The boy had an admirable nosebleed yesterday after covering himself with a blanket as Darth Vader and spinning into a wall. It was his best bleed yet. He was quite beside himself for about five minutes. He doesn't like getting the "sticky stuff" on himself. It is amazing the stuff you will catch in your hand when you become a parent. Blood, sweat, tears, vomit....
Later, he asked for some medicine to make his nose feel better. He settled for a Spiderman vitamin.
When he was still a baby and had his first real sickness we had to give him some gritty antibiotics. He didn't like medicine in those days. He screamed while we squirted it down his throat (first child, first sickness, first deep parental guilt). I picked him up to comfort him while he screamed. He stopped screaming for a moment, and I thought that he was over it until I felt a heavy, wet warmth spread across my chest. The entire contents of his stomach ended up as a massive pink stain on my shirt. Now the kids have been sick so often that they ask for medicine almost every night. He is still on antibiotics for strep that he acquired a week and a half ago. Now they both seem to be getting sick again.
My two year old girl has finally accepted me when she needs comfort. For a long time, she would rather curl up into a screaming ball on the floor than have her daddy comfort her. She still prefers momma but I will do in a pinch.
She has also begun showing me the fruits of her nasal expeditions. She started this in December. She walked up to me with her fingers held high. Granted, it was impressive, and she had reason to be proud, but I did not eat well for several days. I am still not sure how something so large fit into such a petite nose.
TWINS? How can that be? Children squared? I still haven't told my classes yet. Only one person at school knows. The wife is still quite ill with the mourning sickness. I grilled some steak for her, which made her feel better for a couple of hours.
I think we are going to need at least six names picked out. The wife wants to have the names picked out as soon as they can tell us what they are. We will need two for two boys, two for two girls, and two for one of each. For now, they shall remain baby "A" and "B".
Peace
30 January 2006
25 January 2006
Five letters that make your heart stop
The five letters are located top center in the below scan:
I am still waiting for my heart to begin beating again. Meanwhile, the twins' hearts are beating at 169 beats per minute.Peace
17 January 2006
What Comes Before the Fall?
I should have known better than to post a success story yesterday. If you start thinking too highly of yourself as a teacher, this profession has a way of putting you in your place. I am still gargling with Coke to get the taste of shoe leather out of my mouth. Here's how it went down:
I decided to spill the beans about my wife's pregnancy to my students first. I thought they would appreciate knowing it before anyone else. I was very tired from helping my wife out with the kids and the house (on account of her state--pregnancy is tough on her), and I had slept poorly the past couple of nights from stress. I told my first period that we would have a light day on account of my exhaustion.
"On another note, I wanted you all to be the first to know that my wife and I are expecting a third child."
The class erupted in congratulations, what-is-its, and how many do you haves, what will you name it!???
I answered with thank yous, about the size of a poppy seed, this will be three, don't know yet. I added on:
"That's why I'm so tired."
Stunned silence for a nanosecond was followed by the same thought passing through everyone's minds. My face flushed and I stammered and offered explanations, but it was too late. The linkage between my exhaustion and my wife's pregnancy had already been made (that's as far as I will go in spelling it out).
A third period junior asked if it was a mistake.
A sixth period freshman asked if it was planned.
The baby: planned; today's announcement: a mistake, unplanned
Peace
I decided to spill the beans about my wife's pregnancy to my students first. I thought they would appreciate knowing it before anyone else. I was very tired from helping my wife out with the kids and the house (on account of her state--pregnancy is tough on her), and I had slept poorly the past couple of nights from stress. I told my first period that we would have a light day on account of my exhaustion.
"On another note, I wanted you all to be the first to know that my wife and I are expecting a third child."
The class erupted in congratulations, what-is-its, and how many do you haves, what will you name it!???
I answered with thank yous, about the size of a poppy seed, this will be three, don't know yet. I added on:
"That's why I'm so tired."
Stunned silence for a nanosecond was followed by the same thought passing through everyone's minds. My face flushed and I stammered and offered explanations, but it was too late. The linkage between my exhaustion and my wife's pregnancy had already been made (that's as far as I will go in spelling it out).
