Knee Pads

Knee pads are one of the most critical pieces of equipment when playing roller derby. All the veteran Derby players will tell you not to skimp on them. I have huge knee pads and, not only that, I have gaskets that I wear underneath to fill in any empty space.  It's like falling on a cloud. As an aside, I can tell you that I always wear my knee pads since I broke my patella during an open skate. I was feeling confident and happy and I ended up tripping over a kid who fell right in front of me. So, yeah, I'm pretty passionate about wearing them now.

In Derby, we spend a lot of time practicing falling, especially with the new girls. And it's drilled into you pretty quickly that once you fall you need to get back up immediately. 3 seconds is the general rule. Faster is better. Of course, not falling at all is best.

If you stay down too long, you become an impediment to other players and you are not helping your team.

I think maybe we all could use some spiritual or metaphorical or emotional knee pads, and the training to rise up quickly after life (or "Mayhem Steamroller") puts you down on the ground.

No worries. All ok.

Here we are again. To get cleared for sports. Again. Broken toe is healed but toenail is in process of falling off. When Yo discovered that lovely piece of anatomy coming off, I thought she had found a bug because she screamed, jumped up, and backed away from where she had been cutting her toenails. I'm afraid I laughed and she cried. Then we googled losing your toenail so it didn't seem so scary after that. She'll just have to tape it while she plays sports but I think it will come off at some point. Gross.  UPDATE: toenail came off and was possibly grosser than imagined. 

Best Cat Ever

He just is.  That is all.

Kicking & Screaming

My children are mortified when I TRY to take selfies. "Mom! Please no!"

I think they will like this pic of my empty plate.

Last year I got Yo's hand me down iPhone and so I learned how to ... what's the verb here? Maybe just use a phone that did more than make calls. Remember those?

Anyway, I just got a new phone with a screen big enough to attempt blogging.

Childhood Maladies & Healthcare Systems

So, been awhile. Nuff said.

Habtamu had an osteochondroma removed from his right leg last September. It is all healed and he has not had any problems from it since. We had known about it for a couple of years. It is the source of one of my finest parenting moments. Not. He'd been complaining about his knee hurting and swelling up. I'd been telling him to toughen up, in so many words. Finally I took him into the Dr who took one look/feel and said "Oh yeah. It's osteochondroma.... that probably hurts." D'oh.

We had a lovely Christmas in Florida with the Gardners.

Day after we got back, Yordanos broke her collar bone at soccer. Some things I didn't know about broken collar bones: if the person is young enough, the broken parts of the bones will send out bony tendrils and reconnect and grow together and remodel over time. Yordanos was right on the edge of this age and it didn't look like it was growing back. At her recent checkup, however, there was definitely bone connecting the two pieces! In adults, the broken bits will be held together by scar tissue, basically, and will not have the new bone growth.

 

Then in March, Habtamu had an emergency appendectomy. Is there any other kind? It didn't burst, but it laid him low for awhile.

The morning before he had appendix out:

Just got the bill for the appendectomy... the hospital charged insurance $50,000. Are you kidding me? We could go round in circles about how wrong this is, and all that is broken in healthcare... But literally, people are one appendectomy away from financial ruin. We were still paying for the osteochondroma, so I called to set up a payment plan for the appendectomy. They were kind enough to tack it on to the end of the first bill. So I said, "Ok, so basically I will just keep paying indefinitely..." 

Now I've got to get an MRI on my knee. It's been a-hurting for awhile, and I finally went in to the kids' Ortho. See above issues to understand why we have our own Ortho Dr. now.

Shot down just like the good old days

Things here are pretty status quo.  Soccer games, sleep overs, roller skating, etc...  Yordanos had a dance on Friday.  Saturday we were eating and I asked her how it went.  Before she could answer, Habtamu chimed in, "Did you kiss any cute boys?"  She sputtered in frustration and Chris answered, "She kissed as many cute boys as you have cute girls at your dances."  Yordanos smiled.  Habtamu quickly did the math, "So, zero?"  I thought I wasn't getting enough attention so I added, "Unless her good looking father counts." 
My daughter looked straight at me with those big brown eyes, her smile fading, and said, "No Dad. You don't."

