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Drew, soon to be three was talking to some horses through a fence. It went something like this.
Drew: Hi horsies. I Drew. I Three. What doing horsies?
Horsies:
Drew: I said hi horsies, what doing?
Horsies:
Drew: Why you no talk to me. Mommy! Horsies no talk to me! Tears, cry, fits of rage.
I guess at some point in our lives we realize that animals can't talk back. I'm not sure when I learned that or how I felt about it. I suppose it wasn't nearly this traumatic for me. Chalk it up to too much talking animals on tv and a kid could get a complex. Let's hope he gets over it. Pretty sure showing him reruns of Mr. Ed is not a good idea though.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Killing Fish
Not purposely of course, but that's what happened. Karma I suppose.
So two weeks ago, I thought I would be a good dad and teach my kids a valuable lesson about responsibility and have some fun doing it. We headed to the pet store on a Saturday and came back home with two male beta fish. They each had their own bowl (the fish, not my daughters).
The girls were quite excited and we talked about the rules for the fish.
1.Feed them three pellets of food every morning and every night.
2. Don't move the bowls.
3. Don't do anything with the fish unless mom or dad were there.
Caroline named her fish, "Toto" and Bella named her fish "Dorothy." Bella said she knew it was a boy fish, but said, "I am going to pretend its a boy."
For two weeks the kids were great with their new pets. They asked permission to feed the fish, even asked permission to look at them in their bowls sitting on the kitchen counter.
Then the phone call came last night. I was finishing up at work when Daina said, Caroline's F-I-S-H is D-E-A-D.
Bummer.
Caroline had yet to notice. Was my four year old too young to deal with this? Would Bella tease her that her fish had lived and Toto was now dead? So I stopped by the pet store, picked up another male beta fish and made a quick exchange when I got home.
"Look Caroline," I said, "Your fish is getting really colorful, you are doing a great job taking care of Toto." All was well in the world. It was a small white lie.
I woke this morning to Isabella's sad face. "Dad, my fish died." I watched as she tried to grasp what had happened. Bella asked if Dorothy was in heaven, if the angels were going to come down to get her? I told her yes and we said a prayer. I'm so glad she has such strength to ask hard questions, and that she knows the important questions to ask.
Guessing I will be picking up another male beta tonight on my way home.
So two weeks ago, I thought I would be a good dad and teach my kids a valuable lesson about responsibility and have some fun doing it. We headed to the pet store on a Saturday and came back home with two male beta fish. They each had their own bowl (the fish, not my daughters).
The girls were quite excited and we talked about the rules for the fish.
1.Feed them three pellets of food every morning and every night.
2. Don't move the bowls.
3. Don't do anything with the fish unless mom or dad were there.
Caroline named her fish, "Toto" and Bella named her fish "Dorothy." Bella said she knew it was a boy fish, but said, "I am going to pretend its a boy."
For two weeks the kids were great with their new pets. They asked permission to feed the fish, even asked permission to look at them in their bowls sitting on the kitchen counter.
Then the phone call came last night. I was finishing up at work when Daina said, Caroline's F-I-S-H is D-E-A-D.
Bummer.
Caroline had yet to notice. Was my four year old too young to deal with this? Would Bella tease her that her fish had lived and Toto was now dead? So I stopped by the pet store, picked up another male beta fish and made a quick exchange when I got home.
"Look Caroline," I said, "Your fish is getting really colorful, you are doing a great job taking care of Toto." All was well in the world. It was a small white lie.
I woke this morning to Isabella's sad face. "Dad, my fish died." I watched as she tried to grasp what had happened. Bella asked if Dorothy was in heaven, if the angels were going to come down to get her? I told her yes and we said a prayer. I'm so glad she has such strength to ask hard questions, and that she knows the important questions to ask.
Guessing I will be picking up another male beta tonight on my way home.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Isabella started Kindergarden today
And I can't wait to get home to hear her stories. All I can do not to leave work early. Think I will!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Why do you live in Iowa?
Why do you live in Iowa? How did you end up there? I get asked that a lot. Especially by people who think Iowa is nothing but corn fields, pigs and interstates that take you other places, better places. We often get confused for Idaho, to which I say no, Idaho potatos, we have corn.
