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You Know What I Mean
6 days ago
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Creation Myths
Myself, Littleman and Electra (our cat) are having a snack in the kitchen.
Littleman: "Where did the first people come from?"
Me: "You mean the very first people anywhere?"
Littleman: "Yeah."
Me: "That's a good question." I'm impressed- I guess he's figured out that people come from people, so the first people present a bit of a puzzle. It's the old 'chicken and egg' conundrum. "No one knows for sure", I tell him, "but there are a lot of good ideas."
Littleman: "Like what?"
Me: "Well, there's evolution, for instance. One idea is that before people, there were other animals on Earth- like monkeys. Over time, the monkeys changed little bit by little bit, becoming more and more like people. Eventually, after a really long time, the monkeys were more like people than monkeys. Those were the first people."
Littleman: Thinks about this, then nods. "Cool."
Me: "There are other ways of looking at it, though. You see, people have been trying to answer that question for a really long time. So over the years, different stories have been made up to help explain where the first people came from. A story that explains where people came from, and how the Earth was made, is called a 'creation myth'. Just about every religion on Earth has it's own idea of where we came from- it's own creation myth. The Christian religion believes that God made the first people. He made a man and a woman, named Adam and Eve, and they were the first people."
Littleman: Thinks some more. Nods again. "Oh." He seems satisfied with my explanation. "Well", he decides, "I think the first people were made by a bear."
Me: (a little stunned, then a little impressed) "That's a good creation myth."
Littleman: "Yep. But Electra thinks the first people were made by a cat."
Littleman: "Where did the first people come from?"
Me: "You mean the very first people anywhere?"
Littleman: "Yeah."
Me: "That's a good question." I'm impressed- I guess he's figured out that people come from people, so the first people present a bit of a puzzle. It's the old 'chicken and egg' conundrum. "No one knows for sure", I tell him, "but there are a lot of good ideas."
Littleman: "Like what?"
Me: "Well, there's evolution, for instance. One idea is that before people, there were other animals on Earth- like monkeys. Over time, the monkeys changed little bit by little bit, becoming more and more like people. Eventually, after a really long time, the monkeys were more like people than monkeys. Those were the first people."
Littleman: Thinks about this, then nods. "Cool."
Me: "There are other ways of looking at it, though. You see, people have been trying to answer that question for a really long time. So over the years, different stories have been made up to help explain where the first people came from. A story that explains where people came from, and how the Earth was made, is called a 'creation myth'. Just about every religion on Earth has it's own idea of where we came from- it's own creation myth. The Christian religion believes that God made the first people. He made a man and a woman, named Adam and Eve, and they were the first people."
Littleman: Thinks some more. Nods again. "Oh." He seems satisfied with my explanation. "Well", he decides, "I think the first people were made by a bear."
Me: (a little stunned, then a little impressed) "That's a good creation myth."
Littleman: "Yep. But Electra thinks the first people were made by a cat."
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
An afternoon several months ago
Wow, so I'm now posting monthly? Or just about. . . apologies, for my absence. (again). Been busy. Yadda etc. Sigh.
As busy as I have been however, I recently unearthed a reminder of how busy I am NOT. I happened to pick up my Sudoku (Yes, I Sudoku. When I can, anyway. It's relaxing- Try it.) book, and flipped through it. In the back, I found a hastily scribbled account of one afternoon a few months ago, when Babyman was still pretty brand new and Sweetcheeks was still potty training. I remember grabbing the handy Sudoku book to write it down, as a means of release and to remember the nitty gritty of daily life at that time. Here follows that record.
Mr. Sweetcheeks, who should be napping but isn't, dumps a large box of cards out while I am nursing Babyman. I am temporarily immobilized, so all efforts to get Sweetcheeks to clean them up are ignored. He wanders off.
Babyman poops in the fresh diaper that I'd just put on him, and then promptly falls into a sweet contented sleep that I am loathe to disturb. I lay Babyman down so I can get Sweetcheeks to clean up the cards. After one brief stint in time-out, we finally get that done.
Babyman begins to cry. At least I can change his diaper now.
