Blah!

For the last four days, I've been dealing with a terrible bout of flu/cold/something terrible. I never really spiked a big fever, but I did get achy all over. There were times when I could only lie in bed and moan. My wife has been such a big stud to manage everything and help nurse me through it.
I feel like today might be the final stage of the illness. Everything migrated to my head, and I've had a scratchy throat/nose/ears all day. It's been painful to swallow. I tried to take a nap without much success. One thing has helped a lot: sinus rinsing. A few years ago I bought a neti-pot and started using it periodically. It helps a lot for preventing hay fever after I work in the yard. Particularly in situations like today, too, it can make a big different. Not only did I get a huge bunch of junk out of my nose and sinuses (I'll spare details) but also the salt water calmed the back of my throat to make swallowing less painful.

Rank Exam

Today I passed my second rank exam in TaeKwonDo with Ian. We both spent three hours proving that we are worthy to wear the next color in line, orange for me and green for Ian. I'll post photos when I get them, but with wife out of town and camera in for repair, I was lucky to have a brother in law snapping a few photos at the beginning, and the photos are not voluminous in number.
Few things make a father so proud as seeing his son face a tough challenge and master it. I saw that in Ian today. This morning he woke up with the vestiges of a viral infection that left him aching all over, particularly in the legs. With minimal (for him) grousing, he got himself up and going and to the test. He probably could have convinced me to ask for a reschedule but he didn't.
The rank exam consisted of five components: techniques, forms, self defense, sparring, and breaking. The techniques (outer knife-hand block, e.g.) were not a big problem, nor were the forms (the martial arts version of a dance routine, only using the aforementioned techniques).
Self-defense and sparring were a different story, however. For the self-defense portion, we made a line of all eleven of the students testing and took turns being attacked. Based on rank we had to demonstrate defense against various levels of attack. At the orange belt level, Ian had to demonstrate how to get out of single and double handed wrist-grabs, and single and double handed lapel grabs. Although at his level, some of the counter-strikes use pulled punches, several of his techniques require him to get his attacker to "tap out," where he inflicts enough pain to make the attacker tap his leg, the martial arts equivalent of crying "uncle." For a little guy up against an adult, this is physically and emotionally draining.
Sparring, too, was a big challenge. In sparring, you are expected to show control and avoidance with those of lower rank, dominance of those of equal rank, and demonstrate your best techniques and combinations against those of higher rank. That means that Ian had to spar for four rounds of three minutes, once against a yellow belt, once against another orange belt, and two rounds against the black belts. By the end of his third round, he was wiped out and frustrated by his inability to land kicks on his instructor (3rd-degree black belt) and still had to face Oki, the 4th-degree black belt, who is the master of dodging kicks. I watched him fight back tears of exhaustion and frustration, pull himself together, and give it his best shot, which was not that bad. I managed to land only one or two kicks on Oki myself, which was considered to be a major accomplishment. He is fiendishly difficult to keep in range.
Finally, board breaking, which has never been a problem for Ian, was not a problem. He placed a perfectly aimed side kick right into the middle of his board and broke it on the first try. (I had to use the same technique on a much bigger board and finally broke it on my third try. The psychology of board breaking is pretty intense.)
Sweaty and exhausted, we earned our promotions. In the school tradition, the senior ranking student gets to chose the venue for the celebratory post-exam lunch. Today, the senior student was unable to attend, so the choice fell to Ian, who chose Waterloo Ice House, where the burgers are wonderful and they serve tater-tots or french fries.
What a great day!
Now, I'm tired, my body is sore, and I'm going to sleep.
Thanks for reading.

Clerisy

I love coming across new words while reading books, and occasionally, I find one that I really like. This time it came from John Stilgoe's Outside Lies Magic: Regaining History and Awareness in Everyday Places.

clerisy |ˈklerəsē|
noun [usu. treated as pl. ]
a distinct class of learned or literary people : the clerisy are those who read for pleasure.
ORIGIN early 19th cent.: apparently influenced by German Klerisei, based on Greek klēros ‘heritage’ (see cleric ).

Stilgoe was using it to explain why main street shops need not feel threatened by Wal-Mart and shopping malls. I could take the time to explain, but really you should read the book. It's not long, and it's quit interesting.
In any case, the word feels right to me. My nightly routine includes the better part of an hour of reading with my kids and I'm always in the middle of several books. Book lovers of the world (global clerisy) unite!

