Stuffed

This pregnancy will be coming to an end soon, and I'd like to take this moment to formally complain about a related condition I have been experiencing for the past 7+ months. It's called rhinitis of pregnancy and basically it means that I have not been able to breathe out of my nose for a very, very long time. This probably doesn't sound like a big deal, but it's certainly an annoying feature when trying to eat, speak, or sleep -- things I like to participate in daily. I had a bit of this condition while pregnant with Sam, but nothing quite like this. So, here's to a few things coming to an end soon and many, many new things to begin.

The Tenant

We have some exciting news at our house. My sister, Cassie, has officially moved in with us for the next few months. She decided to leave the mountains of Montana for the big city once again, and we've offered her space to make the transition. It's been one week, and so far, I love it (she might read this post so I have to say that). I kid. It's awesome. There's just something about having my very own blood relative nearby that makes me feel like myself.

Also. She has some great clothes. In fact, I'm wearing her sweater right now. 

I'm Here

It's true. I have been neglecting the blog. Not sure why except that I think writing begets writing, and I just haven't been doing much of it since finishing the dissertation. That, and life plugs along keeping me busy and tired.

I'm officially 34 weeks pregnant, and I've been feeling the aches and pains of that milestone lately. Nothing serious. Just the added 25 pounds on my ligaments and joints along with nightly indigestion, congestion, and (from what I'm told) earth-quaking snoring (for which Dave purchased a 40-pack of industrial earplugs and about which I have decided to not be offended).

Sam seems to be okay with the idea of a baby coming along. He likes to put his own baby doll in his shirt during nap time and cares for her like a sweet big brother throughout the day. We still haven't decided on a name for the real baby who will arrive soon, so Sam calls her Our Baby, which is super cute.

He's also processing the upcoming changes and protesting them in ways that are challenging. Like, for example, refusing to nap despite being extremely overtired and irritable during the late afternoon and evening hours. We never thought he'd be into tantrums given his sweet disposition, but, boy, were we wrong. They've been in full swing here. It's quite a sight to behold. I'm sure I'll be writing more about that whole phenomenon soon enough.

I admit. I'm beat now. I don't have a great way to end this post, so I'll just cut it short. It feels good to write, though. I'll give it a go again tomorrow.

X Marks the Chromosome

Did I mention we're having a baby girl? We are. And seventeen weeks away from her arrival, we already have this pile of pink clothing hand-me-downs.

This pink is one of the reasons I freaked out a little over having a girl (although, let's face it, those clothes are adorable). It was a small reason, though, compared with the image of the teenaged girl I kept picturing in my mind. I immediately imagined a make-up wearing, nail-polished tween telling me how much she hates me and slamming doors.

Then I decided to get over that image and to enjoy the decade or so before it happens. Now I'm more chill about having a girl. Except for her name. We have a dozen or so boy names we like but cannot settle on a single girl one. We've ruled out Miley, though. So that's a start.

Lessons In Parenting. Continued.

We decided it's time to transition Sam to a big boy bed. The first step, we thought, would be to talk up the bed. Create a schema of sorts. When we first explained this big boy bed thing to Sam, he didn't quite understand. Dave thought that showing him a few pictures of toddler beds online could help. As you can imagine, when you Google "toddler bed," you find quite a few images of beds that look like cars and trucks and trains. We had not anticipated this, but thought we had explained clearly enough to Sam that he would not be getting one of those beds.

His standard wood (i.e. boring) bed arrived yesterday. He was thrilled to see the box and could not wait to open it. I told him he had to wait until his dad got home, and Sam wanted to call him to tell him to hurry.

We made this video message instead. I warn you, it takes a very sad turn near the end.

Eventually, the Pirates Booty did help comfort the crying boy. And now I'm shopping for a car themed comforter.

Winging It

Sam is super cute. And smart. And funny. Generally, he's a lot of fun to be around.

Those are the things I try to remember every time Sam hits or bites his dad. Which is fairly frequently these days. This morning was the worst of it. After giving him the "hands are not for hitting" lecture a couple of times, Sam gave it some thought, wound up, and punched Dave square in the jaw.

"That's it!" I said. "You are going to your room!"

I carried him in there kicking and screaming, put him down on the rug, closed the door, and listened to him cry for three minutes. He didn't even try to get out.

