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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Striking a pose
For some reason, this image I captured of Jack Saturday afternoon makes him look way older than a little boy still more than a month away from his seventh birthday. What do you think?
Cullerton's poor leadership on public display
Column originally published March 22, 2011.
I don't suppose there are many folks out there with an overwhelming faith in Illinois Senate President John Cullerton's ability to help right the sinking ship our fair state has become, but if such fools exist, hopefully his words last week about the cigarette tax will fully discredit him.
Cullerton is just the most recent in a long line of politicians to promote an increase in the cigarette tax as both a means of financial stability and helping people quit smoking, all the while refusing to acknowledge those goals are mutually exclusive. If you want cigarette sales to generate revenue for the state, then you don't want people to quit smoking because that would mean fewer tax dollars. If you want the extra tax to price people out of smoking, then you don't plan on that revenue for anything essential.
In addition to wanting his cake and eating it, too, Cullerton also brought a new faux pas to the stage. In pitching the $1-per-pack increase, Cullerton said the extra revenue is needed to offset money Illinois has not yet received for statewide construction projects.
"This is not for the budget of the state of Illinois, it's for the capital bill," Cullerton said, according to Illinois Statehouse News. "This money (will) make sure that we can continue to keep people working on the infrastructure projects that have been ongoing this year."
So Cullerton was rushing to ram the increase through the legislature carrying the banner of jobs and some 120 road projects that can begin any day, since spring weather has finally arrived. His logic, apparently, was that even lawmakers who normally would oppose the tax hike — because it puts businesses in state border communities at a disadvantage — would have no choice but to back it at this particular moment in order to preserve the precious capital bill.
However, he ran into a little problem. Turns out John Cullerton was about the only person in Springfield who thought there was any sort of emergency.
Continue reading "Cullerton's poor leadership on public display."
I don't suppose there are many folks out there with an overwhelming faith in Illinois Senate President John Cullerton's ability to help right the sinking ship our fair state has become, but if such fools exist, hopefully his words last week about the cigarette tax will fully discredit him.
Cullerton is just the most recent in a long line of politicians to promote an increase in the cigarette tax as both a means of financial stability and helping people quit smoking, all the while refusing to acknowledge those goals are mutually exclusive. If you want cigarette sales to generate revenue for the state, then you don't want people to quit smoking because that would mean fewer tax dollars. If you want the extra tax to price people out of smoking, then you don't plan on that revenue for anything essential.
In addition to wanting his cake and eating it, too, Cullerton also brought a new faux pas to the stage. In pitching the $1-per-pack increase, Cullerton said the extra revenue is needed to offset money Illinois has not yet received for statewide construction projects.
"This is not for the budget of the state of Illinois, it's for the capital bill," Cullerton said, according to Illinois Statehouse News. "This money (will) make sure that we can continue to keep people working on the infrastructure projects that have been ongoing this year."
So Cullerton was rushing to ram the increase through the legislature carrying the banner of jobs and some 120 road projects that can begin any day, since spring weather has finally arrived. His logic, apparently, was that even lawmakers who normally would oppose the tax hike — because it puts businesses in state border communities at a disadvantage — would have no choice but to back it at this particular moment in order to preserve the precious capital bill.
However, he ran into a little problem. Turns out John Cullerton was about the only person in Springfield who thought there was any sort of emergency.
Continue reading "Cullerton's poor leadership on public display."
Monday, March 21, 2011
Six weeks in
And so Charlie has been with us for six weeks. Six of the longest weeks of my life, which is perhaps why it feels like he has been a part of our life for so much longer. Without getting into great detail, that he was on his way was no surprise, and we had maximum time to prepare as compared to the older two. We learned on Memorial Day weekend, which was while Jack was still in kindergarten, a few weeks before Kelly and Kevin’s wedding. Kristie was pregnant for practically all of summer and fall and the bulk of the winter. We did Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s, all knowing it would be different the next time around.
This was, of course, true of all her pregnancies, but for some reason Charlie’s time in utero just felt longer than usual. Maybe it’s because we were anxious to face the potential peril of labor and delivery. Maybe it’s because we so loved the stage Max and Jack were at in life. Maybe it’s because Kristie was uncomfortable in one way or another for almost the entire experience. No matter the reason, it felt longer than usual. And while six weeks is not long at all, it certainly seems a long, long time ago that we were recovering in the hospital room and waiting to go home.
Furthermore, Charlie simply seems to have spent roughly a week as a “newborn” before cruising to “infant.” He quickly rejected swaddling as a means for soothing. He insists on sitting up and facing out to see the world as opposed to being cradled in a parent’s arms. It is only when we encounter the children of our friends — those babies roughly three, six and seven months older — that we are reminded our baby still is very much a baby compared to these other beings that smile on cue, sit up, coo, reach for toys and enjoy the first tastes of solid food.
And then we have experiences with the other two. Max has taken to potty training as if he were born to do it, yet when Kristie started the process roughly 10 days ago I thought her quite insane. Jack and I attended his parent-teacher-student conference last Thursday and — aside from some of the issues all first-graders encounter — it is clear he is almost fully out of the little boy stage. No longer are we worried about single-syllable “star words” that are the building blocks of reading. Now we are inventing stories about emergencies and spitting back facts about Presidents Washington and Lincoln. Sure, one look at his foods of choice (frozen waffles, pizza Lunchables, butter sandwiches, egg noodles and chicken broth, chicken strips) reveal a child who has much maturing to do. But something happens when he is away at school — he is growing up outside my direct observation, and no amount of worksheets sent home in the backpack testify to the reality of this process.
I suppose this is one reason we keep having babies. Waking in the middle of the night to change a screaming infant is something I did when I was 24. I view those days almost as part of my extended adolescence. Being 31 now and doing the same thing, well, it makes me feel young again (or still) even as the demands it makes on my physical health make me think fondly of the reality that if we stop with Charlie, I may celebrate my 49th birthday as an empty nester. Those friends of ours who may wait a few more years to welcome Baby One will be going to kindergarten open house while I am attending college graduation. Their trip home will include the McDonald’s drive through. Ours might involve an extended stay at some classy resort between here and wherever the lad enrolls…
I’ve gotten quite ahead of myself again, eh? As a guy you might have heard of said famously, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” And it certainly does for us. There is always laundry to be done, mouths to be fed and bodies to be washed, bills to be paid and, when everything settles down late at night, a little television to be watched. And those are just the concerns I have at top of mind right now. I also have a wife who still is not totally healed from giving birth, a baby who is pretty good at feeding naturally (compared to his brothers) but still has some shortcomings, a house that must be painted (but first a roof that must be fixed) and perhaps a driveway to be seal-coated, one of our three vehicles that did not start the last time I tried… the list goes on.
