It's been hard, the past year or so, to really think of myself as married to a Naval officer. In January, when we came home to Norfolk from holidays spent in the Midwest, Ruth's ship had already entered a drydock. The next 11 months, there was no activity with the spouse club, no days without email or weeks without telephone and no emergency underways. Sure, she came home late many nights and a few times not at all, but that's true of any job with responsibilities.
Meanwhile, Theo played at the park, made friends with the neighbors, hung out with me at the local pool club and started preschool. I took up running, was pretty good at it for never training in my life and took the logical step of joining the insanely active local running club, in addition to working around the house and being involved in everything Theo was doing. I started talking to local folks on Twitter.
In short, I more or less threw myself into our geographic community, rather than a work or military or online community. It felt comfortable. Suddenly I was thinking in terms of years, rather than months; thinking about spending next summer at the pool, but also about Theo growing up with the kids on the block. Thinking about running races with my local friends and entering a marathon with a good friend and how much I could see my results improve over the next few years.
[Do I sound like a moron to anyone else? Because in hindsight, I sound like a moron to me.]
It's the first time I've done it, and it was so much fun that the motivation to write about anything related to our military life kinda vanished. And in retrospect, I didn't realize that's what I was doing, or how dangerous it could be. I knew I didn't feel like writing, especially not about the military life we weren't really living; but I chalked it up to a need to define myself as something other than "Navy Spouse" or "Stay-at-home-dad" or by any other outside influence.
[Anyone see where this is going yet? Who am i kidding, 90% of my readers already know where this is ending.]
Comfortable is all well and good, but I'd forgotten "comfortable" isn't the life we've chosen.
My wife put in her duty preferences for her next job back in October and as always, I told her to go with the jobs that she really wanted, rather than trying to stay here in Norfolk. I did this in part because her work is a major part of who she is, and I want her to be happy. The other reason I told her to ignore geography is that I really didn't think the Navy would move us out of Norfolk at this point, for a variety of reasons that were all PERFECTLY LOGICAL at the time.
[This is getting more predictable than a horror movie, right?]
The day before Thanksgiving, the detailers released the slate ... and hey, whaddya know, she got her dream department head job, the one she said years and years ago she'd love to have at this point in her career ...
... but instead of on a ship in Norfolk, it's on a ship out of SASEBO, JAPAN. Which just goes to show you, I know jack about the Navy after all these years.
Before some random reader assumes otherwise, Japan has ALWAYS been on our list as the first country outside the USA we'd like to live. We'd asked for jobs in Sasebo several times prior, they just hadn't been available. A month prior to this news, as Ruth was filling out her duty preferences, she told me of a couple perfect jobs available in Sasebo. I told her, at the time, "Heck yeah, Sasebo! Put that down right after the Norfolk jobs you like!" (like I said, I didn't believe this had any chance of happening.)
So of course, since she got exactly what she wanted and we're going to a place we've wanted to be for years, I promptly FREAKED THE FUCK OUT for a few days. Was completely in shock for the first few hours, which made Thanksgiving prep tougher, but I got it all done.
What went through my head?
Theo isn't going to this preschool next year -- in fact, he probably won't finish the current year. sigh. I'll be declining the pool club membership for next summer. No spring marathon for me, can't commit to that training schedule. The cats? Oh hell, the cats are going to end up in quarantine because their shots aren't up to date. THE HOUSE. We just bought this house and now we have to rent it or sell it. Just bought? SHIT. We have a WEEK OLD car that can't go with us ...
So I've spent the past couple weeks working, planning, purging and talking to people who know a thing or two about Sasebo. The cats are getting their shots, the house is going up for sale (single tear) and the car has a home while we're gone. I've come to realize that there will be a cute little preschool full of Japanese kids for Theo to attend ... if we're not too busy riding bullet trains to places I've only dreamed of visiting.
More than anything, based on my initial reaction to this utterly predictable news, I've realized that I let my priorities get seriously out of whack the past year. We're not the stable semi-urban family of my imagination. I can go ahead and define myself however I'd like, but we ARE a military family, and there are going to be many more moves and separations after this one. I'd best get used to it.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
I'm going to be selfish, and that's OK.
I had an "I'm a bad, selfish dad" moment on the walk home from dropping Theo at his 2-morning-per-week school.
It was supposed to be school pictures, but because they take the pics outside and the weather was threatening, we found out when we arrived that they rescheduled. Then it hits me ... they rescheduled when kid and I will be on a roadtrip west for him to spend time with Grandma and Grandpa while I get a long weekend of R&R and booze with college buddies.
In addition, I realized that this Monday is Columbus Day, and therefore he'll be missing school for two full weeks out of this month when it's all said and done.
So on my walk home, I started wondering to myself, is it really fair of me to make him miss so much school just because I want some time to myself and I don't like to fly? He loves going to school, we're paying for it, and the class is so small that he'll probably be missed by the other kids. We already missed a week last month so I could help some friends while one of them had surgery.
Plus I was really looking forward to having the school pictures of him. I love the shirt he was wearing and can't get enough pictures of him in it. I started thinking, maybe I can still get a flight for that afternoon AFTER school. Heck, that way he'd only have to miss one day, because I could get home quicker than we could driving. And sure, It would cost a whole lot more than the car trip will, but why waste the day and a half in the car, when he could have that time to be with his friends... and ... and ... and...
And then it hit me: WHAT ON EARTH AM I THINKING??? When exactly did I lose my fucking mind and turn into the guilt-ridden parent who can't keep the needs of his family versus the needs of the individuals in the family in the proper perspective?
HE'S TWO. HE'S TWO. HE'S TWO! He goes to school SIX HOURS a week and mostly it's just playtime. I myself have one or two memories, tops, from that early in my life and from talking to other folks I suspect I'm above average in that department. If his two-year-old, two-day-per-week preschool ends up being a long-treasured part of his life or mine, then that isn't cute or sentimental, THAT IS A PROBLEM.
Plus, as a two-year-old, he's still about the most perfectly selfish being on Earth. He doesn't know "fair" any better than he knows how to take a crap in the toilet. I'm the one in charge of enforcing "fair" around here, and it isn't very fair that it's been two years since I had a break from him of more than a few hours.
He'll never know he missed a thing, and even if he does remember, he should remember that his primary role model wanted to do something other than cook, clean and read Dr. Seuss all day, every day, for months at a time.
So I'm going to be selfish and not apologize. I'll take a picture of him in his cute shirt when he gets home from school today.
It was supposed to be school pictures, but because they take the pics outside and the weather was threatening, we found out when we arrived that they rescheduled. Then it hits me ... they rescheduled when kid and I will be on a roadtrip west for him to spend time with Grandma and Grandpa while I get a long weekend of R&R and booze with college buddies.
In addition, I realized that this Monday is Columbus Day, and therefore he'll be missing school for two full weeks out of this month when it's all said and done.
So on my walk home, I started wondering to myself, is it really fair of me to make him miss so much school just because I want some time to myself and I don't like to fly? He loves going to school, we're paying for it, and the class is so small that he'll probably be missed by the other kids. We already missed a week last month so I could help some friends while one of them had surgery.
Plus I was really looking forward to having the school pictures of him. I love the shirt he was wearing and can't get enough pictures of him in it. I started thinking, maybe I can still get a flight for that afternoon AFTER school. Heck, that way he'd only have to miss one day, because I could get home quicker than we could driving. And sure, It would cost a whole lot more than the car trip will, but why waste the day and a half in the car, when he could have that time to be with his friends... and ... and ... and...
And then it hit me: WHAT ON EARTH AM I THINKING??? When exactly did I lose my fucking mind and turn into the guilt-ridden parent who can't keep the needs of his family versus the needs of the individuals in the family in the proper perspective?
HE'S TWO. HE'S TWO. HE'S TWO! He goes to school SIX HOURS a week and mostly it's just playtime. I myself have one or two memories, tops, from that early in my life and from talking to other folks I suspect I'm above average in that department. If his two-year-old, two-day-per-week preschool ends up being a long-treasured part of his life or mine, then that isn't cute or sentimental, THAT IS A PROBLEM.
Plus, as a two-year-old, he's still about the most perfectly selfish being on Earth. He doesn't know "fair" any better than he knows how to take a crap in the toilet. I'm the one in charge of enforcing "fair" around here, and it isn't very fair that it's been two years since I had a break from him of more than a few hours.
He'll never know he missed a thing, and even if he does remember, he should remember that his primary role model wanted to do something other than cook, clean and read Dr. Seuss all day, every day, for months at a time.
So I'm going to be selfish and not apologize. I'll take a picture of him in his cute shirt when he gets home from school today.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Teach your children well...
Theo and I spent most of our afternoons in August at the pool around the corner from the house. Theo has always loved being in the water and there's always tons of little kids there - even if I have the occasional heart attack when his seemingly boundless confidence gets way ahead of his abilities.
One day we were playing in the shallows of the adult pool, where Theo's favorite game was throw himself in headfirst so daddy could drag him off the bottom. Theo started playing with another little one who couldn't swim yet, and that boy took a liking to me-- talking, jumping on my back and whatnot. I played with him as much as I could, but explained to him that keeping my boy from drowning was kind of my top priority.
His mother apologized and explained that be tends to latch on to men in the pool, because his own dad won't get in with him. Hey, whatever; it's obviously not the way I roll, but everyone has their way of doing things and I have no issue hanging out with kids.
In talking to my new pal, the conversation did eventually turn to that daddy.
"My daddy isn't here. He's at work."
"That's too bad. But we understand. Theo's Mommy is at work too and sometimes she gets home late."
"Noooooooooooo!" he said this to me in that manner perfected by all kids, combining "I don't believe you" and "you're crazy" into a single long syllable.
"Yes, she's at her job."
"No, only DADDYS do that!" Obviously, I missed the memo on this one.
I think I eventually convinced him that yes, some mommys work too, while some kids have daddys who stay home.
And as tempting as it would be to ramble on about how even a 3-year-old has been hopelessly indoctrinated into the dominant patriarchy by a distant father who refuses to frolic in the pool, I know that this is just a kid who has made a incorrect assumption about the rest of the world based on his own family and the people he knows well.
But oh, my, did be give me a good laugh that afternoon. I am pretty proud of myself for just laughing, instead of breaking into my usual sarcasm and asking, "Oh, really... So, what does that make me, then, if I'm a daddy who doesn't work?"
One day we were playing in the shallows of the adult pool, where Theo's favorite game was throw himself in headfirst so daddy could drag him off the bottom. Theo started playing with another little one who couldn't swim yet, and that boy took a liking to me-- talking, jumping on my back and whatnot. I played with him as much as I could, but explained to him that keeping my boy from drowning was kind of my top priority.
His mother apologized and explained that be tends to latch on to men in the pool, because his own dad won't get in with him. Hey, whatever; it's obviously not the way I roll, but everyone has their way of doing things and I have no issue hanging out with kids.
In talking to my new pal, the conversation did eventually turn to that daddy.
"My daddy isn't here. He's at work."
"That's too bad. But we understand. Theo's Mommy is at work too and sometimes she gets home late."
"Noooooooooooo!" he said this to me in that manner perfected by all kids, combining "I don't believe you" and "you're crazy" into a single long syllable.
"Yes, she's at her job."
"No, only DADDYS do that!" Obviously, I missed the memo on this one.
I think I eventually convinced him that yes, some mommys work too, while some kids have daddys who stay home.
And as tempting as it would be to ramble on about how even a 3-year-old has been hopelessly indoctrinated into the dominant patriarchy by a distant father who refuses to frolic in the pool, I know that this is just a kid who has made a incorrect assumption about the rest of the world based on his own family and the people he knows well.
But oh, my, did be give me a good laugh that afternoon. I am pretty proud of myself for just laughing, instead of breaking into my usual sarcasm and asking, "Oh, really... So, what does that make me, then, if I'm a daddy who doesn't work?"
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Warning, cute kid story ahead
So it's been a while ago that we transitioned Theo to a full-sized bed. He started asking to sleep in the guest bed one day, so we gave it a try for naptime and by the end of the week his crib was sitting lonely and unused.
For the most part he has been very good about no longer being caged -- that first week, when he would leave the bed at naptime to play, a couple threats to return him to the crib put him in line. Since most of the time he wakes up making some noise, the baby monitor has always told me when he was ready to get out of bed.
So two mornings ago, at about 5AM, I woke up to the sound of footsteps on the landing. I thought "huh, he made it out of the room without me hearing it in the monitor. Sneaky." In a second or two, our bedroom door was open and I heard a familiar little voice say "Daaaaaddyyyyy..."
