"Consider the turtle. He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out."
James B. Conant
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Happy Father's Day
Last year, for Father's Day, the Arena women gave Dad a card indicating a gift had been given in his name to the Mt. Soledad Veteran's Association. For this last year, I have been all but certain he knew of the intentions behind the card. It was nothing he said or did; then or now, it was all in a look, an expression that I clearly misinterpreted. This Father's Day we revealed the plaque in his honor. We invited him to the Memorial under the premise that Shaun wanted to see the new plaque for General Patton as a precursor to our Father's Day celebration.
The day was more San Francisco than San Diego, but the rain held out for which I was thankful. We all meandered along and eventually came across the Patton stone that had been freshly mounted for Memorial Day, just days after Dad's. Seven plaques over, Nathan exclaimed, "Look Grandpa, it's you!"
First response, "Well I'll be god damned." So, yeah, I guess he might have been a little surprised.
Mount Soledad Veteran's Memorial sits atop a hill in La Jolla, California overlooking a most fantastic coastline and ocean view. The memorial consists of a twenty nine foot Latin cross at its highest point, the base of which is encircled by red brick steps leading down to a flag pole with the American Flag waving in the gentle breeze.
Between the cross and flag are six concentric walls holding black granite plaques commemorating the service and sacrifice of veterans living and deceased.
The cross itself has been the subject of legal fodder and voter consideration for nearly two decades. The debate of course being a religious symbol on public land. For now, the matter is resolved. In July of 2008, U.S. Federal Judge Larry Alan Burns ruled that the cross could remain, stating, "The Court finds the memorial at Mt. Soledad, including its Latin cross, communicates the primarily non-religious messages of military service, death and sacrifice. As such, despite its location on public land, the memorial is Constitutional." The ACLU had 60 days from the date of the ruling to appeal to the U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, but it did not pursue further action.
I will not get on a rant here about the use of religious symbols on public property or the word God on American currency or in the Pledge of Allegience. This space is to honor my dad and the dedicated service he gave to our family and country. Now, there is a little space up there, on one of those walls, to honor him too, forever.
The Mt Soledad Association had many rules about the content of what could be included on the plaque. No years of service (it was 26, by the way), no indications of death in the line of duty (thank God not) and the most disappointing of all was that the name had to match the veteran's discharge papers. I knew his preference, so there was begging involved, to no avail. I got over my dismay when I noticed his middle name was also right there on the official discharge, and so, would be included. I wondered and hoped even, that in the years and generations to come, perhaps my son would stand on that hilltop and share stories with his own grandson and feel a little extra connection at the sight of their shared name.
Check out www.soledadmemorial.com for more information on the Memorial or to find other veterans with the plaque locator.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
The day was more San Francisco than San Diego, but the rain held out for which I was thankful. We all meandered along and eventually came across the Patton stone that had been freshly mounted for Memorial Day, just days after Dad's. Seven plaques over, Nathan exclaimed, "Look Grandpa, it's you!"
First response, "Well I'll be god damned." So, yeah, I guess he might have been a little surprised.
Mount Soledad Veteran's Memorial sits atop a hill in La Jolla, California overlooking a most fantastic coastline and ocean view. The memorial consists of a twenty nine foot Latin cross at its highest point, the base of which is encircled by red brick steps leading down to a flag pole with the American Flag waving in the gentle breeze.
Between the cross and flag are six concentric walls holding black granite plaques commemorating the service and sacrifice of veterans living and deceased.
The cross itself has been the subject of legal fodder and voter consideration for nearly two decades. The debate of course being a religious symbol on public land. For now, the matter is resolved. In July of 2008, U.S. Federal Judge Larry Alan Burns ruled that the cross could remain, stating, "The Court finds the memorial at Mt. Soledad, including its Latin cross, communicates the primarily non-religious messages of military service, death and sacrifice. As such, despite its location on public land, the memorial is Constitutional." The ACLU had 60 days from the date of the ruling to appeal to the U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, but it did not pursue further action.