I think Iowa is the kind of place you only come across if you get off the interstate. If you are brave enough to get off that interstate of life and let something become a part of you without even knowing it is happening.
My wife and I decided on Iowa rather suddenly. She had a job interview in Des Moines at the local hospital just before she graduated. On a whim, we drove to Iowa on a Staurday night in the fall of 98. From Misouri at 10 p.m., arriving at 3 in the morning. I can't tell you which Motel 6 we stayed at, or how long we were lost on a then undeveloped Grand Avenue West. We liked what we saw. They actually had buildings and a downtown area, and a sky walk and everything was clean, and the air was fresh.
We talked to people we met at Racoon River Brewery. Young people who were excited to be here but couldn't sum up the reasons why. We were sold. We moved to Des Moines two months later after my wife finished school.
We had made a mistake, or so we thought. The winter was down right brutal. Twelve feet had piled up at one point and we thought we were crazy. As did our friends. We figured we would stay in the apartment a couple of years, save some money and move elsewhere. A great job made me stay and buy a house. And have Bella. And somewhere inbetween, eight years, three kids, two jobs and a second house that is surrounded by corn fields and pigs we are home.
We are the rare exception. People that come to Iowa for a better life. The state struggles to keep young people here. Young people encouraged to leave by the unknown, people to young to realize they have it all right here.
Iowa will teach you patience, as in, you better be creative if you want to be entertained. People in Iowa tend to find ways to entertain themselves. I have become more creative, I have become more innovative, I have gained a lot of weight.
I believe that no where on earth can you make new friends as quickly as you can in Iowa. I am not talking about people you know, or spend time with. I am talking about people who in a short time you are willing to share your deepest fears, your greatest moments and your life's journey.
Iowa should be known as the neighborly state. People reaching out to help each other. We don't even have to ask. People calling to see if we need help with the kids, can we do anything for you, bring you antyhing. Can we pray for you?
Sure we have snow in April, and the winter can be down right brutal. Nothing is perfect. You can be watching the season finale of Grey's Anatomy (pick your show) and the news will interupt to tell you that a building that has been abandoned for over 20 years, in some town you have never heard of is on fire. There are no injuries or deaths, but the News Chopper has some excellent footage. 15 minutes later, you get back to your show already in progress. The leads for fivc o'clock news often starts something like, "Our top story tonight, 'How to get rid of crab grass' We'll have an in-depth look.
Dave Matthews has a lyric that makes me think about my family and this wonderful state we call home. He sings:
Turns out not where but who you're with that really matters,
and it hurts not much when you're around
and if you hold on tight to what you think is your thing
You may find you're missing all the rest
I have thought about leaving Iowa, but for what? I've been all over the states and I'm not missing much. The people I love are here, and those that aren't sure love to visit.
I think Iowa is the kind of place you only come across if you get off the interstate. If you are brave enough to get off that interstate of life and let something become a part of you without even knowing it is happening.
My wife and I decided on Iowa rather suddenly. She had a job interview in Des Moines at the local hospital just before she graduated. On a whim, we drove to Iowa on a Staurday night in the fall of 98. From Misouri at 10 p.m., arriving at 3 in the morning. I can't tell you which Motel 6 we stayed at, or how long we were lost on a then undeveloped Grand Avenue West. We liked what we saw. They actually had buildings and a downtown area, and a sky walk and everything was clean, and the air was fresh.
We talked to people we met at Racoon River Brewery. Young people who were excited to be here but couldn't sum up the reasons why. We were sold. We moved to Des Moines two months later after my wife finished school.
We had made a mistake, or so we thought. The winter was down right brutal. Twelve feet had piled up at one point and we thought we were crazy. As did our friends. We figured we would stay in the apartment a couple of years, save some money and move elsewhere. A great job made me stay and buy a house. And have Bella. And somewhere inbetween, eight years, three kids, two jobs and a second house that is surrounded by corn fields and pigs we are home.