"Theo, go back to bed," I said just before Ruth could chime in with "Theo, everyone is still asleep." As usual when he knows he's wrong, I heard little footsteps run into his room, his door close and latch, and the little steps continue into his bed. I dozed off in a couple minutes, waking briefly as Ruth left for work a little while later, and only woke up for good when Theo started making noise again after 7. This was a FANTASTIC surprise, because he's been getting me up at or before 6 most mornings lately regardless of when he goes to bed.
So Theo and I went downstairs, where I found one of my containers of yogurt that I'd frozen for myself sitting on the kitchen table. Peculiar. "Ruth must not have realized we still have yogurt for Theo in the fridge. She was trying to help out. How nice!" Then I found a half-bag of half-thawed frozen strawberries in the sink. "Well, it is plain yogurt. He'd want some fruit in it. Good idea, dear."
... A very small voice in the back of my head thought "Ruth doesn't usually presume to do this stuff..." but since the frozen cup of yogurt had been thoughtfully arranged on a neatly folded towel, I figured it MUST have been Ruth.
When Ruth came home from work that night, I told her, "Hey, thanks for the yogurt, but we had plenty for Theo in the fridge."
She replied, "THAT wasn't me. I found it sweating all over the table, so I put the towel under it. Then I found some strawberries that I moved to the sink to thaw. What was up with that?"
I looked at Theo enjoying his dinner, and finally the little voice that had been whispering that morning was screaming.
"Well dear, I think Theo came downstairs this morning before he woke us up to get himself some breakfast. He opened the freezer, pulled out a cup of yogurt and a bag of strawberries, then put them on the dining room table. I'm guessing he came upstairs to get me when he realized he couldn't get the foil wrapper off the yogurt container."
"Theo, did you come downstairs this morning and try to make yourself breakfast?"
"YEEEEAAASS!" Of course, this reply is meaningless, as I've asked Theo before if James Dean and Elvis visit him at preschool, and he's given me the same hyper-enthused positive response. Still, it makes a lot more sense than Ruth's theory that someone broke in during the middle of the night to help himself to some yogurt before the cats scared him off. Sorry dear.
I COMPLETELY expected the day to come when Theo would be wandering the house while we slept, but I never figured he'd be doing it at 2.5 years old, or that he'd be halfway to making himself breakfast in total darkness while we slept. We laughed until our sides hurt, and I asked Theo to not go downstairs anymore until he checks with me first.
I guess it's time to see if doorknob covers will work on the glass doorknobs the old owners installed all over this place...
For the most part he has been very good about no longer being caged -- that first week, when he would leave the bed at naptime to play, a couple threats to return him to the crib put him in line. Since most of the time he wakes up making some noise, the baby monitor has always told me when he was ready to get out of bed.
So two mornings ago, at about 5AM, I woke up to the sound of footsteps on the landing. I thought "huh, he made it out of the room without me hearing it in the monitor. Sneaky." In a second or two, our bedroom door was open and I heard a familiar little voice say "Daaaaaddyyyyy..."
"Theo, go back to bed," I said just before Ruth could chime in with "Theo, everyone is still asleep." As usual when he knows he's wrong, I heard little footsteps run into his room, his door close and latch, and the little steps continue into his bed. I dozed off in a couple minutes, waking briefly as Ruth left for work a little while later, and only woke up for good when Theo started making noise again after 7. This was a FANTASTIC surprise, because he's been getting me up at or before 6 most mornings lately regardless of when he goes to bed.
So Theo and I went downstairs, where I found one of my containers of yogurt that I'd frozen for myself sitting on the kitchen table. Peculiar. "Ruth must not have realized we still have yogurt for Theo in the fridge. She was trying to help out. How nice!" Then I found a half-bag of half-thawed frozen strawberries in the sink. "Well, it is plain yogurt. He'd want some fruit in it. Good idea, dear."
... A very small voice in the back of my head thought "Ruth doesn't usually presume to do this stuff..." but since the frozen cup of yogurt had been thoughtfully arranged on a neatly folded towel, I figured it MUST have been Ruth.
When Ruth came home from work that night, I told her, "Hey, thanks for the yogurt, but we had plenty for Theo in the fridge."
She replied, "THAT wasn't me. I found it sweating all over the table, so I put the towel under it. Then I found some strawberries that I moved to the sink to thaw. What was up with that?"
I looked at Theo enjoying his dinner, and finally the little voice that had been whispering that morning was screaming.
"Well dear, I think Theo came downstairs this morning before he woke us up to get himself some breakfast. He opened the freezer, pulled out a cup of yogurt and a bag of strawberries, then put them on the dining room table. I'm guessing he came upstairs to get me when he realized he couldn't get the foil wrapper off the yogurt container."
"Theo, did you come downstairs this morning and try to make yourself breakfast?"
"YEEEEAAASS!" Of course, this reply is meaningless, as I've asked Theo before if James Dean and Elvis visit him at preschool, and he's given me the same hyper-enthused positive response. Still, it makes a lot more sense than Ruth's theory that someone broke in during the middle of the night to help himself to some yogurt before the cats scared him off. Sorry dear.
I COMPLETELY expected the day to come when Theo would be wandering the house while we slept, but I never figured he'd be doing it at 2.5 years old, or that he'd be halfway to making himself breakfast in total darkness while we slept. We laughed until our sides hurt, and I asked Theo to not go downstairs anymore until he checks with me first.
I guess it's time to see if doorknob covers will work on the glass doorknobs the old owners installed all over this place...
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Just wasting time...
Just dropped off Theo for his first day of preschool. He's going to a small school in the neighborhood, just two mornings a week. He's been ready for a long time to start spending more time around other kids and less around his Daddy. I'm MORE than ready to have six hours of my adulthood back every week.
've been trying to figure out lately why I haven't had the urge to do any blogging or longer-form writing in general. In part, I know it's the amount of time I've concentrated on running, to the exclusion of other hobbies, but I think 'm also getting tired of being identified just as "Daddy," to the exclusion of other roles. I love my kid. He's a lot of fun to be with an I wouldn't trade the past two years. But having to be "on" pretty much every waking hour and parts of the sleeping ones leaves me without the mental energy and concentration for blogging.
Call me a whiny bitch or whatever, but I'm learning my limits.
But anyway, his first day: I was running a few minutes late, as usual -- we had to walk a neighbor's dog -- and then we managed to walk a block from the house before I realized I'd forgotten his extra clothes and diapers at home. At least it was only a block, right? That ate up all our extra time, so I carried him most of the way there so we could still be there with some time to spare. I figure I'll work on leaving earlier in the future, so he can walk on his own.
As we approached the school, I realized that it was the first day not just for the Monday/Wednesday 2-year-olds, but also for the older kids who attend Monday/Wednesday/Friday. The entrance was like a red carpet paparazzi lineup as people photographed and filmed their little ones arriving for their first day. I didn't bring a camera -- I really wanted to avoid making a big production of things -- and I just walked him directly inside to his classroom.
When we arrived, the teacher greeted him, introduced herself and pointed him in the direction of a box of matchbox cars...and I might as well have disappeared at that point. I handed over some paperwork to the teacher, loaded his cubby with extra clothes and diapers ... and it was time for me to go. I said "High five, buddy, see you later," and he barely looked up to raise his hand. Not even some crying from a couple other kids could faze him.
So, pretty anticlimactic, really. I look forward to seeing how he's doing in an hour, seeing what he's bringing home and what he has to say, but in the meantime I'm just happy to be alone, sitting on the patio at Starbucks and pretending that I'm an irresponsible layabout with nothing on my mind and nowhere to go... my future plans while he's in school include a return to brewing and finishing a few things around the house.
And if a mere two hours of relaxation can lead to a long blog post, there's no telling how much I can accomplish...
've been trying to figure out lately why I haven't had the urge to do any blogging or longer-form writing in general. In part, I know it's the amount of time I've concentrated on running, to the exclusion of other hobbies, but I think 'm also getting tired of being identified just as "Daddy," to the exclusion of other roles. I love my kid. He's a lot of fun to be with an I wouldn't trade the past two years. But having to be "on" pretty much every waking hour and parts of the sleeping ones leaves me without the mental energy and concentration for blogging.
Call me a whiny bitch or whatever, but I'm learning my limits.
But anyway, his first day: I was running a few minutes late, as usual -- we had to walk a neighbor's dog -- and then we managed to walk a block from the house before I realized I'd forgotten his extra clothes and diapers at home. At least it was only a block, right? That ate up all our extra time, so I carried him most of the way there so we could still be there with some time to spare. I figure I'll work on leaving earlier in the future, so he can walk on his own.
As we approached the school, I realized that it was the first day not just for the Monday/Wednesday 2-year-olds, but also for the older kids who attend Monday/Wednesday/Friday. The entrance was like a red carpet paparazzi lineup as people photographed and filmed their little ones arriving for their first day. I didn't bring a camera -- I really wanted to avoid making a big production of things -- and I just walked him directly inside to his classroom.
When we arrived, the teacher greeted him, introduced herself and pointed him in the direction of a box of matchbox cars...and I might as well have disappeared at that point. I handed over some paperwork to the teacher, loaded his cubby with extra clothes and diapers ... and it was time for me to go. I said "High five, buddy, see you later," and he barely looked up to raise his hand. Not even some crying from a couple other kids could faze him.
So, pretty anticlimactic, really. I look forward to seeing how he's doing in an hour, seeing what he's bringing home and what he has to say, but in the meantime I'm just happy to be alone, sitting on the patio at Starbucks and pretending that I'm an irresponsible layabout with nothing on my mind and nowhere to go... my future plans while he's in school include a return to brewing and finishing a few things around the house.
And if a mere two hours of relaxation can lead to a long blog post, there's no telling how much I can accomplish...
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
And a not-so-stereotypical Daddy moment...
Most of our previous attempts to get Theo to clean up his toys resulted in Ruth and I scrambling all over the living room to put stuff away while the kid either stood around and laughed at us, or foiled our attempts by spreading puzzle pieces all over the floor.
After a while, we just gave up; easier to put him to bed without fighting that particular battle and we're both so beat by the end of the day that a room littered with toys just isn't our highest priority.
So tonight, Ruth was even later than usual, dinner for Theo was leftovers and whatever I thought he'd eat and afterwards I was facing the prospect of putting him to bed by myself.
As we walked through the toy clutter in the front room, I threw a couple blocks into their box and said, "Wish this stuff would get put away."
And the craziest thing happened -- Theo stopped, picked up a toy and put it in the toy box. Opportunist that I am, I JUMPED on this development and started talking him through the full cleanup. "Theo, can you put all your toy cars in this box?" He suddenly became a toddler WITH A PURPOSE, something that I never knew existed.
Ten minutes later and the room was fit for company.
I realize this sounds weird and desperate, but hot damn, anytime some of the work around here can be transferred from me to him, I'm a happy guy.
After a while, we just gave up; easier to put him to bed without fighting that particular battle and we're both so beat by the end of the day that a room littered with toys just isn't our highest priority.
So tonight, Ruth was even later than usual, dinner for Theo was leftovers and whatever I thought he'd eat and afterwards I was facing the prospect of putting him to bed by myself.
As we walked through the toy clutter in the front room, I threw a couple blocks into their box and said, "Wish this stuff would get put away."
And the craziest thing happened -- Theo stopped, picked up a toy and put it in the toy box. Opportunist that I am, I JUMPED on this development and started talking him through the full cleanup. "Theo, can you put all your toy cars in this box?" He suddenly became a toddler WITH A PURPOSE, something that I never knew existed.
Ten minutes later and the room was fit for company.
I realize this sounds weird and desperate, but hot damn, anytime some of the work around here can be transferred from me to him, I'm a happy guy.
The moment every Daddy looks forward to...
I realize that it's too early to make any assumptions, but...
Tonight, Theo picked up his little foam football and started throwing it back and forth across the living room.
LEFT-HANDED.
That's right. Looking forward to the Fighting Illini National Championship 2028 and the Chicago Bears Super Bowl Dynasty of the 2030s. BANK on it.
Tonight, Theo picked up his little foam football and started throwing it back and forth across the living room.
LEFT-HANDED.
That's right. Looking forward to the Fighting Illini National Championship 2028 and the Chicago Bears Super Bowl Dynasty of the 2030s. BANK on it.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Wherein I get serious about cross-training
Just a running update: The good news, I ran the CHKD 8K Run-Walk for the kids on June 13. I was pretty happy with my time, 48:19, considering the weather was terribly hot and humid, even for the morning. I probably tried a little to hard to keep up with some friends at the beginning when I should've taken it easier all the way through the race.
Which leads to the bad news ... I started feeling some pain just below my knee in the days after the race. Knowing that we were a few days from a long weekend to DC that would mean many miles of walking each day, I stopped running. But lots of walking in DC, most of it with Theo in the backpack, probably helped get my legs stronger and definitely burned a lot of calories.