This was Sam's very first version of a time-out. He's not really a time-out kind of kid and we're not really time-out parents, but something had to be done. Mostly for my sake. Showing who's boss. That sort of thing.

We made it through the morning without a third round of hitting. I'm calling it a minor success.

The Reveal

Would you believe that I've had BLOG on my to-do list for six weeks now? So much for that.

Basically, I went back to working full-time in June and July and it wiped me out. That and the fatigue of pregnancy have pretty much killed blogging around here, but I vow to make a come-back. Oh, yeah. I'm pregnant! 19 weeks along. So there's that to write about from now on. 

This isn't much for a come-back entry, but it counts for something. And now I'm off to bed.

Lutsen 2013

We took our first vacation as a family this past weekend. It was a short and simple trip to the North Country of Minnesota where (lo and behold!) the sun was shining bright and warm. Our days were the perfect combination of adventure and lazy. Buffet breakfasts at Lutsen Lodge followed by morning hikes and waterfall sightings. Lunch and naps (yes, all three of us) back at the cabin. Late afternoons at the pool pretending to be a shark and Sam clinging to dad's neck. Then throwing rocks into the big lake before dinner, a bonfire, and some acoustic music. Not bad. Not bad at all.

I learned a few things on the trip, too.

1. Sam loves maps. He needed one at every stop.
2. The most dangerous thing you will find in the wild is a human. Total disregard for nature is abundant. One must be prepared to perform a citizen's arrest at a moment's notice. 
3. It's okay to go to sleep when the sun is still shining.
4. An unsolicited "I love you" from a toddler is the world's greatest joy.
5. And if you take all of the pictures, you'll later be angry that there's no proof that you were even on the trip.

What Will I Do Next Week?

Working on the defense talk is almost as hard as writing the dissertation. So far it's a mess, but I think I can make it work before Friday. My parents arrive tomorrow, and I walk in the graduation ceremony the next day, so it will be the kind of making-it-work that happens last minute. Luckily I've had a lot of practice in that particular kind.

Just Like Old Times

I'm having a hard time concentrating. I should be putting together my defense talk. Instead I'm hopping around on the Internet and checking on the possibility of rain. The answer is maybe. Maybe not. I haven't resorted to online shopping yet, so there's still hope I will get some work done today. One way or another, I'll be done with this fiasco next week.

The Conference

AERA 2013 is all a-buzz. The theme of this year's conference is Education and Poverty, but it's so crowded that the theme feels more like "I'm Sorry. I Didn't Mean To Touch You There." The elevator in the main conference hotel buzzes when it reaches the weight limit. This has happened on every elevator I've been on. It's very intimate. 

And yet. I'm sitting here in the lobby waiting for someone I know to pass by and so far, nothing. All these people and I don't know a single one. The man standing next to me has flagged down four people he knows, which suggests to me that I should make some friends. 

The talk is mostly ready. It's my first attempt to share data from the diss at a major conference. I'm looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. The usual feelings there. 

I'm off to stand in line for the elevator now. Yes. There's a line for the elevator. I don't think I'll be participating in AERA 2014. 

There's More to Explore

Sam is watching Curious George right now. Sometimes I feel bad about allowing this 30 minutes of screen time each morning while he eats breakfast. Well. He sort of eats breakfast. I have to pause the show and prod him to do it because he's basically catatonic while George is on. But most days I feel good about checking my email, making coffee, and organizing the day. We're better off for it, I say.

Lately, though, Sam insists on "more" George and gets a little cranky when I shut things down. I'm trying to think of this fight as a teachable moment. You know. A lesson about how good things must come to an end. Or something like that. Of course, I'm the one feeding his growing addition each morning. So there's that.

I have about twenty more minutes of freedom. Time for a second cup of coffee.

Never Ending Winter

I think we can all agree that this spring (can I even say that?) has been crazy. From the many toddler illnesses to the travel here and there to the elective surgery that I still can't believe I agreed to and, of course, to finally finishing a dissertation. It has been over. the. top.

I am thrilled to report, however, that things seem to be settling down. Sure. I still have to revise the draft and defend. But it seems doable.

If only the sun would shine.

The Haps

You're probably wondering what's going on over here at Slapdash. Here's the rundown:

I am frantically trying to finish this draft. (Yes, still). Basically, I have grossly underestimated how long it will take me to write any single thing. I mean, GROSSLY.