Freshly diapered, I lay Babyman down awake. I'm folding laundry. Sweetcheeks wants to pet the baby. His hands are quite dirty- I tell him that if he wants to touch the baby, he must wash his hands first. He tries several times to pet the baby anyway, then finally agrees to wash his hands. We go to the bathroom, where he decides he wants to go potty. I help him remove his pants and diaper, and he manages to pee a few drops in the potty. Yea! I help him wash his hands. Babyman starts to cry, so I let Sweetcheeks stay naked the waist down. [note: I used to do this a lot, as it helped a great deal with the potty training. Most of the time, it went well.]
I go pick Babyman up; he poops. As I am changing his diaper, he poops twice more- and pees too, but I have a washcloth strategically placed so at least I don't get showered. Halfway through all this Sweetcheeks begins to scream. He's in the bathroom. He comes to me crying about his eyes, which (when I mange to get his hands away from them, all while in the midst of the ongoing baby diaper change) I see are covered in soap. It's ALL over his hands and eyes.
Babyman chooses this moment to pee again, and this time he sprays all over my shirt. I get Sweetcheeks to sit still and not touch his face while I finish putting a diaper on Babyman and lay him down, half-dressed, indignant and screaming.
I take Sweetcheeks to the bathroom to clean him up and doctor his eyes. Babyman screams.
I finish finally, and rush to pick up Babyman. He wants to nurse, so I settle in for that. Sweetcheeks comes in and lays on the floor to mope. Next thing I know I look over to see him rubbing baby's blanket on his naked penis. I scold, because he knows he isn't supposed to play with Babyman's things, and probably knows I wouldn't want him using them like that. He is maddeningly unrepentant, in such a way that leads me to believe the activity was intentional just to annoy me. I am temporarily immobilized nursing though, as he is well aware.
Sweetcheeks then comes over and stands next to me with his head in my lap. He says, "I wuv you, Mommy". I rub his head gently, telling him that I love him too, and I that I need his help- that even though I love taking care of them, it is hard work, and he needs to help by being a good boy and trying not to do things that he knows I will not like.
We all remain that way in companionable silence for just a few moments, when I hear a suspicious sound. Do I really smell pee?? I can't believe it. I wrack my brain for another explanation. It had sounded like a lot. I can't see over the baby to check, so finally I ask Sweetcheeks, "Did you just make pee pee on the floor?"
"Yes", he calmly replies.
AAAAAAAAAAAARGH! <<[That was just my mental reaction, luckily, along with a small internal explosion. I don't now remember what I actually said, but I bottled the explosion in until I could grab the nearest paper and writing instrument- sudoku book and pencil- to record my, er, difficult afternoon.
After reading this little bubble of memory, I actually felt quite grateful for my current tribulations with my boys. We've come a long way in 8 or so months!
* * *
Thumbs up tonight for the free online Sudoku puzzles!
As busy as I have been however, I recently unearthed a reminder of how busy I am NOT. I happened to pick up my Sudoku (Yes, I Sudoku. When I can, anyway. It's relaxing- Try it.) book, and flipped through it. In the back, I found a hastily scribbled account of one afternoon a few months ago, when Babyman was still pretty brand new and Sweetcheeks was still potty training. I remember grabbing the handy Sudoku book to write it down, as a means of release and to remember the nitty gritty of daily life at that time. Here follows that record.
Mr. Sweetcheeks, who should be napping but isn't, dumps a large box of cards out while I am nursing Babyman. I am temporarily immobilized, so all efforts to get Sweetcheeks to clean them up are ignored. He wanders off.
Babyman poops in the fresh diaper that I'd just put on him, and then promptly falls into a sweet contented sleep that I am loathe to disturb. I lay Babyman down so I can get Sweetcheeks to clean up the cards. After one brief stint in time-out, we finally get that done.
Babyman begins to cry. At least I can change his diaper now.
Freshly diapered, I lay Babyman down awake. I'm folding laundry. Sweetcheeks wants to pet the baby. His hands are quite dirty- I tell him that if he wants to touch the baby, he must wash his hands first. He tries several times to pet the baby anyway, then finally agrees to wash his hands. We go to the bathroom, where he decides he wants to go potty. I help him remove his pants and diaper, and he manages to pee a few drops in the potty. Yea! I help him wash his hands. Babyman starts to cry, so I let Sweetcheeks stay naked the waist down. [note: I used to do this a lot, as it helped a great deal with the potty training. Most of the time, it went well.]
