Mixed Feelings
This morning I played at the Texas State Cemetery to honor fallen war veterans. Apparently, this is usually the National Guard Band's gig, but they're otherwise engaged this year. I don't usually consider myself very patriotic, but playing the Star Spangled Banner for a bunch of war veterans, living and not, was one of the most moving musical experiences of my life so far. I honestly had a hard time getting to the end.
On the other hand, I can completely relate to the following quote from Mark Twain on a friend's Blog.
"O Lord our God, help us tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it. "
---Mark Twain, "The War Prayer"
So, that about sums it up for me. I'm a Memorial Day hypocrite. I totally don't get war--and I don't buy into what we're doing right now AT ALL, but I'm moved to tears by a group of men and women simply because they went to war. Who the hell am I?
What happened to the good old days when Memorial Day meant the lake, barbeque, and a six pack of beer? Okay, admitedly, those were never my good old days, but still. . .
Monday, May 29, 2006
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
And because all poop and no play makes Robyn an incredibly dull girl (not too mention a very irritable one), I celebrated Mia's intestinal victory today by listening to a recent edition of This American Life. Generally I only allow myself the pleasure of listening to my favorite public radio programs while I work out, but today I figured I'd earned a reward of some kind. And since I found myself with little appetite for chocolate (my usual reward of choice), I decided to break my own rule.
The episode I listened to today ("Fake I.D."---originally aired on 9/20/2002; reaired on 4/21/2006) included a wonderful short story, "This Blessed House" by Jhumpa Lahiri, from her book of short stories The Interpreter of Maladies. The story was read by Mira Nair, who was apparently the director of the movies Mississippi Masala and Monsoon Wedding. I'm not sure why, but I loved this story about a young Indian couple who find kitschy Christian figures hidden in bizarre places all around their new home. It's a strange premise that allows the writer to develop two fascinating characters with conflicting reactions to the items they discover.
If you want to check it out, it can be heard at http://www.thisamericanlife.com/
It's definitely worth the 27 minutes!
The episode I listened to today ("Fake I.D."---originally aired on 9/20/2002; reaired on 4/21/2006) included a wonderful short story, "This Blessed House" by Jhumpa Lahiri, from her book of short stories The Interpreter of Maladies. The story was read by Mira Nair, who was apparently the director of the movies Mississippi Masala and Monsoon Wedding. I'm not sure why, but I loved this story about a young Indian couple who find kitschy Christian figures hidden in bizarre places all around their new home. It's a strange premise that allows the writer to develop two fascinating characters with conflicting reactions to the items they discover.
If you want to check it out, it can be heard at http://www.thisamericanlife.com/
It's definitely worth the 27 minutes!
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Saturday, May 06, 2006
"Freezing the beta: How to kill a sick fish humanely" was definitely my best and most useful parenting tip. . .up to now!
Let's call today's tip "Retrieving the stone: How to search through your child's poo."
Oh yes. It's true. Davy and I are currently inspecting each little poo our sweet Mia produces, and we will get to continue this exercise in family bonding and olfactory adventure until we recover the rock she swallowed on Thursday night.
But I'm not writing for sympathy, my friends. I'm writing to share with you some most helpful tricks of the poo-inspection trade, in the event that you find yourself in a similar position someday--specifically, staring into the toilet wondering how in the hell you're going to do this.
Through trial and error, Davy and I have developed the following tried-and-true method of poo inspection. For best results, you'll want to have the following materials on hand and at the ready:
plastic wrap
disposable gloves
craft sticks
empty plastic grocery bag
Step 1: Suspend a generous sheet of plastic wrap across the toilet bowl, under the seat. You'll want to position said plastic wrap far enough back on the potty to catch what you want but allow any liquid to flow freely into the bowl. (This is a really important detail. Take my word.)
Step 2: Allow child to do what needs to be done. Then take a deep breath and prepare to work quickly.
Step 3: Using one gloved hand, grip specimen from beneath the plastic wrap. Holding a craft stick in the other gloved hand, systematically cut or crush specimen completely.
Step 4: Wrap smashed specimen and craft sticks completely in plastic wrap. Drop into empty plastic grocery bag. Place gloves into bag and knot to seal hermetically. Remove to outdoor garbage receptacle immediately.
One last tip: Prepare to stay close to home for 3-4 days, or take a small stash of supplies with you everywhere you go. It turns out that Sams doesn't keep a supply of gloves and craft sticks in their family restrooms. The Czarnecki method of poo-inspection is much less effective with only a paper towel to work with. Again, take my word for it.
Let's call today's tip "Retrieving the stone: How to search through your child's poo."
