this time while I knew that I was supported by so many.

There is no moral to this post or any ending tagline that I can conceive to make things better. This is just something that I’ve noticed recently. People are hurting. Families are broken. Burdens are heavy.

Is there a practical way to offer relief? I shall contemplate some more.

As life would have it, I am often the booming voice of discipline around our house.  Kelley does a wonderful job with the girls, but by the end of the day, they are all tired of each other and limits are being tested for everyone.  This is usually about the time that I come in the door from work.  Most times, I am able to quell the storms with calm assertiveness, but on occasion, I will raise my voice.  (The good thing about having two little girls is that the loud, deep voice usually does the trick.)

We’ve been having some trouble with our little Ladybug during the nights.  Her cough is finally starting to dissipate, but she is now in the habit of waking up during the middle of the night.  For the most part, she is able to go back to sleep, but around 5:00, she thinks that she is ready to face the day.

On Sunday morning, she came running into our room and made a bee-line for Kelley’s side of the bed.  Kelley picked her up, took her back to her room, put her in the bed, said sweet, motherly things to her, and then left her room.  I used my super-human sleeping skills to ignore the whole event.

At 5:15, I woke-up to see our bedroom door being pushed open by the little munchkin.  This time, she came over to me.  My mind was already trying to figure out just the right words to say and how to get her to stay in her bed for another couple of hours.  Should I go with the “mean daddy” routine or “comforting daddy”?  Do I promise her a wonderful tomorrow for being such a big girl, or do I make empty threats that I’ll never follow-up on?  But she spoke first:

“Daddy?  Will you cuddle with me?”

My daughter is almost 3, but she is far wiser than her father who sits happily at 30.  For the next hour and a half, I slept folded in her bed with her little body snuggled up as close as she could get to me.  I exercised neither firmness or discipline. I’m quite sure the rest of our lives will allow plenty of opportunities to practice those skills.  But in the wee hours of Sunday morning, my daughter appreciated me being there in silence.

My girls are young (Ladybug is almost 3 and Butterfly is 5.5).  They are also very truthful.  On Saturday morning, I was sitting in Butterfly’s room watching her and Ladybug play.  (Actually, I was refereeing their day-long fight, but that doesn’t sound as sweet.)  Then the refreshing honesty swept through the room.  Ladybug came over to me, and laid across my lap.  With the sweetest little eyes, she looked up an me and said:

“Daddy, you need a bath.”
“What?  Why do I need a bath?”
“Because you stink.  Blech.”

It was funny, but probably very true.  When I eventually bathed and got out of the shower, she proudly let me know that her opinion of me was unshaken.

“Go take another bath.  You stink some more.”

Long, long ago, I used my deep, intellectual skills to reflect upon a walk along the beach that I had with my oldest daughter.  Since then, she and I have walked numerous paths and had many adventures.  Back in November, Kelley and I took the girls back to Dauset Trails, one of their favorite hiking spots.  For the fun of it, I carried along my GPS to see how far we traveled.  As my brain tends to do, I forgot all about doing this.  Until today.

I plugged my watch into my computer to see where I have run recently and to analyze the statistics of my runs.  As I was going through the data, I came across the map of the Dauset Trails adventure.  It took me 15 minutes to figure out what in the world was going on.  I should have known by the shape of it that it involved me following a couple of Little Misses around.  It almost looks like one of those old cartoons from Family Circus.

For those who see this feed on facebook, you may already know about Virus Ham.  For the other 1.4 of my readers that see the blog, I will spin you a tale of sickness and family.  Grab the edge of your desk because you may just fall out of your seat.  It’s that riveting.  Or maybe it’s long enough to put you to sleep.  Either way…

We traveled around a bit during the holidays.  One of the fun events for my wife’s side of the family was jammed into the visit that we had with my parents.  On Saturday, we left my parents’ house in the afternoon and drove about an hour to Kelley’s uncle’s house.  When we arrived, we greeted her aunt, greeted a few other party guests, and then released our girls to run about with Kelley’s wonderfully-sweet cousin.  After a little while, I noticed that her other two cousins weren’t around.  I used my keen communication skills to ask “Hey, where are the other two?” The response started a wave of amazingly-awkward, hushed conversations around the house.