I go pick Babyman up; he poops. As I am changing his diaper, he poops twice more- and pees too, but I have a washcloth strategically placed so at least I don't get showered. Halfway through all this Sweetcheeks begins to scream. He's in the bathroom. He comes to me crying about his eyes, which (when I mange to get his hands away from them, all while in the midst of the ongoing baby diaper change) I see are covered in soap. It's ALL over his hands and eyes.
Babyman chooses this moment to pee again, and this time he sprays all over my shirt. I get Sweetcheeks to sit still and not touch his face while I finish putting a diaper on Babyman and lay him down, half-dressed, indignant and screaming.
I take Sweetcheeks to the bathroom to clean him up and doctor his eyes. Babyman screams.
I finish finally, and rush to pick up Babyman. He wants to nurse, so I settle in for that. Sweetcheeks comes in and lays on the floor to mope. Next thing I know I look over to see him rubbing baby's blanket on his naked penis. I scold, because he knows he isn't supposed to play with Babyman's things, and probably knows I wouldn't want him using them like that. He is maddeningly unrepentant, in such a way that leads me to believe the activity was intentional just to annoy me. I am temporarily immobilized nursing though, as he is well aware.
Sweetcheeks then comes over and stands next to me with his head in my lap. He says, "I wuv you, Mommy". I rub his head gently, telling him that I love him too, and I that I need his help- that even though I love taking care of them, it is hard work, and he needs to help by being a good boy and trying not to do things that he knows I will not like.
We all remain that way in companionable silence for just a few moments, when I hear a suspicious sound. Do I really smell pee?? I can't believe it. I wrack my brain for another explanation. It had sounded like a lot. I can't see over the baby to check, so finally I ask Sweetcheeks, "Did you just make pee pee on the floor?"
"Yes", he calmly replies.
AAAAAAAAAAAARGH! <<[That was just my mental reaction, luckily, along with a small internal explosion. I don't now remember what I actually said, but I bottled the explosion in until I could grab the nearest paper and writing instrument- sudoku book and pencil- to record my, er, difficult afternoon.
After reading this little bubble of memory, I actually felt quite grateful for my current tribulations with my boys. We've come a long way in 8 or so months!
* * *
Thumbs up tonight for the free online Sudoku puzzles!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Back, and Skills to master
I'm back! It's been a disgraceful absence, as far as this blog is concerned. Sorry about that. What can I say? I've been having some trouble keeping up. (Just the simple logistics of everything I have to do.) Ho, hum.
Anyhow, I finally got my hands on a copy of A Thomas Jefferson Education from the library, and I finally finished reading it. I have a number of thoughts about it, but it's late and I need sleep. (OH, how I need sleep!) There is however, something I particularly wanted to share: a list in the book that's originally from the Harvard School of Law.
Harvard Skills
10 things deemed necessary for success in the job market of the 21st century
1) The ability to define problems without a guide.
2) The ability to ask hard questions which challenge prevailing assumptions.
3) The ability to quickly assimilate needed data from masses of irrelevant information.
4) The ability to work in teams without guidance.
5) The ability to work absolutely alone.
6) The ability to persuade others that your course is the right one.
7) The ability to conceptualize and reorganize information into new patterns.
8) The ability to discuss ideas with an eye toward application.
9 & 10) The ability to think inductively, deductively and dialectically.
I leave you with that this evening, because it is well worth pondering.
* * *
And, for fun!
http://www.wherethehellismatt.com
I've missed you all. I'll try not to stay away so long. :)
Anyhow, I finally got my hands on a copy of A Thomas Jefferson Education from the library, and I finally finished reading it. I have a number of thoughts about it, but it's late and I need sleep. (OH, how I need sleep!) There is however, something I particularly wanted to share: a list in the book that's originally from the Harvard School of Law.
Harvard Skills
10 things deemed necessary for success in the job market of the 21st century
1) The ability to define problems without a guide.