It seems pretty clear that any increases in my speed or mileage beyond where I'm at now will take quite a bit of time. Runner's World described the problem that fits my knee pain, and it sounds like my weight and lack of quad strength are likely culprits. I've decided that if I'm going to finish the Virginia Beach Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon in a time I'm happy with, I have to do two things this summer -- lose a bunch of weight and improve my leg strength, especially my quads.
So my new program is going back to running only three days per week and not pushing the speed work for now, but hitting the bike hard at least three of the other four days. I'm also working on the Hundred Pushups and Two Hundred Squats programs of Tidewater local Steve Speirs, in addition to doing sets of planks and other core strength every day or two.
Yesterday I strapped Theo into his bike seat and set off. My first stop was the downtown Norfolk YMCA, just to see how long it would take to bike there -- looks like 10-15 minutes for me to cover the 2-ish miles, even with all the construction going on in that direction. I'd say there's a good chance we'll be joining there soon.
After my test ride to the Y, I set out for Norfolk's 5 Points community farm market. It's absolutely a treasure to have a source of local farm raised food available year-around, but I haven't been going there nearly as often as I'd like -- I don't have the car during the day and I favor destinations I can reach on foot. Now that I know how quickly I can get there and back on the bike, I'm likely to start visiting with Theo a couple times a week.
One more quick stop at Azar's to get Theo some Hummus (OK, I admit Daddy's eating it too) and we were on our way back home.
Of course, it figures...because of a seat malfunction and forgetting to restart my GPS watch after Theo stopped it, I don't have an exact mileage. I know it was at least 7.75, so I'm going to put a guess at 9.5 - 10 miles covered. I'm very happy with that. It made me tight enough this morning that getting started on my run was a challenge, but once I worked out the kinks I ran as well as I normally do for five miles with the stroller.
I figure a week or two of regular bike riding should get my body accustomed to the new work I'm giving it and with any luck, I'll start to show improvements in my run distance and speed as I hit muscles that haven't been working so hard up to this point. Next I have to find out if MacArthur mall has bike parking, anyplace where Theo can run wild in the morning is a prime destination...
Which leads to the bad news ... I started feeling some pain just below my knee in the days after the race. Knowing that we were a few days from a long weekend to DC that would mean many miles of walking each day, I stopped running. But lots of walking in DC, most of it with Theo in the backpack, probably helped get my legs stronger and definitely burned a lot of calories.
It seems pretty clear that any increases in my speed or mileage beyond where I'm at now will take quite a bit of time. Runner's World described the problem that fits my knee pain, and it sounds like my weight and lack of quad strength are likely culprits. I've decided that if I'm going to finish the Virginia Beach Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon in a time I'm happy with, I have to do two things this summer -- lose a bunch of weight and improve my leg strength, especially my quads.
So my new program is going back to running only three days per week and not pushing the speed work for now, but hitting the bike hard at least three of the other four days. I'm also working on the Hundred Pushups and Two Hundred Squats programs of Tidewater local Steve Speirs, in addition to doing sets of planks and other core strength every day or two.
Yesterday I strapped Theo into his bike seat and set off. My first stop was the downtown Norfolk YMCA, just to see how long it would take to bike there -- looks like 10-15 minutes for me to cover the 2-ish miles, even with all the construction going on in that direction. I'd say there's a good chance we'll be joining there soon.
After my test ride to the Y, I set out for Norfolk's 5 Points community farm market. It's absolutely a treasure to have a source of local farm raised food available year-around, but I haven't been going there nearly as often as I'd like -- I don't have the car during the day and I favor destinations I can reach on foot. Now that I know how quickly I can get there and back on the bike, I'm likely to start visiting with Theo a couple times a week.
One more quick stop at Azar's to get Theo some Hummus (OK, I admit Daddy's eating it too) and we were on our way back home.
Of course, it figures...because of a seat malfunction and forgetting to restart my GPS watch after Theo stopped it, I don't have an exact mileage. I know it was at least 7.75, so I'm going to put a guess at 9.5 - 10 miles covered. I'm very happy with that. It made me tight enough this morning that getting started on my run was a challenge, but once I worked out the kinks I ran as well as I normally do for five miles with the stroller.
I figure a week or two of regular bike riding should get my body accustomed to the new work I'm giving it and with any luck, I'll start to show improvements in my run distance and speed as I hit muscles that haven't been working so hard up to this point. Next I have to find out if MacArthur mall has bike parking, anyplace where Theo can run wild in the morning is a prime destination...
Monday, May 25, 2009
Lies we tell our children
"No no no, Theo. That's Daddy's penis. You can touch Theo's penis, but we don't touch other people's penises."
I'll get into the exceptions to that one later, I guess.
Yes, this is an ongoing theme.
I'll get into the exceptions to that one later, I guess.
Yes, this is an ongoing theme.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Gender stereotypes, two for one today only
Do I just not leave the house enough?
Monday morning, couple weeks ago now, I still had the rental car I'd used to drive Theo and I to Pennsylvania for the weekend, so I decided to take advantage and run to the commissary.
It was one of those perfect grocery trips. No crowds, lots of other kids for Theo to interact with and he actually walked with me and listened to me when I told him not to pick up glass jars from the bottom shelf.
Our bagger had a great time talking with Theo on the way to the car, but then came the question that every stay-at-home dad gets at some point: "...and Where is your Mommy?" The way she asked, her meaning seemed clear ... but I don't assume anything, and I'm polite even when other people aren't, so I gave the honest answer: "She's at work on the big ship, right Theo? We'll see her this afternoon. (Deep breath)"
"OH!" ... and then silence. I've heard this dozens of times -- The sudden realization that I am the stay-at-home spouse of a female sailor, followed by a fruitless attempt to find the right cliche or canned comment to make about our situation.
I'd forgotten about it by the time the car rental rep was driving us home. We were talking about our trip and I mentioned that we were both ready to be out of the car, after spending so much time together there over the weekend. She told me, "Well, you'll be really happy for that Daddy bonding time later ..." I didn't think anything of it, I just told her, "Oh yeah, we spend all day together, I stay home with him."
"OH!" ... and then silence.
I never let this bug me before I had kids. There's so few of us civilian male spouses, we just never make it onto most people's radars, so why would they have anything to say?
I try very hard not to feel slighted and I'm not playing the victim card here. After all, we're outside the norm and I just get an occasional silly question; my wife and other military women have had to deal with far worse stereotyping. And this isn't something that's unique to the military, I'm sure most stay-at-home-dads hear it from time to time.
Still, why would anyone still believe the underlying assumptions? They're either saying that Mommy SHOULD be at home, or else they're assuming Daddy wouldn't spend his days buying groceries, changing diapers and making dinner.
I guess I should be happy to be out there breaking down stereotypes, making it clear to the folks with preconceived notions that I'm happy my wife is in a career she loves and what's more I ENJOY spending all day with Theo and being the support system for a talented and driven Naval officer. I'm basically a 230 lb. kid, why wouldn't I love it?
Still -- not to beat a dead horse, since friends and I have been over and over the Mr. Mom thing -- I don't think I need to be happy about having my role minimized, as if somehow a man is missing the skills to be a good full-time parent and housekeeper.
In the end, my wife and I aren't out to make any grand feminist statements and we certainly never planned our lives to intentionally undermine traditional gender roles. We just feel lucky that we live during a time when each of us can have the job that suits our skills and temperaments. It's a wonderful feeling to know that even if I get a few weird questions and funny looks, no one thinks twice anymore about a woman in my wife's position.
Monday morning, couple weeks ago now, I still had the rental car I'd used to drive Theo and I to Pennsylvania for the weekend, so I decided to take advantage and run to the commissary.
It was one of those perfect grocery trips. No crowds, lots of other kids for Theo to interact with and he actually walked with me and listened to me when I told him not to pick up glass jars from the bottom shelf.
Our bagger had a great time talking with Theo on the way to the car, but then came the question that every stay-at-home dad gets at some point: "...and Where is your Mommy?" The way she asked, her meaning seemed clear ... but I don't assume anything, and I'm polite even when other people aren't, so I gave the honest answer: "She's at work on the big ship, right Theo? We'll see her this afternoon. (Deep breath)"
"OH!" ... and then silence. I've heard this dozens of times -- The sudden realization that I am the stay-at-home spouse of a female sailor, followed by a fruitless attempt to find the right cliche or canned comment to make about our situation.
I'd forgotten about it by the time the car rental rep was driving us home. We were talking about our trip and I mentioned that we were both ready to be out of the car, after spending so much time together there over the weekend. She told me, "Well, you'll be really happy for that Daddy bonding time later ..." I didn't think anything of it, I just told her, "Oh yeah, we spend all day together, I stay home with him."
"OH!" ... and then silence.
I never let this bug me before I had kids. There's so few of us civilian male spouses, we just never make it onto most people's radars, so why would they have anything to say?
I try very hard not to feel slighted and I'm not playing the victim card here. After all, we're outside the norm and I just get an occasional silly question; my wife and other military women have had to deal with far worse stereotyping. And this isn't something that's unique to the military, I'm sure most stay-at-home-dads hear it from time to time.
Still, why would anyone still believe the underlying assumptions? They're either saying that Mommy SHOULD be at home, or else they're assuming Daddy wouldn't spend his days buying groceries, changing diapers and making dinner.
I guess I should be happy to be out there breaking down stereotypes, making it clear to the folks with preconceived notions that I'm happy my wife is in a career she loves and what's more I ENJOY spending all day with Theo and being the support system for a talented and driven Naval officer. I'm basically a 230 lb. kid, why wouldn't I love it?
Still -- not to beat a dead horse, since friends and I have been over and over the Mr. Mom thing -- I don't think I need to be happy about having my role minimized, as if somehow a man is missing the skills to be a good full-time parent and housekeeper.
In the end, my wife and I aren't out to make any grand feminist statements and we certainly never planned our lives to intentionally undermine traditional gender roles. We just feel lucky that we live during a time when each of us can have the job that suits our skills and temperaments. It's a wonderful feeling to know that even if I get a few weird questions and funny looks, no one thinks twice anymore about a woman in my wife's position.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Military spouse appreciation day
I hope both my readers spent today appreciating me -- today has been declared "Military Spouse Appreciation Day."
I guess I always have to be the contrarian, but I'm really not much for these sorts of observances. I know I'm appreciated by the folks who matter -- my wife, the rest of our family and my wife's shipmates/chain of command. I'm grateful for the sentiments of outsiders, but from my point of view there's nothing notable about raising our kid, supporting my wife and enabling her to achieve her ambitions. It's really just the bare minimum any responsible, loving person would do for their spouse.
No matter how difficult it might be to be separated, I'm not the one living in an enclosed space with 3000 strangers and not touching land for 6-9 months while being shot at. I know civilian couples who work more difficult schedules and endure weekly or monthly separations for business-related travel, some of them for less money than Ruth makes. I feel like we've got it pretty good: I make no money whatsoever, but she has a secure job that pays well enough (with some budgeting and planning, of course) for us to live out our values and she still comes home 7 nights out of 10 saying "I have the coolest job!"
I know not every military spouse feels this way and we are far happier about our situation than a lot of people in the military community -- so a happy Military Spouse day and THANK YOU to all those spouses for whom the military lifestyle is one of endurance, rather than enjoyment.
For those outside the community, wondering what "Appreciation" might mean in practice, beyond just one day of words, Leanne at MilitaryAvenue.com has 101 great ideas that don't neglect the male spouse.
My own thoughts about meaningful, ongoing ways to recognize the sacrifices of the spouse:
If you run a business that offers a military discount, offer the same discount to dependents. Her money is my money, so it's frustrating when a discount is only available to my wife who is so often away. Kudos to companies who DO recognize this reality and give the same treatment to servicemembers and their dependents, like USAA, Choice Hotels and Southwest Airlines.
Give of your time or money to the organizations supporting wounded soldiers and their families. They are the ones who have really had their lives turned upside down as a result of military service, and all indications are that the unconventional nature of this war and advances in battlefield medicine will leave our veterans with thousands upon thousands of permanent injuries that no one expected.
...and if you could do one thing for me today, stop asking my son where his mommy is at, as if I'm a stranger he was abandoned with. A post about this coming up later in the weekend...
I guess I always have to be the contrarian, but I'm really not much for these sorts of observances. I know I'm appreciated by the folks who matter -- my wife, the rest of our family and my wife's shipmates/chain of command. I'm grateful for the sentiments of outsiders, but from my point of view there's nothing notable about raising our kid, supporting my wife and enabling her to achieve her ambitions. It's really just the bare minimum any responsible, loving person would do for their spouse.
No matter how difficult it might be to be separated, I'm not the one living in an enclosed space with 3000 strangers and not touching land for 6-9 months while being shot at. I know civilian couples who work more difficult schedules and endure weekly or monthly separations for business-related travel, some of them for less money than Ruth makes. I feel like we've got it pretty good: I make no money whatsoever, but she has a secure job that pays well enough (with some budgeting and planning, of course) for us to live out our values and she still comes home 7 nights out of 10 saying "I have the coolest job!"
