Chicago side trip

It occurs to me as I get to this point in my photo backlog we have not posted anything about Charlie's most recent visit to the pediatrician. On Jan. 9 (yes, ten days ago) Charlie weighed in at 16 pounds, 6 ounces. His stool sample was blood free and all indications are the diet modification is the key to success. He will be weighed again when he goes in for his 12-month checkup and shots.

Given how much he eats (people food, too, not just milk) and if everything internally is actually starting to work properly again, I think he should resume gaining weight in a normal pattern. Several months down the road we can look at reintroducing the soy and dairy elements to his diet. At some point we'll transition him to a different primary beverage, but it's hard to argue with the quality of breast milk given his specific needs at the moment.

All that information, presented well after the fact, is delivered here to explain the side trip we took from our stay in Fulton. On Wednesday afternoon of that week, Kristie, Charlie and I headed for home on account of a 10 a.m. Thursday appointment at Children's Memorial Hospital in Lincoln Park for a sweat test. The purpose of the procedure was to examine Charlie's perspiration for its salt content as an indicator of cystic fibrosis. A few days after New Year's we got confirmation he was all clear, but that doesn't preclude me from sharing photos.

The test itself went a little something like this:

From On the Road

If you look on his right arm, you see two rubber bands with wires attached. I'm not sure of the exact mechanics here, but essentially there is a fluid under it all and the bands are holding in place some metal plates that are heated ever so slightly. He had to wear these (one set on each arm) for five minutes. After that time elapsed, he was fitted with a sleeve of sorts (see his left arm, which was first; I held him for that one). He had to wear both sleeves for 30 minutes while we sat in the lobby, fed him Cheerios and also breast milk (on tap!), changed his diaper and so on. After the half hour, the technician took the sleeve and sent us on our way.

Thanks to some night before research, I had found a nearby (across from the employee exit of the hospital) Mediterranean restaurant. In addition to being very close, practically empty and affordable, the menu was loaded with dishes containing neither soy nor dairy and also the perfect size to feed a baby from our plate. If this place wasn't a 50-minute drive into the city, we'd absolutely be regulars. It was delicious.

The space seemed to be a converted car shop of sorts. One wall (the bulk of the dining area and behind the kitchen) was exposed brick. Across from it looked to be an old garage door that used to open overhead There was a conventional pedestrian door, of course, but also loads of natural light that lit up Charlie's face beautifully. So I took pictures. And I couldn't decide which one I liked best, so here's three:

From On the Road

From On the Road

From On the Road

And, for good measure, more walking practice:

From On the Road

We'd originally planned to go take the Red Line to State Street and then walk to Millennium Park to see the city still all decked out in Christmas splendor, but it was really windy that day and we guessed (correctly) Charlie might just sleep all the way to Fulton if we got back in the van on a full stomach. But it ended up being a fairly nice trip overall — it's a treat to get to spend time like that in the car with Kristie without whining/fighting/hungry children in the back seat, and the three of us have enjoyed some nice, practical meals out during some of this exra medical testing. We'd rather not go at all, of course, but turning it into a little date with the littlest one has made the best of the situation.

And now that it seems we're back on the right track nutritionally, it has certainly been well worth the effort.

Bedhead

Pre-bed bath, plus a night spent more sweating profusely in mom and dad's bed than relaxing coolly in your Pack 'n' Play, leads to this sweet morning hair.

From How's House

Christmas at How's House

To re-set the scene: Christmas was a Sunday. Monday we drove to Fulton, straight to Kristie's grandparents' house. Charlie and I left around 8, everyone else was there until around 10 p.m. Tuesday was busy for a few folks, so by Tuesday night it was finally time to open presents at How's house. Which brings us to here:

From How's House

Sure, that picture on its own does not scream Christmas. But trust me when I tell you I took it right before I started taking pictures of boys with presents (and right after I took the annual picture of Jack "helping" Pop get the video camera set up). Speaking of Jack, here is is getting his first look at his brand new Nook Tablet:

From How's House

I can't recall what was in this box, but it sure must have been heavy:

From How's House

Like at Pops & K's with the fire chief get up, Max scored a fair amount of dress-up clothes at How's, courtesy of Aunt Kelly. He insisted on trying on his dragon cape and wore it for several minutes. Later in the week he plowed through all the outfits (knight, king, police officer, etc.) and looked adorable in all of them. Watching he and Jack play with them, sort of in character, proved his imagination is up to the task, and also that little boys can have great fun with toys that don't have a screen or make noise. (Our boys make plenty of noise on their own. Plenty.)