Ah, nothing like a sixth grade girl to make you so very very glad you're no longer in sixth grade.

When my father ended up as the butt of one too many jokes I've heard him say, "I don't have to take this kind of abuse from you.  I can go home and get it." 

I used to think that joke was funny.

Reality Check

So Chris and I went to a Roller Derby Bout tonight and we decided that everyone would be better off if we left the kids with their favorite babysitter, NetFlix, instead of dragging them along.
I got home first, walked through the door, and proclaimed, "Ok, people it's bedtime!" 
I was distracting enough that both kids broke away from the TV, looked around, and asked, "Where's mom?"
"She'll be home shortly."  I said.
"Why didn't she come with you?" Yordanos asked.
"Because she's popular and has friends she wanted to talk to," I responded.
"No seriously, Dad. Why didn't she come with you?" without giving my initial response an ounce of credibility.

I probably should have defended my wife's honor as that was the actual answer, but it was easier to say, "We took separate cars.  Quit stalling.  Go to bed."

Music 101

Yordanos is officially at the "cycle through every station preset button on the car radio as quickly as possible then do it at least one more time trying to find the best song" stage of life.  I try to be patient, especially since I revert back to it every once and awhile myself.  Habtamu though has no tolerance for it and will tisk, sigh, and whine louder with each passing station.  He apparently doesn't remember way back when he went through it.
Part of what's frustrating is I think she can actually recognize the songs faster than I can.  My ego can handle not knowing the new stuff, but when she flicks past the light rock station and I say "Wait, Go back!" and her response is, "I don't want to listen to Jessie's Girl," well then, let's just say the Name That Tune gloves come off pretty quickly.

So the other day I'm in the car driving Yo to a soccer game and she pauses on an 80's station.
"Dad, is this song by Roses and Guns?"
"The band you're thinking of is Guns and Roses..."
"Oh, right. that's what I meant."
"... which is WRONG because the song is by HALL AND OATS"

And as much as I was enjoying my shallow victory, I couldn't decide which would be funnier: H&O covering GnR or the other way around.

Because your kiss (your kiss) is on my list...

Someone's Been Working Out.

Lee and friends from this summer's Warrior Dash.  Like the uniforms?  Yes, that's Green Lantern underwear... proof to my friend's 4th grader who claimed he was too old to wear comic underwear anymore.  Au contraire mon ami!  You are never too old. (Apparently.)

Not Even Possible

Doesn't seem right that we are parents of a Middle-Schooler and a High-Schooler.  Weren't they little kids once?  Didn't I used to actually carry little Yo around the block?  Didn't Habtamu have a high voice?  And why is he taller than me? (sigh)

Habtamu is doing very well in school.  He has several ELL (English Language Learning) classes with the same teacher, in a small class room.  This has really helped him get the attention and focus he needs.  He got mostly A's and B's and one C this last semester.  For being here only 4 and a half years, every one agrees that he is doing a fantastic job.  We are so proud of him and how hard he works. 

First day of 9th Grade:

Yordanos is also doing well in school.  She recently tested out of her extra reading help, and is now in mostly regular classes.  She is still in a special math program with a smaller class size and an EXCELLENT teacher who has made math her favorite class.  We want to encourage her to do her best, but not well enough to test out of this class. :) Just kidding.... kind of.

First day of 6th Grade:

Both are playing indoor soccer this winter.  Yo played soccer all fall. Habtamu played football, which is a post unto itself.  Habtamu tried out for basketball this year, but got cut early on.  He did not seem disappointed. I asked him how he felt about getting cut.  "Ok."  Really?  Why is that?  He shrugged, "I didn't know what I was doing. Can I still play soccer?"

Picking at a Scab

What is it with me?  Why do I pick and pick, when clearly it does NO good with teenagers.  Yes, that's right, teenagers. (Well, a teen and a tween.)  Anyhow, there is a child here that has gone through countless watches and headphones.  We find watch carcasses in very strange places.  When asked re: condition of said time-piece, we get genuine confusion as to what could POSSIBLY have happened.

This weekend, said child displayed a new pair of headphones (bought with child's own money - fool me once, and all that) broken off at the plug.  Later this weekend we received a set someone didn't want, and this child claimed a right to it.  Oh, no, we said, this will go to the other child who has been using headphones for quite awhile with only one working side.You can take the one with one side working.

We look over later, and child has new headphones given by sibling (guilted into giving them), and is using them.  I can't say "them" because child was using ONE ear-bud, with the other one dangling.

People, I tried, I really did, but doesn't it beg the question... WHY?!  WHY?!  When you were only going to use one stinking ear-bud anyway would you.... oh, never mind.

And Then That One Time...

Here is a list of all the things we've been up to since, um, January...

Yeah, right.

Ok, I'm not even gonna apologize for "life" that got in the way, and punched this blog into last year. 

New blogs coming soon.

Happy Independence Day!

As I'm writing this, winter is just getting started.  It's January, but still no snow.  For your viewing pleasure, I present Yordanos, who, by the time you see this video, will probably be able to say what she's trying to say.

This was not my finest hour

Looking back through the blog I realized that we have not been diligent about posting the trials and tribulations of sending the children to public/private school. As I suspect is true in most families, we have one child who is soaring academically and the other who is struggling just to hang on. Needless to say, most of the drama surrounds the latter.
I go back and forth. On one hand, he's a boy with only 3 years in the States, thrown into the pit of 8th grade. His reading is low so 8th grade curriculum is going to be tough and we should cut him some slack. On the other hand, I feel there are skills he should have and that certain things should be sinking in by now that haven't. The most infuriating example is when he says, "But Dad, this is the first time I've ever seen this. You want me to remember it on the first try?" Everything inside me wants to scream "YES! That's called learning! Sometimes you only get one chance to learn things, and part of your education is to figure out how to do that!" And yet, I get it. Friction is a completely foreign concept. VietNam is a dot on the globe. Algebra is algebra no matter how old you are.
Unfortunately, conversations like the following are not terribly uncommon:

H: Dad, Can you print off the Amandments for me?
Me: What? It's bed time.
H: I know. I need to memorize the Amandments tomorrow.
Me: The Amandments?
H: Yes. The 10 Amandments.
Me: Commandments?
H: Yes. That's what I said. The first 10 commandments.
Me: Sigh... you could just look them up in your Bible.
H: It's hard to read that way.
Me: (Can't argue that...) Fine. I'll put them on your backpack for the morning.

Wife: Are you actually going to print them? He should have done that himself hours ago.
Me: Eh, no big deal.
Wife: Chump.

(Next day, dinner time)

H: Oh, Dad... you did it wrong.
Me: What are you talking about?
H: The thing you printed for me. It was wrong. I needed the 10 Amandments. (He holds up a sheet of paper)
Me: The Amendments? To the Constitution? Yeah... those are different.
H: That's what I said the first time. The ten amendments. I need to memorize them.
Wife: Chump.

(Note to readers, this is not an accent thing. This often happens with words longer than three syllables. This child feels, or has learned, that if he can get part of the word, that's usually close enough for native English speakers to fill in the blanks. He also gets really frustrated if you point it out, because you obviously know what he meant if you can correct him.)

So he hands me the list of 15 amendments... Then we go through each one and I explain what they mean. I try to make them interesting and understandable, but to me, it doesn't feel like anything is sticking.

Me: Ok, now it's your turn. Read the list to me.
H: Ok, I'll read the list.
silence
Me: Please read the list to me.
H: Why? I'm reading to myself.
Me: Because I want to hear you and it'll help you learn.
H: I can't pronounce some of these words.
Me: Exactly. That's why I'm here. I'll help you when you get stuck.
H: I can read it myself! (goes silent and stares at the paper again)
Me: Listen... you won't learn what you can't pronounce. That's why you need to learn how to say the words as well as what they look like.
H: Fine. Dad. Take the list and read the whole thing to me about 3 times.
Me: What? Why?
H: Then I'll learn what the words sound like.
Me: What? No, that's not how this is going to work.

(Big argument ensues...)

I start rhyming.
Me: Four. Warrant. Five. Silent.
H: Why are you doing that?
Me: It will help you remember them.
H: (genuinely baffled) No it won't.
Me: It can. If you can remember the most important word, then you can remember the rest.
H: No I can't. I don't need to know one word, I need to know the whole thing.
Me: You don't get it at all do you? You can't remember it because you're trying to remember the whole thing. There's about 6 words in each amendment you don't know. Work on the most important word. Amendment Fiiiive. Siiiiilent. Right to stay silent.
H: But then I'll get it wrong on the test because I won't have it memorized!!!

(Bigger argument ensues involving multiple family members)

H: You think I'm stupid!
Me: No, I think you don't have the skill to learn this quickly. Staring at that paper and calling it 'studying' isn't effective. I'm trying to teach you that blah blah daddy's character building speech blah blah life skills blah blah education blah blah
H: (silently stares at the list of amendments...)

Evening ends with yelling, door slamming, crying, and a child pounding on his bed with the covers pulled over his head. I calm down and go up to his bedroom.

Me: Rough one tonight, huh?
H: Leave me alone!
Me: Tomorrow will be better.
H: GO AWAY LEAVE ME ALONE!
Me: Yeah, I heard you. I still love you. I'll see you tomorrow.
H: I COULD GET A GUN AND SHOOT MYSELF!
Me: Well you're in luck! In America, you can! The second amendment states that you have the right to bear arms! I remembered that because I have two arms. Get it? Second? Two? Arms? Good night! I loooooove yooou!

Sorry folks... all I had left at that point was sarcasm.

Now before the internet calls DCFS, my son does not usually threaten to hurt himself. I 'joked it off' because that was not the time to have any kind of serious conversation. Tempers were still too high. But seriously, something's been bugging him this week and it's interesting (though that's not quite the word I'm looking for) that he still reverts to some of the behaviors we saw very early on. He hasn't told us what the root of the problem is yet, and we just end up fighting about the symptoms. Hopefully he'll open up, but he is growing up... Guess we'll see.

Tech Support for Schrodinger's Oven

My cell phone rings

Me: Hello, IT Support, this is Lee.
Habtamu: Hi Dad.
Me: Oh... Hi what's up?
H: I was calling to find out when you were coming home.
Me: 5 o'clock.
H: Ok. Do you know if the lasagna's done?
Me: What?
H: Is the lasagna done.
Me: I don't know. You're the one who is at home.
H: But I'm not in the kitchen and I can't tell if it's done.
Me: Ok, well is it in the oven?
H: I don't know.
Me: Well how am I supp...
H: YORDANOS! DAD WANTS TO KNOW IF THE LASAGNA IS IN THE OVEN!
Me: You know you could jus...
H: YORDANOS!
Me: sigh... (I happen to know the phone cord stretches to the kitchen)
H: DAD NEEDS TO KNOW IF THE LASAGNA IS IN THE OVEN!
(Muffled argument ensues)
H: No.
Me: No, what? It's not in the oven?
H: Yordanos says it is not in the oven.
Me: Did it used to be in the oven?
H: Yes. Mom told me to put it in and I did. We took it out to see if it was done, but we can't tell.
Me: Was the oven on?
H: Yes. I turned the oven on.
Me: What temperature is the oven set at?
H: I don't know, I'm not in the kitchen. YORDAN...
Me: Wait! How long has the lasagna been in the oven?
H: I don't know... like... maybe... 20 minutes?
Me: What time did you put it in? (Do you see what I did there?)
H: Like, 20 minutes ago dad. (Do you see how it didn't matter?)
Me: Ok, Ok... Um, is it hot?
H: What?
Me: Is. The. Lasagna. Hot?
H: YORDANOS! DAD WANTS TO KNO... (phone gets muffled)
H: She says it's boiling. Look, dad. I just want to know if dinner is ready.
Me: Sure.
H: When are you coming home?
Me: 10 minutes. Don't eat until I get there.
H: Ok. Bye. I love you.
Me: Love you too.

I get home and the "reheated" lasagna leftovers, which haven't even reached room temperature yet, are sitting on the oven. The oven is still running at 350 degrees. Neither child is in the kitchen. 3 minutes in the microwave and dinner is served.

Footnote: Erwin Schrodinger is famous for trying to figure out whether a (theoretical) cat in a box would be dead or alive without actually opening the box. Kind of like me trying to find out whether or not dinner was cooked without actually having any useful prior information.

Waking Up to My Two Favorite Words

I love days like today. Days where I think to myself, "Thank God I'm a parent." This morning I was woken up by the gentle tones of my son yelling "Make Me!" and a door slam. He only said it once, but it was with conviction. The kind of statement that makes me want to respond with shock and awe. I have no idea what conversation preceded his angry little show (a full 2 hours before I needed to be at work, I might add) other than my wife had said "Yes" right before he put on. Apparently that wasn't the right answer. Which confirms to me that Chris should have stuck to our usual policy of answering any question presented while we're still in bed (or before 9am on weekends) with a "No," but that's a lesser point.

And just to be clear, it was my bedroom door he was slamming.
My. Bedroom. Door.
Attack. Mode. Initiated.

Make Me!
Make Me? You're on!
All I knew at that moment was I really, REALLY wanted to make him. I was definitely up for the challenge. As God is my witness, I was going to make him. I had visions of how this was going to go down. I'd leap out of bed like a burning ninja. He'd turn to run but it would be too late. I'd drop him like an angry lion and pin him to the floor, breathing in his face. His eyes would be wide and scared as he realized how much his mistake was about to cost him. I'd get right in his face and say, "So you didn't think I could make you do it? What do you think now, smart guy?" And he'd cry, "Yes Dad, Yes! I'm so sorry! I'll do it, I'll do it!" Then I would march or drag him off and MAKE him do it. That's right. Don't mess with Daddy because he WILL make you. Lesson learned the hard way.

And if I had the slightest clue what he didn't want to make... I assure you would have made him do it. Fortunately for him, I kinda missed that part. So after fantasizing about Alpha Dogging my son, I decided that personal vindication wasn't worth ruining everyone's day... or even really worth getting out of bed. What was I going to do, grab him and yell, "Whatever it is you don't you want to do, you're gonna do it now Mr.!"? I heard Chris throw out an, "Oh No You Didn't!" from her side of the bed but I didn't see any follow up movement. That seemed like an appropriate retort, and luckily for him required no effort or cat-like reflexes on my part... that would have been a bloodbath. Because I'm telling you, I was going to make him.

Some day, he'll thank me for being lazy.

Ahh 13

Habtamu had his first shovelling job of the season and he made $20 yesterday afternoon!  I picked him up at 5:15pm, and before dinner he had spent $19.74.  So basically he shovelled nearly two hours for a shiny Trapper Keeper binder thingy, a root beer, and a quarter.  Remember those days?
What is wrong with kids today?  They should be investing their money in comicbooks and graphic novels like I did!  *eyeroll*

Merry Christmas Like a Boss

 

We have three cats that take pot shots at ornaments on the Christmas tree and act like they're king of the jungle.  Then there's Murray who actually brought us TWO Christmas presents this year. He's so thoughtful.  The tricky part is getting him to drop it... 

For the record, a while back I saw him swat a bat out of the air.  He's the only surface-to-air cat I've ever known.  And yes, his eyes glow like that when he's in hunt mode.  He's just that awesome.

Rico, our Grinchy, child-hating feline, has been camping out under the Christmas tree, hissing and swatting at any kids who come by to sniff around their presents.  So I guess he's been kind of our Christmas Day insurance policy.  The other two cats have been completely useless unless you count 'permanent bed warmer' as a job.

The kids aren't fairing much better today.  The change in routine that comes with vacation time combined with Christmas anticipation is really throwing them off.  We were talking to some other parents at church tonight about how both our kids had been sent to their rooms today.  Yo heard the conversation and wanted everyone to know that she had only gone *once,* knowing that her brother couldn't say the same. Habta has been all over the emotional map today.  It could just be jitters and too much screen time, but we're kind of thinking that the MSG from the mountain of Chinese food we had last night might have something to do with it.  He rarely gets crabby right after eating, and for three meals we've been working down those leftovers and his mood swings.  If we're right, it could explain some things.  We also watched a movie tonight where a father and his teenage son deal with the death of their wife/mother.  I swear I had no idea that was going to be a plot point.  I'm sure THAT had nothing to do with it...

On a lighter note, the kids got to open one present each tonight, of mama's choosing.  They were unwrapped with a squee, because who wouldn't want pink panda one-piece footed pajamas ??? and a slow and low "These are awe-some" from the teen boy who can now dream of Chuck Norris in his new camouflage flannels. I'm sure Chuck sleeps in camos too.

So, what did you do today?

A lot, actually.

Cleaned the bathroom
Put dishes away from dishwasher
Washed other dishes
Took kids to school
Worked out
Did 3 loads of laundry
Cleaned inside of refrigerator
Finished 2 mittens
Helped one kid with math
Helped other kid with writing
Taught 2 children to knit
Made quesadillas
Put dishes away from dishwasher (yes, again)
Got lunch stuff ready for kids

I think it's time for bed.

Generations

My grandmother on my mom's side was an artist. She was actually much more than this, but for the sake of introduction, I'll just say she painted a lot. As a life long painter, she had her style, her preferences, and definitely some phases (or periods as the artsy types call them) which are kind of cool to look back on.

To say she was a driving force in the family would be an understatement. Whether intentional or not, she knew how to build a legacy. When she died, she left a room full of paintings, volumes of poetry, two generations of singers and musicians, and multiple grandchildren and great-grandchildren named after her (I can name 4, but there's probably more.) I've always been glad that my wife got to meet her, and saddened that my kids will only know of her through her impact on me, and will never meet her in person. I suspect they would have gotten along very well and would have had a lot to talk about.

I remember that after she died, everyone in the extended family got at least one piece of her artwork. There was a lot to choose from and if I remember right, the rules were pretty simple. Since she did a lot of portraits, if you were in it, you got it. Then her children picked their favorite(s.) Then the grandchildren could squabble over whatever was left from oldest to youngest. After all was said and done, my uncle kept the rest and made something of a showroom in his basement. A couple months ago we were at that uncle's condo and I actually got to peruse the 'gallery of leftovers.' There was all kinds of stuff that either I had never seen, or had completely forgotten about. Half way across the room I spotted a painting and said, "Looks like grandma knew something before the rest of us." Yo was kind enough to pose and prove my point.

Suspicions confirmed, they would have gotten along famously.

I don't know anything about this painting or when or why my grandmother decided to put it on canvas. I just know that if you're in it, you get it. I also know that I would have stiff armed my uncle and ran out of there with that painting if I thought I could fit it in the car.