I know not every military spouse feels this way and we are far happier about our situation than a lot of people in the military community -- so a happy Military Spouse day and THANK YOU to all those spouses for whom the military lifestyle is one of endurance, rather than enjoyment.
For those outside the community, wondering what "Appreciation" might mean in practice, beyond just one day of words, Leanne at MilitaryAvenue.com has 101 great ideas that don't neglect the male spouse.
My own thoughts about meaningful, ongoing ways to recognize the sacrifices of the spouse:
If you run a business that offers a military discount, offer the same discount to dependents. Her money is my money, so it's frustrating when a discount is only available to my wife who is so often away. Kudos to companies who DO recognize this reality and give the same treatment to servicemembers and their dependents, like USAA, Choice Hotels and Southwest Airlines.
Give of your time or money to the organizations supporting wounded soldiers and their families. They are the ones who have really had their lives turned upside down as a result of military service, and all indications are that the unconventional nature of this war and advances in battlefield medicine will leave our veterans with thousands upon thousands of permanent injuries that no one expected.
...and if you could do one thing for me today, stop asking my son where his mommy is at, as if I'm a stranger he was abandoned with. A post about this coming up later in the weekend...
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Banana Bread recipe
I've been using this banana bread recipe since pretty much forever. Makes a huge loaf. Saw a Twitter contact ask for a recipe this morning, figured I should actually write it down for once.
5 TB butter, softened
1/2 cup of brown sugar (I usually use dark brown)
1/2 cup of regular granulated sugar
2 eggs (you can get by with one, but let's not go halfway here -- this isn't bread, it's a loaf-shaped cake.)
1tsp vanilla extract
3-4 bananas, as overripe as you can stand to have in your house.
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 cups all-purpose flour
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
Combine first five ingredients in stand mixer. Mix on low-medium speed until well-combined. Add bananas, mix on low-medium until broken into pieces and combined. Seeing lumps of banana is good.
While mixing, combine dry ingredients in a separate bowl. Once bananas are combined, mix dry ingredients gradually, scraping sides with spatula. When completely combined, add nuts or chocolate chips or whatever add-ons you like in banana bread; I know some folks swear by chocolate and sometimes I do walnuts, but usually don't add anything.
Scrape into a buttered loaf pan, bake for 50-60 minutes, until the edges are brown, the middle of the loaf isn't jiggly when the pan is moved and a toothpick inserted an inch or so off-center comes out clean. The very center will be soft (but NOT jiggly!) when the edges are done, it will finish after pulling it out of the oven. I think the edges are too dry if it stays in the oven until the center is completely cooked. Cool for 20 minutes in the pan, remove from the pan and then cool on a rack.
5 TB butter, softened
1/2 cup of brown sugar (I usually use dark brown)
1/2 cup of regular granulated sugar
2 eggs (you can get by with one, but let's not go halfway here -- this isn't bread, it's a loaf-shaped cake.)
1tsp vanilla extract
3-4 bananas, as overripe as you can stand to have in your house.
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 cups all-purpose flour
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
Combine first five ingredients in stand mixer. Mix on low-medium speed until well-combined. Add bananas, mix on low-medium until broken into pieces and combined. Seeing lumps of banana is good.
While mixing, combine dry ingredients in a separate bowl. Once bananas are combined, mix dry ingredients gradually, scraping sides with spatula. When completely combined, add nuts or chocolate chips or whatever add-ons you like in banana bread; I know some folks swear by chocolate and sometimes I do walnuts, but usually don't add anything.
Scrape into a buttered loaf pan, bake for 50-60 minutes, until the edges are brown, the middle of the loaf isn't jiggly when the pan is moved and a toothpick inserted an inch or so off-center comes out clean. The very center will be soft (but NOT jiggly!) when the edges are done, it will finish after pulling it out of the oven. I think the edges are too dry if it stays in the oven until the center is completely cooked. Cool for 20 minutes in the pan, remove from the pan and then cool on a rack.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Getting around
Last week I finally took my bike down to the local shop to have a toddler seat installed. After using it yesterday for the first time, I'm kicking myself for not doing it earlier.
Even though I've never been a frequent biker, I was able to get Theo strapped in, balance the bike and ride at my usual speed in no time. I thought I'd stay on the local trail for a couple days to get acclimated, check brakes and so forth, but after less than 20 minutes I headed out on the streets in our neighborhood. I was able to ride around the neighborhood for at least an hour with no aches or pains as a result.
I'd suspected that Theo would chafe at being strapped into a seat and helmet, making the whole exercise a gigantic waste, but he had a GREAT time. He smiled at everyone we saw and never touched the helmet. When we stopped at the playground, despite all the other kids and his favorite slides, he was begging to get back in the bike 20 minutes after we stopped.
I'd been re-thinking our one car situation again lately. We don't get to the YMCA or the library as much as I'd like because we're on foot and even the easy walks, to Starbucks or the grocery will get tougher in the summer heat. On a bike, all those places will be an easy ride and I can even go for the mall downtown, the farmer's market or the zoo if I have the energy. If he's actually looking forward to bike rides, we'll be having a blast.
Alternate transportation is even more important on this tour because my wife's ship is in the yards. Having a single car was much easier when she'd be out of town with the ship for days and weeks at a time; now she's driving to work early five or six days a week and getting home late, so I have to plan farther ahead to have the car.
I am still thinking about that second car. My biggest regret right now is that I don't socialize at all with the friends we were most looking forward to seeing back here in Norfolk. The five miles to our old 'hood is as far away as RI when we don't have a car every day.
I promise photos sometime soon. Need to have Mommy home to take some photos when we go ride.
Even though I've never been a frequent biker, I was able to get Theo strapped in, balance the bike and ride at my usual speed in no time. I thought I'd stay on the local trail for a couple days to get acclimated, check brakes and so forth, but after less than 20 minutes I headed out on the streets in our neighborhood. I was able to ride around the neighborhood for at least an hour with no aches or pains as a result.
I'd suspected that Theo would chafe at being strapped into a seat and helmet, making the whole exercise a gigantic waste, but he had a GREAT time. He smiled at everyone we saw and never touched the helmet. When we stopped at the playground, despite all the other kids and his favorite slides, he was begging to get back in the bike 20 minutes after we stopped.
I'd been re-thinking our one car situation again lately. We don't get to the YMCA or the library as much as I'd like because we're on foot and even the easy walks, to Starbucks or the grocery will get tougher in the summer heat. On a bike, all those places will be an easy ride and I can even go for the mall downtown, the farmer's market or the zoo if I have the energy. If he's actually looking forward to bike rides, we'll be having a blast.
Alternate transportation is even more important on this tour because my wife's ship is in the yards. Having a single car was much easier when she'd be out of town with the ship for days and weeks at a time; now she's driving to work early five or six days a week and getting home late, so I have to plan farther ahead to have the car.
I am still thinking about that second car. My biggest regret right now is that I don't socialize at all with the friends we were most looking forward to seeing back here in Norfolk. The five miles to our old 'hood is as far away as RI when we don't have a car every day.
I promise photos sometime soon. Need to have Mommy home to take some photos when we go ride.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Home dairy delivery back in Norfolk
I had a couple more posts all queued up two weeks ago until life interfered, as it sometimes does. Car problems, Computer problems, Theo problems, I couldn't find time to brew, then I did find time to brew...
... but enough whining. I guess I'm lucky I don't get paid to meet deadlines anymore. The good news after all these episodes is that the garage that messed up the car did the right thing and we will use them again, the computer is under warranty, Theo is over his teething or growing pains and even if my brew session wasn't perfect, it's still going to be beer.
We had more good news the past couple weeks, as not one, but two replacements for the late, lamented Yoder Dairies home delivery service came to Hampton Roads.
We already knew and liked Oberweis from our years living in Chicago. I was surprised to hear they'd expanded all the way to Tidewater, but on the other hand there's obviously a market here and quality companies are always looking to grow.
We'd never heard of the other new delivery service, South Mountain Creamery, but after some research it's the option we chose. They dropped off our first delivery of milk, butter, eggs and yogurt late this morning in our old Yoder dairy box -- SO happy the money we spent on that box didn't go to waste and loving the sound of the glass bottles clinking in the fridge again!
Both companies sell products from non-factory dairies that don't use growth hormones or unnecessary antibiotics. We figure that Theo is still drinking a lot of milk and eating a lot of cheese and yogurt, so anytime we can choose non-hormone dairy we do it. The same reasoning goes for buying non-factory eggs and meat: Happy, less stressed animals are going to taste better and make better products.
After thinking it over, we decided to go with SMC because the majority of their products come from close by at their family farm in Maryland and the source of anything they're reselling is clearly explained on their web page.
The problems with the factory farm model have been well documented. Even though it's probably not practical to feed the world exclusively from small sustainable operations, we think it's worth a little more money to support a family business trying to bring a higher quality product to a broader market. If you're living in Hampton Roads or elsewhere in South Mountain Creamery's delivery area, check them out.
Seeing two different companies arrive to replace Yoder also got me thinking -- there was a lot of wailing and teeth-gnashing about the demise of Yoder, the passing of a old tradition, blaming the economy and yadda yadda yadda.
Now two quality companies are looking for growth opportunities and jump into Yoder's old market, despite what Yoder and so many others said about how the lousy economy doomed their business model. The unemployed get similar, if not identical jobs and consumers get more choices.
Of course, it's possible only one of these companies, or neither of them, will survive locally; and I don't want to make this a big political point or question Yoder's business, because we were happy customers. But if I didn't know any better, I'd say that this is exactly how the market is supposed to work. Downturns eliminate weaker, complacent companies and gives the bolder, stronger companies a chance to grow, to compete in new markets and make everyone better off in the long run -- customers, employees and owners alike. Just a thought.
... but enough whining. I guess I'm lucky I don't get paid to meet deadlines anymore. The good news after all these episodes is that the garage that messed up the car did the right thing and we will use them again, the computer is under warranty, Theo is over his teething or growing pains and even if my brew session wasn't perfect, it's still going to be beer.
We had more good news the past couple weeks, as not one, but two replacements for the late, lamented Yoder Dairies home delivery service came to Hampton Roads.
We already knew and liked Oberweis from our years living in Chicago. I was surprised to hear they'd expanded all the way to Tidewater, but on the other hand there's obviously a market here and quality companies are always looking to grow.
We'd never heard of the other new delivery service, South Mountain Creamery, but after some research it's the option we chose. They dropped off our first delivery of milk, butter, eggs and yogurt late this morning in our old Yoder dairy box -- SO happy the money we spent on that box didn't go to waste and loving the sound of the glass bottles clinking in the fridge again!
Both companies sell products from non-factory dairies that don't use growth hormones or unnecessary antibiotics. We figure that Theo is still drinking a lot of milk and eating a lot of cheese and yogurt, so anytime we can choose non-hormone dairy we do it. The same reasoning goes for buying non-factory eggs and meat: Happy, less stressed animals are going to taste better and make better products.
After thinking it over, we decided to go with SMC because the majority of their products come from close by at their family farm in Maryland and the source of anything they're reselling is clearly explained on their web page.
The problems with the factory farm model have been well documented. Even though it's probably not practical to feed the world exclusively from small sustainable operations, we think it's worth a little more money to support a family business trying to bring a higher quality product to a broader market. If you're living in Hampton Roads or elsewhere in South Mountain Creamery's delivery area, check them out.
Seeing two different companies arrive to replace Yoder also got me thinking -- there was a lot of wailing and teeth-gnashing about the demise of Yoder, the passing of a old tradition, blaming the economy and yadda yadda yadda.
Now two quality companies are looking for growth opportunities and jump into Yoder's old market, despite what Yoder and so many others said about how the lousy economy doomed their business model. The unemployed get similar, if not identical jobs and consumers get more choices.
Of course, it's possible only one of these companies, or neither of them, will survive locally; and I don't want to make this a big political point or question Yoder's business, because we were happy customers. But if I didn't know any better, I'd say that this is exactly how the market is supposed to work. Downturns eliminate weaker, complacent companies and gives the bolder, stronger companies a chance to grow, to compete in new markets and make everyone better off in the long run -- customers, employees and owners alike. Just a thought.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Some family pictures...
My wife was in the sword arch for a shipmate's wedding last weekend. It's not very often I catch her in dress uniform, so I brought along the camera and took a ton of pictures, these are some of the better ones.
I think it amuses Ruth that I get so picture-happy when she's in a dress uniform, although she does admit that she looks good all decked out and wearing her bling.