A third period junior asked if it was a mistake.
A sixth period freshman asked if it was planned.
The baby: planned; today's announcement: a mistake, unplanned
Peace
16 January 2006
Monday Miscellany
By a quirk of scheduling, my school had to move some dates for the Christmas holidays. This move left us two days short so the school reluctantly dropped the Presidents' Day and King holidays from the calendar. Needless to say, the students were surly today since, as they saw it, "No other school in the world is in today." They also went on to argue that our school was "racist." Granted, their moral stand on racism was insincere and opportunistic, but I knew this was coming and had been thinking about what to do with this day all weekend.
I began with my best deadpan, "Listen, I know you don't want to be here today. No other schools are in session. Many of you had King Day service projects planned [sarcastically said--we are 97% white and no blacks], but I did a little research and found that we are not the only school in session today. The KKK School for the Blind and the Neo-Nazi Homeschool Association of Forsyth are both in session today." I went on to explain that the school had also canceled a day celebrating forty-two white men (I know that GWB is 43, but Cleveland was a repeat--22 and 24) and that more than balances out." Explaining that I made up the other schools (most of them didn't need me to say it but some did) and that our school had not cancelled the holiday out of principle but out of convenience, I then segued into a discussion of racism and race and, I think, tied it neatly into our ongoing study of Huck Finn. I hope that I gave them something to think about, though I doubt that I changed any minds. Later, one of my students said we could have taken a snow day instead of canceling King Day. I replied, "Everyday is a snow day at KKK School for the Blind." That was third period. I was on third period. First period was a bit of a disaster as I grappled with the students' perspective and logical counters to their illogical assumptions but third period was a beaut.
My son was allowed to take in a toy on his birthday for show and tell. He took his new light saber (we cleared it with his teacher ahead of time). Good boy. He has only nearly decapitated his little sister once.
The Lego Advent calendars areon sale sold out at Lego.com. Regularly 14.99 Sale Price 4.99. Great fun if you are into stretching out the materialism of Christmas for a few more weeks. I have purchased two for next Christmas.
Peace
I began with my best deadpan, "Listen, I know you don't want to be here today. No other schools are in session. Many of you had King Day service projects planned [sarcastically said--we are 97% white and no blacks], but I did a little research and found that we are not the only school in session today. The KKK School for the Blind and the Neo-Nazi Homeschool Association of Forsyth are both in session today." I went on to explain that the school had also canceled a day celebrating forty-two white men (I know that GWB is 43, but Cleveland was a repeat--22 and 24) and that more than balances out." Explaining that I made up the other schools (most of them didn't need me to say it but some did) and that our school had not cancelled the holiday out of principle but out of convenience, I then segued into a discussion of racism and race and, I think, tied it neatly into our ongoing study of Huck Finn. I hope that I gave them something to think about, though I doubt that I changed any minds. Later, one of my students said we could have taken a snow day instead of canceling King Day. I replied, "Everyday is a snow day at KKK School for the Blind." That was third period. I was on third period. First period was a bit of a disaster as I grappled with the students' perspective and logical counters to their illogical assumptions but third period was a beaut.
My son was allowed to take in a toy on his birthday for show and tell. He took his new light saber (we cleared it with his teacher ahead of time). Good boy. He has only nearly decapitated his little sister once.
The Lego Advent calendars are
Peace
12 January 2006
Christmas Eve
All evening, the boy wondered when he would get to open presents. The first round of gifts were distributed and opened in front of him. Bundles filled with clothes, toys, gadgets, and holiday foods were opened and ohhed and ahhed over. But he had gotten nothing yet. He didn't understand. His eyes glazed over as he attempted to get an answer for his pleas, "Why didn't I get a present?"
