8lbs 4oz, healthy.  Long labor, lots of work for my wife (natural birth :) ).  I just tried to help out and be supportive.  Truly inspiring to be a part of.  Moving, bonding experience.  My wife is awesome.  And of course, there’s the wonderful prize at the end:

But don’t you worry my 3 (1?) loyal reader, there will be more video game/comic rambles.  Eventually.  No self-defenestrations, please.

ANYWAY.

So the boys are trading/passing a weird little sickness that seems to consist of one fit of intense vomiting, then some tiredeness, then maybe some unfriendly syrupy diarrhea two days later.  But in between all that they are mostly fine (just slightly weird appetites).  So where was I?  Right.  The vomit.  #2 started throwing up in the car on our way to the park today (it was really sad!  Poor guy :( ) and we’d been coasting lately on the preparedness thing so did not have an anti-vomit kit and such in the car… so we cleaned him all up with some old (but clean!  to start…) bedcovers that we were going to give to Goodwill.  And the car well… that took more effort, later.

Anyway.  Skip ahead an hour or two.

Water emanation in basement.

Nothing to wipe it up with… oh hey there’s those old bedcovers that are already ruined and not particularly wet, just reeking of sickly sweet vomit (mostly milk, I think).  So yeah, I’ll use those to mop up as much of this brackish water as I can.

Anyway, it stunk. Stinks.  Blerf.  There’s still some water left.  And it kind of smells like vomit.

On the bright side, I installed a new garbage disposal all by my damn self last week.  Because the old one broke.  SIGH.  BUT STILL.  I plumbed.  Again.  It’s maybe the only homeowner thing I am not terrible at.

Them liking songs is nothing new, but it is rare that they choose a song I’m playing.  My wife does the vast majority of the trucking the kids around, so they hear mostly music she’s playing (which also happens to be music I like – but it’s not quite the same).   This is probably for the best – because my wife is much, much better with song lyrics than me.  I can sing along when a song is playing but, unless I go out of my way to memorize something, the lyrics don’t stick with me.  Even songs I’ve known for decades!

My boys do have good taste: Modern Man/Arcade Fire, Heads Will Roll/YeahYeahYeahs, Frank Sinatra/Cake (“Franken Otra daddy!), The Cave/Mumford and Sons, Story of My Life/Social Distortian, Lisztomania/Phoenix.  It helps that they don’t have much (any?) exposure to music we don’t like ;)… yet.

I try and find a common thread behind the songs they like and I haven’t yet.  Having lyrics they can identify and sing seems to help, as does mentioning trains or cars.

Bonus!  I found two cool covers of Downbound Train while digging for a youtube link:

Raul Malo (of the Mavericks):

www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0Sr6EeIr-4

The Cardigans:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPfAzBtOHTU

Let’s take a look at the lyrics (because I LOVE lyrics, even if I can’t remember them to save my life).

I had a job, I had a girl
I had something going mister in this world
I got laid off down at the lumber yard
Our love went bad, times got hard
Now I work down at the carwash
Where all it ever does is rain
Don’t you feel like you’re a rider on a downbound train

She just said “Joe I gotta go
We had it once we ain’t got it any more”
She packed her bags left me behind
She bought a ticket on the Central Line
Nights as I sleep, I hear that whistle whining
I feel her kiss in the misty rain
And I feel like I’m a rider on a downbound train

Last night I heard your voice
You were crying, crying, you were so alone
You said your love had never died
You were waiting for me at home
Put on my jacket, I ran through the woods
I ran till I thought my chest would explode
There in the clearing, beyond the highway
In the moonlight, our wedding house shone
I rushed through the yard, I burst through the front door
My head pounding hard, up the stairs I climbed
The room was dark, our bed was empty
Then I heard that long whistle whine
And I dropped to my knees, hung my head and cried

Now I swing a sledge hammer on a railroad gang
Knocking down them cross ties, working in the rain
Now don’t it feel like you’re a rider on a downbound train

Solid, right?  I’ve recently started trying to play it on guitar for the kids, and it gives me chills when I really sink into the words. Especially as they come full circle…

I have an admission to make.  *looks around*

I learned something from a youtube comment today.

I know, “the shame!?”, right?

I never connected the fact that the speaker’s lover left him on a train to the fact that he winds up working on train tracks – presumably for the same line.  I mean, I was aware of both points… I just never connected them for the irony.

Bonus!  How many knew that this song was originally recorded in the Nebraska sessions?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_YlOD292Jc

I think it would have fit right in there, but I’m much happier with it on Born in the USA… Nebraska I don’t listen to so often, not unless I want to be depressed.  USA has enough of everything that I can enjoy it in just about any mood.

… and also from us in general :).

If it were easier to take your own pictures… it would be easier.

Happy holidays, etc.!

