Shallow Thinker

Please join me in congratulating Alana and Xander on their good news.  In May (perhaps…maybe….hopefully), Alana and Xander will be bringing home two beautiful little children (twins!) to spoil and love.  Kelley and I are very excited for them and know that they will be wonderful parents.  I know that they have waited for months on end with no word and now they have a finish line in sight.  Now they have a bit more waiting and I’m pretty sure that Xander will have to use duct tape to keep Alana from grabbing the first plane to Ethiopia.  But, I think she’ll manage.

Three years ago, our little Ladybug entered made her appearance.  As is my custom, I acted like a nerdy father and kept a log of the day she was born.  The only thing that I have edited below is to change the names of our girls and the doctor.  The rest is just as I wrote it that day.

march 21, 2007

5:15 - Butterfly tries to wake Mommy and Daddy. Daddy puts her back to bed

5:45 - Daddy gets in the shower and Butterfly gets in the bed with mommy.

6:15 - Mommy showers and Daddy feeds Butterfly breakfast

6:35 - Mommy eats breakfast while Daddy and Butterfly play with playdough

7:00 - Daddy head off to work

8:50 - Mommy and Butterfly left our house for a scheduled visit with the doctor.

8:55 - Mommy calls Daddy and tells him that she thinks today is the day. Daddy finishes things up at the office and heads towards the hospital/dr’s office.

9:10 - Mommy dropped Butterfly off to play with her best friend while she’s at the doctor.

9:30 - Arrived at Dr. Delivery’s office

9:35 - Daddy meets Mommy at the doctor’s office

9:50 - went back to see the doctor.

10:01 - Daddy feels awkward in the waiting room with all these ladies

10:25 - Dr. Delivery decides to admit mommy to the hospital…she’s at 5 cm!!

10:43 - entered OB assessment (daddy carried the pillow and the pink bag)

Dr. Delivery said that she would come by on her lunch break to break mommy’s water. the nurses will give he petosin as soon as they can.

11:40 - drew blood & started IV. asked a bunch of questions, too.

12:00 - GG picked up Butterfly from her friend’s house and took her to eat at chicj-fil-a. The report we get back is that she danced and showed people her light-up shoes and helped GG eat her chocolate shake!

12:04 - Hospital has finished the grand inquisition

12:25 - Mommy has started pitocin

12:30 - Dr. Delivery dropped in and broke mommy’s water

12:42 - filled out paperwork for epidural

1:04 - Nana and Pappy leave their house to come to the hospital.  About an hour and a half away.

1:29 - Sat up for epidural

1:35 - we think that Daddy came close to passing out when he was helping hold Mommy while they were administering the epidural. He claims that he was perfectly fine the whole time and it just got really hot in the room…stupid air conditioner must have temporarily broken

1:40 - test dose (epidural)

2:05 - the epidural seems to be working, so all the hired help leaves the room.

2:17 - installed catheter - ewwwwe, gross!

2:25 - a little oxygen for good measure

2:30 - we settle down a bit for a little rest. Daddy updates this schedule with a few whitty comments. Once little Ladybug starts to come, he’ll have to pay more attention to Mommy.

2:50 - Nana and Pappy arrive for a vist

3:05 - adjusted the epidural (it was only taking to one side)

3:23 - anterior lip - don’t know what that means, but they called Dr. Delivery to tell her

3:33 - started pushing

3:40 - paused pushing

3:50 - while waiting for dr., the nurses swap stories about the weird deliveries they’ve assisted with

4:10 - still waiting. the nurses say that Ladybug is moving down on her own which will keep mommy from pushing so hard.

4:30 - dr arrives

4:52 - delivery! 7 lb 15.7 oz. 19.25 long 13.5 head 13.5 chest

5:10 - tried a little snack!