I have also been doing a lot of planning for various workshops and presenting them here and there. This takes some time away from the diss, but I rather enjoy it.

Sam had RSV last week. He's been on the nebulizer and that seems to have helped. Now Dave and I have some version of it. My ears, for example, are currently plugged.

We took a short trip to Montana to visit my adorable and brilliant nephew (along with the rest of his family who I actually knew first). Returning on the plane today, my ears nearly exploded.

All of the above has greatly reduced the amount of sleep I've been getting each night. And I am exhausted.

None of which, I realize, is an excuse for neglecting the blog. I can do better.

Recap 10: The Recap Challenge

We've come to the end of another blogging challenge, and I have to say that I really enjoyed this one. Basically this challenge got me to blog about mundane aspects of my day--just like I used to!

But here I am on the last day of the challenge with nothing to recap. I hoped and hoped that something interesting would happen today. It was, however, fairly run-of-the-mill.

I got up in the early hours to write. Played, read books, and built forts with Sam this morning. Took a trip to Target for some cabin items we'll need over the weekend. Did more writing in the afternoon. Had some family time in the evening. And returned to the computer for more writing once Sam was down.

So. There you have it. A recap of my days as a dissertator. It's coming to an end, soon, though. Very. Very. Soon.

Recap 9: Nap Routine

I've been working from home for the last week during Sam's nanny-time. Heather, the nanny, is great. Sam loves her and her suitcase of toys so much that he doesn't care that I'm in the next room.

During this time, I have been fortunate to overhear their nap-time routine. It's very sweet and makes me happy.

First, they race up the stairs. Heather does a play-by-play of the competition as it's happening. "Sam is ahead by a nose!" Sam giggles with delight and wins every time.

During the diaper change, Heather sings. I don't know the songs, but Sam does. His favorite seems to be one about pie.

They read three books each time, and it takes only five seconds to pick them out. Every character has a different, glorious voice, and I stop what I'm doing to follow along.

I love the next part.

Heather does this sing-song voice that announces, "And now it's time to say goodnight!" Kind of like Ryan Seacrest. Very dramatic and suspenseful. Then she says quickly, "But first, kisses from all of your friends!" And twenty stuffed animals kiss Sam on the nose. Or so I picture it.

The routine ends with criss-cross applesauce.

The whole thing takes only ten minutes, and Sam doesn't try to ask for water thirty times before falling asleep. It's a miracle to behold.

Recap 8: Emotion Coaching

Yesterday's topic at EFCE was emotion coaching. According to our brilliant leader, Lani, this is where the real stuff of parenting happens. It's what we signed up for, and it's crazy hard.

Here are the five steps of emotion coaching (based on the work of John Gottman):

1. Awareness. We must be aware that our own emotions are separate from our child's. Often we assume that our child must feel what we would feel (or are feeling) in a particular situation, and that's simply not true.

2. Opportunity. Emotional expressions are opportunities for intimacy and learning. It's hard to look at tantrums and meltdowns this way, but we learn our most important lessons (about love, about life) in disequilibrium.

3. Listen and Validate. Telling your child that there's no reason to be upset only means he'll have to try harder to convince you that there is a reason. The feeling is real even if the reason is not. Sam often comes running from the other room saying, "Bear! Bear!" There's no bear. But he is afraid.

4. Label the emotion. Give it a name. Use simple terms.

5. Deal with the situation and set limits. This step is hard. It often requires that we say no. It also requires that we, as Lani says, "stay on the shore" while our children drown a bit in the emotion. We can't join them out there. We are the parents, after all.

As it turns out, I had the opportunity to practice these steps a number of times last night.

Sam wanted to stand on top of a tall stool we have in our kitchen, for example, and when I told him I couldn't let him do that, he lost it. I recognized that he felt pretty frustrated and seized the opportunity to validate his emotions.

"You feel mad," I said. "But I can't let you stand on anything that tall. You might fall." He cried for a while and refused a shorter stool to stand on.

"It's hard," I said. "But it's for the best." He cried more. And more. I hugged him.

"Do you want to read a book?" I asked after a while.

"Yeah," he said. I wiped his tears. We read.

And then we went through the steps again twenty minutes later when it was time to stop reading and eat dinner.