“They’re sick.”

Apparently both had come down with a stomach bug earlier in the day.  Oh great.  There’s a stomach bug going around.  But at least the sick ones were quarantined.  Right?  About 15 minutes later, Kelley’s uncle got sick.  The same uncle that we all shook hands with and had been talking to earlier.  Oh boy.  Her aunt had spent all afternoon preparing a wonderful spread.  What should we do?

While I was piling my plate high with food, I reasoned to everyone that if we were going to get the virus, we probably already had it.  Kelley noted that having a stomach virus would help negate some of the bad eating that we had been doing.  While there was a slight uneasiness during the meal, I think that most of the family understood that we were all doomed.  Kelley’s dad noted that it would be better to be sick on a full stomach so that we didn’t get the dry heaves.  I was instructed by my wife that I should not compliment her aunt by saying “This food is excellent.  You can’t even taste the virus!”  (She doesn’t ever let me have any fun.)

We returned to my parents’ house for another night of sleep.  The next day, we were still fine and were rationalizing that maybe we were OK after all.  I even helped prepare some of the ham for lunch.  And then we got a call.  Kelley’s aunt had gotten sick after we left.  The same aunt that prepared all the food.  We’ve got everything that she’s got.  Like any good son would do, I informed my parents of the change in situation.  My dad had the nerve to accuse me that I was making it all up just so I could take home some of my mom’s ham.  I told him that it was all true and that it was up to him if he ate the Virus Ham* or not.  I also informed my mom that I would be more than willing to remove the offending food from her house.  Because I’m a good son.  Since I got my approach to food from my dad I knew that he wasn’t going to give up on it that easy.  So, for lunch we all ate virus ham.

I am happy to report that it has been more that 48 hours since we ate with the sick ones and we have shown no signs of sickness.  After hearing more from Kelley’s family, it’s starting to sound like they had some bad food the day before we arrived.  Yay food poisoning!  I’m also happy to report that I have a pile of Virus Ham that my mom sent home with me.  And no, you can’t have any.  Get your own sickness-laden meat.

*Virus Ham is a trademarked name and can only be used with the expressed, written consent of me.  Or if you can use it to get a laugh.  Or if you’re bored and need a conversation starter.  Or if you have a sad enough life to want to use a term that I created.

Ladybug is now two-and-a-half years old.  She has had a cough for the past few days which has required some parental assistance during the middle of the night and early morning hours.  This morning, I got up with her and rocked her for a while before she decided that she was ready to go play.  Before the sun came up, we sat in the den playing with some toys on the floor.  It was in this tender moment that she let me know how much she appreciated my sacrifice.

Ladybug: “Daddy” (she says this with a grin and the sweetest little eyes)
Me: “Yes, dear?”
Ladybug: “You don’t smell very well.”
Me: “I know.”
Ladybug: “You go play in the other room.”

The clock continues to move forward, but I’m not ready for the date that is circled on next year’s calendar.  Kelley and I are having to make decisions now about kindergarten for Butterfly for the upcoming summer.  The toughest part of the decision making process is that no matter what we choose, my daughter will be in the hands of someone else for large chunks of her day.  And that’s tough.

Kelley recently penned some thoughts regarding our school choices.  She and I grew up as products of public school systems and show few negative effects from the process.  (Doctors indicate that my issues are due more to my adverse personality.)  However, in our current location, the public school system has some deep, inherent problems.  Granted, the elementary schools receive rave reviews, but the middle and high schools have as many controversies as they do graduates.  With things in the shape that they are in now, there’s no way I’ll send my daughter to the public middle or high school.  Partly because of the system and partly because I’m over-protective.  Our choice then comes to either choose one of the many private schools in the area or to move into a different school district.  Both of these have their pros and cons.  And, since we’re fine with the local elementary school, this is a decision that can wait for another 5 years.  Which seems like an eternity until I stop to consider that our little cooing baby just turned five years old.  Wow…it’s not that far from here.