I will not get on a rant here about the use of religious symbols on public property or the word God on American currency or in the Pledge of Allegience. This space is to honor my dad and the dedicated service he gave to our family and country. Now, there is a little space up there, on one of those walls, to honor him too, forever.
The Mt Soledad Association had many rules about the content of what could be included on the plaque. No years of service (it was 26, by the way), no indications of death in the line of duty (thank God not) and the most disappointing of all was that the name had to match the veteran's discharge papers. I knew his preference, so there was begging involved, to no avail. I got over my dismay when I noticed his middle name was also right there on the official discharge, and so, would be included. I wondered and hoped even, that in the years and generations to come, perhaps my son would stand on that hilltop and share stories with his own grandson and feel a little extra connection at the sight of their shared name.
Check out www.soledadmemorial.com for more information on the Memorial or to find other veterans with the plaque locator.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Negotiator
Some months ago Nathan regurgitated some version of the perils of watching too much television, "Too much TV makes your brain go away", he informed us. Mind you the child loves television and asks for it at every lull in the day's events. Not only at every lull, but every afternoon when he is tuckered out from a long day, he must watch "100" of his favorite shows. Yesterday, in the midst of a tantrum he even asked to watch tv to help calm himself down. What an operator.
Despite the fact that certain members of the family don't approve of the programming offered by PBS and the Noggin channels--too much brainwashing--we do allow it on a regular basis, maybe too regular a basis even. A little brainwashing on the virtues of recycling and kindness is well worth saving my own sanity.
Today after it was time to turn off the tv, he decided to beg, whine and cry for more, (I soooo get how parents cave under the pressure and annoyance of the never ending whine) he brought out a new argument, "But Mommy, I have too much brains, so I have to watch more tv." Nice try kid.
Despite the fact that certain members of the family don't approve of the programming offered by PBS and the Noggin channels--too much brainwashing--we do allow it on a regular basis, maybe too regular a basis even. A little brainwashing on the virtues of recycling and kindness is well worth saving my own sanity.
Today after it was time to turn off the tv, he decided to beg, whine and cry for more, (I soooo get how parents cave under the pressure and annoyance of the never ending whine) he brought out a new argument, "But Mommy, I have too much brains, so I have to watch more tv." Nice try kid.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Ouch!
Tuesday evening, Shaun started having sharp pains in his side. Wednesday I left him in the emergency room of a dark and drab hospital where the staff, save one, were as uninspired as the physical space that confined them. Ten hours he spent there with little to no satisfaction other than confirmation of the diagnosis that we had pretty much determined ourselves the night before with the help of Google and his uncanny ability to pinpoint the source of his discomfort pretty much exactly. A kidney stone, jagged crystallized rock dragging it's way through the urinary tract (except when it decides to impale itself into the wall of the ureter, but I digress).
He was sent home and ordered to drink his 'normal' amount of water and pass the thing at home. It was not large enough, or so they thought, to blast. From what I have learned, kidney stones are a pretty common occurrence in the ER, perhaps the nurse that told him to drink his normal amount of water was visiting from another effing planet--how about being a tad more specific with a person that, just maybe, has a tough time consuming appropriate amount of liquids for a human being during the course of a day? After all, he is there for a flippin' kidney stone!
Thursday, Friday, and most of Saturday he spent in pretty severe pain, he tried to avoid the vicodin in the beginning for fear that whatever might accompany it would be worse somehow. He quickly got over that and was requesting the next dose before the specified time, in an attempt to keep at least the edge off the pain. The bouts lasted from ten to thirty minutes at a time and were generally followed by the body falling to a deep sleep, attempting to recover.
Friday, he had a follow up appointment with a urologist who generously offered to schedule surgery to remove it in four weeks if the stone had not passed by then. Huh? Four weeks?
Saturday morning called for desperate measures; a home remedy consisting of Coca Cola and pureed asparagus--My husband doesn't really seek out vegetables, so for him to procure, cook, puree and consume asparagus with a gallon of Coke demonstrates the desperation of the situation. By that evening, with no relief, he was done. Calls were made, doctors summoned, and lots more drugs consumed. For the second time in a week, I took him to the Emergency Room. Lucky for us it was a pretty slow night and he was seen relatively quickly. Nathan and I headed back home while he was admitted, more drugs administered and surgery scheduled for the morning.