Recap 7: Another Weekend

We had grand plans. Friday we were to have dinner with much beloved friends. They asked us out last minute, and thanks to the kindness of Dave's brother and his wife, we secured care for Sam. Then, come to find out, Dave somehow missed that the invitation was actually for March 8 and not Friday. And so. We stayed home.

Saturday we were to celebrate the February birthday's in Dave's family with a reservation for eight at a local restaurant. One of those family members was Sam's Papa, and Sam had been gleefully saying "Papa" all day (which he does any time there's reason to think about, talk about, or see Papa). Then, come to find out, Papa had a stomach bug and had been throwing up for twelve hours. The reservation was cancelled. Dinner plans thwarted again.

We did manage to enjoy ourselves here and there.

Sam and Dave attended Sam's last swimming lesson for the season, and our little Fin Buddy came home with a certificate and a checkmark in the "Good Work" column in all areas except for submerging his face. Something to work on.

Later we took a trip to Ikea in search of the perfect, cheap step stool for Sam. What a terrible idea this was. Ikea is somewhat unbearable even when you are in search of a large and necessary furniture item. For a step stool, there's no point in going. Especially when you can't find the step stool. We did find a handful of other items we never knew we needed (e.g. chip clips, a watering can, spatulas for the play kitchen, and two matching funnels), and Sam thought it was the greatest place on earth. So. Not a total loss.

Sunday involved some project time. Dave and Sam took the old handles off the built-in drawers in our bedroom. Sam may or may not have been in charge of the drill. I tell myself that Dave would never allow him to use the power tools, but I can't be sure. In the end, they couldn't attach the new handles because, come to find out, the drawers need painting. Opening the drawers now requires hitting them with a fist Fonzi-style so that they pop out just enough to get a finger in and pull. Let's face it, it could be like this for months.

I spent part of Sunday at yoga. Third class this week. Totally worth the time. Namaste.

Recap 6: The Lit Review

Writing a lit review is sort of like writing an entry for this recap blogging challenge. First I have to recap sociocultural theories of literacy and then tie that, somehow, into a recap of studies on critical media literacy with urban youth and then tie that, somehow, into a recap of how marginalized people use humor and laughter to mediate experiences of oppression. No problem.

So far I've written this paragraph to frame the chapter:

This chapter discusses the sociocultural views of literacy and identity that ground this study. Interested in the moment-to-moment interactions that produce identities in classrooms, particularly around race, I focus on the work of scholars who have theorized identity as a socially and linguistically mediated construct (Bakhtin, 1981; Gee, 2005; Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner, & Cain, 1998; Norris, 2011; Scollon, 2001; Wertsch, 1991), ever constrained and shaped within structures of power. I draw as well from the theory of mediated discourse (although I save much of that discussion for the next chapter) and highlight, scholars who focus on the actions and practices of individuals in the formation and solidification of identities. Next, I turn to studies of critical literacy practices in and out of school that reconceive critical literacy and critical media literacy to include embodied forms of response not often recognized in classrooms. The chapter ends with a review of scholarship on laughter and humor where I make the argument that laughter, too, is a form of critical response related to the identities of youth who have been traditionally marginalized.

It's a start.

Also, I've written 20 pages on sociocultural theories of literacy already. Only they aren't that good. I wrote them three years ago when I did my prelims. THREE YEARS AGO! Maybe this means I'm a better writer now? #Silverlining. 

I wonder, is this a recap? 

Recap 5: A Long Day's Journey

We saw Eugene O'Neill's masterwork, A Long Day's Journey Into Night, at the Guthrie last evening. There are four very sad characters in this play. Mary is addicted to morphine while her husband, James, and their two sons, Jamie and Edmund, are addicted to alcohol. The play chronicles Mary's downward spiral into her addiction once again while the three male characters employ whiskey to "cope" with the reality--and history--of their lives. The whole play is wrapped in symbolism and the dialogue is both poetic and heartbreaking.

As an English teacher, I should have loved it. I did not.

It felt like one long argument with an obvious and traumatic trajectory. While I appreciated the play's fine literary elements and the supreme acting skills of the cast, I just kept waiting (and waiting and waiting) for it to be over. A more apt title for a drama (and the experience of viewing it) has never been given.

Recap 4: The Peanut Challenge

Dave is allergic to peanuts and fish. This increases Sam's chance of having some allergy, although not necessarily to the same things. The research on how kids develop allergies is mixed. Some people believe kids should be exposed earlier than later to certain foods while others believe those foods should be withheld. We don't have peanuts or fish in our house, so Sam had neither until yesterday.