Over these past five years, we have loved Butterfly, babied her, taught her, disciplined her, marveled at her, and watched her grow into the wonderful young girl that she is now.  It is a very difficult reality to face that someone else will be handling a part of these duties for the next couple of decades.  We’ll evaluate and make the best decision for kindergarten.  Then we’ll look at schools and decide what is best for elementary and eventually middle and high.  I am confident that we’ll make the right decision regarding our girls and their school.  It most certainly won’t be an easy one, though.  It’s tough to give them wings.

Saturday was a LONG day.  It started bright-and-early with a 5K and ended dark-and-late with me asleep on the couch.  There was a bunch of dressing up, door knocking, candy getting, and girl giggling.  Somewhere between the excitement and the exhaustion, I realized that my Butterfly is growing up.  Allow me to recap a portion of the morning:

After I finished the 5K, I walked back along the course until I met Kelley and Heather.  I walked the last mile with them.  By the time we made it to the car to wait on the in-laws to bring the girls to the event, I had logged about 8 miles.  Little did I know that the day had several more in store.  Around 9:30, Kelley and I were faced with the fact that Butterfly’s 1-mile fun run started at 10:00 while she and her sister were trapped at our house.  Apparently, we did not leave them a key for our van.

With frustration and fury, I drove QLAB (quick like a bunny) to our house, grabbed Butterfly and then darted back to the event.  I stopped at the house just long enough for Kelley to jump out (she did a nice roll when she hit the grass) and take care of Ladybug and come along a few minutes behind us.  Fury took over once again as we sped quickly to the park, grabbed a parking spot, and jumped out.  In order to make it on time, I allowed Butterfly to climb on my back and “we” ran the 1/2 mile from the parking to the starting line.  Exhausted, I made it with about a minute to spare.

Butterfly was excited.  I had prepped her about how we were going to do the whole mile this time.  (She cheated with me last time.)  We also discussed how we weren’t going to run as fast as we could at the beginning, but we should just jog.  She nodded in agreement.  Then, with a few more moments to spare, I suggested that we stretch a little.  I raised my arms high, then touched my toes, then stretched my calves a little.  Butterfly did not follow suit.  Instead, she gave me a penetrating stare.  I knelt down beside her and asked “What’s wrong?  Are you OK?”  With a loud whisper and darting eyes she responded “Daddy, you’re embarrassing me!”

Oh dear.

A few weekends ago, we took the girls downtown to the Georgia Children’s Museum.  It’s not quite the size or complexity of Imagine It! in Atlanta, but I think that the dream and the goal of the operators is to someday reach that same status. And, at $3.00 per person admission, we couldn’t beat the price for having the place to ourselves on a Saturday afternoon.

I’m not sure what the history is behind the museum, but i know that when I went to Mercer, there was a big effort by staff and students to volunteer and get the place running.  My sophomore year, I spent an entire day in one of the upper levels pulling out old carpet and breathing in asbestos.  We did such a good job that the floor we worked on is still not open to the public.  My junior year, a group of us went and painted the main floor.  Some put bright purple on the columns but most of my time was spent on painting everything on the ceiling black.  I remember looking at the room when we got done and thinking that it looked amazing.  Kelley and I looked around at that same room when we walked in with the girls and instantly realized that the black ceilings were covered and the purple columns were adorned with murals.  I don’t think that there was any purple or black in the entire place.

Just outside the museum, there are some colorful bricks that have been painted by children and contributors to the museum.  As we walked in, I mentioned to Kelley that I thought she and I had painted some bricks long ago.  After our play time, we took the girls outside and looked to see if any of the bricks bore our handy-work. Sure enough, we found our bricks.  Judging by the dates on the bricks around ours, the bricks were made the summer or spring before we got married.  Apparently, though, we had already set the date for our wedding.  Unfortunately, the only camera we had available was my phone.  Here are the all-too-fuzzy pictures.