I won't go into all the many more details, the insults added to injury and the near assault I was threatened with in the ER driveway. Suffice it to say that the most impressive thing about this particular health care provider is their marketing campaign.
The stone was successfully removed as was the stent about a week after the surgery. The host of other unwelcome side effects of the experience are subsiding. He is figuring out how to manage his diet while curbing some of the culprits of his, most common type of stone. The good news is he finally has a legitimate reason to forego the beets offered by his mother-in-law on a semi regular basis. Somehow the threat of another stone is a more palatable refusal than his prior explanation that they taste like dirt...So there's that.
He was sent home and ordered to drink his 'normal' amount of water and pass the thing at home. It was not large enough, or so they thought, to blast. From what I have learned, kidney stones are a pretty common occurrence in the ER, perhaps the nurse that told him to drink his normal amount of water was visiting from another effing planet--how about being a tad more specific with a person that, just maybe, has a tough time consuming appropriate amount of liquids for a human being during the course of a day? After all, he is there for a flippin' kidney stone!
Thursday, Friday, and most of Saturday he spent in pretty severe pain, he tried to avoid the vicodin in the beginning for fear that whatever might accompany it would be worse somehow. He quickly got over that and was requesting the next dose before the specified time, in an attempt to keep at least the edge off the pain. The bouts lasted from ten to thirty minutes at a time and were generally followed by the body falling to a deep sleep, attempting to recover.
Friday, he had a follow up appointment with a urologist who generously offered to schedule surgery to remove it in four weeks if the stone had not passed by then. Huh? Four weeks?
Saturday morning called for desperate measures; a home remedy consisting of Coca Cola and pureed asparagus--My husband doesn't really seek out vegetables, so for him to procure, cook, puree and consume asparagus with a gallon of Coke demonstrates the desperation of the situation. By that evening, with no relief, he was done. Calls were made, doctors summoned, and lots more drugs consumed. For the second time in a week, I took him to the Emergency Room. Lucky for us it was a pretty slow night and he was seen relatively quickly. Nathan and I headed back home while he was admitted, more drugs administered and surgery scheduled for the morning.
I won't go into all the many more details, the insults added to injury and the near assault I was threatened with in the ER driveway. Suffice it to say that the most impressive thing about this particular health care provider is their marketing campaign.
The stone was successfully removed as was the stent about a week after the surgery. The host of other unwelcome side effects of the experience are subsiding. He is figuring out how to manage his diet while curbing some of the culprits of his, most common type of stone. The good news is he finally has a legitimate reason to forego the beets offered by his mother-in-law on a semi regular basis. Somehow the threat of another stone is a more palatable refusal than his prior explanation that they taste like dirt...So there's that.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
So it Begins
Nathan: Can I watch tv?
Mommy: No.
Nathan: Can I have some marshmellows?
Mommy: No.
Nathan: Can I have some marshmellows while I watch tv?
Mommy: Let me think about it, uh...no.
Nathan: I never get anything I want, ever.
Mommy: No.
Nathan: Can I have some marshmellows?
Mommy: No.
Nathan: Can I have some marshmellows while I watch tv?
Mommy: Let me think about it, uh...no.
Nathan: I never get anything I want, ever.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Mother of the Year
Yes, I have earned yet another tally mark, oh no, actually two in one day, tipping the scales in my favor for mother of the year.
My child is not enjoying swimming lessons at all lately. I'm sure less so after this evening. He is also finding his voice and becoming coordinated enough to dramatically cross his arms, stomp his foot and swing his head around all at the same time while announcing to anyone on the premises that "I am NOT getting in the pool". I am pretty sure snapping fingers are in my near future. Really, I am glad that he is asserting himself, truly I am, even though this display was something containing a bit more attitude than assertion. Though I try to show him the respect that I want him to give me and others, I think I may have missed the mark when I threw him in the pool when I'm pretty sure he would have preferred that I not. Oh, yes I did. Well, kinda I did, yeah I did... I sort of dropped him back in the pool to his waiting instructor when he was contemplating whether he should jump in to her or high tail it the hell outta there. Whatever, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't recommend it, no matter the tales I have heard of people miraculously learning to swim as a result of being tossed into the deep end. Once he emerged from the water, and even after the lesson, he didn't have a word to say about it, he was not hurt in any way. Nonetheless, I undermined the security I am supposed to be giving and I can do better.
