Lingo
This time of year I love to watch football. Playoff and Bowl games keep me occupied to one degree or another. I prefer to make picks or predictions on what team will win. It makes every game just that much more interesting.
Last night was the Fort Worth Somethingorrather Bowl; the Texas Christian University Horned Frogs versus the Boise State University Broncos. I asked Emma what team she was cheering for, "Do you want the Frogs or the Broncos?"
"What's a brontos?" she asked.
"It's a wild horse." I responded.
"Ummm, da brontos." she answered.
"That's who I want too," I said.
Abbie thought about it awhile then decided on the Horned Frogs since that is from where Kristi had graduated. Emma quickly changed her mind to side with Abbie.
Time went on and the game got really good. At one point the Broncos were ahead by one touchdown and I decided to put on the obnoxious professional wrestler's persona to make the friendly bet a bit more fun, "Oh boy, you two girlies are gonna lose big-time! The Broncos are ahead. You are going DOWNN!!!!"
Emma's eyes about popped out of her head and she immediately reciprocated the tone back to me, "Oh yeah? We you are going UUUUUPP!"
12.24.2003
12.19.2003
Sore Eyes
We were sitting in the recovery room at the Phoenix Children's Hospital after Ellie's second laser surgery on her hemangioma arm. We heard her crying as we were led into the room. This time it was more painful for her, and we could definitely tell. As Abbie comforted the tiny sore body, I sat next to them and allowed my eyes to wander to the other corners of the room.
The recovery room was one big square, quartered, with one bed in each corner. With each bed were the solemn faces of the anxious parents whispering to each other and staring at their babies. Their babies on this occasion ranged in age anywhere from Ellie at 2 months to about 12 years old.
Unaware of the reasons that brought all of us into the same room, I could only assume we were the least tragic scenario. Cosmetic laser surgery versus congenital heart disease doesn't seem as critical as it did when we first walked into the building early that morning. Sure, our baby is only 2 months old, which makes it more of a sob story to some, but when you hear parents telling the recovery staff that they have had numerous surgeries and that they are completely aware how all of the anesthesia works, that is when reality quickly sets.
Keeping a cool composure is good for your spouse and I feel for all of the other pressured adults in the room. So I read a book in the silence, occasionally looking up from the pages to respond to a nurse or to view any new activity across the area.
I then noticed the little boy across from us. He was about 9 or 10 years old. It was his parents that told the nurses they knew the regiment and for them to cut to the chase. They sat patiently at bedside. Then they noticed the boy beginning to move. They leaped forward. Dad had a stuffed Gonzo muppet doll. Mom reached out to rub her son's arm. The pitch in their voices raised, even though they were soft-spoken. Words of encouragement and praise were given tenderly.
Suddenly, my parents appeared before me; superimposed over the two standing bodies in front of the bed. Dad hung the muppet off of his ear to try to make the young patient smile. The boy drifted back into unconsciousness. Zach's eyes were swallowed by the heavy eyelids as the boy metamorphasized into my brother. The walls surrounding us all transformed into my sibling's living room.
Although they were hundreds of miles away, although they were different in age and in stature, although we were in a hospital and my family in a home, they were the exact same people. These three individuals before me were the same balls of loving, frightened energy secretly screaming uncontrollably inside.
I immediately dropped my head and wept.
We were sitting in the recovery room at the Phoenix Children's Hospital after Ellie's second laser surgery on her hemangioma arm. We heard her crying as we were led into the room. This time it was more painful for her, and we could definitely tell. As Abbie comforted the tiny sore body, I sat next to them and allowed my eyes to wander to the other corners of the room.
The recovery room was one big square, quartered, with one bed in each corner. With each bed were the solemn faces of the anxious parents whispering to each other and staring at their babies. Their babies on this occasion ranged in age anywhere from Ellie at 2 months to about 12 years old.