6:15 - moved into our room (346) and mommy got to eat supper (corn, salsbury steak, mashed potatoes, roll, jello, and sprite)

My company usually hires engineering interns each the summer.  We provide them with some real-world experience, a little money, and a nice bullet point on their resumes.  In return, they give us cheap labor, quick work, and, on occasion, enough information to know that they are worth hiring.

So, it’s that time of year when the students start sending their resumes.  For some reason, I decided to do a little sleuthing this year.  I simply type the name into Facebook and see what comes up.  (I’ve used this same research method on full-time positions, too.) Oh what fun!

Student #1

I have actually met student #1.  He has been in a couple of my graduate school classes.  I have had enough interaction with him to be amazed at how telling his profile picture is, not to mention the remainder of gems hidden in his profile page.  Lets take a look:

So, let’s look at the picture and see what it tells us.  He’s a small portion of the photograph and is not the focal point of the camera.  The picture is taken with just him by himself in a large room.  Note the pose.  It’s a telling sign of his level of self-comfort.  A bit awkward of a stance, wouldn’t you say?  He’s posted this picture as his profile picture.  The one photo to show the world who he is, he ensures that he is not the center of attention.  The shot is framed like he is standing in front of some type of important landscape, but the background has nothing remarkable in it.  By posting this picture, he’s trying to become lost in the noise.

Here’s the amazing thing, his Facebook network groups (and my interactions with him) indicate the same type of behavior.  Most notably is the desire to be associated with any group that will accept him.  A number of his FB groups are college groups for different races, specifically in different college disciplines  (for instance, one is a group for black law students).  The race grouping on its own isn’t remarkable, but coupled with the fact that they are completely different disciplines makes them telling.  It’s almost as if he’s so uncomfortable with who he is, he feels the need to identify with anything that is not him.

At any rate, I knew of this guy well enough to be amazed at how telling his profile was.  So, I went out and looked at one of the students that I have never met.  Let’s see what we can get from this guy.

Student #2

Since we can derive some good information from someone that we know.  Let’s try with a student that we don’t know…

So, let’s start with the obvious.  He’s not the brightest person out there because he is applying for jobs with this set as his profile picture and his profile open to the public.  But shall we did deeper?

The attempt of the photo is to say “look at me, I like to party.”  What it really says is “I’m trying to be cool, but I’m not.”  Here’s how we know.  First, the girls are dancing on a stage, oblivious to this guy’s presence.  He’s not even right up by stage getting his picture made.  There is a layer of people between him and the intended focus.  It says “hey, I’m close enough to look cool. Snap the picture.” Next, that pale white skin indicates that he hasn’t been partying shirtless for long or very often.  There’s nothing wrong with not partying, but this picture is obviously a special occasion rather than a common occurrence.  Next, we look at the can in his hand.  It’s a Coke Zero.  That’s right, the boy knows how to get his drank on!  Spring break and he’s going to get some CAFFEINE!  WOOOO!

Some of the other pictures in his grouping indicate that he likes to be thought of as “the man.”  There are numerous photos from his high school days where he has his shirt off and his arms around some girls.  (Looks like after a track meet or something.)  My rule of thumb has always been “If ya ain’t got not muscles, keep your shirt on.”  This rule has kept me happily covered for more than 20 years.

Real Life Application

So now that we’re well practiced on the art of Facebook Psychology, what does this guy’s page say?

I usually try to do my own thing on this blog and not link to other sites, but this one is awesome.  This is an on-line drawing program that helps you make some pretty doggone cool stuff.

http://www.escapemotions.com/experiments/flame/index.html#top

Here is my first creation:

In addition to my attempted journey into the world of deep thoughts, I have been working to find a balance on another front.  This dilemma has plagued me for more than six months.  And now I come to you, my loyal interneterians in search of guidance.

Which is better:  Chocolate Milk or Sweet Tea?

See, chocolate milk has much more protein, but it’s so thick that I can’t drink more than a half-gallon a day.  I can gulp sweet tea all day long, but it’s got all that caffeine.  And, I’ve tried having a gallon of both, but that didn’t turn out very well.  The experiment of mixing them turned out even worse.