I also have encountered in the last few weeks the knowledge of the untimely deaths of two of my acquaintances — one man near 50 who succumbed to cancer, and a member of my high school graduating class who died in his sleep. Both were, by all accounts, fantastic friends to those closest to them. Even thought I knew one only a bit and had not connected personally with the other for more than a decade, I still feel a strong sense of loss knowing they are no longer of this world, making bright the lives of those they encounter. I am reminded of the blessings of friends and especially family, and I acknowledge that every night I go to bed with all five of us in our house and wake the next morning to greet another day, it is a gift of the highest order, something of which I am altogether unworthy and eternally grateful. And yet it also makes me sad for those experiencing loss — sad because I feel I’ve done no more to experience this great joy than they have to be forced to encounter such heartbreak.
But these things are not now, nor have they ever been, under our control. I do not pretend to have the first answer — only questions, and far too many to list. All I can do is express my love for the people in my life, and I try to do that as best I can. Not every day, not in every way, but I try. If you’re reading this, it probably means you’ve known me personally at some point in my life, and I hope in that knowledge you take me at face value. I’m just a guy with a keyboard who loves his wife and his kids. I never really wanted anything more, and I hope I never find myself with anything less.
This was, of course, true of all her pregnancies, but for some reason Charlie’s time in utero just felt longer than usual. Maybe it’s because we were anxious to face the potential peril of labor and delivery. Maybe it’s because we so loved the stage Max and Jack were at in life. Maybe it’s because Kristie was uncomfortable in one way or another for almost the entire experience. No matter the reason, it felt longer than usual. And while six weeks is not long at all, it certainly seems a long, long time ago that we were recovering in the hospital room and waiting to go home.
Furthermore, Charlie simply seems to have spent roughly a week as a “newborn” before cruising to “infant.” He quickly rejected swaddling as a means for soothing. He insists on sitting up and facing out to see the world as opposed to being cradled in a parent’s arms. It is only when we encounter the children of our friends — those babies roughly three, six and seven months older — that we are reminded our baby still is very much a baby compared to these other beings that smile on cue, sit up, coo, reach for toys and enjoy the first tastes of solid food.
And then we have experiences with the other two. Max has taken to potty training as if he were born to do it, yet when Kristie started the process roughly 10 days ago I thought her quite insane. Jack and I attended his parent-teacher-student conference last Thursday and — aside from some of the issues all first-graders encounter — it is clear he is almost fully out of the little boy stage. No longer are we worried about single-syllable “star words” that are the building blocks of reading. Now we are inventing stories about emergencies and spitting back facts about Presidents Washington and Lincoln. Sure, one look at his foods of choice (frozen waffles, pizza Lunchables, butter sandwiches, egg noodles and chicken broth, chicken strips) reveal a child who has much maturing to do. But something happens when he is away at school — he is growing up outside my direct observation, and no amount of worksheets sent home in the backpack testify to the reality of this process.
I suppose this is one reason we keep having babies. Waking in the middle of the night to change a screaming infant is something I did when I was 24. I view those days almost as part of my extended adolescence. Being 31 now and doing the same thing, well, it makes me feel young again (or still) even as the demands it makes on my physical health make me think fondly of the reality that if we stop with Charlie, I may celebrate my 49th birthday as an empty nester. Those friends of ours who may wait a few more years to welcome Baby One will be going to kindergarten open house while I am attending college graduation. Their trip home will include the McDonald’s drive through. Ours might involve an extended stay at some classy resort between here and wherever the lad enrolls…
I’ve gotten quite ahead of myself again, eh? As a guy you might have heard of said famously, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” And it certainly does for us. There is always laundry to be done, mouths to be fed and bodies to be washed, bills to be paid and, when everything settles down late at night, a little television to be watched. And those are just the concerns I have at top of mind right now. I also have a wife who still is not totally healed from giving birth, a baby who is pretty good at feeding naturally (compared to his brothers) but still has some shortcomings, a house that must be painted (but first a roof that must be fixed) and perhaps a driveway to be seal-coated, one of our three vehicles that did not start the last time I tried… the list goes on.
I also have encountered in the last few weeks the knowledge of the untimely deaths of two of my acquaintances — one man near 50 who succumbed to cancer, and a member of my high school graduating class who died in his sleep. Both were, by all accounts, fantastic friends to those closest to them. Even thought I knew one only a bit and had not connected personally with the other for more than a decade, I still feel a strong sense of loss knowing they are no longer of this world, making bright the lives of those they encounter. I am reminded of the blessings of friends and especially family, and I acknowledge that every night I go to bed with all five of us in our house and wake the next morning to greet another day, it is a gift of the highest order, something of which I am altogether unworthy and eternally grateful. And yet it also makes me sad for those experiencing loss — sad because I feel I’ve done no more to experience this great joy than they have to be forced to encounter such heartbreak.
But these things are not now, nor have they ever been, under our control. I do not pretend to have the first answer — only questions, and far too many to list. All I can do is express my love for the people in my life, and I try to do that as best I can. Not every day, not in every way, but I try. If you’re reading this, it probably means you’ve known me personally at some point in my life, and I hope in that knowledge you take me at face value. I’m just a guy with a keyboard who loves his wife and his kids. I never really wanted anything more, and I hope I never find myself with anything less.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
JackSpeak
Scene: Living room tonight, as Jack is searching for yet another way to put off bed time. Kristie and I were discussing Jack's parent-teacher-student conference today.
Scott (to Kristie): I'm suggesting incentivizing educational activities to facilitate positive behavior.
Jack (to me): I don't get you.
Scott: I'm using big words on purpose so you don't understand me.
Jack: Does Mom understand you?
Scott: Yes, Mom went to college.