From How's House

A few more photos:

Jack helps Kevin with his "reinbeer." Thank you, Pinterest. From How's House

Uncle Kyle's new shirt. Thank you, Woot.com. From How's House

What's under that giant blanket?

Doodle sizes up the workbench. From How's House

Charlie also is a big fan of the workbench. From How's House

Christmas and fire? This place is awesome!

Playing peek-a-boo with wrapping paper. From How's House

As usual, a fantastic Christmas celebration at How's. True to form, Charlie decided to eat in the middle of gifts and delayed Kristie getting to open things at the same time as everyone else. And bedtime was far later than it should have been for all the younger set. But it was only the beginning of a long week at How's, so there was plenty of time to get caught up... right?

Down time at How's

Still playing catch up here on the photo backlog. Big shocker. Anyway, I like these three photos. The first shows Charlie actually warming up to someone who is not a parent (not pictured: all the food How fed him, one morsel at a time, in order to get him to be OK with her holding him — it's kind of like how you train a dog by bribing it with treats).

From How's House

And on this note, we left Charlie with the older boys at Pops & K's house Monday night for a bell choir rehearsal. We thought the hardest part of the night would be dealing with a screaming baby when we got back, but he actually did very well. He played with the kids and hung out with my parents and, sure it was only an hour, really gave us the impression he is turning the corner on this front. The real hard part of the evening was the sadness on the other bell choir members' faces when they realized Charlie wouldn't be coming to rehearsal.

Also pictured? Charlie giving Kristie a big sloppy kiss...

From How's House

...and the boys doing a tandem vegetable routine in front of Lord only knows what TV show.

From How's House

Looking forward to appreciate past, present

Column originally published Jan. 17, 2012.

My parents were high school students when Martin Luther King Jr. was killed in Memphis, Tenn., in April 1968. When I was born some 11 years later, the world had already changed a great deal, to say nothing of the evolution in my own lifetime.

And while guessing what the future may hold is pure folly, there's something to be said for looking simultaneously forward and backward — to wonder what tomorrow may bring but also to be informed by our collective past.

"Saturday Night Live" tackled the subject in its most recent episode, airing a sketch set in 2112. In the bit set at a theater, actors were presenting a play set in 2012 and the futuristic audience was laughing uproariously at the conventions of "today" — driving an hour to work, logging on to the Internet to send an email, wearing a business suit, etc. Also in 2012, wolverines had not yet been domesticated and singer Taylor Swift had not yet assassinated anyone.

While not as humorous as the writers intended, the bit did manage to poke fun at the idea of taking things for granted and also the notion that what we now consider the height of technological innovation may one day be as stale as the VCR or in-car cassette deck. After all, in 1973, O.J. Simpson was just the world's greatest running back and no one had ever heard of a Goldendoodle.

Looking to the past — and especially in light of Monday's observance of King's birthday — can be far more illuminating. While looking up something entirely different Sunday, I came upon a link to a March 2008 newspaper essay I'd set aside for posterity.

Chicago Tribune reporter Patrick Reardon wrote the piece just days after U.S. Sen. Barack Obama, on the presidential campaign trail, spoke in Philadelphia on the issue of race relations in modern America. What struck me about Reardon's writing was not just his take on race, and specifically a beloved book from his childhood he could not in good conscience pass on to his own children, but the larger concept of moral blindness. He wrote:

Continue reading "Looking forward to appreciate past, present."