Lizard Warriors

More shameless bragging. This piece is actually several months old and has been sitting on my desk for a while, waiting for me to scan and post it. Ian was playing with perspective and shadows when he drew this. Notice how the warriors' shadows bend at the wall and how there are objects behind the wall in the distance.

Ft. Zindernufe

I present for your admiration and enjoyment a recent work of Ian's. Zindernufe is the name of the club he has formed with his best friend next door, who is his co-ruler. If only they had some subjects and some good enemies to fight.

This is shameless bragging, I know, but I'm proud of him, and I think he's good at this kind of thing. More to come soon.

The Football

I have to share another Daddy Magic Moment.

Yesterday, Ian had his brain sucked out by an hour and a half stint at computer games. (We recently took away his computer time during the week in exchange for longer times on the weekend to help him with motivation in home school.) Not surprisingly, he was drained of motivation, bored, and not very fun to be around.

Hannah was out having some away time, Lizey was napping, and Caroline was in quiet time, listening to a story CD. I suggested shooting Ian's bow and arrows with him. Nope, didn't want to do that. Read a book together? Nope. Play a board game? Nope. Finally, I took him outside and began to throw a Nerf football at him. "I can't catch," he said as he watched the ball soar through the air and hit him in the chest. "See?" He hadn't even moved his arms to try. After repeating this performance a few times, I saw this wasn't working and that we needed a change in tactic.

"I bet you can't pin me." I ran up and tackled him and promptly rolled until he was on top of me. He put his knees on my shoulders, and I made a great show of not being able to get out from under him. I "tried" all sorts to tricks to escape, all to no avail. Eventually, he started to smile, and we kept it up for a while. He especially seemed to enjoy pushing my face in the grace and watching me overreact to having grass blades go up my nose.

Finally, I got out from under him and said "Let's try again." I tossed him the ball, and he caught it. He hurled it back to me. Standing 4 feet away to ensure success, I tossed it to him again. He threw it back. Up to this point, he really hasn't been that good with a football, and lack of confidence has been a main contributor. We took baby steps. I congratulated him each time he  broke a record for number of catches in a row. Finally, when he got to 15, we stopped counting, and before I knew it, we were throwing back and forth clear across the yard together. We ended up playing catch for almost 2 hours.

I think sometimes gross-motor engagement is vital for connecting with boys. I've heard somewhere that playing catch is one of the best ways for fathers and sons to connect. I've never been too big a fan of ball sports, but after seeing the magic it worked today, I'm changing my mind.

The Ultimatum

How's this for a Daddy Magic Moment?

The Backstory: We have shared our bed in one way or another with our kids since we first had them. I have many fond memories of snuggling up to our babies when they were newborns and being very comforted by the sounds of their breathing. We have enjoyed not having to hike out to another room when the baby monitor squawks. I have fond pleasant memories of fragrant warm baby bodies lying peaceful and still between Hannah and me. Later, as each has grown up, we have graduated them to sleeping in their own room. Frequently Inevitably, however, we seem to end up with one or more visitors in the morning. This has not been too much of a problem until recently, when a developments with a certain son of mine have soured the experience.

You see, everyone but me in my family suffers from a bizarre phenomenon relating to body temperature. My dear wife, I noticed not long after marrying her, can actually make her feet get colder than the ambient air temperature, summer or (especially) winter. She has passed this skill on to our children, and the oldest has discovered that his Daddy's tummy is a nice warm place to out his feet.

Well, nice warm Daddy can only take so much of this before it becomes a problem. Things came to a head last week when I was awoken by cold feet at 3:00 in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep. I began to be very grumpy, and I threatened outright banishment if another incident should occur.

Are you surprised to hear that another incident did occur? No, reader, I imagine you are not. Did I have a very stern talk (yea even too stern) with my guilty son? Was I full of righteous indignation? Yes, I did, and yes, I was. It is after all my bed, and I should have dominion over it. Therefore, the matter was simple: no more getting into Daddy's bed. From now on he will go to sleep in his own room and stay there. Case closed. No buts. Go to sleep.