(Pause)
Jack: Hey mom, if you didn't have us, you would still be teaching, right?
Kristie: Yes, probably. But you guys are more important than teaching.
Jack: Teaching is important.
(Meanwhile, Max is taking a dump on his frog potty in the living room, fascinated with the word college. I tried to transcribe as best I could...)
Max: Mom Mom Mom Mom! Why did you go to college?
Kristie: So I could get smart.
Max: You're not smart. But you're still pretty!
Scott (to Kristie): I'm suggesting incentivizing educational activities to facilitate positive behavior.
Jack (to me): I don't get you.
Scott: I'm using big words on purpose so you don't understand me.
Jack: Does Mom understand you?
Scott: Yes, Mom went to college.
(Pause)
Jack: Hey mom, if you didn't have us, you would still be teaching, right?
Kristie: Yes, probably. But you guys are more important than teaching.
Jack: Teaching is important.
(Meanwhile, Max is taking a dump on his frog potty in the living room, fascinated with the word college. I tried to transcribe as best I could...)
Max: Mom Mom Mom Mom! Why did you go to college?
Kristie: So I could get smart.
Max: You're not smart. But you're still pretty!
Charlie, Charlie
The little piggy. He is up to 10 lbs, 3 oz. I had him at the Lactation Consultants office today where he was weighed before and after a feeding (in his nudies of course). And, not only did I get some help for my soreness, but I learned that he is growing tons. He is 5 1/2 weeks old. At his one month check-up he weighed 9 lbs 8 oz. So, he's growing like a little weed. I take special pride in this because he hasn't yet had a bottle (or a pacifier for that matter) and has never drank any formula, so his growth is all a product of him and I and that feels especially satisfying. Also, according to the LC's scale he is eating about 2 1/2-3 oz at each feeding. Which is apparently more than enough.
He burns through diapers like he's getting paid for it (makes me really grateful I chose cloth, I shudder to think how much we would have spent on diapers for him, since after wearing one disposable that wasn't for sensitive skin, he got a peeling rash, so we would have had to buy the more expensive kind). He literally goes through at least 2 per feeding, so that's about 16 in a 24 hour period, give or take.
Does he sleep? Well, as much as could be expected. He's given us some 4 hour stretches, although usually the longer stretches are closer to 3 hours. He prefers to sleep in bed with us, usually in my arms (Side note: I understand this is probably not the best sleeping arrangement). He also prefers to nap in my arms. My house is, therefore, a complete mess.
One of the best parts though? Hearing Max say "Char-ee, Char-ee" in a little high pitched voice and it is always followed by a pat to Charlie's head. And Jack saying "Hi Charlie!" the minute he gets home from school. And of course, when Max says "Put Char-ee down. Right here." or "Give him his milk mom, da-buhcause he's crying". Very sweet, Doodle!
He burns through diapers like he's getting paid for it (makes me really grateful I chose cloth, I shudder to think how much we would have spent on diapers for him, since after wearing one disposable that wasn't for sensitive skin, he got a peeling rash, so we would have had to buy the more expensive kind). He literally goes through at least 2 per feeding, so that's about 16 in a 24 hour period, give or take.
Does he sleep? Well, as much as could be expected. He's given us some 4 hour stretches, although usually the longer stretches are closer to 3 hours. He prefers to sleep in bed with us, usually in my arms (Side note: I understand this is probably not the best sleeping arrangement). He also prefers to nap in my arms. My house is, therefore, a complete mess.
One of the best parts though? Hearing Max say "Char-ee, Char-ee" in a little high pitched voice and it is always followed by a pat to Charlie's head. And Jack saying "Hi Charlie!" the minute he gets home from school. And of course, when Max says "Put Char-ee down. Right here." or "Give him his milk mom, da-buhcause he's crying". Very sweet, Doodle!
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
A few pressing questions must be asked
Column originally published March 15, 2011.
In trying to keep up with local news, I have a few pressing questions that I hope I'm not alone in asking.
For starters, why in the current media environment — not to mention the current state of the federal budget — is taxpayer funding for public radio and television so essential? I mean, I enjoy a few National Public Radio shows and grew up on "Sesame Street," but would those entities cease to exist if the tax revenue went away? Would the people who run those entities rather be free to operate strictly to suit their subscribers and not try to maintain the charade of being truly "public"?
Maybe if there were a National Public Newspaper I'd feel differently, but somehow print journalism —which has been around far longer than TV or radio — doesn't have a half brother partially funded by people who hate it against their will.
Likewise. ... what's the big deal about Illinois' new online sales tax law? Seems to me that if you're going to be in support of sales tax on some certain items, you ought to be in support those sales whether they're at Target or from Amazon. This is not so much a pro-tax argument as it is a discourse on fairness. I'd rather not pay any sales tax on anything, but if I have to, why not be fair about it?
I've seen several examples of online trolls suggesting the ongoing natural disasters in Japan are some sort of karmic payback for that nation's attack on our country in 1941. This leads to two pressing questions.
Our country dropped two atomic bombs on Japan in 1945 — wasn't that payback for 1941? And how do you sleep at night believing in a god or other supernatural force that would operate in such a way?
Speaking of Japan, another pressing question I have is if this disaster will set back the future of nuclear power technology in our country. This is an especially pressing question in the Land of Lincoln, which leads the county in nuclear reactors with 11. They provide what I've always felt to be an incredibly safe form of power, not to mention fantastic employment opportunities and property tax revenue.
Continue reading "A few pressing questions must be asked"
In trying to keep up with local news, I have a few pressing questions that I hope I'm not alone in asking.
For starters, why in the current media environment — not to mention the current state of the federal budget — is taxpayer funding for public radio and television so essential? I mean, I enjoy a few National Public Radio shows and grew up on "Sesame Street," but would those entities cease to exist if the tax revenue went away? Would the people who run those entities rather be free to operate strictly to suit their subscribers and not try to maintain the charade of being truly "public"?
Maybe if there were a National Public Newspaper I'd feel differently, but somehow print journalism —which has been around far longer than TV or radio — doesn't have a half brother partially funded by people who hate it against their will.