Certainly, I think she's gorgeous and I love the symbolism in the uniform. Beyond that, over time these pictures in her dress uniform will tell the story of every step in her unique journey, as she progressed from Recruit to Petty Officer to getting her commission. I want our kids and their kids to know her story and learn the lesson that no one is defined by where or how they grew up, but by their willingness to work and not give up. She'll be the first to tell you that some of those medals are of the "just happened to be here" or "perfect attendance" variety, but there's others that signify hard work and achievements she's right to be proud of.
Most days she tells me "it's just a job" and she has a point. A lot of her days as an officer aren't much different than mine were running a helpdesk: Sit in front of a computer, sit through long meetings, check up on projects, make some calls, send some reports. Even the Navy's day-to-day "working" uniforms reflect the reality that far more time is spent preparing to fight than actually fighting.
These special occasions and the symbols that go with them are part of what makes her job "...more than just a job..." as the old advertisement put it.
I think it amuses Ruth that I get so picture-happy when she's in a dress uniform, although she does admit that she looks good all decked out and wearing her bling.
Certainly, I think she's gorgeous and I love the symbolism in the uniform. Beyond that, over time these pictures in her dress uniform will tell the story of every step in her unique journey, as she progressed from Recruit to Petty Officer to getting her commission. I want our kids and their kids to know her story and learn the lesson that no one is defined by where or how they grew up, but by their willingness to work and not give up. She'll be the first to tell you that some of those medals are of the "just happened to be here" or "perfect attendance" variety, but there's others that signify hard work and achievements she's right to be proud of.
Most days she tells me "it's just a job" and she has a point. A lot of her days as an officer aren't much different than mine were running a helpdesk: Sit in front of a computer, sit through long meetings, check up on projects, make some calls, send some reports. Even the Navy's day-to-day "working" uniforms reflect the reality that far more time is spent preparing to fight than actually fighting.
These special occasions and the symbols that go with them are part of what makes her job "...more than just a job..." as the old advertisement put it.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Twitter makes me a better military spouse
If you're looking at the blog's main page, you may have noticed my Twitter feed, under the "What I'm doing now" heading in the right-hand sidebar.
Those unfamiliar with Twitter always ask me the same questions -- first, "What IS it?" and then, after I've explained the concept: "Why do you do that? What's the point?"
First the "what": Twitter is a micro-blogging platform, based around the concept of sharing "What I'm doing right now" in 140 characters or less. Updates can be broadcast via text message, web page or RSS feed. Users "follow" each others' Twitter feeds and can reply publicly or privately to any other user.
This is an accurate description, it's also completely useless to anyone who hasn't used it! The difficulty, I tell them, in describing Twitter is that you can't say what it is without describing what it does, and it does something different for everyone who tries it.
For instance, I use it as part of the constantly updated content in my blog sidebar -- my sidebar content keeps the site active and lets me share day-to-day activities and links to other articles on the Internet without creating a full blog post. Because I can update Twitter via text message, I can update the sidebar from my cheap cell phone, without needing a computer -- as I did earlier today, when I sent a tweet during an impromptu visit to the zoo.
Twitter also updates my Facebook status, so one status update from my cell phone or any computer goes to three different places.
There has been another unexpected benefit to Twitter that relates directly to being a military spouse. My wife's Internet connection aboard ship doesn't allow her to read webmail or my blog and email is often intermittent -- but they haven't decided to block Twitter (yet; that may change by the time you read this, as it gets more popular). So as long as the Internet is available, she is able to check my twitter updates and see what it is Theo and I are doing during the day.
Crazy as it sounds, this tracking of our mundane family activities has become one of the most powerful uses of Twitter. Every deployment starts with good intentions to send letters and emails every day outlining the details our service member would want to know -- where the family went that day, what was for dinner, what was in the diaper after dinner -- but real life and real exhaustion often intervene.
The spouse at home doesn't always have a computer or pen & paper available to record thoughts in the moment. When we do get the time to write our deployed sweetie, we've all had those nights where we say, "Today was nothing special ... what am I going to find to write about tonight?"
I certainly forget from time to time that my mundane and boring is like a breath of fresh air for my deployed wife. Recording what we're up to makes Ruth feel that much closer to us every day. Even now that she's in port, I might forget something interesting or cute that happened that day, but as long as I send a Tweet, she will get the news. As often as not, she'll start the dinner conversation with "So, I saw that you went to the store (or playground, or zoo) today!"
And these are just the uses I've found for maintaining my own Twitter updates. I haven't even mentioned the value in following (reading the Tweets) of my friends, other people who live near me, bloggers and writers with similar interests, or celebrities and people in the media.
I'd encourage you to try it out, or share the unique ways you already use Twitter or other social networking to keep up with your friends and family.
Those unfamiliar with Twitter always ask me the same questions -- first, "What IS it?" and then, after I've explained the concept: "Why do you do that? What's the point?"
First the "what": Twitter is a micro-blogging platform, based around the concept of sharing "What I'm doing right now" in 140 characters or less. Updates can be broadcast via text message, web page or RSS feed. Users "follow" each others' Twitter feeds and can reply publicly or privately to any other user.
This is an accurate description, it's also completely useless to anyone who hasn't used it! The difficulty, I tell them, in describing Twitter is that you can't say what it is without describing what it does, and it does something different for everyone who tries it.
For instance, I use it as part of the constantly updated content in my blog sidebar -- my sidebar content keeps the site active and lets me share day-to-day activities and links to other articles on the Internet without creating a full blog post. Because I can update Twitter via text message, I can update the sidebar from my cheap cell phone, without needing a computer -- as I did earlier today, when I sent a tweet during an impromptu visit to the zoo.
Twitter also updates my Facebook status, so one status update from my cell phone or any computer goes to three different places.
There has been another unexpected benefit to Twitter that relates directly to being a military spouse. My wife's Internet connection aboard ship doesn't allow her to read webmail or my blog and email is often intermittent -- but they haven't decided to block Twitter (yet; that may change by the time you read this, as it gets more popular). So as long as the Internet is available, she is able to check my twitter updates and see what it is Theo and I are doing during the day.
Crazy as it sounds, this tracking of our mundane family activities has become one of the most powerful uses of Twitter. Every deployment starts with good intentions to send letters and emails every day outlining the details our service member would want to know -- where the family went that day, what was for dinner, what was in the diaper after dinner -- but real life and real exhaustion often intervene.
The spouse at home doesn't always have a computer or pen & paper available to record thoughts in the moment. When we do get the time to write our deployed sweetie, we've all had those nights where we say, "Today was nothing special ... what am I going to find to write about tonight?"
I certainly forget from time to time that my mundane and boring is like a breath of fresh air for my deployed wife. Recording what we're up to makes Ruth feel that much closer to us every day. Even now that she's in port, I might forget something interesting or cute that happened that day, but as long as I send a Tweet, she will get the news. As often as not, she'll start the dinner conversation with "So, I saw that you went to the store (or playground, or zoo) today!"
And these are just the uses I've found for maintaining my own Twitter updates. I haven't even mentioned the value in following (reading the Tweets) of my friends, other people who live near me, bloggers and writers with similar interests, or celebrities and people in the media.
I'd encourage you to try it out, or share the unique ways you already use Twitter or other social networking to keep up with your friends and family.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Race day!
As I noted on Twitter, Ruth and I had a very successful Shamrock 8K this morning. Ruth has had old injuries that have kept her from running as well as she'd like and the last time we ran together, she covered about a mile and a half before she had to alternate running and walking. Last week she managed 4.5 miles in a little over an hour, so I was hopeful that with a combination of walking and running we'd finish in the 1:15 to 1:20 range.
It has been a beautiful sunny day in Virginia Beach, but waiting for the starting gun on Atlantic Ave. in the shadow of the oceanfront hotels, it was CHILLY. Our hands were a little numb -- we'd avoided bringing gloves or hats because we knew we wouldn't need them once the race started. There were 9,000 people running today, by far their biggest crowd ever.
I've run 5 miles in well under an hour before, so I told Ruth that my goal was to keep her running slowly enough that she wouldn't wear herself out. I know from running with her that as soon as she starts to run/walk, there will be more walking than running (not a criticism; I'm the same way), so we needed to avoid walking for as long as possible.
So we started off telling each other to slow down. I reminded her that of the people passing us, half of them were going to end up walking later in the race and we would pass them -- and the other half, we had no chance of catching, so ignore them!
Throughout the race it seemed like every time we were in danger of hitting a rut, something would happen to lift our spirits...
Midway through the 2nd mile, Annoying Evangelist Guy showed up along the course with his megaphone and 15-foot-high "ARE YOU ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL???" sign -- I turned to Ruth, said, "You can't stop me!" and started screaming "WOOOO HELL! YAY FOR HELL!!" This kept Ruth laughing long enough to forget any discomfort.
(NOTE: I'm not actually a hell fan. But maybe he was, the sign wasn't very specific.)
A few minutes later, when we passed the 2nd mile marker, we made the turn onto the Virginia Beach boardwalk -- even though there was a pretty good breeze in our face, the sun and surf made the third mile fly by.
I completely forgot to figure out the difference between the official start time and the time we passed the starting line, so I wasn't sure how fast we were running until we passed the 2nd mile marker, 13 minutes after the first mile marker. At this point I felt like I'd been taking a brisk walk and Ruth was still feeling great -- even better when she realized this was probably the farthest she'd ever run without a pause to walk!
Between mile three and four, where I saw Ruth starting to flush and maybe puff a little, here comes the spectators with a cowbell. So obviously, I start yelling "THIS RACE NEEDS MORE COWBELL! REALLY EXPLORE THE SPACE!" Once again, laughter proved the best medicine.
After we'd covered three miles and even more so after four, I started doing my best to motivate Ruth, telling her that she'd done a great job, it was only a few more minutes ... and maybe most importantly, that if she stopped running we'd no longer be passing anyone. If encouragement is good, appealing to my over-competitive wife is even better!
We ran into one of Ruth's chiefs on the course and more than once spectators greeted us with cries of "GO NAVY!" We were both wearing Navy T-shirts and I know the acknowledgment gave Ruth a lift.
I'd obviously far underestimated how gassed she was in those final miles, because as the finish line loomed a few dozen yards in front of us, I looked over to see how she was doing ... and she was pulling away at as close to a sprint as either of us could manage! I had to catch up for us to cross the finish line together. I was so proud of her and so excited, I barely noticed the walk back to the car.
I looked over as we crossed the line, and the time since the starting gun was just under 1:11 -- so we probably made it in about 1:05, far ahead of what either of us had expected.
There was one sour note struck on that walk, which I posted about earlier. I didn't want to have the top post on the blog be an ill-tempered rant on such a great day! Thanks to everyone who has been wishing us well on Facebook and in the comments here. These were just the first steps of a longer journey -- we have a lot of improvement and even longer runs ahead!
The next race I'm registered for is the Virginia Beach Rock'n'Roll half marathon in September, which I'm running with my friend Rosanne. She's ahead of me in both distance and speed, so I have a lot of work to do. Of course, now that we've run one race, I'm sure there will be some shorter races between now and then.
It has been a beautiful sunny day in Virginia Beach, but waiting for the starting gun on Atlantic Ave. in the shadow of the oceanfront hotels, it was CHILLY. Our hands were a little numb -- we'd avoided bringing gloves or hats because we knew we wouldn't need them once the race started. There were 9,000 people running today, by far their biggest crowd ever.
I've run 5 miles in well under an hour before, so I told Ruth that my goal was to keep her running slowly enough that she wouldn't wear herself out. I know from running with her that as soon as she starts to run/walk, there will be more walking than running (not a criticism; I'm the same way), so we needed to avoid walking for as long as possible.
So we started off telling each other to slow down. I reminded her that of the people passing us, half of them were going to end up walking later in the race and we would pass them -- and the other half, we had no chance of catching, so ignore them!
Throughout the race it seemed like every time we were in danger of hitting a rut, something would happen to lift our spirits...
Midway through the 2nd mile, Annoying Evangelist Guy showed up along the course with his megaphone and 15-foot-high "ARE YOU ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL???" sign -- I turned to Ruth, said, "You can't stop me!" and started screaming "WOOOO HELL! YAY FOR HELL!!" This kept Ruth laughing long enough to forget any discomfort.
(NOTE: I'm not actually a hell fan. But maybe he was, the sign wasn't very specific.)
A few minutes later, when we passed the 2nd mile marker, we made the turn onto the Virginia Beach boardwalk -- even though there was a pretty good breeze in our face, the sun and surf made the third mile fly by.
I completely forgot to figure out the difference between the official start time and the time we passed the starting line, so I wasn't sure how fast we were running until we passed the 2nd mile marker, 13 minutes after the first mile marker. At this point I felt like I'd been taking a brisk walk and Ruth was still feeling great -- even better when she realized this was probably the farthest she'd ever run without a pause to walk!