We are the rare exception. People that come to Iowa for a better life. The state struggles to keep young people here. Young people encouraged to leave by the unknown, people to young to realize they have it all right here.
Iowa will teach you patience, as in, you better be creative if you want to be entertained. People in Iowa tend to find ways to entertain themselves. I have become more creative, I have become more innovative, I have gained a lot of weight.
I believe that no where on earth can you make new friends as quickly as you can in Iowa. I am not talking about people you know, or spend time with. I am talking about people who in a short time you are willing to share your deepest fears, your greatest moments and your life's journey.
Iowa should be known as the neighborly state. People reaching out to help each other. We don't even have to ask. People calling to see if we need help with the kids, can we do anything for you, bring you antyhing. Can we pray for you?
Sure we have snow in April, and the winter can be down right brutal. Nothing is perfect. You can be watching the season finale of Grey's Anatomy (pick your show) and the news will interupt to tell you that a building that has been abandoned for over 20 years, in some town you have never heard of is on fire. There are no injuries or deaths, but the News Chopper has some excellent footage. 15 minutes later, you get back to your show already in progress. The leads for fivc o'clock news often starts something like, "Our top story tonight, 'How to get rid of crab grass' We'll have an in-depth look.
Dave Matthews has a lyric that makes me think about my family and this wonderful state we call home. He sings:
Turns out not where but who you're with that really matters,
and it hurts not much when you're around
and if you hold on tight to what you think is your thing
You may find you're missing all the rest
I have thought about leaving Iowa, but for what? I've been all over the states and I'm not missing much. The people I love are here, and those that aren't sure love to visit.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Isabella Quote
So the other night, Isabella managed to negotiate her way into sleeping with mom and dad in our room. Sometime in the middle of the night, Bella woke up and went to to her own room.
In the morning, my wife asked, "Bella, why did you go back to your bed?"
Bella's response, "Because dad snores and bad smells come out of him!"
In the morning, my wife asked, "Bella, why did you go back to your bed?"
Bella's response, "Because dad snores and bad smells come out of him!"
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Dear Isabella,
Dear Isabella,
I just woke you up from a good rest to give you an eye drop again. I know its 3:30 in the morning but that's what the doctors told your mom and me to do. I know you're tired, put your chin up, tilt your head back. You won't need another drop until morning. I love you too.
You see Bella, when you were born; the doctors told us that there was something wrong with your eye. And while I never considered it "wrong," your mom and I knew that it was different than our own eyes. Your mom and I had some big decisions to make on how to treat your eye, decisions we knew might bring us to where we are now, giving you eye drops at 3:30 in the morning.
Your mom is the engine behind your right eye. She makes the phone calls, schedules appointments, does the research, finds the best doctors in the world to make your eye stronger. It wasn't easy you know. It's been hard on you and hard on us. There were a lot of people that doubted our decision making. Doctors, so called "experts" that said:
"The eye is not worth saving"
"She'll never have any useful vision from that eye"
"Patching won't be effective"
"She'll be legally blind in her right eye forever"
"If it was my child I wouldn't do it"
I heard that so much I started to think they may be right. Your mom cured me of that thinking though.
Dr. Jonathan Holmes at the Mayo Clinic told us there was a 5% chance that you would be able to have useful vision from your right eye. And for us, that was enough of a chance to move forward.
Since you were three months old you have worn an eye patch about 3.5 hours per day in an effort to improve your vision. This has been a part of your life, you have known nothing else. As a baby I remember marching around with you singing "Joshua Giraffe" for hours on end trying to get you to see from your right eye. Cheering every time your right eye noticed me, noticed something, noticed anything.
The amount of patching you have done amazes me. I did the math: 3.5 hours a day for 5 1/2 years works out to 7,026 hours of patching in your lifetime. 292 days of your life, just short of a year, you have spent patching. I don't know anyone that can claim that kind of commitment about anything.
You probably know the other details, eye drops of all kinds to reduce glaucoma pressure, a cornea transplant, and three Ahmed valve shunt surgeries to relieve your glaucoma. The cornea rejecting, getting better, stabilizing. Countless exams under anesthesia, your first at Mayo Clinic on 9/11 as planes stuck the World Trade Center.