Likewise. ... what's the big deal about Illinois' new online sales tax law? Seems to me that if you're going to be in support of sales tax on some certain items, you ought to be in support those sales whether they're at Target or from Amazon. This is not so much a pro-tax argument as it is a discourse on fairness. I'd rather not pay any sales tax on anything, but if I have to, why not be fair about it?
I've seen several examples of online trolls suggesting the ongoing natural disasters in Japan are some sort of karmic payback for that nation's attack on our country in 1941. This leads to two pressing questions.
Our country dropped two atomic bombs on Japan in 1945 — wasn't that payback for 1941? And how do you sleep at night believing in a god or other supernatural force that would operate in such a way?
Speaking of Japan, another pressing question I have is if this disaster will set back the future of nuclear power technology in our country. This is an especially pressing question in the Land of Lincoln, which leads the county in nuclear reactors with 11. They provide what I've always felt to be an incredibly safe form of power, not to mention fantastic employment opportunities and property tax revenue.
Continue reading "A few pressing questions must be asked"
MaxSpeak
This tale from Kristie after Bible Time for Toddlers this morning:
Max's version of Noah's Ark: "They had a boat. There were animals and I got animal cookies. Then the rain melted." Sort of buddy, sort of.
Max's version of Noah's Ark: "They had a boat. There were animals and I got animal cookies. Then the rain melted." Sort of buddy, sort of.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Five weeks in
And so Charlie has been with us for five weeks. And yet still there are times when I find myself looking into his eyes and being amazed he’s here. Sure, we had about nine months to prepare and the experience of bringing home two other baby boys, so perhaps amazed isn’t the right word. But as I feel I’m getting to know him, I am struck again with wonderment at how my heart opens for Charlie just as it did for Max after I’d already known Jack for nearly four years. It’s one of those things that perhaps shouldn’t come as a surprise — after all, I know countless people who successfully loved multiple children — yet experiencing it myself is altogether different. Sort of like learning how to drive. No matter how many times you see it done, it’s different when you try it for yourself.
Yet as much as I find myself enjoying getting to know Charlie, as much as you can get to know a kid his age, I also realize the price I pay for getting back to a normal routine — since normal for us has me out of the house from about 8:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. daily. That price, of course, is not getting to witness personally every last development. Of course, I have it pretty good compared to many people thanks to the flexibility of my work schedule and the technology that keeps me just a few keystrokes away, not to mention the short drive home if needed. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need to escape the house on a consistent basis for the purposes of my own sanity. Not that I prefer work to home life, but I am a slave to routine, and work is my routine. When the routine is disrupted, my mind scatters.
So for the actual updates on how Charlie is doing — actually, what he is doing — I defer to my lovely wife, who is never more than a few feet away form her third son. Sadly, since she’s never more than a few feet away, blogging is not high on her priority list. And I can’t say I blame her at all.
I spent nearly the entire weekend at home. We had nothing scheduled Friday. Jack lost the privilege of bowling Saturday morning. Daylight savings time, feeding schedules and another bout of bad behavior made church impractical Sunday. Max and I walked to the end of the block Sunday afternoon, and then I got a birth farther away when I ran to Wendy’s for dinner. That we had enough food in the house to feed all of us for the entire weekend without at least one emergency grocery store run was impressive. We opted for Wendy’s not because we were out of food, but because I was with Jack and Max outside while Kristie intended to prepare dinner… except that Charlie will not go more than 60 minutes without eating so long as the sun is shining.
In my entire weekend of not leaving, I completely lost count of how many times Charlie ate. It would be far easier to count the number of times he slept longer than 15 minutes during the day. Spread from Friday night to Sunday night, it was less than five. And the number of times he slept longer than five minutes without physically touching another person? Two, maybe three. Yet compared to the way Max screamed bloody murder through the first several months of his life, Charlie to me (you know, the one who doesn’t have to give up my body to feed the child) seems far less of a drain on everyone.
Truth be told, Charlie is pretty much the same as he was last week — eats a lot, goes through a lot of diapers, sleeps a little. He has given all of us — even his brothers — glimpses of smiles that probably aren’t even gas-related. He is showered with love and attention and that’s just the way he likes it. The big development this week has been Max and his toilet training, which Kristie began in earnest Friday by taking his pants off, putting out the frog potty and informing him successes would be rewarded with stickers and chocolate, failures would cause a loss of access to the TV and computer. Clearly she was willing to crack a few eggs in pursuit of this particular omelet, and the rewards to date have far outweighed the risks.
Yes, we still have to do things like come up with a workable overnight solution, use a real toilet instead of a frog potty and actually leave the house, but the progress has simply been remarkable. I would much rather wash underwear than another load of cloth diapers. I would much rather remind the child to sit on the toilet than wrestle him to the ground for another change. I would rather not read the paper while someone sits next to me and makes a mess in the frog potty while playing video games, then sit there for a good half hour because Mario is so engrossing, but I also can see the greater good here, and I support this development.
As for Jack and his behavior of late, well, I’ve not got the energy to delve into it full on. His school schedule changed so he could spend more time in the main classroom instead of being pulled out to be with specialists. This is good for him in the long run, but adjusting in the short term has proved to be less than seamless. Of course this happened right before Charlie was born. And he also seems to be coming down with a cold, which always has far-reaching side effects. On the plus side, it is impressive to see what his imagination is capable of when he is banned from “everything with a screen” for the better part of two full days. I just hope that one day the “If you do X, you will lose X” ultimatum is not followed immediately by him doing X with dramatic flourish.
As is the case every Monday with our family, it is impossible to tell what the next week will hold. Last Monday I had no inkling whatsoever that Max would be where he is in our crusade to eradicate diapers. I wouldn’t have guessed I could fold laundry for two hours Sunday and still be little more than half done. I wouldn’t have expected to enjoy Daylight Savings Time’s return — I simply forgot how much better everyone sleeps when the sun stays down a bit longer in the morning. I would have guess Charlie’s eating and sleep schedule would be reliably inconsistent, since that’s been true since we first saw his face just five weeks ago.
There’s no way I can guess what things will be like after week 10. I think I’ll keep taking it day to day and trying to appreciate the little moments that make this experience so rewarding. There a lot of those little moments, and they add up to quite a wonderful life. It is not exotic, unique or really special, except that it is special to us, uniquely ours. And that’s all we’ll ever need.