Unaware of the reasons that brought all of us into the same room, I could only assume we were the least tragic scenario. Cosmetic laser surgery versus congenital heart disease doesn't seem as critical as it did when we first walked into the building early that morning. Sure, our baby is only 2 months old, which makes it more of a sob story to some, but when you hear parents telling the recovery staff that they have had numerous surgeries and that they are completely aware how all of the anesthesia works, that is when reality quickly sets.
Keeping a cool composure is good for your spouse and I feel for all of the other pressured adults in the room. So I read a book in the silence, occasionally looking up from the pages to respond to a nurse or to view any new activity across the area.
I then noticed the little boy across from us. He was about 9 or 10 years old. It was his parents that told the nurses they knew the regiment and for them to cut to the chase. They sat patiently at bedside. Then they noticed the boy beginning to move. They leaped forward. Dad had a stuffed Gonzo muppet doll. Mom reached out to rub her son's arm. The pitch in their voices raised, even though they were soft-spoken. Words of encouragement and praise were given tenderly.
Suddenly, my parents appeared before me; superimposed over the two standing bodies in front of the bed. Dad hung the muppet off of his ear to try to make the young patient smile. The boy drifted back into unconsciousness. Zach's eyes were swallowed by the heavy eyelids as the boy metamorphasized into my brother. The walls surrounding us all transformed into my sibling's living room.
Although they were hundreds of miles away, although they were different in age and in stature, although we were in a hospital and my family in a home, they were the exact same people. These three individuals before me were the same balls of loving, frightened energy secretly screaming uncontrollably inside.
I immediately dropped my head and wept.
12.17.2003
Naughty or Nice
We are at the theme park in Colorado called "North Pole." Guess what the motif is. It includes the world's highest ferris wheel and about a dozen fair/carnival rides for the kids. Of course, the main course is meeting and getting your photograph with old St. Nick, himself.
Abbie, Auntie Kristi (still pregnant), Emma and I dared the sub-zero temperatures one day during our past trip. We were warned at the entrance that we needed to go see Santa before the crowd swelled, so we did.
We pointed out to the mother-to-be the key differences between boys and girls just with the surrounding specimens. The girls were huddled together singing Christmas Carols. The boys? They were throwing sticks, jumping in the snow and climbing everything that could be climbed. They were entertained, and so were we.
After about a half an hour of standing in the biting wind, we reached the front door of St. Nicholas' "house." Inside were an elaborate array of toys, a photographer complete with all of the studio lighting, and a big armchair with the jolly fellow reclined comfortably. Right before being able to enter into the living room to recite your wish list, one could write in the guest book perched on a small shelf about three and a half feet off of the ground attached to the wall.
We were about three groups away from Mr. Claus when "it" happened. It was the funniest thing I had seen since Emma accidentally and profusely peed on herself during our Christmas tree cutting adventure.
A little girl about 9 or 10 had just gotten her photo taken with the big man and was suppose to exit his house like all of the other visitors, through the exit door. This gal, let's call her "Lucy" was not desiring the lemming approach to exiting, instead she wished to reek havoc on all of the cold cramped folks who still had not yet gotten to sit on the red suited one's lap. Lucy approached the gate where we were waiting.
The next woman in line told her that she was suppose to go out the other way.
"I don't want to." Lucy roughly stated.
"But everyone is coming in this way, you need to go that way." the kind-voice woman repeated while extending a finger to the exit door.
In an octave or two higher as well with much more force, Lucy exclaimed loudly, "I DON'T WANT TO GO THAT WAY!"
The stranger woman decided in an instant to not challenge the head-strong girl and opened the gate for her to go out the in door.
Instantly, Lucy cracked her noggin on that guest book signing shelf, right square on her temple. She dropped like Saddam in a rat-hole, right to her knees. There was a silent gasp of breathe by all that witnessed the painful contact between hard flesh and even harder wood.