His father tried to explain that the first round consisted of presents from his parents to everyone else and that he would get presents very soon. This explanation seemed to mollify him though he wondered what "consisted" meant. He couldn't sit still until a present finally was put in his hands. The delay only increased his appreciation as he opened up a protective helmet. The boy declared that it he loved it and that it was what he had always wanted and handed it over to his father to open it. He was not exactly sure what it was, but he had opened it and it was his. The gift would make more sense when he opened up a pair of Star Wars Roller Skates with protective gear.
Again, the gift was what he had always wanted. His father grimace inwardly as he considered what the future held. His boy would put on the elbow pads. He would put on the knee pads. He would put on the helmet. He would put on the wrist guards. He would put on the skates. His parents would take him outside where he would skate and fall. He would cry and never skate again. Tonight, his shoes were too big to fit into the skates, but the day would come.
Days later, the boy was suited up with more protection than a stormtrooper. The one chink in the armor was the backside.
At first, the boy would not let go of his father's hands, and gripped his father as though he would never let go. After a couple of times up and down the driveway, the boy insisted on skating in the street. They went into the street.
He told his father to just hold one of his hands. A couple of times up and down the street and the boy demanded, "You can let me go now, Daddy." The boy's father was now the one that couldn't let go. He knew that if let the boy go that he would fall and would hurt and would cry. Again the boy asked his father to let him go. With reluctant acceptance and a measure of pride, the father let go his boy's hand. The boy skated with awkward grace and confidence for several moments. Then he fell.
"I hurt my heinie!" the boy cried. His father picked him up and brushed him off, sure that this would be the end of skating for a while.
The next day the boy asked to go skating again. It was raining. The next day he went skating. He refused help of any kind and skated and fell and skated again.
Each day the boy grows a little more independent and demands that his parents let him go a little more. Each day, his parents let him go that little more, knowing he will fall and hurt, but they will let him go nevertheless and will always be there to pick him back up again.
Today the boy turns five....
Peace
His father tried to explain that the first round consisted of presents from his parents to everyone else and that he would get presents very soon. This explanation seemed to mollify him though he wondered what "consisted" meant. He couldn't sit still until a present finally was put in his hands. The delay only increased his appreciation as he opened up a protective helmet. The boy declared that it he loved it and that it was what he had always wanted and handed it over to his father to open it. He was not exactly sure what it was, but he had opened it and it was his. The gift would make more sense when he opened up a pair of Star Wars Roller Skates with protective gear.
Again, the gift was what he had always wanted. His father grimace inwardly as he considered what the future held. His boy would put on the elbow pads. He would put on the knee pads. He would put on the helmet. He would put on the wrist guards. He would put on the skates. His parents would take him outside where he would skate and fall. He would cry and never skate again. Tonight, his shoes were too big to fit into the skates, but the day would come.
Days later, the boy was suited up with more protection than a stormtrooper. The one chink in the armor was the backside.
At first, the boy would not let go of his father's hands, and gripped his father as though he would never let go. After a couple of times up and down the driveway, the boy insisted on skating in the street. They went into the street.
He told his father to just hold one of his hands. A couple of times up and down the street and the boy demanded, "You can let me go now, Daddy." The boy's father was now the one that couldn't let go. He knew that if let the boy go that he would fall and would hurt and would cry. Again the boy asked his father to let him go. With reluctant acceptance and a measure of pride, the father let go his boy's hand. The boy skated with awkward grace and confidence for several moments. Then he fell.
"I hurt my heinie!" the boy cried. His father picked him up and brushed him off, sure that this would be the end of skating for a while.
The next day the boy asked to go skating again. It was raining. The next day he went skating. He refused help of any kind and skated and fell and skated again.
Each day the boy grows a little more independent and demands that his parents let him go a little more. Each day, his parents let him go that little more, knowing he will fall and hurt, but they will let him go nevertheless and will always be there to pick him back up again.
Today the boy turns five....
Peace
05 January 2006
Great Expectations
Last week, we discovered that my wife is pregnant for the third time. We wanted to wait longer before telling the world, but my wife couldn't wait any longer. We are expecting the next installment of the Splitcat clan in early September. This child has the power to sway the gender balance in the household. Of course, I am hoping for another male child. We shall see.