Oh yes. It's true. Davy and I are currently inspecting each little poo our sweet Mia produces, and we will get to continue this exercise in family bonding and olfactory adventure until we recover the rock she swallowed on Thursday night.
But I'm not writing for sympathy, my friends. I'm writing to share with you some most helpful tricks of the poo-inspection trade, in the event that you find yourself in a similar position someday--specifically, staring into the toilet wondering how in the hell you're going to do this.
Through trial and error, Davy and I have developed the following tried-and-true method of poo inspection. For best results, you'll want to have the following materials on hand and at the ready:
plastic wrap
disposable gloves
craft sticks
empty plastic grocery bag
Step 1: Suspend a generous sheet of plastic wrap across the toilet bowl, under the seat. You'll want to position said plastic wrap far enough back on the potty to catch what you want but allow any liquid to flow freely into the bowl. (This is a really important detail. Take my word.)
Step 2: Allow child to do what needs to be done. Then take a deep breath and prepare to work quickly.
Step 3: Using one gloved hand, grip specimen from beneath the plastic wrap. Holding a craft stick in the other gloved hand, systematically cut or crush specimen completely.
Step 4: Wrap smashed specimen and craft sticks completely in plastic wrap. Drop into empty plastic grocery bag. Place gloves into bag and knot to seal hermetically. Remove to outdoor garbage receptacle immediately.
One last tip: Prepare to stay close to home for 3-4 days, or take a small stash of supplies with you everywhere you go. It turns out that Sams doesn't keep a supply of gloves and craft sticks in their family restrooms. The Czarnecki method of poo-inspection is much less effective with only a paper towel to work with. Again, take my word for it.
Friday, May 05, 2006
So, Mia could have died last night.
The short story: Davy is at the movies with his friends. I'm downstairs reading. The girls are in bed. Mia screams from upstairs. I mean, SCREAMS. I run upstairs to find her sitting up in her bed wailing. It takes a minute for her to calm down enough to tell me she has swallowed a rock. I immediately know exactly what rock she's talking about--a small polished stone she got at a museum gift shop in New York. About the size of a grape. Apparently (she explained this part later, after she had calmed down), she had been rolling it around on her nose and her cheeks to feel how smooth and cool it was, and it rolled into her mouth. She gasped in surprise and swallowed it. From her reaction, I can tell that she's not choking. She's crying and talking, which are both good signs. But she's only four years old, and she can't tell me whether she actually swallowed it or it's lodged in an airway but not blocking it completely.
I call the doctor. Lots of questions are asked and answered, and Mia finally calms down. I am relatively certain that she has actually swallowed the rock and it is not restricting her breathing at all. However, now we must make sure it comes out. She cannot be apart from me or Davy until she actually passes the thing. And if she hasn't passed it in 4 days, the doctor will have to figure out where it is. Which means I'm going to Walgreens today to buy gloves and craft sticks. Use your imagination.
Or don't.
The most awful thing, much more daunting than the ideas of disecting poo for the next 4 days, is the thought that had she choked on the damn thing, I would very likely not have known until it was too late.
Sometimes this parenting gig is much harder than you expect. You do everything you're supposed to. You follow ALL the rules. And then your kid goes and swallow a rock.
The short story: Davy is at the movies with his friends. I'm downstairs reading. The girls are in bed. Mia screams from upstairs. I mean, SCREAMS. I run upstairs to find her sitting up in her bed wailing. It takes a minute for her to calm down enough to tell me she has swallowed a rock. I immediately know exactly what rock she's talking about--a small polished stone she got at a museum gift shop in New York. About the size of a grape. Apparently (she explained this part later, after she had calmed down), she had been rolling it around on her nose and her cheeks to feel how smooth and cool it was, and it rolled into her mouth. She gasped in surprise and swallowed it. From her reaction, I can tell that she's not choking. She's crying and talking, which are both good signs. But she's only four years old, and she can't tell me whether she actually swallowed it or it's lodged in an airway but not blocking it completely.
I call the doctor. Lots of questions are asked and answered, and Mia finally calms down. I am relatively certain that she has actually swallowed the rock and it is not restricting her breathing at all. However, now we must make sure it comes out. She cannot be apart from me or Davy until she actually passes the thing. And if she hasn't passed it in 4 days, the doctor will have to figure out where it is. Which means I'm going to Walgreens today to buy gloves and craft sticks. Use your imagination.
Or don't.
The most awful thing, much more daunting than the ideas of disecting poo for the next 4 days, is the thought that had she choked on the damn thing, I would very likely not have known until it was too late.
Sometimes this parenting gig is much harder than you expect. You do everything you're supposed to. You follow ALL the rules. And then your kid goes and swallow a rock.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
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