At his two-year well-baby visit, our pediatrician recommended Sam get tested for food allergies. That sounded preferable to anaphylaxis in the middle of our regular routine so we made the appointment. The allergy doc, however, informed us that testing before a reaction is actually "controversial" because of the possibility of false positives. But since we were there for the appointment, he went ahead. Sam's skin test showed a reaction to peanuts and cats.

Due to the issue of false positives, the follow-up protocol to a skin reaction is "The Peanut Challenge." (In case you are wondering, there is no such thing as a "Cat Challenge.") We had ours yesterday. It went like this.

Dose 1: Sam takes this one rather easily. We had been talking up peanut butter for days and told him he couldn't have this special treat until his appointment. He is disappointed that the doc won't let him have it on the Ritz cracker as promised but offers a tongue depressor instead. Once the peanut butter is in Sam's mouth, he is like, What the hell is this stuff and why would you make me eat it? I coax him to swallow and we begin the wait for a reaction. Nothing happens.

Dose 2: Fifteen minutes later. The peanut butter on the depressor is double the amount in Dose 1. Sam is not having it. He turns away and seals his lips. We wrestle. I sit him on my lap. He smears the peanut butter on my pants. I am covered in it and understand why they call this a challenge. The doctor promises Sam a sticker. Sam reluctantly opens his mouth and I shove in the brown goo. Sam lets it hang there on his teeth. I keep telling him to chew. He looks at me confused. Finally he swallows. Nothing happens. Sam has a sticker.

Dose 3: I prep Sam for fifteen minutes between doses. This is what will happen, I say. The doctor will give you the peanut butter and you will eat it. You will get another sticker. Sam says, yeah. When the doctor gives him another doubled dose, Sam refuses. He cries. He wrestles away. He is hot and red. I tell him Greysen loves peanut butter and would be so proud if Sam ate it. Sam pauses. He opens his mouth. Takes the peanut butter. Swallows. Nothing happens. Sam has two stickers.

Dose 4: Between doses nurse Julie checks Sam's blood pressure, his pulse, his skin. All is well. They draw pictures on the examining table paper. We chat. The doctor comes in. The dosage now stays the same. It's a full teaspoon of peanut butter. I offer the depressor. Sam seals his lips. The doctor steps out and returns with a Superman sticker. You will not get this until you eat the peanut butter, he says. He has grown impatient. It works. This is not how I want to parent, I think. But whatever. Nothing happens. Sam has three stickers.

Dose 5: We wait a long time for the doctor to arrive. Julie lets Sam listen to his heart beat. I listen too. It's cool. Julie shows Sam how to take his blood pressure. They are friends now. Julie has four boys of her own. That's a lot, I think. We've been here for two hours now. The doc finally arrives. I tell Sam we can go home soon if he eats this one quickly. He does. Relatively. Julie does a dance with him. Nothing happens. Sam has four stickers.

Dose 6: We are ready to go home. The wait is longer than fifteen minutes but not quite as long as before. Sam eats plain Ritz crackers. We read books. The doc comes in. Would you like one more sticker, Sam? he asks. Sam says, two. Hell yeah, I think. You've earned two. The doctor agrees. Sam eats the final dose. He has six stickers. Sam must be observed for another hour before we can leave. Sam and I both have cabin fever. He is silly. I am exhausted. Hey! he yells. Go! he shouts at the door. We read an animal book. He tells me the pig is a cow. The dog says meow. We laugh. Julie smiles.

An hour slowly goes by. Sam does not react. He passes The Peanut Challenge! We paste his stickers to the back of a form letter about sinus infections and take a picture. Julie doesn't want to be in it. We get in the car and drive home. I ask Sam if he'd like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. He says, no.

Recap 3: The Weekend

I'm up early to write. Despite good intentions of writing a page here and there over the weekend, it did not happen. Other things did happen, though. Allow me to recap.

Friday night we hosted book club here. Sam enjoyed demonstrating all of his instruments for the gang. They were, of course, a gracious audience and Sam would have played all night if we had let him. Dave dragged Sam off to bed (kindly) where he cried and cried for his mama. I went up there two or three times to try to get him to go to sleep. It happened eventually, but it was stressful trying to quiet the child and engage in the discussion. Other people covered the finer points of the book and all was well.