A post of Rachel’s got me thinking about a day I both wish I could never remember and hope I will never forget.  OK, it wasn’t the post so much as the comments which evolved (devolved?) into a brief “worst things I’ve done as a parent” discussion.

What happened wasn’t so much a direct failure of parenting as a failure to prepare, but it still falls under that heading.

We had just moved into our new house.  We’d been there (here) less than a month.  We weren’t used to everything yet.  We hadn’t yet realized how loose the basement door is. Loose in the sense of: when you push it shut, you can just as easily push it open.  Hence the latch & bolt up on the top of the door.  We always, always use that now…  Excuses.

So our oldest (Jen was pregnant with #2) – he was about 15 months at the time – was wandering around in the kitchen, and slipped by me, and put his weight on the door.  Which was not latched.  And then proceeded to fall, hit the stairs (hard wood, no carpeting), flip over (I think… that part is kind of hazy, it all went so fast), hit his head again, then slide (quickly, faster than I could move) down the stairs, head first, hitting his little head at each step along the way, then strike the bottom – hard cement – with audible THUNK.

My world stopped.  Everything slowed down, in the bad way.  I’m pretty sure I screamed like a girl.  I was afraid that he was dead, dying, brain damaged… anything and everything.  I ran down the stairs as fast as I could – this is simultaneous with the shrieking and thinking the above – and heard Jen coming from wherever she was – and grabbed him up off the ground.  There wasn’t any blood.  I can’t remember if he was crying now or eerily calm.  I just can’t.  We rushed up the stairs and out the door in whatever we were wearing and jumped into the car.  The nearest hospital is a few miles away – at least a 20 minute drive under normal conditions.  I ran every single red light, and passed everyone I could possibly pass.  I’ve never driven that wildly (while still paying attention to not getting hit mind you – I’m not that crazy) before.  And hopefully never will again.

In the e-room, he wound up getting a catscan (or whatever it’s called, the head scanner thing) and everything was ok.  He had a big egg of a bump on his head for a while.  Evidently toddlers are really sturdy.

I never want to feel that way again.  Which, of course, means that I never want a reason to feel like that again. I don’t know what I would have done if we had lost him.  I don’t know how parents survive the death of their children – especially the young ones.  I can’t – won’t – watch anything about kids dying, getting kidnapped, molested, WHATEVER because it’s impossible for me not to empathize to some degree.  Hell, I don’t even want to talk about it.  As I mentioned in another post, the size and shape of my heart was changed with each birth.  Evidently the new shape is much less effective at retaining tears than the previous one.

Because I’m anal.  I know, I know,  books for kids don’t have to be perfect – but they should make some kind of vague effort, right?  Especially one from such an illustrious (…or not) franchise as this one.

So, I’m presenting here the entire text of the book (hopefully not breaking any laws since I’m not providing the pictures, and since this is uh… artistic something or other), along with my editing suggestions and general commentary.

You may or may not find this amusing, but let it stand as a warning:

Read a book 10 or 15 times out loud in the store before you buy it.
Or else.
-God

Also, this is just a first pass done in anger by a guy with no editorial training.  I’m sure if they spent some actual money on this, the result would be more kid friendly and less damaging to adults.

Line breaks are for page breaks.
My correction suggestions are in bold, my random notes are in red italics.
Your imagination will have to provide the visuals of me digging my eyes out.

———————————————————————————————-

This is George.
He was a good little monkey and always very curious.
Today George and his friend the man with the yellow hat joined Mrs. Gray and her class on their field trip to the fire station.
Everything’s good so far – monkey goes on field trip with class, got it.  Fire station – lots of things to learn there, sounds good!  Although, “good little monkey” and “curious” do seem like an odd juxtaposition…

The fire chief was waiting for them right next to a big red fire truck.  “Welcome!” he said, and he led everyone upstairs to begin the tour.
Whu wha?  He didn’t even bother to explain what a fire truck is, or what it does?  K!

There was a kitchen with a big table, and there were snacks for everyone.  The fire chief told them all about being a firefighter.  George tried hard to pay attention, but there were so many things for a little monkey to explore.  Like that shiny silver gold pole in the corner…
Where did that pole go?  George was curious.
The pole is BLATANTLY GOLD, not silver. Yes, it is stripper pole colored.
Why put ellipsis there?  USUALLY the book puts them at the end of a page, and it sort of makes sense in that you ask it and the child thinks about it while you turn the page.  In this case, it’s right in the middle of the page.
Oh, and note that it doesn’t say jack shit about what a fireman actually does.  As far as the kids listening know, they feed you apples and lead you from one room until the next.  Sure, you find out more later, but if the dude is supposedly talking about it – he might as well talk about it.  Also, we’re never told or shown that George eats an apple, but later we’re assumed to know this.