Well, if you know my son at all, you know that he is a negotiator and is very persistent. In the present case, his persistent negotiation was only making me angry. The conversation was going downward, fast. I was about to employ a nuclear "That's final" and walk out of the room when he issued his ultimatum. I had stood up to leave when he hurled his feet against the door, slamming it shut. His eyes were blazing as he said, "No! You can't leave my room until we've come up with a solution we're both happy with!"

(Deep breath.)

You see, he really doesn't like to be alone at night. (Can I blame him really?) And I really don't like to have squirmy cold feet put on my tum. He suggested sleeping on a pallet on the floor in my room. Who am I to squelch such negotiating skills? And we could both be happy with that.

The Diller Family Garden

Back in the fall, Hannah and I rounded up the kids and planted a vegetable garden. This time I was determined to keep squirrels, chickens, coons, kids with shovels, etc. at bay and MAKE IT HAPPEN. Thrice weekly doses of water from the rain barrels, diligent weeding, and a careful eye have resulted in a full and productive garden. From left to right in the photo are mixed lettuces, beets, three rows of broccoli, and two more rows of beets.

What's most exciting is that finally the broccoli plants have all flowered, and we are not far from having garden broccoli on the table. The plant on the right in the photo below is about half the size of a head of broccoli you might find in the store, and it is growing daily.

Off to the right of the top photo is a raised bed were there is Swiss Chard and more lettuce. 

There's really nothing quite so gratifying as putting effort into a garden and then eating from it at the table. I've had a lot of fun watering and weeding it with the kids, and of course their favorite time is planting time, when they like to go crazy with the seeds. I usually give them a row to do on their own. In this garden, it was the lettuce row, and although it is massively overcrowded in spite of much thinning, they have ownership and at least one is slowly but surely getting a green thumb

Biking Date!

My parents kept the kids overnight last night, so Hannah and I got to stay up late watching movies, sleep in this morning, and then go for a bike ride together! Look at us!

Inauguration

I have to offer my own little contributions to the flood of inauguration posting...

First of all, there is a very cool photo at CNN (click here) of the national mall during the inauguration event. It's interesting to see how the lines of sight to the Jumbotrons shape the crowds. Here's what it looks like without the crowds.

Next, I'd like to point out an opinion piece in the New York Times (click here, it's a free sign-up to view) which says a lot about the character of President Bush. The short story is that Mr. Bush's transition of power has shown a level of grace and dignity that has been unprecedented in recent history. He has been cooperative, gracious, and accommodating, in rather stark contrast to other recent transitions. He has done some work with the Congress to set the stage for Mr. Obama, and has kept his last-minute executive orders few and very open. (Contrast that with Clinton.) Transitions have been notoriously tricky for those involved: even the transition from Reagan to Bush Sr. was uncomfortable and awkward. Although he is unpopular and incompetent in the eyes of many, you cannot doubt his character and integrity. He has shown a lot of class during the last two months. Read the article for details.

Finally, and I'm saying this without any hyperventilating, it was really cool to be in the lobby of the Mechanical Engineering building with at least 100 other students, staff, and faculty during the ceremony. I noticed several heads bow during Rick Warren's prayer. We all shared a good laugh during the swearing in, and I never saw a room clear so fast as when the national poet stepped on the stage...

Sometimes, at night, when you pass by a spirited little daughter who is now sleeping peacefully, there's nothing to do but lie down next to her and relax into the moment. Chances are, if you do, your wife will find you and snap a photo after you've drifted off...

Then, the next morning, when your wife leaves you at home alone with the kids while she goes off to work for a couple of hours, do you take advantage of the opportunity? Do you overcome the depressive call to stay home and do nothing? Yes! You do! You round up the kids and the neighbor boy and sally forth to meet the day, with bo-staff, sling shot, and ...


 

Hello Kitty boots! Down into the depths of Shoal Creek you go, in search of excitement, adventure, and really cool things. What do you find?



You find there is a creek to dam, puddles to stomp through, litter to collect, secret forts to make, crystalline rocks to collect, mini-waterfalls to watch, mud patterns to watch swirling through the water, sunshine to enjoy (good thing it was back into the 70's today), and a man from the USGS to meet who was working on the local water monitoring station. 

On a day like today, you can breathe deeply and let the sunshine and fresh air sweep away the cobwebs in your soul that come from too much time spent indoors.