Yet as much as I find myself enjoying getting to know Charlie, as much as you can get to know a kid his age, I also realize the price I pay for getting back to a normal routine — since normal for us has me out of the house from about 8:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. daily. That price, of course, is not getting to witness personally every last development. Of course, I have it pretty good compared to many people thanks to the flexibility of my work schedule and the technology that keeps me just a few keystrokes away, not to mention the short drive home if needed. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need to escape the house on a consistent basis for the purposes of my own sanity. Not that I prefer work to home life, but I am a slave to routine, and work is my routine. When the routine is disrupted, my mind scatters.
So for the actual updates on how Charlie is doing — actually, what he is doing — I defer to my lovely wife, who is never more than a few feet away form her third son. Sadly, since she’s never more than a few feet away, blogging is not high on her priority list. And I can’t say I blame her at all.
 |
| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
I spent nearly the entire weekend at home. We had nothing scheduled Friday. Jack lost the privilege of bowling Saturday morning. Daylight savings time, feeding schedules and another bout of bad behavior made church impractical Sunday. Max and I walked to the end of the block Sunday afternoon, and then I got a birth farther away when I ran to Wendy’s for dinner. That we had enough food in the house to feed all of us for the entire weekend without at least one emergency grocery store run was impressive. We opted for Wendy’s not because we were out of food, but because I was with Jack and Max outside while Kristie intended to prepare dinner… except that Charlie will not go more than 60 minutes without eating so long as the sun is shining.
In my entire weekend of not leaving, I completely lost count of how many times Charlie ate. It would be far easier to count the number of times he slept longer than 15 minutes during the day. Spread from Friday night to Sunday night, it was less than five. And the number of times he slept longer than five minutes without physically touching another person? Two, maybe three. Yet compared to the way Max screamed bloody murder through the first several months of his life, Charlie to me (you know, the one who doesn’t have to give up my body to feed the child) seems far less of a drain on everyone.
Truth be told, Charlie is pretty much the same as he was last week — eats a lot, goes through a lot of diapers, sleeps a little. He has given all of us — even his brothers — glimpses of smiles that probably aren’t even gas-related. He is showered with love and attention and that’s just the way he likes it. The big development this week has been Max and his toilet training, which Kristie began in earnest Friday by taking his pants off, putting out the frog potty and informing him successes would be rewarded with stickers and chocolate, failures would cause a loss of access to the TV and computer. Clearly she was willing to crack a few eggs in pursuit of this particular omelet, and the rewards to date have far outweighed the risks.
Yes, we still have to do things like come up with a workable overnight solution, use a real toilet instead of a frog potty and actually leave the house, but the progress has simply been remarkable. I would much rather wash underwear than another load of cloth diapers. I would much rather remind the child to sit on the toilet than wrestle him to the ground for another change. I would rather not read the paper while someone sits next to me and makes a mess in the frog potty while playing video games, then sit there for a good half hour because Mario is so engrossing, but I also can see the greater good here, and I support this development.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
As for Jack and his behavior of late, well, I’ve not got the energy to delve into it full on. His school schedule changed so he could spend more time in the main classroom instead of being pulled out to be with specialists. This is good for him in the long run, but adjusting in the short term has proved to be less than seamless. Of course this happened right before Charlie was born. And he also seems to be coming down with a cold, which always has far-reaching side effects. On the plus side, it is impressive to see what his imagination is capable of when he is banned from “everything with a screen” for the better part of two full days. I just hope that one day the “If you do X, you will lose X” ultimatum is not followed immediately by him doing X with dramatic flourish.
As is the case every Monday with our family, it is impossible to tell what the next week will hold. Last Monday I had no inkling whatsoever that Max would be where he is in our crusade to eradicate diapers. I wouldn’t have guessed I could fold laundry for two hours Sunday and still be little more than half done. I wouldn’t have expected to enjoy Daylight Savings Time’s return — I simply forgot how much better everyone sleeps when the sun stays down a bit longer in the morning. I would have guess Charlie’s eating and sleep schedule would be reliably inconsistent, since that’s been true since we first saw his face just five weeks ago.
There’s no way I can guess what things will be like after week 10. I think I’ll keep taking it day to day and trying to appreciate the little moments that make this experience so rewarding. There a lot of those little moments, and they add up to quite a wonderful life. It is not exotic, unique or really special, except that it is special to us, uniquely ours. And that’s all we’ll ever need.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Two of three
Got these good photos of a fraction of our boys Friday morning.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Max's birthday party
Here, with little in the way of excess narrative, are several photos and two videos from Max's third birthday party Saturday afternoon.
Helping How prepare the fruit tray.
Doodle rolling up his sleeve to go to work.
This is Jack's favorite way to help with cleaning.
Uncle Matt photobombs the lunch spread.
Somebody ate a LOT of strawberries.
Charlie was very well behaved, though he did eat a lot, which kept Kristie busy.
Max and his Toy Story cake.
The cake... and the birthday boy's finger.
Jack enjoys some Doodle cake.
Jack decided to take video of the presents and run the signal through the TV.
Look at those big, blue eyes.
Helping How prepare the fruit tray.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Doodle rolling up his sleeve to go to work.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
This is Jack's favorite way to help with cleaning.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Uncle Matt photobombs the lunch spread.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Somebody ate a LOT of strawberries.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Charlie was very well behaved, though he did eat a lot, which kept Kristie busy.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Max and his Toy Story cake.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
The cake... and the birthday boy's finger.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Jack enjoys some Doodle cake.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Jack decided to take video of the presents and run the signal through the TV.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Look at those big, blue eyes.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Why aren't we all teachers?
Column originally published March 8, 2011.
Much is being made of the cost of public education these days, thanks in large part to the ongoing labor dispute in Wisconsin and the serious talk about mass, mandatory school district consolidation in Illinois.
Inevitably, the public debate eventually focuses on teachers and their contribution to society. And inevitably, at least one person suggests teachers are overpaid because they work but nine months a year and their day ends at 3:30 p.m.
And, just as inevitably, people who are teachers or who are the children of teachers or spouses of teachers rise to their defense, explaining exactly how much time and energy goes into holding down a job as a teacher, keeping up on state-mandated certification and dealing with conditions few workers in the noneducation sector would consider tolerable.