Why must life be full of such difficult decisions.  Please, internet, help me choose a vice!

*Side Note* - So, apparently, you can get some “interesting” results when you use google’s image search to find a picture of chocolate milk.  I never knew it was so sexy.  And yeah, don’t search unless you want an education.   I even had the filters turned on.

Sometimes, one post isn’t enough to clear my brain.  Mind if I ramble on a bit more?  No?  Thanks, I knew you’d listen.  After all, I am a shallow thinker, so it takes me a bit longer to figure things out.

While I am a slow learner, I do understand that pain and heartaches are nothing new.  Sometimes we just notice it more than other times.  But all around, people are constantly looking to find the calm in the midst of their storms.  The most typical response that I have seen is that we just grow calloused to the sadness around us and we trudge on with our lives.

Mr. Jones lost his wife. She was always so sweet to me.  I have a meeting in an hour.

The Robinsons are getting a divorce.  I hate it for their kids.  I wonder what we’ll do for supper tonight.

Jennifer seems really upset about something.  I hope someone talks with her.  Ah, I’m already running behind.

Cold and callous?  Sure, but it’s the way we run.  After all, we don’t have the time to sit and listen to every little detail of all these peoples’ lives.  And heck, even if we did, wouldn’t it be depressing to have to struggle through these things with every single person that was having a bad day?

The only true response that I have seen work is love.  Compassion.  It’s the kind of compassion that has you just sit in silence while someone cries on your shoulder.  The love that sends you out in the wee hours of the morning after someone has made a mistake.  Again.  It’s the deep friendship where two people embrace during an emotional storm and they both know that they have a companion through the trials.

As much as the politicians try, government can’t comfort all who are weary.  As much as the congregations gather, the church isn’t comforting those who are heavy-hearted.  There are many who still struggle and long to find some rest.

I don’t even pretend to think that there is anything that I could do to solve the global needs for comfort, compassion, peace, or love.  This void existed before I arrived and will continue long after I am gone.  However, I am reminded of a quote from a guy that loved the teachings of Jesus, but didn’t care much for the actions of his modern-day followers.  “Be the change you want to see in the world.”  The solution that I long to see in my world can only come from one place.  Me.

But how?

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.

All you need is a whiffle bat and a yard full of sweetgum balls. I could swat these thing for hours. So, either it’s a great stress reliever or I’m easily amused.

Probably both.

I have not written in a while because…um….because…I’m very important.  No, no one will buy that.  Because I’ve been very busy!  Well, you probably know better than that as well.  Well, I have been a bit busy, but I suppose that I’m mostly lazy.  So there, you know the truth.  Let’s get on with it, shall we?

I haven’t posted a health update in a while (all previous ones located here), so you are probably wondering if I’ve become a muscle-bound hero, a ball of dough, or a spaghetti noodle of a man.  Sadly, none of these have come to fruition.  I have managed to pad my stats a bit, so here’s the lowdown.

One year ago:
Weight -168
Body Fat % - 17%
# of Pull ups during one workout  - 8
Typical Run Distance - 3 miles
Calories per day - What? Who in the heck keeps up with that?

Today:
Weight -194
Body Fat % - 22%
# of Pull ups during one workout  - 83
Typical Run Distance - 4 miles
Calories per day - More!

I am still doing the P90X workouts and have probably seen more increase in weight and reps this time around.  I’ve also started doing more than just three of the workouts, so maybe that helps, too.

Back in June of last year, I took a picture so that I can have something to compare against.  Maybe in June of this year I’ll have enough courage to post them, but I’d have to warn you that there is a lot of pale chest area showing.  I think the FCC might shut this place down.

At any rate, there are my results for your interpretation.  I think that the numbers speak for themselves.  Of course, no one knows what they’re saying, but they still feel inclined to talk.

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.”