Jack at Work

From Pops and K's

Jack has the day off from school today, and his first instinct was to ask to come to the office with me. Since a day off from school is no vacation for Kristie (especially given how crazy it was at our house Sunday afternoon and evening) and because he's really not much trouble when he's here without Max or Charlie, everyone agreed it was acceptable. Jack loves to "work," setting himself up in the office between K and Sharon, and he's also fond of "helping out" in the warehouse downstairs. In the past that has meant making little pieces of Styrofoam out of bigger pieces of Styrofoam and playing drums on empty boxes with sections of air hose:

Jan. 12, 2009. From Pops and K's

But now that he's a big second-grader with advanced reading, motor and computer skills, he's actually pretty handy to have around. This afternoon, Sharon gave him some actual work to do, and he was pretty much up to the task. At this stage it's a novelty, of course. I doubt in a year or two he'd want to pack 100 monitors out of the goodness of his heart. But on balance, it beats staying at home, watching four hours of "Phineas and Ferb" and wrestling on the couch with Max until Kristie makes them both go play in the snow.

Haircuts

Got haircuts for the older boys Saturday afternoon. Here they are before...

From Hollands at Home 2012

... and after (couldn't get a good "after" with Jack's eyes open, but it's still cute.)

From Hollands at Home 2012

A Workman Christmas

Picking back up where we left off in our Christmas retrospective... on Dec. 26 we left home around lunch time headed for Fulton. With a suggested 4 p.m. start time at Kristie's grandparents' house for the Workman family Christmas celebration, we drove straight there instead of going to How's house first.

I've lost track of how many years I have been a part of this particular Christmas celebration. I know for certain I was there in 2001, the year before we got married, because our kitties stayed with Kristie's grandparents while I was away from the apartment for several days (Kristie was still in college and, I think, attending the big band clinic in Chicago the same time). I'm not sure if I was there the year before — 2000 was the Christmas Kristie flew to North Carolina to meet my mom's side of the family.

Either way, it's been more than a decade. And with Kristie's cousins (technically her first cousins, once removed, so second cousins to our boys) just starting high school, it's easy to for me to remember when we all used to fit a little bit better in the living room. You know, when those boys (and Kyle) were little and we didn't have three of our own. On the flip side, it seems there's been a pretty constant stream of always having at least one kid young enough to make a big deal over at Christmas time, which makes for a fun holiday experience for pretty much everyone.

And, oh yeah, some pictures:

Jack helps Stacey with the camera while everyone lines up for a family photo. From How's House

Max and his Great-Grandpa. From How's House

Working on his walking. From How's House

Christmas face. From How's House

What is it? From How's House

Christmas night at Pops & K's

After the dust settled at our house Christmas Day — and a nap for Charlie — we packed up everyone to head down to Libertyville for the remainder of the Holland Christmas celebration. After hosting the last two years, and especially in light of our new dietary restrictions, it was a nice change of pace to do the big meal and open gifts at Pops & K's house. Plus, our house was an absolute disaster (owing largely to the train table and McDonald's set and all the attendant parts strewn about the living room) and we were expending all our non-parenting energy toward getting ready to drive to Fulton the next day.

As I recall (nearly two weeks later), the actual celebration went pretty well, especially in terms of behavior from Jack and Max. Writing that makes me sound like kind of a grumpy dad, but with so much excitement and gratification jammed into so many consecutive days, it's hard not to keep such things close to top of mind. Even though family members very rarely pass judgement during a meltdown (visibly, at least), it seems there's lots of pressure on us as parents to provide magical holiday memories, or at least several hours of feeling happy to be together with everyone. It really is a wonderful time for me, personally, to tangibly experience the benefits of close family bonds ... but it's also one of the peak stress times for my role as a parent.

But enough about me. How about the pictures?

We'll file this one under "When did he get so big?" From Pops and K's

Checking out Kim's turtle-shaped thumb piano. From Pops and K's

Max's facial expressions are the best. From Pops and K's

Fire Chief Doodle. From Pops and K's

Charlie ate and slept through most of the presents. From Pops and K's

Pops and his brick. The black smudge is the remnant of a grill wheel he melted. From Pops and K's

After dinner, back in the swing of things. From Pops and K's

Taking hats off is fun! From Pops and K's

Jack is very fond of his snap circuit set — and proud of his handiwork. From Pops and K's