Particularly enjoyable this time around was Jon Stewart and "The Daily Show" writers, who produced clip after clip of Fox News talking heads blasting Wisconsin teachers (average annual salary and benefit package somewhere near $85,000) for their income and suggesting it is only right to strip them of contractual provisions they've agreed to over decades of bargaining.
Stewart then followed those excerpts with clips of the same exact talking heads defending extension of the Bush era tax cuts (One said someone earring $250,000 a year hardly can be considered rich.) and explaining how bonuses for employees of financial firms that received federal bailout money must be preserved because, after all, they were agreed on contractually.
The message was clear: To the pundits in question, high salaries and contracts unfavorable to the taxpayer can be praised or vilified, depending on the worker's occupation. This is not an anti-Fox screed; others have made and will make such a case far better than I could. And so I want to get back to my original point: Those darned teachers.
Continue reading "Why aren't we all teachers?"
Much is being made of the cost of public education these days, thanks in large part to the ongoing labor dispute in Wisconsin and the serious talk about mass, mandatory school district consolidation in Illinois.
Inevitably, the public debate eventually focuses on teachers and their contribution to society. And inevitably, at least one person suggests teachers are overpaid because they work but nine months a year and their day ends at 3:30 p.m.
And, just as inevitably, people who are teachers or who are the children of teachers or spouses of teachers rise to their defense, explaining exactly how much time and energy goes into holding down a job as a teacher, keeping up on state-mandated certification and dealing with conditions few workers in the noneducation sector would consider tolerable.
Particularly enjoyable this time around was Jon Stewart and "The Daily Show" writers, who produced clip after clip of Fox News talking heads blasting Wisconsin teachers (average annual salary and benefit package somewhere near $85,000) for their income and suggesting it is only right to strip them of contractual provisions they've agreed to over decades of bargaining.
Stewart then followed those excerpts with clips of the same exact talking heads defending extension of the Bush era tax cuts (One said someone earring $250,000 a year hardly can be considered rich.) and explaining how bonuses for employees of financial firms that received federal bailout money must be preserved because, after all, they were agreed on contractually.
The message was clear: To the pundits in question, high salaries and contracts unfavorable to the taxpayer can be praised or vilified, depending on the worker's occupation. This is not an anti-Fox screed; others have made and will make such a case far better than I could. And so I want to get back to my original point: Those darned teachers.
Continue reading "Why aren't we all teachers?"
Monday, March 07, 2011
Four weeks in
And so Charlie has been with us for four weeks. A full month. According to the scale at the pediatrician’s office today, he weighs 9 1/2 pounds, which is exactly what Kristie’s dad guessed Saturday.
Ah, Saturday. Quite the busy day in our life, as it was Max’s third birthday party. Thought the guest list was only grandparents and aunts and uncles, Kristie still put out a good spread of food and we had the house somewhat clean. Aside from a serious Jack meltdown as the night ended, it was a really wonderful day to celebrate family. As well as everything went, it’s reasonably safe to assume Kristie felt like she’d have had things more under control if she weren’t a slave to an infant with an unpredictable feeding schedule.
This, of course, is not to say Kristie didn’t perform like the champion she is, but merely to acknowledge the high standards she sets for herself and her frustration with trying to make a special day for Max while handicapped by needing to serve at Charlie’s whim. The good news is Max, who turned 3 Wednesday, is so good at expressing himself that he was able to survey the party decorations, work up a big grin, give Kristie a hug and say “Mom, I like my party. It makes me so happy!” It’s hard for moms to feel appreciated most of the time, to have such a young child do such a good job of showing his real feelings is a tremendous blessing.
Charlie continues to get out. Friday evening we hired a sitter for the older boys and took Charlie to our small group session. The hosts are the parents of a girl exactly six months older than Charlie. Another couple, making their first visit to our group, brought their 3 1/2-month old daughter. Both those girls are first children. Naturally the conversation trends toward the little ones, and for Kristie it’s great to be able to connect to other mothers who nurse, use cloth diapers and generally have a lot in common from a parenting philosophy standpoint. The high point for me was Charlie sleeping the entire time we were there (about three hours) and the sitter having both kids in bed by the time we got home. Sure, I had to wash a load of diapers and didn’t get to bed myself until after 1 a.m., but it still felt like a night off.
Charlie also came with us to church for a second straight Sunday, though I must confess we could not get the five of us out the door in time for the worship service. We only attended our Sunday school parenting class, but that is another key component of our weekly routine, if only to connect with other parents. It helps us put life in a different kind of perspective, and it’s very much appreciated.
The class has switched to a new DVD series, the first session of which we watched Sunday. Aside from the religious implications (which I’d be happy to discuss), the main take home point was to challenge us to discuss our parenting philosophy — that is, how do we want to raise our kids outside of “I hope they’re happy.”
To be honest, I never put a lot of thought into my parenting “philosophy” other than trying to replicate the things my parents did that I felt “worked” — since I’m happy with how I turned out and what my life has become, they must have done quite a bit to set me on the right path — and to avoid their techniques/behaviors that I never cared for. Of course, as we become parents ourselves, we without fail see the wisdom behind some of the things our parents did when we were young.
Without going into tremendous detail, I will say one thing I always ran into with my own dad was feeling like he’d forgotten what it meant to be (whatever age I was at the time). I’ve since come to realize a few things.
One: being a teenager in the 1960s in a tiny, rural town in Northwestern Illinois is nowhere near the same as being a teenager in the 1990s in Chicago’s north suburbs, so I needed to cut him a ton of slack on that one.
Two, sometimes even when you do remember what it was like to be a certain age, that doesn’t mean you as a parent can improve things for your child (translation: Pops and I are both the oldest and both have younger brothers, so we know what a pain they can be. But we also know you can’t let the big kid control the little one because it isn’t a fair fight).
Three, and marriage has taught me this more than parenting, sometimes I don’t do as good a job seeing things form someone else’s point of view as I think I do, and that might be a genetic trait.
This is a gross oversimplification, but I don’t have the time to write 40,000 words on the topic. Forgive me.