Between mile three and four, where I saw Ruth starting to flush and maybe puff a little, here comes the spectators with a cowbell. So obviously, I start yelling "THIS RACE NEEDS MORE COWBELL! REALLY EXPLORE THE SPACE!" Once again, laughter proved the best medicine.
After we'd covered three miles and even more so after four, I started doing my best to motivate Ruth, telling her that she'd done a great job, it was only a few more minutes ... and maybe most importantly, that if she stopped running we'd no longer be passing anyone. If encouragement is good, appealing to my over-competitive wife is even better!
We ran into one of Ruth's chiefs on the course and more than once spectators greeted us with cries of "GO NAVY!" We were both wearing Navy T-shirts and I know the acknowledgment gave Ruth a lift.
I'd obviously far underestimated how gassed she was in those final miles, because as the finish line loomed a few dozen yards in front of us, I looked over to see how she was doing ... and she was pulling away at as close to a sprint as either of us could manage! I had to catch up for us to cross the finish line together. I was so proud of her and so excited, I barely noticed the walk back to the car.
I looked over as we crossed the line, and the time since the starting gun was just under 1:11 -- so we probably made it in about 1:05, far ahead of what either of us had expected.
There was one sour note struck on that walk, which I posted about earlier. I didn't want to have the top post on the blog be an ill-tempered rant on such a great day! Thanks to everyone who has been wishing us well on Facebook and in the comments here. These were just the first steps of a longer journey -- we have a lot of improvement and even longer runs ahead!
The next race I'm registered for is the Virginia Beach Rock'n'Roll half marathon in September, which I'm running with my friend Rosanne. She's ahead of me in both distance and speed, so I have a lot of work to do. Of course, now that we've run one race, I'm sure there will be some shorter races between now and then.
In which reverse snobbery rears its head
Ruth and I ran the Shamrock 8K this morning -- details coming in the next post, but suffice to say it was a great race, we both ran well and had a great time.
On the walk back to the car, wearing my well-deserved finisher's medal and cooling down with a bottle of water, I remembered for the first time in a couple hours that I'd had no coffee that morning. We were up just after 6 and out the door at 6:30 to get Theo to his babysitter, so there really hadn't been time.
But now -- with a spring in my step, celebrating our victory over our old couch-conditioned fata$$ bodies, I knew what I wanted -- a large hot coffee from Starbucks, with a shot of espresso. I'm not usually that picky about coffee -- as long as it's more than warm brown water I'm happy to drink Dunkin', 7-11 or Wawa -- but I know what I really like, it's uusally the consistency of road tar and on a morning when I felt like I've done good for my wife and me, I decided I deserved what I really wanted.
Thing is ... we don't go to the oceanfront often enough for me to know where there might be a Starbucks.
I'd mentioned my craving to Ruth and that I was happy to wait until we were driving home, but she said I should go ahead and ask one of the police or volunteers directing traffic -- she didn't mind walking a little bit out of our way if there was one around and after all, they're around for the benefit of the race participants, right?
So I approached one of the clearly marked volunteers assisting a police officer at a traffic barricade. He's a big dude, a good bit older than us, holding his own cup of joe. I asked him if he knew where there might be a Starbucks nearby. He replied,
"Well ... I couldn't tell you where to find one, because I AVOID Starbucks." I thanked him and turned to the police officer, but he was on the radio assisting another pedestrian, so rather than bother him I moved on.
... and a few steps away, I started thinking a little too much about the tone of the volunteer's response and said out loud, "DUDE, What is your problem?" I told Ruth, "Wow, next time can you say 'I don't know' without the reverse snobbery?"
How would I look if this person stopped me in my own neighborhood and asked about a 7-11, but I sprinkled my directions to him with editorial comments about how I prefer either the local non-chain coffee house or Starbucks? What if I saw him buying Natural Ice Light in a convenience store and stopped him to explain how much I prefer Dogfish Head 90-minute IPA?
He'd come away from either situation calling me a pretentious, snobby yuppie jerk and he'd be totally justified in doing so.
The way I figure it, all these different outlets can co-exist because everyone has slightly different preferences. I'm not a purist who is going to claim that the market success of Starbucks means they have the "best" coffee out there -- my taste buds have never been good enough to make me a connoisseur -- but I like it and apparently a lot of other people do too.
But nooooooooo. Apparently there's now something WRONG with finding and expanding a market in a way that makes lots of people happy, if it doesn't make THIS GUY happy too. This guy didn't strike me as either a communist or a coffee purist, so I'm just going to stereotype him as someone who looks down on a consumer product because he doesn't like the people he sees consuming it. See also, "critics of FOX News" and "Dave Matthews Band haters."
So if you're reading this, Snotty Race Volunteer Guy, HERE'S TO YOU for trying to assert your superiority over a CUP OF FRAKING COFFEE, which I had in my hands at our neighborhood Starbucks not an hour after we spoke. I did tide myself over with a cup from THE WORLD'S SLOWEST MCDONALDS (another story that will remain untold), but for the record, it cost over a $1.25 for cup that lasted all of five swallows -- hardly the bargain of the year -- and I didn't like it as much as that Starbucks. Now go on TELL ME AGAIN HOW MUCH I SUCK.
Part of me feels silly for spending more time on SRVG than he deserves, but I keep wondering, who comes out to volunteer for something like this if they'd rather make snide, dismissive comments to the runners rather than be as helpful as possible?
If Snotty Race Volunteer Guy DOES read this, I urge him to get in touch with me -- I will buy you all the Folgers and 7-11 coffee you can drink next year at this time, if you promise not to "volunteer" again.
On the walk back to the car, wearing my well-deserved finisher's medal and cooling down with a bottle of water, I remembered for the first time in a couple hours that I'd had no coffee that morning. We were up just after 6 and out the door at 6:30 to get Theo to his babysitter, so there really hadn't been time.
But now -- with a spring in my step, celebrating our victory over our old couch-conditioned fata$$ bodies, I knew what I wanted -- a large hot coffee from Starbucks, with a shot of espresso. I'm not usually that picky about coffee -- as long as it's more than warm brown water I'm happy to drink Dunkin', 7-11 or Wawa -- but I know what I really like, it's uusally the consistency of road tar and on a morning when I felt like I've done good for my wife and me, I decided I deserved what I really wanted.
Thing is ... we don't go to the oceanfront often enough for me to know where there might be a Starbucks.
I'd mentioned my craving to Ruth and that I was happy to wait until we were driving home, but she said I should go ahead and ask one of the police or volunteers directing traffic -- she didn't mind walking a little bit out of our way if there was one around and after all, they're around for the benefit of the race participants, right?
So I approached one of the clearly marked volunteers assisting a police officer at a traffic barricade. He's a big dude, a good bit older than us, holding his own cup of joe. I asked him if he knew where there might be a Starbucks nearby. He replied,
"Well ... I couldn't tell you where to find one, because I AVOID Starbucks." I thanked him and turned to the police officer, but he was on the radio assisting another pedestrian, so rather than bother him I moved on.
... and a few steps away, I started thinking a little too much about the tone of the volunteer's response and said out loud, "DUDE, What is your problem?" I told Ruth, "Wow, next time can you say 'I don't know' without the reverse snobbery?"
How would I look if this person stopped me in my own neighborhood and asked about a 7-11, but I sprinkled my directions to him with editorial comments about how I prefer either the local non-chain coffee house or Starbucks? What if I saw him buying Natural Ice Light in a convenience store and stopped him to explain how much I prefer Dogfish Head 90-minute IPA?
He'd come away from either situation calling me a pretentious, snobby yuppie jerk and he'd be totally justified in doing so.
The way I figure it, all these different outlets can co-exist because everyone has slightly different preferences. I'm not a purist who is going to claim that the market success of Starbucks means they have the "best" coffee out there -- my taste buds have never been good enough to make me a connoisseur -- but I like it and apparently a lot of other people do too.
But nooooooooo. Apparently there's now something WRONG with finding and expanding a market in a way that makes lots of people happy, if it doesn't make THIS GUY happy too. This guy didn't strike me as either a communist or a coffee purist, so I'm just going to stereotype him as someone who looks down on a consumer product because he doesn't like the people he sees consuming it. See also, "critics of FOX News" and "Dave Matthews Band haters."
So if you're reading this, Snotty Race Volunteer Guy, HERE'S TO YOU for trying to assert your superiority over a CUP OF FRAKING COFFEE, which I had in my hands at our neighborhood Starbucks not an hour after we spoke. I did tide myself over with a cup from THE WORLD'S SLOWEST MCDONALDS (another story that will remain untold), but for the record, it cost over a $1.25 for cup that lasted all of five swallows -- hardly the bargain of the year -- and I didn't like it as much as that Starbucks. Now go on TELL ME AGAIN HOW MUCH I SUCK.
Part of me feels silly for spending more time on SRVG than he deserves, but I keep wondering, who comes out to volunteer for something like this if they'd rather make snide, dismissive comments to the runners rather than be as helpful as possible?
If Snotty Race Volunteer Guy DOES read this, I urge him to get in touch with me -- I will buy you all the Folgers and 7-11 coffee you can drink next year at this time, if you promise not to "volunteer" again.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Because I love to talk about myself
I wanted to note that the blog is now featured in the "Blogs2Watch" section of CinChouse.com, a community site for "military wives and women in uniform." They have a great variety of hosted and outside blogs from other military spouses, check them out.
Thanks to Meredith and CinChouse for raising the exposure of us guys those women in uniform leave at home. I hope CinChouse readers enjoy what they find here; you'll find we're not only about belching, scratching and beer.
Thanks to Meredith and CinChouse for raising the exposure of us guys those women in uniform leave at home. I hope CinChouse readers enjoy what they find here; you'll find we're not only about belching, scratching and beer.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Ready to run
I haven't posted about it here, but around the beginning of the year I decided that the only way I was ever going to get my weight under control (6'3" & 240+ lbs. isn't morbidly obese, I carry it pretty well, but it's not at all slim) was to start running. I've lost weight running in the past so I know it works, and my body seems to like running; every time I've started, I've made good progress quickly. Why did I ever stop? Well, like everything else, there's always an excuse: I get bored easily. Winter comes. Work stress glues me to the couch with a pint of ice cream.
This time, not so much. I'm already noticing the changes from being in better shape and I like them a lot. I can't quit.
I've been tracking my progress with a combination of the website WalkJogRun and Facebook, so my friends see what I'm up to and encourage me. If you check out the routes tied to user "ja3" in the 23507 zip code, you can see some of my runs. I'm going 4-5 miles consistently, at least three times a week.
Speaking of my friends, I have to give a lot of credit to Rosanne who has become my remote training partner. When we were able to run together once, we managed 8 miles, farther than I've ever run before. Knowing that you have to tell someone what you're doing and explain why you DIDN'T run is a great motivator.
This weekend Ruth and I are running an 8k over in Virginia Beach, my first race. Ruth had sworn off running for a long time because of old injuries, but she's a natural-born athlete, so I'm sure she'll be dusting me soon. Right now I'm likely to be a few minutes faster than her, but my plan is to stick with her pace and hopefully push her along. If we finish in under 1 hour 15 minutes I'll be ecstatic.
Wish us luck!
This time, not so much. I'm already noticing the changes from being in better shape and I like them a lot. I can't quit.
I've been tracking my progress with a combination of the website WalkJogRun and Facebook, so my friends see what I'm up to and encourage me. If you check out the routes tied to user "ja3" in the 23507 zip code, you can see some of my runs. I'm going 4-5 miles consistently, at least three times a week.
Speaking of my friends, I have to give a lot of credit to Rosanne who has become my remote training partner. When we were able to run together once, we managed 8 miles, farther than I've ever run before. Knowing that you have to tell someone what you're doing and explain why you DIDN'T run is a great motivator.
This weekend Ruth and I are running an 8k over in Virginia Beach, my first race. Ruth had sworn off running for a long time because of old injuries, but she's a natural-born athlete, so I'm sure she'll be dusting me soon. Right now I'm likely to be a few minutes faster than her, but my plan is to stick with her pace and hopefully push her along. If we finish in under 1 hour 15 minutes I'll be ecstatic.
Wish us luck!
Monday, March 16, 2009
Dinnertime
I've never really gotten the hang of dinnertime with Theo. We've always wanted part of our routine to be sitting down to dinner with him, but until recently he really needed an early bedtime. Once Ruth returned to the long days and occasional evenings of sea duty, a family dinner was almost impossible to put together.
I'm sure I could have forced it to happen, but I'm just not the SuperDad I'd like to think. Putting a real meal on the table without help at Theo's neediest time of day has always been beyond my skills; even if he was willing to give me a half hour or hour of time without reaching for knives and hot pans, it doesn't seem right to me to make the provider of the feast eat leftovers by herself when the firm's junior associate is happy to eat whatever leftovers I can warm up for him.