Poor man's camera tripod

Thanks to David Pogue at the New York Times for this amazing bit of highly-valuable information, coming to you just in time for the holidays.

The threads in the bottom of your camera (for plugging into a tripod) are the same size as the threads on a lampshade screw.

If this seems trivial and unimportant to you, just hang on and keep reading. The implication of this is clear to those of us who have ever tried to balance a small digital camera on the back of a recliner chair and run around to stand in a family photo only to have the camera fall or tilt and ruin the photo. Now that you have this information, you can just unscrew the lampshade and replace it with your camera. The lampshade mounts swivels and tilts just like a tripod, and presto! you're in business, with tripod-quality camera placement and no more tilted family portraits.

Now, aren't you glad you still read this not-so-consistently updated blog?

A Bionicle Tale

My 8-year-old son Ian is destined for a career in writing. Behold his latest work. My only input was on some capitalization. Everything else is his, including drop-capital and word emphasis. I might add that this is a work in progress, and he's greedy for any spare lap-top time to work on it.

For the uninitiated, Bionicles are fantasy creatures from the Lego Universe, complete with online games, comics, books and an extensive back-story to drive sales.

uparu activated his laser drill. A red laser shot from the weapon,  and he slammed the drill into the bumpy rock face in front of him. Two drops of sweat the size of small pebbles fell off a spike on his mask and hit the cavern floor with a splash.The drill turned around and around at terrific speed. Oh, why Jaller, why do you have to make us miss literally hours of sleep, Nuparu thought, all  because of some shrimpy little Matoran’s coaxing, he added to his thoughts. Jaller had been coaxed by a group of native Matoran that had reported freaky invaders trying to convince the Voya Nui Matoran that they were  “Toa”. So far they were successful; but when it came to Garan and his team, Balta, Velika, Dalu, Piruk , and Kazi it  went over the edge of a cliff; not long after the canisters washed up on the beach the team suspected that the “Toa”-a voice interrupted his thoughts: “hey what are ya doing?-hey ow!” “Those pebbles sting!” Nuparu’s drill was sending a barrage of pebbles flying everywhere. He turned and looked to see Hewki standing a few feet away with his hands on his hips. The drill-bearing Toa of earth looked Hewki straight in the eye and said coldly: “says the Toa who controls stone-which means also pebbles.” “wow!” said Hewki, embarrassed. “I can’t believe I never thought of that” “well”, said Nuparu, “would you mind sneaking me a hand here”? “not at all!” said Hewki, “you know I like the rocks, and this place is a cavern” “plus, if these new guys the ol’fire ball sent us after are meaner than we think, there will be two of us” “good point” said Nuparu, even as his laser drill made a huge chunk of rock the same black shade of his armor topple out of the boulder and smash on the floor. Hewki lifted his laser axe up over his shoulder, activated the laser, and brought down with a smash. Chunks of rock flew everywhere. A smallish hole had been formed in the rock from the brute force of the impact, the laser buzzing on and from the axe, and the fact that Nuparu had been working on it before. “Here’s where I take over” said Hewki. . . .

Expedition Pictures, and my website

When I was in High School, my family lived for a year in Cambridge England. As part of that experience, I attended a British boys' school (it's co-ed now), which sent a small expedition to the Arctic island of Spitzbergen. My parents offered me the opportunity, and I took it.

Recently I scanned the photos from that trip and uploaded them to Picasa. Then I made a web page to show them off.

Here's the link.

Please don't expect to find much on the rest of the site; there are tidbits, but not much. I don't do this professionally, and I'm busy with a lot of other things. But at least the expedition photos are all commented and in good order. I hope you enjoy them.

I hope that one day, I'm able to provide my own children with the same kind of incredible opportunities that my parents gave me.

BTW this post is cross listed at my other blog.

Man v. Raccoon

We had our second visit in two weeks from a raccoon last night (click here to see me in action after the first one). At 3:55 A.M. Hannah and I were jolted awake by a horrific squawking and loud commotion from the hen house. Without thinking, I grabbed my glasses and sprinted to the back yard in my boxers, grabbing a broomstick on the way. Floodlights revealed feathers flying everywhere and a grey and black raccoon dancing with my hens. Hannah was yelling at it from the window as I hurdled through the fence, broomstick first. I halted my progress briefly as I remembered a recent discussion on a urban poultry list about how a guy got bitten and scratched up pretty badly by a 'coon, but then I plunged ahead anyway and took a good whack at it. As it scaled the fence to get out, I hurled the stick at it.