Kelley is a word smith, I am not.  This became glaringly obvious last night as she hacked away at some literary works.  As I posted earlier, our church is putting together a small devotion book for some kind of upcoming random thing that they’re doing.  Kelley helped to edit all of the submissions and went over mine again last night.  We discussed what, if any, changes needed to be made to my entry.  Here is the path that our discussion took.

• Kelley said that my submission needs a last sentence to tie everything together.
• I wanted to leave it more open so that the reader can get the message without me over-simplifying.
• It could give the impression that I’m referring to those outside of the church as children and simplistic.
• My writing is more centered on the actions of those in the church.  And besides, no analogy is perfect.  If we extrapolate any analogy, we can find absurdities.
• Kelley suggested a closing line.
• I said that the last line is the “take-away” of the submission and that hers cut out too much of what I intended.  I also didn’t like that it was borderline cliche.
• She said, fine, we’ll leave it the way it is.
• I said no, if it needs a closing line, that’s fine, but I want to make sure that it focuses on the intended message.
• We put in a line and discussed it.  This discussion centered around perceived positive connotations of some words and negative connotations of others.  Also, we discussed some words with double-meanings and how the phrase could be misinterpreted.
• We removed the line.
• We added in another line.  We discussed it well beyond reason.

Finally, after 30 minutes, a walk through a thesaurus, and some more discussion on the intended message versus the perceived message and the importance of word choice in a couple of places, we came up with the following closing line.  I can’t tell if Kelley is happy with it or just tired of discussing the matter with me.  Either way, she signed-off.  I’ve included the entire last paragraph for reference:

While I expect my children to obey me, I understand that there are some concepts their young minds and energetic bodies cannot grasp. In those moments, I find it easiest to engage them on their level in a setting where they are free to be children. Not only do they begin to learn, but I savor the experience as well.  Similarly, if we shelter our faith within the church, we miss the opportunities, the experience, and the point.

There are two possible morals to this story:
(1) Our perfectionists natures, over-analysis, and ability to work with each other lead to a better work in the end.
(2) It’s a miracle that we can actually carry on a conversation.

A few weeks ago, I took a Friday off to help my family celebrate my 30th birthday.  We contemplated taking the girls to the Atlanta Zoo, but then someone (I think it was me) mentioned Dauset Trails.  We haven’t been to either one with the girls, so we weighed our options.  Zoo: $50+ for entry, 1.5 hour drive each way, + meals.  Dauset Trails: $0 entry, 30 minute drive each way, + meals.  Since it was my birthday weekend, I chose to spend less money and spend less time in the car and we headed off.

The day couldn’t have been more perfect.  It was slightly overcast and the temperature never got above 85.  We arrived earlier than most visitors, so we had our run of the place for a couple of hours.   We weren’t out of the car for 15 seconds and they were already running along the trails.  (Unfortunately, they ran too much at the start and our adventure ended with Ladybug on Mommy’s back and Butterfly on mine.) The animal trail was a hit as the girls ran from cage to cage and pointed out everything.  Butterfly seemed interested in identifying each animal while Ladybug seemed interested in the job between animals.  Here’s a rundown of our journey:

Animal Trail - Lazy otters, a bald eagle, several owls, raccoons trying to escape, a black bear, a couger, bison, ducks, lots of turtles, and various other creatures
Reptile Room - Snakes, turtles and little alligators.  And a bathroom break.
Garden Trail - This was a nice, shady walk that let to the Children’s Garden.  At the end were a bunch of stones that the girls could jump between…and they did.
Lotus Pond - Absolutely beautiful.  Butterfly and I decided that this is where the Fairies live.

I was wearing my Run4Missions shirt and one of the workers mentioned that I might be interested in trying out some of their trails sometime.  It sounded cool, so she got some information for me.  Apparently I had just missed a little race that they had the weekend before.  It was a 15K.  That’s a lot of K’s.

Once the weather gets cooler for good, I think that we’ll visit Dauset Trails again.  Most likely, it will be without all of the K’s, but it was definitely a great day and a wonderful way to say goodbye to my twenties.  Here are a few pictures: