Sophie is a full fledged toddler now. She's a year and a half old. Boy am I tired.
Time seems to compress with a baby. Gone are a long, lazy days where I used to aimlessly wander around town, blogging about life. It has been replaced with an endless list of scheduled and impromptu tasks which need to be completed.
Add the holiday rush, and well, I shouldn’t even be writing this.
I’ve never felt old until Sophie was born. She has become a measure of time which never used to be visible. Now is it there for all to see. I also occasionally do the math and realize that I will be almost ninety when she is turning seven. Or so it seems.
Zen Lesson: An incredible device is one that presents a simplistic face of a complex system.
I stumbled upon a phenomenal toy today. Actually, I learned of it a few weeks ago, but it took a long time to arrive. The device is called the “Buddha Machine.”
It is difficult to describe. Actually, a description here will not do it justice. Its physical appearance is of a small 1960s era transistor radio. It has an On/Off/Volume wheel. There’s a button and a glowing light too. Most of the controls and ports are clearly labeled in Chinese. It appears to be very mysterious.
Turn it on, and it emits eerie, ephemeral music. Generally, I have a low tolerance for ambient noise loops.
But since this is a physical device, and not a CD or series of MP3s, you get a distinct impression that this music is being beamed from somewhere far, far away. The box appears to be a portal into another world.
We are back from the road trip. Details may follow in a future post.
I have fallen in love with the HBO series Big Love. Julia is skeptical. Perhaps a bit scared.
The series follows a polygamist family who tries to live by the spiritual doctrine, but has a string of everyday struggles. I like it because of the spiritual/religious aspect of the show. There is a a fair amount of drama too, but it seems a bit too real. Most religious shows have a "happy to be Christian" feel, which this show casts off into the distance.
People try to do the right thing most of the time. It's not always easy. Regardless of your spiritual discipline, you will find yourself struggling with life's issues. Just don't hurt innocent people in the confusion. This is where the clarity of Zen really helps.
But hierocracy lives in all organized spiritual groups. Why is this so? Common sense says that it would be the last place for it to thrive.
We are off to scour that country for a place to live. Now that we know how to look up pollution indexes and other such things, we are looking for a city to call home. The house is still up for sale. The fight against the toxic waste site is winding down.
I have not written lately because I have been dedicated to this little project. At notoxicwaste.org there is the "Our Summary of Evidence Well, I put some writing effort into it.
We'll be on the road for about 3 weeks.
The spambots have been hitting my blog on a daily basis, so I have disabled comments until I get back.
Zen Lesson: When life gives you lemons, you pucker a lot.
So here we are stuck in a toxic waste dump. This has spawned several projects.
Jobs
Julia and I are looking nationwide for a place to work and call home. Watchout! We may be coming to county near you!
Fight
We’ve joined the www.notoxicwaste.org group. I really don’t know how these folks get things done, but they do. Chaos theory I guess.
Flight
Several roadtrips have been planned. We just got back from Madison WI. Nice town. We will be heading to Chicago next week and then on to Colorado within the next few weeks. I got a call from a headhunter in the Miniapolis area, so we may go there. TorryGirl has graciously offered to house us in Australia, but we don’t speak the language.
Biz
Despite the fact that we have one foot out the door, we are putting together a proposal for a local company next week. I have mixed feelings about going ahead with the project now.
House
It’s up for sale. We never moved in. We did not pass go. We did not collect $200.
Baby
She’s doing great, despite all the high levels of lead in the environment. She still has not said Dada yet, but I work with her on it every day.
Well folks, I never thought I would be talking about toxic waste, but I am today.
Today I spoke at a hearing about toxic waste. I don’t know much about toxic waste other than the fact that I don’t like it. That’s pretty much what I had said at the hearings. Folks liked my speech. Apparently if you can write, it sometimes sounds good when it’s spoken. I made special effort to talk s l o w l y and deliberately.
It turns out that we have decided to move from our city even before we moved into our new house. This has caused our family great stress.
There’s lots of stuff here. Much more than I can really express in a blog entry. As usual I end up keeping you in the dark while moving on with my life.