Even back when Ruth could be home early enough to distract Theo while I cooked, dinner has always been the most relaxing, satisfying part of the day for us. Since lingering over a relaxing dinner isn't really compatible with toddler eating habits, all three of us have been happy to have the adults eat after Theo went to bed.
Theo has recently made the big move to a later bedtime; instead of demanding to be put in his crib by 6:30, he won't even think about falling asleep until almost 8, and his dinnertime has also moved later. Now that the choice is dinner with Theo at 6 or finding ourselves starving before we can have dinner by ourselves after 8, the stars have aligned and we're eating together most of the time.
So tonight I adapted a recipe from the Cook's Illustrated "Best 30-minute Recipe" book. I love that Cook's gives me techniques, rather than just recipes -- and even with some additions, this recipe wasn't much over a half hour from cutting board to table. Theo sometimes has problems with creamy sauces, but he scarfed a bowl of this in no time.
Changed from the Cook's recipe: I started with their recipe for "Creamy Skillet Penne with Mushrooms and Asparagus." I substituted whole wheat Trader Joe's penne for regular penne. I added chicken sausage, onion, frozen peas and some spices. I omitted the shallot and dried porcini and just used the fresh mushrooms I had. I used half-and-half rather than heavy cream because it's what I had on hand, so I had to use some cornstarch to thicken the sauce. Instead of just water, I used half water and half chicken broth.
Creamy Penne with Sausage, Mushroom and Asparagus
1 TB olive oil
8 oz sausage (this time I used chicken sausage with sundried tomatos from Trader Joe's, which was precooked; you might need more if you start with raw)
10 oz sliced mushrooms, white & baby bella
salt and pepper
1/2 medium onion
pinch of red pepper flakes
pinch of dried sage
dash of dried thyme
6 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup dry white wine
3.5 cups of liquid; I used a combination of water and chicken broth
1 cup half-and-half
8 oz penne
1/2 bunch of asparagus
1 cup frozen peas
grated Parmesan cheese
Heat the oil in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, brown sausage and then add mushrooms, onion, 1/2 tsp salt and seasonings. Cook until mushrooms are browned, 8-10 minutes. [Prep remaining ingredients while mushrooms cook.]
Add garlic, cook for 30-60 seconds. stir in wine and simmer for one minute.
stir in water, 1/2 and 1/2 and penne. Increase heat and cook uncovered, stirring often until penne is almost tender and liquid has reduced, 15-18 minutes. [I threw together a salad and some garlic bread while the pasta cooked.]
Add asparagus and cook until tender, a few minutes more. Add frozen peas and drop heat to medium-low.
[At this point I decided the sauce wasn't going to thicken the way I wanted so I added a slurry of cornstarch and milk that brought it right together.]
Off heat, stir in Parmesan, salt and pepper to taste.
I'm sure I could have forced it to happen, but I'm just not the SuperDad I'd like to think. Putting a real meal on the table without help at Theo's neediest time of day has always been beyond my skills; even if he was willing to give me a half hour or hour of time without reaching for knives and hot pans, it doesn't seem right to me to make the provider of the feast eat leftovers by herself when the firm's junior associate is happy to eat whatever leftovers I can warm up for him.
Even back when Ruth could be home early enough to distract Theo while I cooked, dinner has always been the most relaxing, satisfying part of the day for us. Since lingering over a relaxing dinner isn't really compatible with toddler eating habits, all three of us have been happy to have the adults eat after Theo went to bed.
Theo has recently made the big move to a later bedtime; instead of demanding to be put in his crib by 6:30, he won't even think about falling asleep until almost 8, and his dinnertime has also moved later. Now that the choice is dinner with Theo at 6 or finding ourselves starving before we can have dinner by ourselves after 8, the stars have aligned and we're eating together most of the time.
So tonight I adapted a recipe from the Cook's Illustrated "Best 30-minute Recipe" book. I love that Cook's gives me techniques, rather than just recipes -- and even with some additions, this recipe wasn't much over a half hour from cutting board to table. Theo sometimes has problems with creamy sauces, but he scarfed a bowl of this in no time.
Changed from the Cook's recipe: I started with their recipe for "Creamy Skillet Penne with Mushrooms and Asparagus." I substituted whole wheat Trader Joe's penne for regular penne. I added chicken sausage, onion, frozen peas and some spices. I omitted the shallot and dried porcini and just used the fresh mushrooms I had. I used half-and-half rather than heavy cream because it's what I had on hand, so I had to use some cornstarch to thicken the sauce. Instead of just water, I used half water and half chicken broth.
Creamy Penne with Sausage, Mushroom and Asparagus
1 TB olive oil
8 oz sausage (this time I used chicken sausage with sundried tomatos from Trader Joe's, which was precooked; you might need more if you start with raw)
10 oz sliced mushrooms, white & baby bella
salt and pepper
1/2 medium onion
pinch of red pepper flakes
pinch of dried sage
dash of dried thyme
6 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup dry white wine
3.5 cups of liquid; I used a combination of water and chicken broth
1 cup half-and-half
8 oz penne
1/2 bunch of asparagus
1 cup frozen peas
grated Parmesan cheese
Heat the oil in a 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, brown sausage and then add mushrooms, onion, 1/2 tsp salt and seasonings. Cook until mushrooms are browned, 8-10 minutes. [Prep remaining ingredients while mushrooms cook.]
Add garlic, cook for 30-60 seconds. stir in wine and simmer for one minute.
stir in water, 1/2 and 1/2 and penne. Increase heat and cook uncovered, stirring often until penne is almost tender and liquid has reduced, 15-18 minutes. [I threw together a salad and some garlic bread while the pasta cooked.]
Add asparagus and cook until tender, a few minutes more. Add frozen peas and drop heat to medium-low.
[At this point I decided the sauce wasn't going to thicken the way I wanted so I added a slurry of cornstarch and milk that brought it right together.]
Off heat, stir in Parmesan, salt and pepper to taste.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Welcome "Spouse Calls" readers
Terri Barnes, the "Spouse Calls" blogger and columnist for Stars and Stripes, linked to my blog this week as part of a series of posts and columns about military husbands.
Although I don't update this blog as often as I'd like -- in the daily competition for my attention, the toddler always wins -- I agree with my buddy Tom that as a category, the male military spouse/military husband/Navy-wife-with-a-penis is becoming visible as something other than a curiosity. Being part of another curious category that's finally getting their due (The stay-at-home daddy), I've decided I should be writing about these issues more often.
So that you don't have to sort through all my past posts about beer, my cute kid, my foul mouth and beer, here's a couple of my past posts that do go into military life. I welcome any and all discussion of these issues. Hunt around and you'll see me talking about our recent PCS move, my fun times as a stay-at-home daddy and my homebrewing. Thanks for visiting!
My Denial Closet
On Military Husbands and the "wives club"
Although I don't update this blog as often as I'd like -- in the daily competition for my attention, the toddler always wins -- I agree with my buddy Tom that as a category, the male military spouse/military husband/Navy-wife-with-a-penis is becoming visible as something other than a curiosity. Being part of another curious category that's finally getting their due (The stay-at-home daddy), I've decided I should be writing about these issues more often.
So that you don't have to sort through all my past posts about beer, my cute kid, my foul mouth and beer, here's a couple of my past posts that do go into military life. I welcome any and all discussion of these issues. Hunt around and you'll see me talking about our recent PCS move, my fun times as a stay-at-home daddy and my homebrewing. Thanks for visiting!
My Denial Closet
On Military Husbands and the "wives club"
Monday, March 9, 2009
I would be "ZOMG MY KID IS SO PRECOCIOUS" guy
Paul and I were just discussing Facebook and Twitter -- what they're good for, why do we bother, what do we find amusing about them.
We started discussing the stereotypes and cliches used by lazy or bored people when they don't have anything else to put in a tweet/status message, and it led to what I think is a fairly comprehensive list. Go to his blog and check it out.
And because Paul invoked "I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MY OWN AWESOMENESS," I'm going to post this picture. Enjoy.
We started discussing the stereotypes and cliches used by lazy or bored people when they don't have anything else to put in a tweet/status message, and it led to what I think is a fairly comprehensive list. Go to his blog and check it out.
And because Paul invoked "I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MY OWN AWESOMENESS," I'm going to post this picture. Enjoy.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
A father's proudest moment
My son just said the word "sausage" for the first time, while enjoying some with dinner.
I'm overcome with emotion. Now we start working on identifying bacon...
I'm overcome with emotion. Now we start working on identifying bacon...
Friday, February 20, 2009
Tonight's important question
We're watching this week's episode of CSI. During the episode, Laurence Fishburne's character consults with "Dr. Stewart," AKA Simon the Cylon doctor from Battlestar Galactica.
After yelling "GET OUT, HE'S A FRAKING TOASTER," we started wondering -- in a one-on-one smackdown between Morpheus and a Cylon, who would win?
After yelling "GET OUT, HE'S A FRAKING TOASTER," we started wondering -- in a one-on-one smackdown between Morpheus and a Cylon, who would win?
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
My denial closet
After being here five months (feels like so much less) we finally had friends come to town for Presidents' Day weekend. Of course, there's still a few boxes left unpacked, so last week was a flurry of organizing, putting storage totes in closets and moving far too much "I don't need this today, but maybe someday" stuff to the attic. I thought we'd given away or sold a lot before we left Newport, but our attic knows differently.
After putting it off far too long, I finally had to confront the pile of infant gear that ended up stacked in the guest room closet. A car seat, a swing, a bouncer seat and a bathtub. Every time I try to make a decision about storing these items or getting rid of them, I have to think about when we're likely to have another child -- the one we'd hoped to have already.
Even though husbands of military members are getting more visible, this is an issue not often addressed. Pregnant women aren't allowed on sea duty (for good reason); therefore, a conscientious female line officer has very short windows available to have kids while maintaining her career path. In our case, Ruth's convoluted career path gave us our first "window" in our mid 30s ... and we may not have another chance before we're too old to be comfortable having more biological children.
I've all but stopped talking about our pending China adoption. As of the first week of March, our dossier will have been in the pile at CCAA for two years. At the rate adoptions from China are moving right now, before we get a referral Theo will likely be in school every day and Ruth at least two duty stations removed from her current command. Of course, we keep hearing that referrals are likely to speed up. I've filed those rumors under "believe it when i see it." Even if referrals do speed up, it's pretty much impossible for ours to happen this year ... and next year would still be a miracle in my book.
So, we figure we'll pursue another adoption, domestic this time, between now and then. But then the more I look into this option, the more I'm reminded of why we chose China in the first place. I'm not the constantly anxious kid I used to be, but uncertainty can still put me into a stomach-churning panic, and adoption, at least for us, is all about uncertainty.
All of this flies through my mind every time I look at that pile of infant gear with no easy conclusion or resolution. Rationally, I should be selling or giving it all away, right? After all, as I've just proved, there's not going to be anyone in the house who can use it this year, and without mental adjustments on my part and a sudden shift in our fortunes, probably not in 2010 either.
But then I tell myself that's just me giving up. Because despite what we want, part of me is giving up. I'm starting to look at local preschools for Theo and at the same time, I started talking to my old supervisor last week for advice about my next career moves. Keeping the infant gear is my hopeful side's way of trying to spite that part of me that's giving up, holding on to the idea that there will be a baby in this house and not our next who-knows-where house.
So I stared at that pile of gear a while. Then I pulled down the attic stairs and moved it all up. I guess that's me striking a blow for hope. Or, my inner pessimist reminds me, just another way of not making a decision at all. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
It's that much harder because we are so happy. I'm still stupid in love with my wife and we marvel every day that we have the best little boy in the world. But I see the older kids in the neighborhood (right now, having moved to a block where it seems everyone has at least 3-5 kids is just rubbing it in) or see Theo interact with other kids and I know we should have more.
But time will tell. We are happy now, grateful for having so much more than we deserve and we will be happy later, no matter where we find ourselves. Like the rest of life, so much of this is out of our hands.
After putting it off far too long, I finally had to confront the pile of infant gear that ended up stacked in the guest room closet. A car seat, a swing, a bouncer seat and a bathtub. Every time I try to make a decision about storing these items or getting rid of them, I have to think about when we're likely to have another child -- the one we'd hoped to have already.
Even though husbands of military members are getting more visible, this is an issue not often addressed. Pregnant women aren't allowed on sea duty (for good reason); therefore, a conscientious female line officer has very short windows available to have kids while maintaining her career path. In our case, Ruth's convoluted career path gave us our first "window" in our mid 30s ... and we may not have another chance before we're too old to be comfortable having more biological children.
I've all but stopped talking about our pending China adoption. As of the first week of March, our dossier will have been in the pile at CCAA for two years. At the rate adoptions from China are moving right now, before we get a referral Theo will likely be in school every day and Ruth at least two duty stations removed from her current command. Of course, we keep hearing that referrals are likely to speed up. I've filed those rumors under "believe it when i see it." Even if referrals do speed up, it's pretty much impossible for ours to happen this year ... and next year would still be a miracle in my book.