Then it was all jitters and pounding heart as I corralled the thoroughly freaked-out hens back into their coop and checked them over for wounds. No problems this time, but the feather carnage was impressive. I think hens must shed their feathers to distract a predator, and I also think that they have learned to get my attention pretty effectively. Their collective commotion has gotten better over time (this is the fourth or fifth time I've been out for a midnight rescue.) I think I finally fell back asleep for a little while around 5:30.

I thought I had locked them up, but apparantly I forgot. The routine is so repetitive that sometimes it's easy to forget. Once again, I renew my resolve to always make sure they're locked up at night...

Behavior Academy

Today, for the second time in our house, we tried a behavior academy. We got some professional advice on how to increase the compliance of our children, and today we used it with dramatic results.

Yesterday, my dear wife reported trouble with the kids getting through their morning list, and there was general trouble all day long with obedience, right up through bedtime. Today, therefore, we had an academy. The goal was to do morning and night-time lists with no reminders and a good attitude. Lizey pretty much sailed through hers, and she managed to think it was actually kind of fun, but Ian was a different story.

At first he just couldn't believe he was actually required to get into pajamas, put clothes into the hamper, brush teeth, clean up eight things, and report back. There was moaning and wailing, death threats, angry stares, the whole nine yard. I gave him a 5/10 on obedience for the number of reminders I had to give, and 1/10 on attitude. At least he did not actually throw any punches or get physical with me. There was more disbelief and wounded shock when I told him then to start on his morning list, which includes putting away breakfast dishes (yes there were some out), brushing teeth (again), getting dressed, and doing a morning chore. Obedience level was about the same because I had to give a lot of reminders, and attitude improved to 2/10, with an important difference. He started to ask whether he was going to have to do it again, and that was the clincher. Hannah and I explained to him that until we had what we wanted for both obedience and attitude, he was going to have to keep going. Well, the second time through the night-time list was much better, an 8/10 and 5/10 for obedience and attitude. Then he finally got it all figured out, and turned himself around. The last repetition of the morning list scored a 9/10 and 8/10. And then he was free to go back to the computer game that I pulled him from to do the academy.

The great thing about this method, was that it allowed Hannah and me to keep our cool and not get personal. There was a tremendous turnaround in Ian's outlook. He was actually happy at the end of it, and while he did not enjoy the process, I think he feels a lot better afterward.

We finished off the session by explaining that if they enjoyed doing the academy, all they have to do is talk back, disobey, or get distracted in the middle of doing something we asked them to earn another one.

Future academies may include perfecting such tasks as getting dressed and putting away pajamas or the reverse, doing chores, getting into the car, coming in from the car and remembering to bring everything in with them.

Has anybody else tried anything like this? Post a response and share!

Good Clean Fun

Guess who had a good long romp in the dirt today?

Two kinds of Daddy Magic

Tonight, Eliza was having a hard time settling down, so after 40 minutes of poking my head into the room to remind her to lie still and be quiet, I decided it was time for action. I went and very soberly sat next to her.

"Eliza, I was hoping I wouldn't have to do this."

Curious and apprehensive eyes stared back at me.

"I'm going to have to use my Daddy Magic ring. I don't usually like to do this, but it looks like I'm going to have to. It makes your eyes very heavy and your breathing slow down. Be very careful when I put my hand on you, because it's going to make you fall asleep right away."

"OK, Daddy," a little unsure about all this.

I put my hand on her chest. "Feel your eyes closing?"

A nod, yes.

I closed my eyes to concentrate on the Daddy Magic, otherwise known as power of suggestion.

When I opened them 30 seconds later, she was fast asleep.

That's the good kind of Daddy Magic.

Then there was Caroline, who was also having trouble getting to sleep. The Daddy Magic Ring did not work for her. It wore off right away, and when I returned to check on her, there she was in the hallway, drawing on the wall with markers. "Caroline! You should be sleeping, not drawing on the walls."