I’m not one for baby food, but my daughter is. Generally I treat baby food like toxic waste. I am afraid to come in contact with it, unless I’ve taken the the proper precautions.
I have to give credit to the folks at Earth’s Best baby food. It’s the only baby food that I would eat. It smells good, it’s organic and they have a good menu.
On nights that Julia and I have neglected to plan for dinner, we have thought about opening a jar of turkey & vegetables and compliment it with lentils & brown rice to make a complete meal.
Zen Lesson: When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.
I have a hammer. I also have a house now. (I’d post a picture, but I have not figured out how the new tBlog works with images yet. And what’s up with my banner?)
We bought the house a few weeks ago. It’s a nice place. We like it.
We’ve spent the past few weeks working on getting it into shape. It’s still not ready. Nor will it be for at least a couple of more weeks.
There is a long story to tell here, but I won’t go into detail…
The short story is that there are no Sesame Street bloopers. I looked around and could not find any. If you find some, and they are real, not just voiceovers, please drop me a line at satorisam@mailshack.com. Thanks.
The long story is…there should be.
Sesame Street is a bastion of perfection. Everything is perfect. And as we all know, that’s not the way life is. But that is the way TV wants our children to believe it is.
Sesame Street does good stuff. They teach real values and they show a big yellow bird. Everyone is on Prozac. Even I want to live there.
Insider’s Note: Even though Ernie is nothing more than a warm body, Elmo probably has the highest IQ of the bunch.
I know this because Julia knows this. (Paraphrased from Fight Club)
My daughter, Sophie, likes Sesame Street more than any of the other shows. And even though I an concerned about the programming that my six month old is exposed to, (yes, I am insane) I think that Sesame Street is okay.
But I am convinced that after decades of Sesame Street, there should be some great bloopers. And I think that they would be pretty benign at that. (I don’t expect to see Bert swearing his head off, although I can imagine it easily enough.)
Some Buddhist traditions create an imperfection in their work. A trained eye will catch it, and get stuck on it. They will sacrifice 99% of the work for the 1% error. This is the concept of attachment.
Where am I going with this? Sesame Street should just fess up to their own mortality. Get real folks. You are real folks.
Switching gears….the other day I came home to find Sophie quietly sleeping in her crib. No surprise there.
But why was Julia watching Sesame Street in the other room?
The standard test for identifying child choking hazards is to take a cardboard toilet paper tube and see if the object fits into it. If the object goes in, then it should be considered a choking hazard for babies and other small children.
Yesterday, I discovered that my six month old daughter's own hand fits easily into the tube.
Zen Lesson: Take a CPR class.
The standard test for identifying child choking hazards is to take a cardboard toilet paper tube and see if the object fits into it. If the object goes in, then it should be considered a choking hazard for babies and other small children.
Yesterday, I discovered that my six month old daughter's own hand fits easily into the tube.
My wife thinks that I’m insane.
-ss
After much discussion and debate, Julia and I have decided to have our beloved daughter, Sophie, be raised by wolves.
“Are there any wolves around here?” I asked Julia. “Yes, but most of them have been run off.” came her reply. It became apparent that finding a suitable wolf pack for Sophie to join might be a bit more difficult than originally thought. I suggested putting an ad in the newspaper.
Being raised by wolves will be great for everyone! Julia and I will get more sleep at night and have more free time during the day. Plus, in addition to exploring the world and learning critical survival skills, Sophie wouldn’t have to wear diapers anymore. And as she has pointed out to me many times over, a naked baby is a happy baby.
Then we ran into a major problem.
Although she can sit and hold her head up, Sophie cannot yet crawl. “This might make it hard for her to keep up with the pack.” commented Julia. There we sat for several minutes trying to solve the one obstacle between Sophie and her new family.
Then it came to me! I suggested that we start to toughen up the back of her neck.
Background: We have Vonage as our phone carrier. We secured a second number that was local to our new location before we moved. We moved and I want our caller ID to reflect the "virtual" number.
Below is the e-mail that I sent to Customer Support.
-ss
------------------------- -
Hello,
I thought that I was being forward thinking and smart when I secured a virtual phone number for our new location a couple of months before we moved out of state. There we sat with our two phone numbers. Area codes 206 & 309 living in harmony. Everything was bliss.
Then we moved.
Now I have this insane notion that it would be novel to swap our old primary phone number (206 area code) with our virtual (309) number. People with caller ID would then be able to properly identify where we are actually calling from. It would be far less confusing to the local folks out here in 309 land. (And even though I've only been here for about a week, it appears that they get confused very easily.)
But I was told "No" by your customer service folks. (It sounded like this, "NO!")
What's the story? You folks have control of both phone numbers, why should it take an act of God, or some other Internet phone company, to comply with this request? Surely, someone at Vonage can make this happen. I would even consider paying them to do the task. How does $20 sound as an incentive? Ask around. Someone in your organization may take me up on it.
Your Pal,
Sam
P.S. I can be really fickle when I don’t get good service. Be warned. I might not be your pal for very long.
The baby is doing great. Julia and I are a little stressed out. She is enjoying the fact that we are closer to her family, but this is really an adjustment from Seattle. The house we have moved into temporarily, needs some work. But it doesn’t make sense for us to put any money into it. We plan to move again within the next six months, once we find out where our income will come from.
We did not have to move from Seattle. But we were ready for a change.
I have been going through the gauntlet with one of the most extensive job interviews I’ve ever had. Besides the typical interview questions and job references, they have also hit me with drug testing, credit checks, background checks, IQ, personality, and emotional stability tests. It’s been grueling. You would think that I would be working at Area 51 or something. This company is just a typical corporation.
I missed a golden opportunity. When they gave me the specimen cup for the drug test, I should have asked them where the dirty magazines are. (See a previous blog entry.)
In the end, my high school records (yes, you read that right) from over a quarter century ago will determine if I get the job or not. In all honesty, I don’t know what my high school grades will show. Interestingly enough, that will be the last piece of the puzzle to arrive. It seems that any records from my high school before 1991 were stashed in a dusty closet in the basement in the far side of town in another state several thousand miles away. They said it would take weeks (and one dollar!) to process the request.
Zen Lesson: Crazy insane, or insane crazy? -eminem
Fast forward…
Julia and I are no longer living in Seattle. We have moved to the cornfields of Illinois. We sold off everything that was too big to carry and packed the rest into a rented van. My brother flew to Seattle, and drove with me back to Illinois. Julia and the baby flew ahead of us.
There were a lot of issues here.
The bastardly decision to fire Julia 6 weeks before Sophie was born, played heavily in our decision. Julia’s ex-company deserves to rot in hell for the handling of that whole mess. The woman who was going to throw her baby shower appears to have backstabbed her in an (successful) attempt to get her job.
I don’t know how these people sleep at night.
A good friend of mine from New York, who moved back to NY after about a year in Seattle, summed it up nicely. “When a New Yorker says “F*ck you,” they really mean “Hello.” When a Seattleite says “Hello” they really mean “F*ck you.” The operative verb is “passive aggressive.”
Julia may have had some issues at work. But she would have responded to coaching. Any coaching. Her employer was stupid. They lost a good employee who was going through the troughs of pregnancy. And Julia is very good at what she does.
We have plenty of money. Cash is not an issue. Despite this, I feel an incredible weight on my shoulders. I am lined up for a job, but there are trivial technicalities that may muck up the works. (What were you doing 25 years ago?)
We are presently living in a small town in the Illinois heartland. Sure is quite tonight.
Zen Lesson: "If the world should blow itself up, the last audible voice would be that of an expert saying it can't be done." - Peter Ustinov (b. 1921)
One year B.C. (before child) the closest I came to experiencing “Nipple Confusion” was seeing a big breasted, braless, girl with a tight shirt on a cool day. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t really “confusion” that I experienced.
The term “Nipple Confusion” refers to the difficulty that newborns may experience when feedings are alternated between real breast nipples and bottle nipples. Sometimes babies reject the breast, in favor for the far easier interface of the artificial nipple. Technology seems to have the upper hand on nipples.
This is why most texts on breastfeeding to give stern warnings on when it is okay to introduce bottles. Earlier than three weeks of age, and you will damn your milk production and your child’s preference for your nipples (and ultimately you) forever. Your child will hate you for the rest of his life, and will grow up to be a drug dealer and possibly a murderer. At least, that is the official word.
Julia and I had many “discussions” on the topic of feeding before Sophie was born. Thankfully, due to our own infant feeding history, the “discussions” did not escalate to murder.
In the end, I gave in to the mountains of literature and “expert” advice, and assumed my role as a “supportive” Dad. I vowed to remain at arms length while mother and child bonded vigorously during the milkfest.
Everything was agreed upon. Sophie was born. Then something wonderful happened.
Around the second full day of Sophie’s life, her weight dropped below ten percent of her birth weight. The nurses made a lot of fuss and it was clear that she would need supplemental feeding. Damn the nipples, full speed ahead! It was then that I gave Sophie her first bottle.
Fast forward to today, several weeks later. We’ve settled into a routine that works well for mother, father and daughter. Julia breastfeeds during the day, and she pumps some breast milk too. I feed Sophie every night during the graveyard shift, from 11:00 PM to 7:00 AM. Julia gets her rest, I get my bonding time and Sophie gets her feedings of nutrient rich breast milk..
I’m writhing this to tell you that every family is different. I really cherish the feedings I give my child. I’ve felt that I’ve really bonded with her during these past few weeks. She has had no problems with nipple confusion whatsoever, nor has Julia had any problems with milk production. I think that it's time that Dads are given more involvement in the whole feeding process, despite the current body of literature.
One final note. Many texts suggest that the Dad can help Mom with midnight feedings by burping and getting the child, etc. I never saw the logic in this. Why should both parents wake up dead tired the next morning? I am a firm believer that one parent should get a good nights sleep. In our case, it happens to by Mom.
Here’s a quick list for those of you who are new (or just ignorant) to baby terms.
Stinkerbell – What I call my daughter after a particularly bad diaper.
Fountain of Youth – Occurs in the process of changing every tenth diaper.
Juanita – Start by calling your little precious person “Little One.” After a few days, it gets mutated to “Little Juan.” Then the realization sets in that she is a girl; “Little Juanita” or “Juanita” for short. (In the back of my mind I know that she is Sophia, but she’s too young, and I’m too old, to care.)
Zombified – My usual state of mental alertness, given the amount of available sleep.
It’s been about a week since my daughter was born. She’s taken me under her wing as her student.
She’s taught me to look at the world with wonder and amazement. To look. To stare. To scrutinize details. She’s encouraged me to be patient, and that even if I do not understand what is happening at the moment, that things may make sense in time. She has shown me how to take things in stride, and be more accepting.
She’s also taught me to scream until I get my way.
Other than that, things have not been going well. With the birth of my daughter about five weeks away, last week we found ourselves without a household income.
Obviously this has caused us much stress. We are in the process of reevaluating our situation and trying to figure out the best course of action. Julia (in her obvious condition) and I have been sending out our resumes in an effort to find jobs.
At a time that we would normally be putting last minute touches on the baby’s room, we are instead filled with angst and concern over our future.
I can’t go into detail on the events, otherwise I would.
I know that this is for the better. I just don’t know what we did to deserve it. Perhaps this is a wakeup call that we were in a bad situation and need a radical change. All options are on the table.
I attended a breastfeeding class yesterday. I took Julia with me. Despite reassurances to the contrary from the scheduler and the teacher, I was the only guy in the class.
Me and six women. Most of them pregnant.
Although I was not pregnant, I still got to nurse my own baby. All of the participants choose a baby doll and after we were given the proper instructions, we proceeded to hold the “baby” to our bosom and feed it. I looked into my baby’s eyes and imagined it saying “Dada.” Tears welled. Oh yes, I felt the joys of motherhood.
Julia used her baby as a cushion for her elbow during most of the class.
Zen Lesson: Common sense is directly proportional to patience.
Yesterday, for the second time in two weeks I almost caused a traffic accident. Both times I was on the highway and began changing lanes, only to find that someone else was occupying the lane beside me. Yesterday, I had to swerve the car violently back into my original lane to avoid side swiping the car next to me.
It’s clear that I need to do better head checks in the future.
I’m usually very good about this. I realize that cars don’t materialize out of thin air, and accept the fact that it is my fault that I did not see them. I should have.
That said, I want to talk for a minute about aggressive drivers. I’ve been driving for almost 30 years now, and if there is one thing that I have learned about driving defensively, is to do things slowly and deliberately. In both the recent incidents, I had signaled, waited, and then slowly started moving into the next lane.
In both incidents, the response of the other drivers seemed odd after the fact. In the first one, the driver aggressively started darting from lane to lane ahead of me to jockey into a better position in the congealing traffic. Yesterday, the guy simply accelerated ahead and tailgated the car in front of him.
While I can’t be sure, I’m pretty convinced that both times these drivers were half a car length behind me in my blind spot. I suspect that they saw the signal, and rather than backing off, sped up to claim the lane. I honestly did not see them.
Follow my logic here. Statically, aggressive drivers must get in more accidents than defensive drivers. A certain percentage of those accidents could have easily been avoided by the aggressive driver, but were deemed the fault of the other driver due to traffic laws. For those aggressive drivers, it’s better to be right, than safe.
I was thinking that this is pretty far fetched, until I recalled that a good friend of mine had an accident just a month ago. He was cited with the accident, but it was clearly the action of the other impatient driver, who was “morally” at fault.
I don’t know what causes this “zero patience”, “hate to wait”, “faster, faster, faster still” mentality, but it may be time to slow down, take a deep breath, and realize that there is no reason to be in such a hurry.
Zen Lesson: Stay away from tall trees in thunderstorms. Lightning can strike twice.
Much to my shock and delight, I was informed yesterday via e-mail that I had won a second iPod! This is starting to get ridiculous.
I quickly called Julia and asked her if she wanted it. She very excitedly claimed it as her own.
By now you are probably thinking that I’m just making this all up. I’m not. In about 10 days we will have “his and her” iPods. (I’m considering getting an iPod Mini for Sophie.)
I really should have not won this second iPod. The odds were tremendously stacked against me. I didn’t even know I was still entered. After winning the first one, I have not played the iPod scratch game at all.
Weeks passed.
Last week, I started cleaning out some computer room stuff that survived the move to the new place, and came across the stack of seven losing tickets that were from the batch that won me the first iPod. Thinking that they had expired long ago, I tossed them in the trash can by my desk. Yesterday I received notice that because someone did not claim their iPod, my old ticket was drawn as a secondary winner.
My first thought was that this was some kind of error.
My second thought was “Holly Shit,” I just tossed those tickets last week! (The winning ticket must be presented to claim the prize.) I quickly rummaged though the papers in the half empty trash and found the stack of losing tickets. I matched the e-mail to the serial number of the winning ticket and my panic turned to elation.
If this keeps up, I’m going to open up a store.
-ss
About Me
About Me
Black fades to white…an
image appears.
Sam lives with his
wife Julia in rural Illinois. Together they go through life trying to figure it out,
one day after the next. Sam blogs. Julia wonders why. Their first child, Sophie, arrived in July of 2005.
Zen has been a part
of my life for over 10 years now. I’m currently a non-practicing Zen student.
Spirituality is important to me, but right now I’m in somewhat of a spiritual
rut. A lack of passion can be the hardest of all obstacles. I try to do the
right thing.
I am not a writer, so
you can stop reading at any time. My biggest writing talent lies in the ability
to create signs for yard/garage/tag sales. At that, I excel.
My wit is dry.
Shaken, not stirred. If you don’t know my style, you might find me offensive. I
tend to be direct, honest, and sometimes add a dash of sexual innuendo.
I’m presently 43 and
lead a healthy lifestyle. I’m in good physical shape.