Through it all, you have been an angel. You have been wonderful. You have made this easy for us to do. The tough work has been on your shoulders. You rarely complain - you just do.
People always tell me, "Josh, I don't know how you do it, I'm not sure I could handle that." And I think if they had to deal with something they would be able to, they just haven't had to make that kind of a choice.
We had a choice Bella. The choice was to make choices for you because you were too young to make them for yourself. When you have kids someday, and one of them has a problem, you will just do what you have to do, and you won't think about whether or not you can handle it. You will just take on life as it comes and do the best that you can.
Your mom and I had two paths to go down. Doing nothing certainly would have been easier for selfish reasons. We knew that "doing whatever it took" would lead us to frustration, sadness, disappointment, madness and even second guessing. But it has also brought us joy with every small victory, for every low pressure reading, for every time your vision improves.
Some people think your mom and I have to make a lot of sacrifices to preserve vision in your right eye. Getting up at all hours of the night, driving you to doctor appointments in Omaha, sleeping in hospital recliners, flying you back and forth to Baltimore, having the Walgreens pharmacist know me by name may seem like too much for most people. For me, I can't imagine it any other way. Any sacrifice we make pales in comparison to what you go through every day to see better
You have defied all the odds stacked against you.
You alone have proved the experts wrong.
We are blessed to be your parents.
I just woke you up from a good rest to give you an eye drop again. I know its 3:30 in the morning but that's what the doctors told your mom and me to do. I know you're tired, put your chin up, tilt your head back. You won't need another drop until morning. I love you too.
You see Bella, when you were born; the doctors told us that there was something wrong with your eye. And while I never considered it "wrong," your mom and I knew that it was different than our own eyes. Your mom and I had some big decisions to make on how to treat your eye, decisions we knew might bring us to where we are now, giving you eye drops at 3:30 in the morning.
Your mom is the engine behind your right eye. She makes the phone calls, schedules appointments, does the research, finds the best doctors in the world to make your eye stronger. It wasn't easy you know. It's been hard on you and hard on us. There were a lot of people that doubted our decision making. Doctors, so called "experts" that said:
"The eye is not worth saving"
"She'll never have any useful vision from that eye"
"Patching won't be effective"
"She'll be legally blind in her right eye forever"
"If it was my child I wouldn't do it"
I heard that so much I started to think they may be right. Your mom cured me of that thinking though.
Dr. Jonathan Holmes at the Mayo Clinic told us there was a 5% chance that you would be able to have useful vision from your right eye. And for us, that was enough of a chance to move forward.
Since you were three months old you have worn an eye patch about 3.5 hours per day in an effort to improve your vision. This has been a part of your life, you have known nothing else. As a baby I remember marching around with you singing "Joshua Giraffe" for hours on end trying to get you to see from your right eye. Cheering every time your right eye noticed me, noticed something, noticed anything.
The amount of patching you have done amazes me. I did the math: 3.5 hours a day for 5 1/2 years works out to 7,026 hours of patching in your lifetime. 292 days of your life, just short of a year, you have spent patching. I don't know anyone that can claim that kind of commitment about anything.
You probably know the other details, eye drops of all kinds to reduce glaucoma pressure, a cornea transplant, and three Ahmed valve shunt surgeries to relieve your glaucoma. The cornea rejecting, getting better, stabilizing. Countless exams under anesthesia, your first at Mayo Clinic on 9/11 as planes stuck the World Trade Center.
Through it all, you have been an angel. You have been wonderful. You have made this easy for us to do. The tough work has been on your shoulders. You rarely complain - you just do.
People always tell me, "Josh, I don't know how you do it, I'm not sure I could handle that." And I think if they had to deal with something they would be able to, they just haven't had to make that kind of a choice.
We had a choice Bella. The choice was to make choices for you because you were too young to make them for yourself. When you have kids someday, and one of them has a problem, you will just do what you have to do, and you won't think about whether or not you can handle it. You will just take on life as it comes and do the best that you can.