Adding to the mix is that our parenting style is a mixture of what each of us were exposed to as children, and we didn’t meet until we were on the brink of adulthood. Yet, each of us being the oldest — and especially with us living near Kristie’s parents while her brother was still in grade school — we’ve had a bit of a window into how each other’s parents approached parenting, not just our own memories of being young.
Again, just scratching the surface, but the end result is this: I don’t have a parenting philosophy. Of course, when a newborn is in the mix, parents pretty much switch to survival mode — at least we do. And as long as Charlie continues to change his eating and sleeping routine every two days or so, there’s little reason to believe we’ll be in anything but survival mode for the foreseeable future. As long as I’m able to maintain my patience with the older boys and somehow remember what it’s like to have a relationship with my wife, I should be OK.
As I’ve written before, I somehow take pleasure in being in survival mode. It boils family life down to its very essence and forces me to continually confront the choices I’ve made about what I consider important in life. Fortunately, that confrontation always reaffirms the value I placed years ago on being a husband and father. There is nothing I can think of that could mean more to me than holding close to my family. Sure, we’re a circus, but it’s our circus and we continue to make it work.
Ah, Saturday. Quite the busy day in our life, as it was Max’s third birthday party. Thought the guest list was only grandparents and aunts and uncles, Kristie still put out a good spread of food and we had the house somewhat clean. Aside from a serious Jack meltdown as the night ended, it was a really wonderful day to celebrate family. As well as everything went, it’s reasonably safe to assume Kristie felt like she’d have had things more under control if she weren’t a slave to an infant with an unpredictable feeding schedule.
This, of course, is not to say Kristie didn’t perform like the champion she is, but merely to acknowledge the high standards she sets for herself and her frustration with trying to make a special day for Max while handicapped by needing to serve at Charlie’s whim. The good news is Max, who turned 3 Wednesday, is so good at expressing himself that he was able to survey the party decorations, work up a big grin, give Kristie a hug and say “Mom, I like my party. It makes me so happy!” It’s hard for moms to feel appreciated most of the time, to have such a young child do such a good job of showing his real feelings is a tremendous blessing.
Charlie continues to get out. Friday evening we hired a sitter for the older boys and took Charlie to our small group session. The hosts are the parents of a girl exactly six months older than Charlie. Another couple, making their first visit to our group, brought their 3 1/2-month old daughter. Both those girls are first children. Naturally the conversation trends toward the little ones, and for Kristie it’s great to be able to connect to other mothers who nurse, use cloth diapers and generally have a lot in common from a parenting philosophy standpoint. The high point for me was Charlie sleeping the entire time we were there (about three hours) and the sitter having both kids in bed by the time we got home. Sure, I had to wash a load of diapers and didn’t get to bed myself until after 1 a.m., but it still felt like a night off.
Charlie also came with us to church for a second straight Sunday, though I must confess we could not get the five of us out the door in time for the worship service. We only attended our Sunday school parenting class, but that is another key component of our weekly routine, if only to connect with other parents. It helps us put life in a different kind of perspective, and it’s very much appreciated.
The class has switched to a new DVD series, the first session of which we watched Sunday. Aside from the religious implications (which I’d be happy to discuss), the main take home point was to challenge us to discuss our parenting philosophy — that is, how do we want to raise our kids outside of “I hope they’re happy.”
To be honest, I never put a lot of thought into my parenting “philosophy” other than trying to replicate the things my parents did that I felt “worked” — since I’m happy with how I turned out and what my life has become, they must have done quite a bit to set me on the right path — and to avoid their techniques/behaviors that I never cared for. Of course, as we become parents ourselves, we without fail see the wisdom behind some of the things our parents did when we were young.
Without going into tremendous detail, I will say one thing I always ran into with my own dad was feeling like he’d forgotten what it meant to be (whatever age I was at the time). I’ve since come to realize a few things.
One: being a teenager in the 1960s in a tiny, rural town in Northwestern Illinois is nowhere near the same as being a teenager in the 1990s in Chicago’s north suburbs, so I needed to cut him a ton of slack on that one.
Two, sometimes even when you do remember what it was like to be a certain age, that doesn’t mean you as a parent can improve things for your child (translation: Pops and I are both the oldest and both have younger brothers, so we know what a pain they can be. But we also know you can’t let the big kid control the little one because it isn’t a fair fight).
Three, and marriage has taught me this more than parenting, sometimes I don’t do as good a job seeing things form someone else’s point of view as I think I do, and that might be a genetic trait.
This is a gross oversimplification, but I don’t have the time to write 40,000 words on the topic. Forgive me.
Adding to the mix is that our parenting style is a mixture of what each of us were exposed to as children, and we didn’t meet until we were on the brink of adulthood. Yet, each of us being the oldest — and especially with us living near Kristie’s parents while her brother was still in grade school — we’ve had a bit of a window into how each other’s parents approached parenting, not just our own memories of being young.
Again, just scratching the surface, but the end result is this: I don’t have a parenting philosophy. Of course, when a newborn is in the mix, parents pretty much switch to survival mode — at least we do. And as long as Charlie continues to change his eating and sleeping routine every two days or so, there’s little reason to believe we’ll be in anything but survival mode for the foreseeable future. As long as I’m able to maintain my patience with the older boys and somehow remember what it’s like to have a relationship with my wife, I should be OK.
As I’ve written before, I somehow take pleasure in being in survival mode. It boils family life down to its very essence and forces me to continually confront the choices I’ve made about what I consider important in life. Fortunately, that confrontation always reaffirms the value I placed years ago on being a husband and father. There is nothing I can think of that could mean more to me than holding close to my family. Sure, we’re a circus, but it’s our circus and we continue to make it work.
JackSpeak
Jack: Dad, can I tell you something?
Me: If I say no, are you going to tell me anyway?
Jack: Yes.
And then he did.
Me: If I say no, are you going to tell me anyway?
Jack: Yes.
And then he did.
Saturday, March 05, 2011
Two more
Here's Doodle, putting the finishing touches on his birthday cake, showing much more restraint than Jack did on his third birthday.