On Saturday, we were off early to swimming lessons as usual. Dave and Sam participate and are called Fin Buddies. I sit on the side and read a book or take pictures. On this day, I read the introduction and first chapter of The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois. I've read parts of this book before and quite love it. I might recap part of it later, so please, look forward.

Later in the day we visited Target Optical and picked out a fresh new pair of spectacles for me. They are a bit plain jane, but I do hate to stand out. And after that, we attempted to find a spot for dinner without too much wait but that failed. We got some curried chicken salad at a grocery deli counter. I asked for too much of it (I'm spatially challenged) and had to go back to return half. We ate at home.

On Sunday, we baked banana bread. Sam has become skilled at sifting. He would also like to be in charge of eggs, but we're holding on that one. Later, I went to yoga. It has been at least six months since I've attended a class, and I think it saved my life. I went overboard and purchased a months' worth of unlimited classes.

Later we took Sam and the sled over to our local sledding hill. I was nervous about this and considered bringing his bike helmet. We found a spot on the back side of the hill with some deeper snow and the ride was both thrilling and cautious. Sam smiled and laughed nonstop. His face covered in snot.

Recap 2: The Problem with Praise

Today's ECFE lesson taught me that I am slowly killing my child's self-esteem with an overabundance of empty praise. So. That's a bummer. But the research was quite compelling. Here's an example. In one study, two groups of kids were given the same task. Upon completion of that task, kids in one group were told, "You did well. You must be smart." The kids in the other group were told, "You did well. You must have worked hard." Then kids in both groups were given a more challenging task. The kids in the first group gave up almost immediately while the kids in the second group, whose effort had been noted, kept trying despite the impossibility of the task.

The moral of this study is that I say "good job" to Sam far more often than necessary. And the necessary number, it turns out, is zero. In fact, nine out of ten times when I tell him "good job" (for cleaning up a mess or eating his vegetables) a simple "thank you" will do. And those other times when I want to praise his stack of blocks or the drawing of a "car" that doesn't look like a car, I should praise his effort, describe my reaction, or say nothing at all.

I made a commitment today, right in the middle of class, to remove "good job" from my language. And within thirty minutes, I caught myself telling Sam "good job" for wiping his feet on the rug.

I am a parenting work in progress. I just hope it's not too late to turn his life around.

Recap 1: It's Not Witty

I'm attempting a quick recap of the day because I am, after all, taking part in this challenge. There was so much to accomplish today that I made a Sunday to-do list. Generally, I'm against making those kinds of lists on a Sunday, but it had to be done.

First. The laundry. Is it weird that I rather like doing the laundry? Probably. It's just one of those things where progress is visible and tangible. It's probably even more weird that I added it to my list. But I did.

Second. Groceries. I flipped through the cooking magazines and came up with five entrees. One for each day of the week. Jotted those ingredients on the paper. There was a bit of a snag trying to figure out who would tend the child while I ran to the store and Dave embarked on his planning for an epic course he's teaching this week, but then we remembered the grandparents. Dropped Sam off over there and we were on our way. Dave joined me at the store and we knocked down the list in 30 minutes. I forgot my rewards card, and that was annoying, but otherwise it was a successful trip. We will eat this week.

Third. Return an overdue book. I've been charged a dollar for each day this book is overdue. That makes $4.00.

Fourth. Shovel. This one wasn't on the list, but I did it anyway. The snow was heavy, and I broke a sweat. I counted it as exercise.

Fifth. Complete revisions to an article due today. This one took some time. I just finished it now. I can't tell if I've done enough. It will have to do.

Lumpy Clusters of Spongy Tissue

We were told yesterday that Sam needs to have his adenoids removed. They are exceptionally large. They also make him snore a lot (even when he's awake) and cause him to breathe through his mouth. They do not, however, affect the quality of his sleep or his consumption of food.

I'm wondering, then, is this just one of those cases where doctors in the U.S. jump to surgery as an option when a bit of inconvenience will do? It's hard to say, and Sam certainly doesn't know how to tell me what a bother the large adenoids might actually be.

And on the other hand, it's a hugely common procedure with an easy-ish recovery. We could just have them out lickety split. He'd probably never miss them.