Your mom and I had two paths to go down. Doing nothing certainly would have been easier for selfish reasons. We knew that "doing whatever it took" would lead us to frustration, sadness, disappointment, madness and even second guessing. But it has also brought us joy with every small victory, for every low pressure reading, for every time your vision improves.
Some people think your mom and I have to make a lot of sacrifices to preserve vision in your right eye. Getting up at all hours of the night, driving you to doctor appointments in Omaha, sleeping in hospital recliners, flying you back and forth to Baltimore, having the Walgreens pharmacist know me by name may seem like too much for most people. For me, I can't imagine it any other way. Any sacrifice we make pales in comparison to what you go through every day to see better
You have defied all the odds stacked against you.
You alone have proved the experts wrong.
We are blessed to be your parents.
Monday, March 26, 2007
The Big Wheel Olympics
There are the four major sports, throw in NASCAR if you think driving fast is a sport, and there are the X-Games. These are great for adults and the teenagers who are into these things. There exists though, nothing at all for the five and under group. A competitive event involving big wheels was inspired recently by my three year old Caroline.
For Christmas, all Caroline wanted was a big wheel. Though, she called it "a bike with a big wheel on the front" we knew what she meant. So Christmas day, there it was, adorned with a bow under the tree. She was very excited. Since there was snow on the ground most of the winter though, Caroline had to settle for practicing her big wheel skills in our cluttered basement. Part obstacle course, part demolition derby. It worked.
Its March, the snow is gone and the weather is ideal for big wheel riding. The other day, my wife took the kids for a walk to the "water park and the flower park." Now, they don't really go to a water park, there is a water tower there, and its not really a flower park, although in the fall, the weeds grow tall and sprout colored flowers. Nonetheless, this is their favorite destination. Caroline decided she wanted to big wheel it to the water park flower park which I thought was too far but she was determined. I figured at some point, Daina would be pushing a double stroller with three kids and holding the big wheel with the other hand. I was wrong.
Caroline pedaled the entire way to the water park flower park and back on the big wheel. The entire way. This may not seem all that impressive. I thought it was a pretty good feat, maybe a half a mile round trip. I had to know for sure.
After church on Sunday, we drove to the water park flower park and reset the trip odometer on the car. We drove back to the same route they had walked. I even got in trouble with Daina for driving on the walking path, but I needed this to be accurate.
2 MILES ROUNDTRIP!
Two miles. Unbelievable. I have a hard enough time running that distance, and yet there she was after she had pedaled with her little legs for two miles, running to the back yard to play some more.
As a child, Caroline's preschool asked us one word to describe Caroline. My wife and I agreed on the word "Determined"
For Christmas, all Caroline wanted was a big wheel. Though, she called it "a bike with a big wheel on the front" we knew what she meant. So Christmas day, there it was, adorned with a bow under the tree. She was very excited. Since there was snow on the ground most of the winter though, Caroline had to settle for practicing her big wheel skills in our cluttered basement. Part obstacle course, part demolition derby. It worked.
Its March, the snow is gone and the weather is ideal for big wheel riding. The other day, my wife took the kids for a walk to the "water park and the flower park." Now, they don't really go to a water park, there is a water tower there, and its not really a flower park, although in the fall, the weeds grow tall and sprout colored flowers. Nonetheless, this is their favorite destination. Caroline decided she wanted to big wheel it to the water park flower park which I thought was too far but she was determined. I figured at some point, Daina would be pushing a double stroller with three kids and holding the big wheel with the other hand. I was wrong.
Caroline pedaled the entire way to the water park flower park and back on the big wheel. The entire way. This may not seem all that impressive. I thought it was a pretty good feat, maybe a half a mile round trip. I had to know for sure.
After church on Sunday, we drove to the water park flower park and reset the trip odometer on the car. We drove back to the same route they had walked. I even got in trouble with Daina for driving on the walking path, but I needed this to be accurate.
2 MILES ROUNDTRIP!
Two miles. Unbelievable. I have a hard enough time running that distance, and yet there she was after she had pedaled with her little legs for two miles, running to the back yard to play some more.
As a child, Caroline's preschool asked us one word to describe Caroline. My wife and I agreed on the word "Determined"
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