Then I think the entire enclosed group of Santa helpers, parents, and even the bearded one, himself filled their faces, from ear to ear with smiles of self-satisfaction. As if each were thinking the same exact thing, "Instant Karma".
We are at the theme park in Colorado called "North Pole." Guess what the motif is. It includes the world's highest ferris wheel and about a dozen fair/carnival rides for the kids. Of course, the main course is meeting and getting your photograph with old St. Nick, himself.
Abbie, Auntie Kristi (still pregnant), Emma and I dared the sub-zero temperatures one day during our past trip. We were warned at the entrance that we needed to go see Santa before the crowd swelled, so we did.
We pointed out to the mother-to-be the key differences between boys and girls just with the surrounding specimens. The girls were huddled together singing Christmas Carols. The boys? They were throwing sticks, jumping in the snow and climbing everything that could be climbed. They were entertained, and so were we.
After about a half an hour of standing in the biting wind, we reached the front door of St. Nicholas' "house." Inside were an elaborate array of toys, a photographer complete with all of the studio lighting, and a big armchair with the jolly fellow reclined comfortably. Right before being able to enter into the living room to recite your wish list, one could write in the guest book perched on a small shelf about three and a half feet off of the ground attached to the wall.
We were about three groups away from Mr. Claus when "it" happened. It was the funniest thing I had seen since Emma accidentally and profusely peed on herself during our Christmas tree cutting adventure.
A little girl about 9 or 10 had just gotten her photo taken with the big man and was suppose to exit his house like all of the other visitors, through the exit door. This gal, let's call her "Lucy" was not desiring the lemming approach to exiting, instead she wished to reek havoc on all of the cold cramped folks who still had not yet gotten to sit on the red suited one's lap. Lucy approached the gate where we were waiting.
The next woman in line told her that she was suppose to go out the other way.
"I don't want to." Lucy roughly stated.
"But everyone is coming in this way, you need to go that way." the kind-voice woman repeated while extending a finger to the exit door.
In an octave or two higher as well with much more force, Lucy exclaimed loudly, "I DON'T WANT TO GO THAT WAY!"
The stranger woman decided in an instant to not challenge the head-strong girl and opened the gate for her to go out the in door.
Instantly, Lucy cracked her noggin on that guest book signing shelf, right square on her temple. She dropped like Saddam in a rat-hole, right to her knees. There was a silent gasp of breathe by all that witnessed the painful contact between hard flesh and even harder wood.
Then I think the entire enclosed group of Santa helpers, parents, and even the bearded one, himself filled their faces, from ear to ear with smiles of self-satisfaction. As if each were thinking the same exact thing, "Instant Karma".
One Wish
You know, in some perverted way I wish we were always reminded on a
daily occurrence the true importance of being good to each other. The
bittersweetness of a welcoming a new life into the world and one
preparing to leave is an amazing swirling mix of emotion and thoughts.
It is constant rejuvenation of the soul, as well as a biting kick in
the groin.
Pleasure and Pain or Yin and Yang as my friend says. The true balance of life.
You know, in some perverted way I wish we were always reminded on a
daily occurrence the true importance of being good to each other. The
bittersweetness of a welcoming a new life into the world and one
preparing to leave is an amazing swirling mix of emotion and thoughts.
It is constant rejuvenation of the soul, as well as a biting kick in
the groin.
Pleasure and Pain or Yin and Yang as my friend says. The true balance of life.
12.14.2003
Incoming
Early this morning (December 14, 2003 - 2:42 a.m.) my sister-in-law, Kristi Weien gave birth to my brother's baby boy, Caleb Cormack Weien at Evans Hospital at Fort Carson, Colorado Springs, Colorado.
He is 6 lbs, 1 oz, 18 inches long, slightly blonde and handsome.
Both Mom and baby are doing great.