There's a bow on my head! From Pops and K's

These two have an awful lot in common. From Pops and K's

Upside-down Doodle! From Pops and K's

That was the end of Christmas week festivities with the Hollands. We left for Fulton the next morning, and Aunt Kim flew back to San Francisco that afternoon. Matt had to work (though he was off duty Dec. 25 itself, a nice surprise since the Bears were playing that night) and eventually life gets back to normal. But it was the cap to a nice few days of family fun, especially the one-on-one time Kim had with both Max (two days of playing games and iPad stuff and eating food at Pops & K's) and Jack (a movie and a sleepover) and also to see Charlie show the first signs of coming out of his shell, which he continued quite nicely during our week in Fulton. That's our next stop on the blog tour, whenever I get around to slogging through the 300-some photos and handful of videos. Until then...

Hey, we all like to 'fire people'

Column originally published Jan. 10, 2012.

Mitt Romney likes to fire people. He said it himself Monday morning in New Hampshire.

The exact quote, according to Los Angeles Times reporter Maeve Reston: "I like being able to fire people who provide services to me."

Of course, that's not quite the full story. But that probably won't matter. Mitt said the magic words. He was in front of TV cameras and a battalion of reporters. You can't put the toothpaste in the tube, even if squeezing it out wasn't really a mistake in the first place.

I used to be one of those reporters, covering the Democratic presidential hopefuls as they came through my little corner of Iowa in late 2003 and early 2004.

I saw Howard Dean flipping pancakes in a middle school gymnasium, watched John Edwards work a community college classroom like a Hollywood red carpet and spent an entire Joe Liebermann Labor Day union hall appearance thinking two things: 1. I hope this gets done soon so I can go watch the rest of the Cubs-Cardinals game; and 2. Is the is the same guy who played the dad on "Alf"? I also covered a George W. Bush campaign rally in Davenport later that summer, one of the most interesting events of my reporting career.

Usually, a press corps accompanied the candidates. Usually the local newspaper and radio schlubs would show up on time. Then, anywhere from 15 minutes to three hours later (thanks John Kerry!), the candidate and his handlers would arrive along with the national press corps. What fun it was to see their fancy equipment and big city media ID badges. There I was, shoulder-to-shoulder with folks from Time or CNN or the Boston Globe.

I never did get to witness a gaffe on the level of Romney's Monday morning misstep, so it's tough to say how I would have reacted. But in all honesty, it would be hard to resist the urge to localize the heck out of a national story. It's a chance to put your town and your newspaper on the map, not to mention carve your own initials in a tiny bit of campaign history. The allure is unmistakable.

But using Romney's quote as a test case, it's also patently unfair to the candidate and more or less deliberately misleading to readers/viewers/listeners to isolate one sentence and ignore the context. Average people hate when their own words are misconstrued, but people who love to play partisan politics seem all too happy to use one miscast sentence as if it were the speaker's own self-knotted noose.

Continue reading "Hey, we all like to 'fire people.' "

Climbing up the stairs

In the prior post I alluded to Charlie's stair-climbing skills. Here they are on display, from Saturday night at our house:

Forty-eight weeks in

And so Charlie has been with us for 48 weeks. We long ago stopped counting in weeks, of course, and I have to look at my calendar every time I write one of these things to make sure I get the date right. With the little man’s first birthday approaching, counting backward from Feb. 6 makes it much easier.

Driving to church today, I was struck by how easily I was able to remember January 2011. Although the weather this year bears no similarity to last winter’s snow festival, it’s a snap to go back to the 2010 Christmas season and the following January weekends and all of a sudden here comes the baby. I didn’t have the same thoughts in August (“Remember this time last year when you were about three months pregnant?”) and while I’m well aware having a baby on the outside is very much different from one still on the inside, something about those last few days of pregnancy crystallizes in my memory to the point where it’s not at all surprising that we’re about to celebrate the little one’s first birthday.