Peace
Peace
03 January 2006
What do you want to be when you grow up?
4boydad asks the following questions in a new meme. Here are my answers.
1. What did you want to be when you grew up (WYGU) while you were a kid?
The first thing I remember wanting to be was an astronaut. I desperately wanted to fly, land on other worlds, and live a life of adventure. My evil eldest brother typed a prank letter to me from the Lego Space Academy, informing me that I had been accepted and only had to send in my $1,000,000 application fee (my brother went on to a long and successful career with a Nigerian bank). The thrilling hope that rose within me and the combination of my two greatest loves (space and Lego) fell back to earth quicker than a Soviet space capsule as everyone was very fast (and gleeful I think) to point out that you had to be a pilot to be an astronaut and that pilots can't wear glasses (I wore them young). I moved on to other dreams. By my ninth grade year, a fascinating history teacher inspired me to follow in his foot steps. I remember swimming a year later in a very, very cold river in Mentone, Alabama and being struck by the fact that I would become a history teacher and then start my own school. I drew up a curriculum and organizational structure with checks and balances between three administrative bodies (teacher, parents, students). The next year, I briefly flirted with the idea of becoming an underwater archeologist, but claustrophobia and Jaws made that idea untenable. By the time I graduated, I was back to teacher.
2. What did you want to be WYGU when you graduated from High School?
See #1. In addition, I wanted to have published a series of fantasy fiction and three works of Civil War history by the time I was 35.
3. What (if anything) is your college degree in? (overachievers: feel free to add Graduate degrees)
BA History and English. Most of my friends when I was college age wanted to be teachers. Some are living the dream. Most have woken up from the nightmare.
4. What do you do for a living now?
I currently teach English. I am not sure that I can claim to be doing it "for a living", but it pays the most of the bills. I have been teaching for ten years with two brief breaks for the assembly of control units for industrial print presses and inside steel sales. Last year I taught history. Next year I am thinking, math? Then off to the Lego Space Academy as soon as I get my millions from the Royal Bank of Nigeria.
My son still professes to want to be a dinosaur and then a teacher when he grows up.
Peace
1. What did you want to be when you grew up (WYGU) while you were a kid?
The first thing I remember wanting to be was an astronaut. I desperately wanted to fly, land on other worlds, and live a life of adventure. My evil eldest brother typed a prank letter to me from the Lego Space Academy, informing me that I had been accepted and only had to send in my $1,000,000 application fee (my brother went on to a long and successful career with a Nigerian bank). The thrilling hope that rose within me and the combination of my two greatest loves (space and Lego) fell back to earth quicker than a Soviet space capsule as everyone was very fast (and gleeful I think) to point out that you had to be a pilot to be an astronaut and that pilots can't wear glasses (I wore them young). I moved on to other dreams. By my ninth grade year, a fascinating history teacher inspired me to follow in his foot steps. I remember swimming a year later in a very, very cold river in Mentone, Alabama and being struck by the fact that I would become a history teacher and then start my own school. I drew up a curriculum and organizational structure with checks and balances between three administrative bodies (teacher, parents, students). The next year, I briefly flirted with the idea of becoming an underwater archeologist, but claustrophobia and Jaws made that idea untenable. By the time I graduated, I was back to teacher.
2. What did you want to be WYGU when you graduated from High School?
See #1. In addition, I wanted to have published a series of fantasy fiction and three works of Civil War history by the time I was 35.
3. What (if anything) is your college degree in? (overachievers: feel free to add Graduate degrees)
BA History and English. Most of my friends when I was college age wanted to be teachers. Some are living the dream. Most have woken up from the nightmare.
4. What do you do for a living now?
I currently teach English. I am not sure that I can claim to be doing it "for a living", but it pays the most of the bills. I have been teaching for ten years with two brief breaks for the assembly of control units for industrial print presses and inside steel sales. Last year I taught history. Next year I am thinking, math? Then off to the Lego Space Academy as soon as I get my millions from the Royal Bank of Nigeria.
My son still professes to want to be a dinosaur and then a teacher when he grows up.
Peace
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