2) The ability to ask hard questions which challenge prevailing assumptions.
3) The ability to quickly assimilate needed data from masses of irrelevant information.
4) The ability to work in teams without guidance.
5) The ability to work absolutely alone.
6) The ability to persuade others that your course is the right one.
7) The ability to conceptualize and reorganize information into new patterns.
8) The ability to discuss ideas with an eye toward application.
9 & 10) The ability to think inductively, deductively and dialectically.
I leave you with that this evening, because it is well worth pondering.
* * *
And, for fun!
http://www.wherethehellismatt.com
I've missed you all. I'll try not to stay away so long. :)
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
We have your biopsy results back. . .
Wow.
I had an unexpected phone call today.
Actually I expected the call, it was the content that was a surprise.
Let me back up just a bit.
I am a very fair-skinned person. Fair skinned, dark haired and freckled all over. I sunburn easily and almost never tan. I live in the Southern USA, where the summers are hot and the sun is blazing. I grew up around here.
My husband has encouraged me many times to get a preventative check at a dermatologist, just to be sure none of my bazillion little moles and freckles have anything to do with skin cancer. I agreed, but since the only odd mark I could think of was a mole on my ear that appeared sometime in childhood, I figured if it hadn't killed me yet it wasn't likely to do so anytime soon. So I put the check-up on my mental back burner, until I finally got around to it last week.
They took a small sample of the odd mole for a biopsy, but didn't spot anything else particularly suspicious. They weren't actually too concerned about the sample either, but it was different enough to warrant a test. So anyhow, today they called to tell me the test results.
"Kit ___?"
"Yes, this is she."
"Hi this is Dr. ___'s office, just calling with your test results."
"Oh, OK!" (expectant pause)
"Could you hold just a moment please?"
That's where I thought, "Uh oh". Because if they have to go get the doctor to tell you the test results, you know they're not going to say that everything's just fine and dandy.
And well, it's not. But it's not that bad either. That wierdo little mole is actually basal cell carcinoma. It's the most common form of skin cancer, and it's usually easy to treat. It's almost never life-threatening. I'll be going back to their office in a week and a half or so to have the rest of the mole removed. Hopefully it doesn't go too deep, because I'd rather not look like someone took a bite out of my ear. ;)
It's an odd thing, to be told you have cancer. Thank heavens it's something small, common and easily treated. But it's still a knock upside one's complacency. As a friend teased (with typical good humor), "you KNOW you're getting old, when things start turning up cancerous!" 31 isn't old of course, but I do feel the differences in my body. We are not young forever, and while that does not bother me (there are aspects of my crone years that I quite look forward to) it's still mournful to feel youth slipping away.
Isn't it funny: no matter how trite or cliche a common wisdom or common experience may be, when you find yourself in the midst of that awakening, it is nevertheless fresh and raw to you?
However even though this shines a spotlight on my body's inexorable march through time, it is juxtaposed with a recent evening of joy, rhythm and dancing. We went to a drum circle in a nearby park, and I danced for hours. It felt SO GOOD! I haven't danced like that in years. I woke the next morning sore and spent in the best way possible- the kind of spent that replaces energy with peacefulness. That evening gives me fresh hope that I can hold onto some of the vigor and joy, the vitality of youth, even as I embark on adulthood. Perhaps it took a funny little mole to remind me how very important it is to cultivate one's own joy and vitality, even in the throes of other responsibilities. It's a small reminder for a small adjustment, but OH! What a difference it makes.
I had an unexpected phone call today.
Actually I expected the call, it was the content that was a surprise.
Let me back up just a bit.
I am a very fair-skinned person. Fair skinned, dark haired and freckled all over. I sunburn easily and almost never tan. I live in the Southern USA, where the summers are hot and the sun is blazing. I grew up around here.
My husband has encouraged me many times to get a preventative check at a dermatologist, just to be sure none of my bazillion little moles and freckles have anything to do with skin cancer. I agreed, but since the only odd mark I could think of was a mole on my ear that appeared sometime in childhood, I figured if it hadn't killed me yet it wasn't likely to do so anytime soon. So I put the check-up on my mental back burner, until I finally got around to it last week.