Yet, as I watched him scamper unencumbered up the stairs Thursday night (on his first attempt, I should point out, as neither of us knew he was capable) it brought a rush of the “No, please don’t grow up yet” emotion that I think often dooms the youngest to being babied longer than usual. We were pretty typical first-time parents when it came to getting excited for Jack’s developmental milestones, and I think our surprise at how quickly Max hit similar benchmarks was also fairly standard. With Charlie it’s a mixture. In some areas (such as teething), I’m just curious to see how his timetable compares to his brothers. With mental development (especially talking) I really want to see what he has in store. As for certain physical skills (specifically walking) I’m in no hurry whatsoever.

By the time most of you read this, Charlie will have visited the pediatrician for another update on his weight gain. He has been eating table food like an absolute champ, preferring to mooch off our plates or eat mashed up fruit to pre-made baby food. I delivered a sample to the lab last week for analysis, and Kristie brought him to a nursing mom support group where he weighed in just more than 16 pounds. If he tips the pediatrician’s scales to that degree, there will be minor celebration. His sweat test came back normal, which means no cystic fibrosis. Hopefully his poop is free of blood — I wish the same for everyone, really. The no soy, no dairy diet is becoming more manageable, and we’ve spent far less than usual on convenience food of late since so much of it is noncompliant. The grocery bills, on the other hand…

The biggest development since I last wrote at length was our week spent in Fulton where Charlie actually made a positive connection with his grandmother. The turning point was a night when I was standing in the kitchen feeding him bits of ciabatta. How began to feed him the same, and when I had to go do something else, I just handed him off. So long as she kept feeding him, he didn’t care she was holding him. And since he has a remarkable capacity for bite-sized bits of people food, it went on for quite some time. I seem to remember 14- and 15-month-old Max being very interested in How’s plates of food and her being all too happy to share. We Hollands have a lot in common that way.

There was one moment at the end of the week where I passed him off to her without food connected and for several minutes he seemed completely OK with the arrangement. In a similar vein, after a family dinner at Pops & K’s tonight, he sort of wandered off and into a game of hide-and-seek with Jack, Max and K. It seems so long as he’s comfortable we’re near, either through hearing our voices or catching a glimpse within his range, he can settle quite nicely when he’s surrounded by other people he knows well. We’ve never left him at How’s house without at least one of us present, so perhaps he convinced himself it was somehow a safer place for him to relax. Until, of course, he gets a look at the cat. Then he’s terrified.

I’m certain I could write more about what Charlie’s like these days. As he gets older, as it certainly is and has been with the older two, it becomes tougher to fully depict what they’re like with just written words. I spend time with all of them every day, and so much of who they are is revealed in so many different ways, and in some cases it changes as easily as the wind blows. This is the joy of being a parent, but it brings with it the frustration of a writer who can’t quite find the words to share and convey these experiences. I’m personally challenged by feeling limited as a wordsmith, yet I’m over-the-moon infatuated with the idea of these three little boys who are so wonderfully complex as to defy description. Also, I’m not sue that made any sense to anyone who didn’t think it in the first place, but it really does seem to be a fair accounting of the situation.

Also I could write more if started this earlier and had gotten more sleep last night and did anything to try to organize my thoughts. Max has visited us once a night for several days, Charlie has spent a few hours in bed with me two or three days since we’ve been back from Fulton and, well, at least Jack is sleeping through the night and waking up dry and not missing the school bus. These are serious accomplishments. Suffice it to say, I’m carefully monitoring the amount of blood in my caffeine stream.

I’d like to do something creative for Charlie’s birthday. The expected slideshow is in late stages of development, and I could pretty easily pull a photo from near each monthly benchmark. But I have a desire to more, though sadly that desire is not paired with any conceivable idea of where to start. Maybe inspiration will strike — but then again, maybe not. As it stands, at least I have these words to sort of put the whole year, at least the highest high points, in some sort of package that may help me somewhat recall what this year has been like. I hate to think of how much I’d forget if I didn’t blog at all, and also which stories are lost for good since I did not have the chance to put them in writing.

Well, we try as hard as we can and promise to love the kids no matter what, hoping they love us in return, and not just because we provide them food and shelter and satellite television. These are my goals, at least. I’m just thrilled I have so much time ahead of me to spend with these kids as they discover life. A true blessing.

JackSpeak

Jack: "Max, you are in the pee-wee stage of life right now, I think."

In defense of Target -- sort of

Column originally published Jan. 3, 2012.