Will have photos soon enough, but just wanted to share the excitement. We have been here, in Colorado Springs since Decemer 6th (my birthday) to celebrate my 31st birthday and Zach's 25th (on December 10th). On Friday we had an early Christmas which was fantastic. This, of course tops the trip off.
Kristi was not due until January 3rd, so despite my persistent prodding of her, I did not expect this to really happen.
We are very excited - also to hear now that Saddam has been captured too!!!! Oddly enough, the unit that captured him was the Fourth Infantry Division, which was Zachary's old unit.
We did not will the Powerball, but today is still rich with historical happenings!
Early this morning (December 14, 2003 - 2:42 a.m.) my sister-in-law, Kristi Weien gave birth to my brother's baby boy, Caleb Cormack Weien at Evans Hospital at Fort Carson, Colorado Springs, Colorado.
He is 6 lbs, 1 oz, 18 inches long, slightly blonde and handsome.
Both Mom and baby are doing great.
Will have photos soon enough, but just wanted to share the excitement. We have been here, in Colorado Springs since Decemer 6th (my birthday) to celebrate my 31st birthday and Zach's 25th (on December 10th). On Friday we had an early Christmas which was fantastic. This, of course tops the trip off.
Kristi was not due until January 3rd, so despite my persistent prodding of her, I did not expect this to really happen.
We are very excited - also to hear now that Saddam has been captured too!!!! Oddly enough, the unit that captured him was the Fourth Infantry Division, which was Zachary's old unit.
We did not will the Powerball, but today is still rich with historical happenings!
12.05.2003
Part One - Relief and Recovery
Well, what can you say when everything comes together flawlessly and with little to no effort? It makes you appreciate it so much more, especially if you are like me and attempt to plan out every specific detail.
What I am talking about (this time) is that we have just returned from the Phoenix Children's Hospital. We got a phone call on Monday from them reminding us that we had a scheduled laser surgery for Ellie's hemangioma on her right arm for Thursday at 7 am. We were surprised because we had not heard anything up to that point. We hadn't even heard if my insurance would cover any of the procedure. We were not ready to make a decision until after the holidays because we had originally gotten the impression that we didn't have to hurry.
Wrong again wisenheimer.
We had to have some answers from the doctor, and he did not get back to us until midday Wednesday. We were both ready to just not go at all.
Of course, we are also trying to get all our stuff together here and at work so that we can celebrate Christmas at my brothers... another long story, so don't worry about that part.
Long story, very short, Gene and Sally picked up Emma last night and we got up at 3 am. Fed the baby. Loaded her into the car and drove to the hospital by 6:30 am. She was admitted, even though she was seriously P.O.'d that she hadn't eaten for over 3 hours. Abbie put her on the surgery table, they ushered us out and forty-five minutes later Abbie was rocking our Gracie in her arms in the recovery room.
We just got home.
"Whirlwind," you say?
"And how," I respond.
"What does something like that look like?" - check out Ellie's quick progression.
Part Two - Realization
Now, I am not a religious person, but I believe that I am a very spiritual one. This entire situation has grabbed both Abbie and myself by the neck and forced us to come to the conclusion that we have been too hasty to criticize the decision-making and choices of others in similar situations. Like everyone, we have our opinions and up until now, have treated them as convictions. We have learned a valuable lesson by our over-zealous outspoken actions.
At the same time, this little thing has allowed me to rediscover the elation of fatherhood again. It is the feeling that I am sure many have experienced. Up until now, I almost feel that I was so busy with keeping my head and body busy that I had not been capable of feeling it. I had tried, but it is like forcing fun on someone, all it does is turn ugly and someone ends up crying and running home.
The simplest metaphor I can immediately conjure up is this:
You love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Every day you can't wait to taste one or two or more. Then, eventually, your taste buds no longer appreciate the sweet and stickiness the sandwich has to offer. So you gradually stop eating them, or even cut cold turkey. As time goes by, you begin to feel empty inside and can't seem to find the reason why. You try quesadillas, fruit and other lunch-time substitutes until someone offers you a PB and J, and you remember the wonderful relationship. At first bite, you can't believe you ever stopped devouring these things because they are the most fantastic pleasures you could ever fathom.