But why put him through an invasive procedure when he might, at six or seven, have enough space in his head for his ginormous adenoids?

I just don't know. This, right here, is a dilemma.

Tally Ho

Things are carrying along as usual here. I'm writing most days. Getting closer to the goal and still always feeling like it's too far away. Sam was sick again last week. And by that I mean five whole days. We're getting pretty good at managing his many illnesses, but it shuts things down for a good while. Dave is working overnights taking care of other sick people and his days are filled with developing interesting new methods for patient care. With all this going on it's been difficult to maintain an exercise routine. But I declare here and now, I will make this a priority. We have a pretty run down treadmill in the basement, and it's going to have to do. If only I could learn to love running again everything else would just fall into place. Maybe. It's worth a shot.

Slow Motion Banana

Here's a video of Sam eating his first food in 36 hours after being taken down by a stomach virus (again). It's kind of sad. And so adorable.

The Obvious

Last night I dreamed that I was at a workshop (maybe teaching it?) and all of a sudden blood started gushing from a couple of large gashes on my head. I tried to soak up the blood with some napkins, but it just kept coming. When I wondered out loud why my head was bleeding so profusely, someone at the workshop said, "I think you're probably just stressed out."

There's maybe some nuanced interpretation to be done on the dream (why the blood? why on the head?), but it's also pretty safe to assume my dream interpreted itself.

Dinner and Nostalgia

One of the reasons I love going out for an evening--aside from the adult conversation--is having our favorite sitter over to hang out with Sam. He adores her and so do we. She's a super smart Macalester student who speaks a handful of languages, majors in science of some kind, has travelled the world, and dances. She's also witty, kind, and knows how to speak to a toddler. After we see her, I talk for days about my own college days and the many exciting adventures and opportunities from that time. It's hard for me to believe that was almost twenty years ago. In many ways I still feel like my former, optimistic, naive self. And that's not all bad.

Addiction

We stumbled upon a little show called Homeland a few weeks ago. You might have heard of it. We are hooked, and in order to maintain our nightly fix, Dave went ahead and ordered Showtime for us. Actually, he didn't order Showtime. He called up our cable company to downsize our current package and got so annoyed by the process and the fella he was dealing with that some manager person compensated his frustration with Showtime. Here's the thing. This happens to Dave all the time. It's a super power. He knows just the right amount of anger or disinterest to leverage in order to get free stuff. You should see it in action. It's quite amazing and graceful. You should also see Homeland in action, which is where I was going with this post in the first place.

Space and Time

This is day two of my river writing retreat. It's going pretty well. I did break one set of blinds on the window and can't figure out how to fix it. I'm hoping that project won't take too much time when I tackle it later. I am letting go of the chapter I finished last night. It needs some revision. But I am forging ahead today. Until early afternoon when I head home to find out what my boys have been up to. They probably miss me.

Do It for the Herd

This flu epidemic is freaking me out. It's the only thing Sam has not contracted so far this fall and winter, and I'm really hoping it will miss him somehow. It doesn't help that Dave interacts with people all day long who have the flu or have come in contact with it. He had a shift until midnight last night and finally finished rounding at 5:45 this morning. People are sick. We are washing our hands into oblivion over here, but it doesn't feel like enough.

Plus, I'm finding there are people all around us who haven't gotten a flu shot. Sam had a playdate earlier this week with a toddler and her grandmother who informed Nana as they left that they hadn't gotten a shot yet. Nana, a public health nurse, did not take this news well. I'm pretty sure all future playdates organized through Nana will require a health survey of some kind. And I'm glad for that.

Basically, I probably need to calm down about the flu. We're doing all we can on our end (just short of that seasonal quarantine I've been contemplating for a while).

Parting

I just love working from home because it gives me space to experiment with important things like parting my hair a new way. That was mostly a failed experiment, but how could I have known otherwise? Next week I think I'll try eyeshadow.

It Starts

It is time to start blogging 2013. I'm only three days in, but it's been kind of a tough year so far. I'm grateful that I have 362 more days to get things on the right track philosophically even if I can't control the finer details of life. As always, blogging adds a little balance and perspective, and I'm grateful for that too. I haven't figured out my resolutions yet beyond finishing the diss. That's enough for the whole year even if it happens (and will) on the front end. I can't see beyond or through the diss yet, so it will have to be enough for now. Even though I am so much more.