They took a small sample of the odd mole for a biopsy, but didn't spot anything else particularly suspicious. They weren't actually too concerned about the sample either, but it was different enough to warrant a test. So anyhow, today they called to tell me the test results.
"Kit ___?"
"Yes, this is she."
"Hi this is Dr. ___'s office, just calling with your test results."
"Oh, OK!" (expectant pause)
"Could you hold just a moment please?"
That's where I thought, "Uh oh". Because if they have to go get the doctor to tell you the test results, you know they're not going to say that everything's just fine and dandy.
And well, it's not. But it's not that bad either. That wierdo little mole is actually basal cell carcinoma. It's the most common form of skin cancer, and it's usually easy to treat. It's almost never life-threatening. I'll be going back to their office in a week and a half or so to have the rest of the mole removed. Hopefully it doesn't go too deep, because I'd rather not look like someone took a bite out of my ear. ;)
It's an odd thing, to be told you have cancer. Thank heavens it's something small, common and easily treated. But it's still a knock upside one's complacency. As a friend teased (with typical good humor), "you KNOW you're getting old, when things start turning up cancerous!" 31 isn't old of course, but I do feel the differences in my body. We are not young forever, and while that does not bother me (there are aspects of my crone years that I quite look forward to) it's still mournful to feel youth slipping away.
Isn't it funny: no matter how trite or cliche a common wisdom or common experience may be, when you find yourself in the midst of that awakening, it is nevertheless fresh and raw to you?
However even though this shines a spotlight on my body's inexorable march through time, it is juxtaposed with a recent evening of joy, rhythm and dancing. We went to a drum circle in a nearby park, and I danced for hours. It felt SO GOOD! I haven't danced like that in years. I woke the next morning sore and spent in the best way possible- the kind of spent that replaces energy with peacefulness. That evening gives me fresh hope that I can hold onto some of the vigor and joy, the vitality of youth, even as I embark on adulthood. Perhaps it took a funny little mole to remind me how very important it is to cultivate one's own joy and vitality, even in the throes of other responsibilities. It's a small reminder for a small adjustment, but OH! What a difference it makes.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
I am stealing a moment to type. Something, anything!
I am still sick. Babyman is still teething (and not really sleeping). We are back from a trip and before I know it we'll be leaving on another one. I can hardly keep up. And I miss blogging, but sleep (and the occasional shower) have precedence in the few moments I can take for myself.
Even though traveling with kids can be difficult, and preparation and unpacking almost always falls solely on my shoulders, I generally enjoy going on family trips and adventures. However: just for the record, I prefer fewer, longer trips. Lots of short yet involved trips in a short amount of time is tortuous. I can hardly catch my breath! This has been the summer of family reunions. We have no trips planned next month, and for once I am looking forward to that. Whew.
Anyhow, I have new pictures for you, and some baby/kid gear posts, and some stories to tell, and whatever else pops into my head. But right now I am going to try for a shower before Babyman wakes AGAIN.
* * *
But I'm not leaving before I give a solid thumbs-up to my newest favorite blog. Good writing. Imaginative. Funny and profound. It's all there! Enjoy.
I am still sick. Babyman is still teething (and not really sleeping). We are back from a trip and before I know it we'll be leaving on another one. I can hardly keep up. And I miss blogging, but sleep (and the occasional shower) have precedence in the few moments I can take for myself.
Even though traveling with kids can be difficult, and preparation and unpacking almost always falls solely on my shoulders, I generally enjoy going on family trips and adventures. However: just for the record, I prefer fewer, longer trips. Lots of short yet involved trips in a short amount of time is tortuous. I can hardly catch my breath! This has been the summer of family reunions. We have no trips planned next month, and for once I am looking forward to that. Whew.
Anyhow, I have new pictures for you, and some baby/kid gear posts, and some stories to tell, and whatever else pops into my head. But right now I am going to try for a shower before Babyman wakes AGAIN.
* * *
But I'm not leaving before I give a solid thumbs-up to my newest favorite blog. Good writing. Imaginative. Funny and profound. It's all there! Enjoy.
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