Regular readers know I have three sons — ages 7, 3 and almost 11 months. My wife tried to breast-feed each one, but the oldest was raised almost entirely on formula. Son 2 took pumped breast milk from a bottle for nearly nine months before switching to formula. The baby is still feeding naturally. So while I, despite my wife's sincere wishes, am not able to lactate personally, I find myself sympathetic to those who do. To a point.

Michelle Hickman, a mother in Texas, made national news last week when she went public with a November incident in which she claims employees at the Target store in Webster, Texas, harassed her because she was nursing her baby in the store. News of her incident spread like wildfire online —and if you are married to a breast-feeding woman who is active on mothering websites, you know exactly how this works — and last week there were protests in support of Hickman at roughly 250 Target stores nationwide.

Here's how ABC News blogger Alice Gomstyn broke down the situation:

"Hickman began nursing her fussy, hungry infant son in the store's women's clothing section. Hickman, 35, said that eight Target employees eventually surrounded her and two asked her to move to a fitting room to finish nursing. The other employees, she said, rolled their eyes at her and gave her dirty looks.

"Hickman said she tried explaining that Texas law allowed her to breast-feed in public, but the employees wouldn't listen. Hickman said she later called Target's corporate offices but was dissatisfied with their response. She said the retailer has yet to apologize to her directly.

"In a statement to ABCNews.com, Target said that it supports the use of fitting rooms for breast-feeding — even if other customers are waiting to use the rooms — but also that 'guests who choose to breastfeed in public areas of the store are welcome to do so without being made to feel uncomfortable.' "

My wife has nursed, among other places, at church, in countless restaurants, at Brookfield Zoo and on the Metra Union Pacfic North line between Waukegan and Ravenswood. Thankfully, we've never experienced even one sideways glance, at least to my knowledge. However, we also have the common sense Hickman seems to lack.

Speaking to television news crews, Hickman said "It was a breast-feeding issue, they had a problem with me nursing in public," then acknowledged she sat on the floor in the women's clothing section to nurse.

This is where I start to come to the defense of Target employees.

Continue reading "In defense of Target — sort of."

Christmas morning in Gurnee

Charlie's first Christmas went fairly well by any standard. He actually slept in a bit (a welcome blessing since Kristie and I were up plenty late getting everything in order — I think it was my second or third straight night seeing the clock hit 2 a.m.). Jack once again was on his absolute best behavior (my favorite Christmas tradition), exhibiting uncommon patience, manners and general helpfulness. We were able to get all three boys fed before moving on to presents, which meant it was after 10:30 a.m. when the stockings got unstuffed.

As was the case the night before, Charlie was mostly interested in taking bows off packages and moving on. He also was pretty intent on eating Cheerios, and at one point he caught wind of his regular old toys and headed off to play with them. Kristie was wise enough to unbox most of his toys before wrapping so he would have instant access, and with a couple of toys that proved to be a great move as he started playing with them before the box was totally unwrapped.

Doodle was over the moon excited for just about everything, and for both boys one of the most popular gifts of the day was a drug store impulse by — the little capsules that, when placed in a cup of warm water, turn into small sponges in the shape of dinosaurs (Jack) and sea creatures (Max).

Jack tried not to show any interest in the book I picked for him ("Where the Sidewalk Ends") and was mightily confused when a gift he swore he'd seen in the van did not show up under the tree. He also had advance knowledge of the day's "big present," an Imaginarium train table that still isn't 100 percent assembled. But again, Jack's Christmas morning behavior is beyond reproach, so a good time was had by all.

Another "big" items was a mid-1980s vintage McDonald's playset well loved by Kristie and Aunt Kelly in their day. Both older kids knew just what to do with it immediately and were pretty happy pretending to prepare fast food for anyone who wanted it, as well as anyone who didn't want it, but we both played along (for the most part... there also was lots of train table work going on). And now, the pictures, and two videos.

From Hollands at Home 2011

From Hollands at Home 2011

From Hollands at Home 2011

From Hollands at Home 2011

From Hollands at Home 2011

From Hollands at Home 2011

From Hollands at Home 2011