And, an added bonus, a post-midnight look at what may be Charlie's first real smile.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
And, an added bonus, a post-midnight look at what may be Charlie's first real smile.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Friday, March 04, 2011
Max and Charlie
So apparently on his birthday, Max asked to hold Charlie. He's really starting to warm up to his little brother. And while you might say Max has exhibited a few signs of being clingier than usual of late, it's been expressed in a positive fashion (more of the "here's a hug because I'm so glad to see you!" than a "No, no, please don't leave me here while you go somewhere in the car!" if that makes any sense). Sadly, I was at work for this special moment between the two, but Kristie managed to capture some great photos. I love Charlie's facial expression. In truth, he's really not in control of his face muscles, but it sure looks like you can tell what he's thinking.
It reminds me of one of my all-time favorite, treasure-it-forever and save-it-for-the-wedding photos:
These boys are awesome.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
It reminds me of one of my all-time favorite, treasure-it-forever and save-it-for-the-wedding photos:
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| From Ottawa Life |
These boys are awesome.
Nap attack
Wednesday night Jack and I had to run out, and before we left Kristie took Charlie upstairs so they could both lie down for a spell. Max, who'd woken up around 6:30 a.m., followed soon after to cuddle. By the time Jack and I returned around 7:15, Doodle was out for the night (he slept right through a diaper change), meaning the birthday cake a church friend brought for him as part of our "new mom" meal stayed in the fridge, and there was no singing of the birthday song or opening of any birthday gifts. Just too plum tuckered out.
Hopefully the fact we're starting his party at noon Saturday will give him a fighting chance of staying awake for his own festivities.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Hopefully the fact we're starting his party at noon Saturday will give him a fighting chance of staying awake for his own festivities.
Feel the burn
For some reason, Kristie ordered leg warmers for Charlie. They look like this:
OK, I do know the real reason. A baby who poops as much as Charlie needs to wear a gown because it makes diaper changes that much quicker. And yet, for every moment other than the actual changing, the gown is somewhat of a hassle because it rides up and leaves his little baby legs exposed. And in case you haven't noticed, it's still winter in Northern Illinois. Hence, the leg warmers. So yeah, it looks like he's running late for a Jazzercise class. But he's a baby. The face is where the cute is. And, honestly, the leg warmers are pretty adorable.
There is one side effect... the leg warmers, combined with the Boppy cover, combined with Kristie's nursing pajamas, it's my eyes that are feeling the burn here.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
OK, I do know the real reason. A baby who poops as much as Charlie needs to wear a gown because it makes diaper changes that much quicker. And yet, for every moment other than the actual changing, the gown is somewhat of a hassle because it rides up and leaves his little baby legs exposed. And in case you haven't noticed, it's still winter in Northern Illinois. Hence, the leg warmers. So yeah, it looks like he's running late for a Jazzercise class. But he's a baby. The face is where the cute is. And, honestly, the leg warmers are pretty adorable.
There is one side effect... the leg warmers, combined with the Boppy cover, combined with Kristie's nursing pajamas, it's my eyes that are feeling the burn here.
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| From Hollands at Home 2011 |
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
Political hypocrisy comes as no surprise
Column originally published March 1, 2011.
What's good for the goose is good for the gander, unless the goose is the public and the gander is the state Legislature.
Seemingly lost in the ongoing debate over mandatory school district consolidation in Illinois is the staggering hypocrisy of Gov. Pat Quinn. It was Quinn, the accidental governor, who raised the issue of school consolidation in his budget address last month, suggesting the state should forcibly reduce the number of public school districts in Illinois from 868 to no more than 300.
Doing so could remove countless layers of administration (read: Fewer superintendents and principals) and save an estimated $100 million per year, I'm assuming most of that would be in salary and benefits. And while I'm not opposed to mass consolidation in principle — I've long said Illinois government is far too bloated at nearly every level — I can't stomach how Quinn plans to carry out this master plan.
Such a massive restructuring of school districts would have to be forced in Springfield. Since 1983, the state has lost some 140 districts through voter-approved consolidations. Some of those were strategic, forward-thinking plans, others were last-resort efforts that caused hard feelings that divide towns still today. There is no way voters will willingly give up on almost 600 extra school districts, and certainly not in the rapid fashion needed to generate nine-figure savings.
A spokeswoman for Quinn's Office of Management and Budget confirmed the day after the budget speech, the Associated Press reported, the still-tentative plan would involve mandatory mergers rather than voluntary ones, as districts have done previously.
And here's the real problem: Quinn's Budget Director David Vaught said part of the plan would involve drawing new school boundaries in much the same way as the General Assembly draws lawmakers' district boundaries after a Census. Boundaries would be drawn by a proposed consolidation commission and the state Board of Education.
Continue reading "Political hypocrisy comes as no surprise."
What's good for the goose is good for the gander, unless the goose is the public and the gander is the state Legislature.
Seemingly lost in the ongoing debate over mandatory school district consolidation in Illinois is the staggering hypocrisy of Gov. Pat Quinn. It was Quinn, the accidental governor, who raised the issue of school consolidation in his budget address last month, suggesting the state should forcibly reduce the number of public school districts in Illinois from 868 to no more than 300.
Doing so could remove countless layers of administration (read: Fewer superintendents and principals) and save an estimated $100 million per year, I'm assuming most of that would be in salary and benefits. And while I'm not opposed to mass consolidation in principle — I've long said Illinois government is far too bloated at nearly every level — I can't stomach how Quinn plans to carry out this master plan.
Such a massive restructuring of school districts would have to be forced in Springfield. Since 1983, the state has lost some 140 districts through voter-approved consolidations. Some of those were strategic, forward-thinking plans, others were last-resort efforts that caused hard feelings that divide towns still today. There is no way voters will willingly give up on almost 600 extra school districts, and certainly not in the rapid fashion needed to generate nine-figure savings.
A spokeswoman for Quinn's Office of Management and Budget confirmed the day after the budget speech, the Associated Press reported, the still-tentative plan would involve mandatory mergers rather than voluntary ones, as districts have done previously.
And here's the real problem: Quinn's Budget Director David Vaught said part of the plan would involve drawing new school boundaries in much the same way as the General Assembly draws lawmakers' district boundaries after a Census. Boundaries would be drawn by a proposed consolidation commission and the state Board of Education.
Continue reading "Political hypocrisy comes as no surprise."
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