I digress. Prior to ever arriving at the pool was the battle to get there. I am so looking forward to the next session that will be taken at the YMCA facility five minutes from our house instead of the one across town. The further one is by far the nicer facility and most citizens in our fair city probably find it convenient that every flippin' freeway in Southern California converges practically in it's very parking lot. Suffice it to say, I do not. Exactly how many Clairemont Mesa Blvd exits can there possibly be in one ten mile radius, off of 4 or 5 freeways?
Again, I digress. I gave Nathan the appropriate warning that it's almost time to get ready to go, at which time he decided to throw the game we were playing all over his room, turn his radio on full blast tuned into nothing but static, squeal and whine his protests about going and finally grasped and pulled on the dog's tail when the dog moved in a direction he did not appreciate. At some point I turned the radio off and commanded Nathan to let go of the dog. I peeled five of his fingers away from Jake's tail and damned if I couldn't get him to let the other hand go. I tried appealing to his kind nature and kept repeating "You are hurting Jake, let go of him" to no avail, his stubborn streak had set in. Not able to come up with a better solution, I slapped his hand at the same time saying one last time, "You are hurting Jake." He let go immediately, shocked, I took him on my lap, the crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks, he quietly unleashed the zinger on me, "Well, you are hurting me!" Ouch.
My child is not enjoying swimming lessons at all lately. I'm sure less so after this evening. He is also finding his voice and becoming coordinated enough to dramatically cross his arms, stomp his foot and swing his head around all at the same time while announcing to anyone on the premises that "I am NOT getting in the pool". I am pretty sure snapping fingers are in my near future. Really, I am glad that he is asserting himself, truly I am, even though this display was something containing a bit more attitude than assertion. Though I try to show him the respect that I want him to give me and others, I think I may have missed the mark when I threw him in the pool when I'm pretty sure he would have preferred that I not. Oh, yes I did. Well, kinda I did, yeah I did... I sort of dropped him back in the pool to his waiting instructor when he was contemplating whether he should jump in to her or high tail it the hell outta there. Whatever, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't recommend it, no matter the tales I have heard of people miraculously learning to swim as a result of being tossed into the deep end. Once he emerged from the water, and even after the lesson, he didn't have a word to say about it, he was not hurt in any way. Nonetheless, I undermined the security I am supposed to be giving and I can do better.
I digress. Prior to ever arriving at the pool was the battle to get there. I am so looking forward to the next session that will be taken at the YMCA facility five minutes from our house instead of the one across town. The further one is by far the nicer facility and most citizens in our fair city probably find it convenient that every flippin' freeway in Southern California converges practically in it's very parking lot. Suffice it to say, I do not. Exactly how many Clairemont Mesa Blvd exits can there possibly be in one ten mile radius, off of 4 or 5 freeways?
Again, I digress. I gave Nathan the appropriate warning that it's almost time to get ready to go, at which time he decided to throw the game we were playing all over his room, turn his radio on full blast tuned into nothing but static, squeal and whine his protests about going and finally grasped and pulled on the dog's tail when the dog moved in a direction he did not appreciate. At some point I turned the radio off and commanded Nathan to let go of the dog. I peeled five of his fingers away from Jake's tail and damned if I couldn't get him to let the other hand go. I tried appealing to his kind nature and kept repeating "You are hurting Jake, let go of him" to no avail, his stubborn streak had set in. Not able to come up with a better solution, I slapped his hand at the same time saying one last time, "You are hurting Jake." He let go immediately, shocked, I took him on my lap, the crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks, he quietly unleashed the zinger on me, "Well, you are hurting me!" Ouch.
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