Why, it went back downstairs!  There was the great big fire truck.  There was  also a map of the city. Aand there was a whole wall full of coats and hats and big black boots!
What am I?  A stereotypical 80 year old granny?  Hell, I don’t even think grannies talk like this anymore.  Let’s not teach our kids idiotic and nonfunctional, dated grammar k?
You didn’t mention that the fire truck was “great big” before, just “big”, so it doesn’t really fly with the definite article here.
Let’s try to avoid starting sentences with “and” too ok?  I know, I know, “real” writers can do it in “real” book – but neither of those cases apply here.

George had an idea.  First, he stepped into a pair of boots.
Next, he picked out a helmet.
And, finally, George put on a jacket.
He was a firefighter!
Suddenly … BRRRIINNGG!
Really?  Ellipsis after “suddenly” ??? No.  They are doing conflicting things here, mmk?

The firefighters all rushed in.
“This is not my helmet!” said one.
“My boots are too big!” said another.
“Hurry!  Hurry!” called yelled the fire chief.  A bright red light on the map of the city told him just where the fire was.  There was no time to waste!
He’s like 5 feet away from them, “calling” makes no sense.  And WTF is up with “just where the fire was” – again with the granny text!  The book is copyright 2004 and only on the 3rd printing – so, MODERNIZE BITCHES!
Also, note that they tell us that “all” of the firefighters are present.  I think this is pretty important…considering they leave a teacher and a man who wears yellow latex and has a pet monkey in a fire station with a bunch of kids and no supervision!

One by one, the firefighters jumped into the fire truck.
And so did George jumped in after them!
Yeah, that construction is just awkward after a “one by one” anyway, not to mention the whole starting a sentence with “and” again…  You like how I followed their style of sticking an exclamation point at the end of non-dialogue?  Description can yell too!!

The fire truck with all the firefighters sped out of the firehouse.
And so did George hung on tight!
The siren screamed and the lights flashed.
What. The.  Deuce.  George sped out of the firehouse?  Under his own power?  Uh-uh, George did jack shit as far as speeding goes, that little bitch rode the fire truck like everyone else.  Also, note that they pointed out that all the firefighters are in the truck again – even though a car full of firefighters is clearly visible following them.  Artists and writers – you know it’s ok to talk to each other right? *FACEPALM*

The truck turned right.  Then it turned left.
“WHOO WHOO WHOO” went the whistle, and George held on tight.
Wow, exciting stuff there, turning right and left.  *yawn*  Z does like the whistle sound though.  Probably just because I’m an awesome whoo whoo-er.  They really could have just put in a few more lines of truck noises, or maybe oh, I don’t know, mentioned that the truck was driving to the fire?

Soon the fire truck and all the firefighters pulled up to a pizza parlor on Main Street.  Smoke was coming out of a window in the back, and a crowd was gathering in the street.
“Thank goodness you’re here!” cried said the cook.
Again with telling us that the children are relatively unsupervised in a fire station full of powerful hoses, axes, rubber clothing and two potentially questionable adults.

The firefighters rushed off the truck and started unwinding their hoses.  They knew just what to do.  And George was ready to help. George climbed the hose reel, pausing briefly defecate on the side of the truck.
He climbed up the hose reel …
“They knew just what to do?”  WHICH WAS WHAT?  If you’re not going to show me (which they don’t – whatever the fire men do is off scene) then PLEASE, PLEASE tell me!
Also note that the firemen (and women!) are running out the door with the wrong gear on, or no gear at all – I’m guessing that would get them fired and/or seriously injured.  K!

One of the firefighters saw George trying to help getting in the way, and so he took George by the arm and led him out of the way away from the truck.
“A fire is no place for a monkey!” he said to George.   “You stay here where it’s safe.”
George felt terrible.
Why did George feel terrible?  What is a child supposed to take from this?

George sat on the bench and looked around.  Next to him on the ground was a bucket full of balls.  George reached in and took one out.  It fit in his hand just right, like the apple he’d had for a snack.
Um.  You probably shouldn’t reach into strange buckets of balls.  Especially ones left alone next to a park bench.  Note the reference to the apple snack we didn’t realize George had – and the extreme oddness of saying how well it fit his hand.

A little girl was watching George.  He tried to give her the ball, but she was too frightened.
George took another ball. And, then another.
“Look,” a boy said. , “T that monkey is juggling!”
Just bad formatting and awkward sentences.

The boy took a ball from the cage and tossed it to George, but it went too high.
George climbed scrambled up onto the fire truck to get it.
Ok, this one always blows my mind – because I’m simple like that.  THERE IS NO CAGE!  It’s totally like the Matrix and shit.  Also, “George climbed” has no kind of sense of speed, you couldn’t just amble your way up a truck and still manage to catch a flying ball!

Now George had four balls to juggle.  He threw the balls higher and higher.  He juggled with his hands.  He juggled with his feet.  He could do all kinds of tricks!
It seems for something like “all kinds of tricks”, one would need to do more than two variations on a single trick.