So, we figure we'll pursue another adoption, domestic this time, between now and then. But then the more I look into this option, the more I'm reminded of why we chose China in the first place. I'm not the constantly anxious kid I used to be, but uncertainty can still put me into a stomach-churning panic, and adoption, at least for us, is all about uncertainty.
All of this flies through my mind every time I look at that pile of infant gear with no easy conclusion or resolution. Rationally, I should be selling or giving it all away, right? After all, as I've just proved, there's not going to be anyone in the house who can use it this year, and without mental adjustments on my part and a sudden shift in our fortunes, probably not in 2010 either.
But then I tell myself that's just me giving up. Because despite what we want, part of me is giving up. I'm starting to look at local preschools for Theo and at the same time, I started talking to my old supervisor last week for advice about my next career moves. Keeping the infant gear is my hopeful side's way of trying to spite that part of me that's giving up, holding on to the idea that there will be a baby in this house and not our next who-knows-where house.
So I stared at that pile of gear a while. Then I pulled down the attic stairs and moved it all up. I guess that's me striking a blow for hope. Or, my inner pessimist reminds me, just another way of not making a decision at all. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
It's that much harder because we are so happy. I'm still stupid in love with my wife and we marvel every day that we have the best little boy in the world. But I see the older kids in the neighborhood (right now, having moved to a block where it seems everyone has at least 3-5 kids is just rubbing it in) or see Theo interact with other kids and I know we should have more.
But time will tell. We are happy now, grateful for having so much more than we deserve and we will be happy later, no matter where we find ourselves. Like the rest of life, so much of this is out of our hands.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
When being "annoying home brewing guy" pays off
The highlight of our weekend with friends near Philly was their (always huge) Super Bowl party. We've been at the party so many years now, we're fixtures along with the hot wings and pigs in blankets. As always, it was a great time, as evidenced by my disinterest in eating a full meal the next day.
This year my friends are in a new house, so I met some of their new neighbors for the first time. I ended up in the kitchen with the folks from next door, watching on the smaller TV -- I end up there a lot, because figure it puts me closer to the food and the "kitchen folks" usually aren't rooting one way or the other and want to talk about topics in addition to the game.
When I mentioned to my friends that I would try to make some beer for next year's party, their next-door neighbors started asking about the process -- so I went into all the details of boiling the wort and hops, adding the yeast and watching the beer ferment and age before finally bottling it. It's always a fine line between satisfying the genuine interest of someone who doesn't know how brewing works ... or being "that home brewing guy" who gets too technical and has nothing to talk about but his home brew.
When I talked about bottling, the neighbors mentioned a bottle of hooch that a friend had brought to their Christmas party. "It's a HUGE bottle, I think it was some sort of ale. It was less than half full, but still plenty for all of us and very good." They tried to indicate the approximate size of the bottle through hand gestures, but really only narrowed down the volume to something between 16 ounces and three gallons. I don't know if it was the amount I'd drank, but I really couldn't visualize what they could be talking about.
"It has a kind of a cork that sits down in the neck. If you think you could use it, we can have our son bring it over. We were thinking of putting flowers in it, but I think we're just going to recycle it."
What do I have to lose, then? I figured it was probably a decorative liqueur or champagne bottle of some sort and that with a little luck, I could get it cleaned and figure out how to cap it appropriately.
So, when their son brought in this bottle, imagine my surprise and shock and UTTER JOY. The smaller bottle is a regular 12 oz beer bottle, for scale:
So what the hell is the mystery bottle? It's a 101 oz (approx. .8 gallons) gate-cap bottle that previously held Tröegs seasonal Mad Elf. (Which sounds yummy enough to hunt some down.)
This bottle is already making me happy three ways -- I can avoid the hassle of capping at least 8 bottles of beer during my next brewing session (conditioning in that bottle will take quite a while, but I'm a patient guy). I've promised that in exchange for the gift, I'll be bringing the bottle back to the neighbors sometime filled with brew -- so we get an excuse for another party! Woo-hoo!
The best news? This happy incident has motivated me to get brewing again, however difficult it's going to be with my current electric stove setup. I cooked some starter wort today and pitched some yeast that will hopefully be happy yeast within the next day or so, which would leave me ready to brew by the weekend.
If my yeasties are dead (sadly, this is the more likely scenario) then I'll be putting in an order with Midwest sooner rather than later...
This year my friends are in a new house, so I met some of their new neighbors for the first time. I ended up in the kitchen with the folks from next door, watching on the smaller TV -- I end up there a lot, because figure it puts me closer to the food and the "kitchen folks" usually aren't rooting one way or the other and want to talk about topics in addition to the game.
When I mentioned to my friends that I would try to make some beer for next year's party, their next-door neighbors started asking about the process -- so I went into all the details of boiling the wort and hops, adding the yeast and watching the beer ferment and age before finally bottling it. It's always a fine line between satisfying the genuine interest of someone who doesn't know how brewing works ... or being "that home brewing guy" who gets too technical and has nothing to talk about but his home brew.
When I talked about bottling, the neighbors mentioned a bottle of hooch that a friend had brought to their Christmas party. "It's a HUGE bottle, I think it was some sort of ale. It was less than half full, but still plenty for all of us and very good." They tried to indicate the approximate size of the bottle through hand gestures, but really only narrowed down the volume to something between 16 ounces and three gallons. I don't know if it was the amount I'd drank, but I really couldn't visualize what they could be talking about.
"It has a kind of a cork that sits down in the neck. If you think you could use it, we can have our son bring it over. We were thinking of putting flowers in it, but I think we're just going to recycle it."
What do I have to lose, then? I figured it was probably a decorative liqueur or champagne bottle of some sort and that with a little luck, I could get it cleaned and figure out how to cap it appropriately.
So, when their son brought in this bottle, imagine my surprise and shock and UTTER JOY. The smaller bottle is a regular 12 oz beer bottle, for scale:
So what the hell is the mystery bottle? It's a 101 oz (approx. .8 gallons) gate-cap bottle that previously held Tröegs seasonal Mad Elf. (Which sounds yummy enough to hunt some down.)
This bottle is already making me happy three ways -- I can avoid the hassle of capping at least 8 bottles of beer during my next brewing session (conditioning in that bottle will take quite a while, but I'm a patient guy). I've promised that in exchange for the gift, I'll be bringing the bottle back to the neighbors sometime filled with brew -- so we get an excuse for another party! Woo-hoo!
The best news? This happy incident has motivated me to get brewing again, however difficult it's going to be with my current electric stove setup. I cooked some starter wort today and pitched some yeast that will hopefully be happy yeast within the next day or so, which would leave me ready to brew by the weekend.
If my yeasties are dead (sadly, this is the more likely scenario) then I'll be putting in an order with Midwest sooner rather than later...
Thursday, January 29, 2009
I'm not George F. Will, exhibit #19,837
I could type my fingers to the bone, and then down to the first knuckle after that, and never turn a sentence this clever:
Having received nearly 53 percent of the popular vote -- better than Ronald Reagan's 50.7 percent in 1980 -- Barack Obama won 100 percent of the presidency, and almost that much of the nation's leadership expectations now that the public, which really should diversify its investments, invests such extravagant hopes in presidents.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Meaningless noises
And for once, I'm not talking about the ones that come out of my mouth...
Theo is, for lack of a better term, phone-obsessed. I can't have a conversation in front of him, and half his toybox is half-filled with dead cell phones, toy phones, unused cordless phones, and old remote controls that he mistakes for phones (honest mistake -- they have a keypad, after all).
A very good friend bought Theo a toy phone for Christmas. His reaction to new phones is always hard to guess in advance, but this has become one of his favorites. We play together with it almost every day ("Hello, Mr. President? We're calling to support the toy stimulus bill.") and it is a reliable attention-getter in the car.
The phone just made the craziest noise -- an infinitely repeating series of half-second tones. I think back in ye olde days they called it a "busy signal."
When I heard it, all I could do was laugh and tell Theo, "Bud, you're never going to know what that means."
One more thing: A quick search for "busy signal" brought up this press release, which also made me giggle.
Theo is, for lack of a better term, phone-obsessed. I can't have a conversation in front of him, and half his toybox is half-filled with dead cell phones, toy phones, unused cordless phones, and old remote controls that he mistakes for phones (honest mistake -- they have a keypad, after all).
A very good friend bought Theo a toy phone for Christmas. His reaction to new phones is always hard to guess in advance, but this has become one of his favorites. We play together with it almost every day ("Hello, Mr. President? We're calling to support the toy stimulus bill.") and it is a reliable attention-getter in the car.
The phone just made the craziest noise -- an infinitely repeating series of half-second tones. I think back in ye olde days they called it a "busy signal."
When I heard it, all I could do was laugh and tell Theo, "Bud, you're never going to know what that means."
One more thing: A quick search for "busy signal" brought up this press release, which also made me giggle.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Stay at home daddy tip
When you leave the room just long enough to pee, your son WILL open the trash can and start eating the used coffee grounds near the top.
Yeah, naptime should be a BLAST today!!!
Yeah, naptime should be a BLAST today!!!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
One of my favorite categories...
Natalie reminded me on Facebook that I haven't used this one in a while.
"Theo, you're not climbing on that. The dishwasher is not a toy."
"Theo, you're not climbing on that. The dishwasher is not a toy."
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Travelblogging
The calendar says we've been away from Norfolk 12 days, but it feels like forever. We drove off the afternoon of the 29th, later in the afternoon than I'd hoped because Ruth was busy at work. The late start actually ended up being a good thing, because it kept me from wanting to make the drive to Chicago all in one day, like I normally do. The second day was still a long one after stopping in Hagerstown, MD, but spending the night in a crib rather than the back seat of a Volkswagen meant Theo was in a much better mood all week.
I tend to be a hermit when we spend time with relatives, but this trip we've been far more social -- positive influence from my wife and son and it also helps that my sister was with us much of the time. We spent New Year's Eve with Kevin & Denice, their son Michael, and our friend James, who was in town from Atlanta to see the Winter Classic (The Bastard!).
New Year's Day we hung out with Ruth's cousins and their family. Theo had all kinds of fun with his cousin Natalie -- too much fun, it turned out. He refused to nap all afternoon, leading to an overtired boy who woke us every so often all night long.
The other highlight of our time in Chicago was a visit to the Shedd Aquarium with Kevin, Denice and Michael. Theo and Michael ran each other ragged, I think Theo was just as happy to check out all the doors as he was to look at all the fish.
We've been almost a full week now at my parents' house. I haven't done much other than sample my Dad's homebrew and enjoy all the extra hands available to help with Theo. We spent a day with my Grandma over in Indiana, Ruth and I spent an evening out catching up with friends and the ladies spent a day shopping.
Theo seems to be learning a new word every day and some days it seems like a word every hour. Watching him interact with his grandparents has been the best part of this trip.
I'm not looking forward to the drive, but going back home again with no plans for another trip anytime soon sounds really nice right now. Between all the trips and Ruth being gone for two months, the house is still in chaos. We never really settled into our last house and I'd like this one to feel like home sometime before Ruth's next orders come through...
The other challenge will be getting my good routines back -- I was running and writing regularly before we left, but haven't done either on this trip.
I tend to be a hermit when we spend time with relatives, but this trip we've been far more social -- positive influence from my wife and son and it also helps that my sister was with us much of the time. We spent New Year's Eve with Kevin & Denice, their son Michael, and our friend James, who was in town from Atlanta to see the Winter Classic (The Bastard!).
New Year's Day we hung out with Ruth's cousins and their family. Theo had all kinds of fun with his cousin Natalie -- too much fun, it turned out. He refused to nap all afternoon, leading to an overtired boy who woke us every so often all night long.
The other highlight of our time in Chicago was a visit to the Shedd Aquarium with Kevin, Denice and Michael. Theo and Michael ran each other ragged, I think Theo was just as happy to check out all the doors as he was to look at all the fish.
We've been almost a full week now at my parents' house. I haven't done much other than sample my Dad's homebrew and enjoy all the extra hands available to help with Theo. We spent a day with my Grandma over in Indiana, Ruth and I spent an evening out catching up with friends and the ladies spent a day shopping.
Theo seems to be learning a new word every day and some days it seems like a word every hour. Watching him interact with his grandparents has been the best part of this trip.
I'm not looking forward to the drive, but going back home again with no plans for another trip anytime soon sounds really nice right now. Between all the trips and Ruth being gone for two months, the house is still in chaos. We never really settled into our last house and I'd like this one to feel like home sometime before Ruth's next orders come through...
The other challenge will be getting my good routines back -- I was running and writing regularly before we left, but haven't done either on this trip.
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