This kind of Daddy Magic produced instant tears. My first thought was, let the regret and tears teach her a lesson. When I went in talk to her about it, it was a different story, though.

"Daddy, I was drawing a wreath of flowers, so carefully."

"Caroline, why did you draw on the walls? You know you're supposed to draw on the white board, not the walls."

"I don't like it when people leave the marker lids off and color all over the board. That's why I drew on the walls."

"But Caroline, the marker doesn't come off the walls."

"You can just use the pink eraser."

"That doesn't work either."

"You can just wipe it with a sponge."

"That doesn't work either."

"Oh. What can you do? I want Mommy."

"I'll try some alcohol. Now pretend to go to sleep so you can fool her when she comes in."

When Hannah went to go check on her a few minutes after, she was fast asleep.

That's dark Daddy Magic turned light.

Carrot Finger Crunching

And now for a piece of real Daddy Magic: carrot finger crunching, or How to Get Your Kids to Eat More Carrots!

I'm sure I learned this trick when I was seven or eight years old, and on a whim I taught it to my kids tonight at the dinner table. It was an instant hit, and when they started asking for the bag of carrots, I realized that this was a good thing. Enjoy the chaos that is our happy dinner table and see if you can avoid bursting out laughing...

Sweet Music of the Lego Bin.

With my number one child, some days are better than others. Let's just say that today was one of those others, with intense chat sessions on at least five separate occasions and lots of frustrated and bruised feelings all around. It's a cycle that can spiral precipitously downward and is hard to shake out of.

In fact, to shake out of it takes a concerted effort, so when the opportunity arose tonight, I did not pounce at first, but eventually I grabbed it with as much gusto as I could:

I was sitting on the floor next to Caroline to help her get to sleep. Just having a parent in the room can sometimes mean the difference between falling peacefully to sleep in five minutes and requiring repeated trips to the door to put her back in bed and remind her to lie still and quiet. I was getting into my book, when I heard a knock at the door. It was Ian wanting to know if I could help him build a Lego Astros Command Base, and instantly my blood began to rise because I've told him many times not to come in when I'm trying to get Caroline to sleep. (On some occasions this has cost another 30 minutes of settling.) Although no harm was done, I snapped and told him to wait in his room for me. When he, very quietly and tentatively came back in a couple of minutes, I realized that Caroline was long since asleep, and by this time I was just enjoying some quiet time reading my book. My choices were: be right (in my own mind) and put him off longer while reading some more, or get over it and go play Legos.

I don't even know why it's so hard to get down on the floor and play some times, but I know that for Ian, this is his love language, and there's no better way to fill him up than quality time on the floor, speaking his language.

My hesitance was actually a sad commentary on how stodgy I've gotten, because anyone who knew me as a kid knows I was way into Legos. One of the great satisfactions of fatherhood for me was introducing Ian to Legos through my own old sets that had been hiding away at my parents' house for years and years. It didn't take long for the indescribable sound of hands pushing through a drawer full of Lego bricks to brush away years of cobwebs from my youthful spirit. Before long, my inner eight year old was there side by side with my filial eight year old, snapping bricks together, constructing a control tower so that his Mars Mission ships could land safely under heavy Alien attack. Weapon systems galore! Radar towers, swiveling and tilting! Automatic blaster cannons! Incoming missile deactivation shields! I was a little surprised how just the light glinting through certain of the pieces had an emotional memory effect, taking me back to many late night sessions with my old friend Alex Rose... (Any Lego fans out there remember when the clear red pieces started coming out? The red antennas did it for me tonight.)

Anyway, this is not my first time to play with Legos with Ian. But somehow tonight it was special because of the way that he drank it in. As I watched him pace the room, eagerly explaining his pneumatic grenade launcher to me, I felt that he could care less about the conflicts and frustrations of the day because we had our special, secret time together.
So here's to all the dad out there: don't forget to play Legos with your kids! There's still sweet music to hear when you're hunting for the piece you know is there, and your boy's hand is in the bin next to yours.

By the way, I found a collector's site with some old sets I used to have. Click the image to discover the site and enjoy a trip down memory lane. And absolutely visit this site, where some dear soul has scanned copies of the Lego catalogs from 1958 through the present. The space sets from the catalogs of 1981-86 hold a special place in my heart of hearts.