"You don't know what you got until it's gone" said someone, somewhere, sometime ago.
Right now, to me, that is the biggest fault of human beings. However, I don't know if it is something and we can truly understand or even control. I believe this is the reason why self-help, self-esteem boosting, spiritually uplifting forwarded e-mails are such an ongoing cycle. It may not pertain to your attitude today or the next, but eventually it will and you will want to share it with others. The volleying of positive words keeps the cycle rolling. But like the wheels in a watch, some roll around slower than others, but all come full circle at their own pace.
Today, my counter has reset.
Well, what can you say when everything comes together flawlessly and with little to no effort? It makes you appreciate it so much more, especially if you are like me and attempt to plan out every specific detail.
What I am talking about (this time) is that we have just returned from the Phoenix Children's Hospital. We got a phone call on Monday from them reminding us that we had a scheduled laser surgery for Ellie's hemangioma on her right arm for Thursday at 7 am. We were surprised because we had not heard anything up to that point. We hadn't even heard if my insurance would cover any of the procedure. We were not ready to make a decision until after the holidays because we had originally gotten the impression that we didn't have to hurry.
Wrong again wisenheimer.
We had to have some answers from the doctor, and he did not get back to us until midday Wednesday. We were both ready to just not go at all.
Of course, we are also trying to get all our stuff together here and at work so that we can celebrate Christmas at my brothers... another long story, so don't worry about that part.
Long story, very short, Gene and Sally picked up Emma last night and we got up at 3 am. Fed the baby. Loaded her into the car and drove to the hospital by 6:30 am. She was admitted, even though she was seriously P.O.'d that she hadn't eaten for over 3 hours. Abbie put her on the surgery table, they ushered us out and forty-five minutes later Abbie was rocking our Gracie in her arms in the recovery room.
We just got home.
"Whirlwind," you say?
"And how," I respond.
"What does something like that look like?" - check out Ellie's quick progression.
Part Two - Realization
Now, I am not a religious person, but I believe that I am a very spiritual one. This entire situation has grabbed both Abbie and myself by the neck and forced us to come to the conclusion that we have been too hasty to criticize the decision-making and choices of others in similar situations. Like everyone, we have our opinions and up until now, have treated them as convictions. We have learned a valuable lesson by our over-zealous outspoken actions.
At the same time, this little thing has allowed me to rediscover the elation of fatherhood again. It is the feeling that I am sure many have experienced. Up until now, I almost feel that I was so busy with keeping my head and body busy that I had not been capable of feeling it. I had tried, but it is like forcing fun on someone, all it does is turn ugly and someone ends up crying and running home.
The simplest metaphor I can immediately conjure up is this:
You love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Every day you can't wait to taste one or two or more. Then, eventually, your taste buds no longer appreciate the sweet and stickiness the sandwich has to offer. So you gradually stop eating them, or even cut cold turkey. As time goes by, you begin to feel empty inside and can't seem to find the reason why. You try quesadillas, fruit and other lunch-time substitutes until someone offers you a PB and J, and you remember the wonderful relationship. At first bite, you can't believe you ever stopped devouring these things because they are the most fantastic pleasures you could ever fathom.
"You don't know what you got until it's gone" said someone, somewhere, sometime ago.
Right now, to me, that is the biggest fault of human beings. However, I don't know if it is something and we can truly understand or even control. I believe this is the reason why self-help, self-esteem boosting, spiritually uplifting forwarded e-mails are such an ongoing cycle. It may not pertain to your attitude today or the next, but eventually it will and you will want to share it with others. The volleying of positive words keeps the cycle rolling. But like the wheels in a watch, some roll around slower than others, but all come full circle at their own pace.
Today, my counter has reset.
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