The boy threw another ball to George.  George threw a ball back to the boy.  The little girl reached down and picked up a ball, too.  Soon all the children were throwing and catching, back and forth.
Annoying, but better than most of the other pages.

The fire chief came to tell everyone that the fire was out.  Just then, the little girl laughed and said, “Look, Mommy–a fire monkey!”
Something weird about the story is the mysterious pair of mother and daughter on the park bench.  Instead of oh, I don’t know – taking her daughter somewhere else!  The mother casually sits on the bench and lets her daughter watch a fire.  Now, true this is probably exactly what would happen in real life – but you want to at least try to teach kids the smart thing right?

“Hey!” called the fire chief.  “What are you doing up there?”
“What a wonderful idea,” the little girl’s mother said to the fire chief. , “B bringing this brave little monkey to help children when they’re frightened.”
“Oh,” the fire chief said.  “Well, er, thank you.”
I guess I’ll let “called” fly here, since he’s more than 5 feet from the monkey. The writers (evidently it took two – one must be the illustrator, I hope.  Then again, maybe it’s all random cut and paste, that would make sense too) really need to work on their dialogue formatting.

Before long the fire truck was back at the After putting out the fire, george and the firemen climbed back onto the truck and rode back to the firehouse., where When they arrived, a familiar voice called, “George!”  It was the man with the yellow hat.
“This little monkey had quite an adventure,” said one of the firefighters.
“Is everyone all right?” asked Mrs. Gray.
“Before long”!?  Again with the bizarrogrannyworld terms.  Also, when you use “before long” it needs some kind of a preexisting condition that would uh, I dunno, imply that something was happening to predicate the situation that occurs afterwards.  I’m not going to try and come up with a sentence though, because just thinking about using it gives me the Alzheimers.
Also, they passed up a great chance to use a semicolon!  For shame.

“Yes, it was just a small fire,” said the fire chief.  “And George was a big help.”
Now the field trip was coming to an end.
But there was one more treat in store…
Now it was time to go, so Mrs. Gray started rounding up the children.  Just as she wrestled the last axe away from a bleeding child  the fire chief stopped her – he had one more treat!
Really?  Just a small fire?  Then why did you take the entire fucking fire crew?  Is that SOP?  Maybe it is… probably not when a bunch of school children are running around in your firehouse though. Those last two sentences are just so awkward. Mine aren’t much better, but at least they look like I finished high school.

All t The children got to take a ride around the neighborhood on the shiny red fire truck, and they all got their very own fire helmet.  Even George!  And it was just the right size for a brave little monkey.
Yeah, I could have done more here, but can’t bear to look at the words anymore.

[Warning: May contain mush and cheese.  Viewers may not want to have full stomachs.]

So right, “duh” right? It changes everyone. This I know, but some of the changes are more interesting, from an internal perspective, than others.

When each of my sons were born, there was a noticeable “cracking” of something internal.  I’d like to think it’s my “reservoir of love” (cheesy as fuck I know, but roll with me here crowning crowd) growing – I never thought I’d have enough to love my family as much as I do.  OK that sounds weird, but I’ll elaborate a little if you can hold your stomachs:

I love my wife more every day.  Seriously.  No BS.  Each day we continue to survive ( ;) ) together the bonds binding me to her grow thicker and tighter.  Every so often I’m like “Seriously?  I can love anyone this much?  How is there room in my heart?”  – and that has continued for years.

Then Z came and I was like “Wow, there’s room to love him immensely as well.”  Truthfully I was kind of surprised, because I’m not sure how that all fits in here.  And now with M…even more.  I look at them and sometimes it’s like I’m exploding; it’s hard to focus on it without being overwhelmed.

Something like an actualization of the old alchemical/Biblical metaphor of the “refiner’s fire”.

As a side effect of that I suspect, I’m much more prone to emotional response in general. This one is a bit more visible as I know Jen has commented on it as well.  I’m much more susceptible to stupid cheese moments with children in movies/tv. NO that doesn’t mean I’ll watch them on purpose, but if I happen to accidentally catch the death/harm/kidnapping/etc. of a child on something I’m more likely to be visibly affected.  This is kind of annoying at times, as most of the tripe really isn’t worth the emotional output.  But you know what – I’m ok with it. No need to be trapped in outdated 50s masculinity metaphors – I can cry and still kick your fucking ass if need be.  Maybe even while I’m crying.  But I’ll also be laughing at you.

What else?

Well, I have more patience that I would have thought humanly possible 10 years ago.  Things that I know would have drove me crazy years ago now just roll off (lack of sleep, son smashing your groin over and over and over and over, kids’ toy & general messes,  lack of free time, various marital scuffles, etc.).  Not to say I don’t get annoyed or bitchy – because the stress level has ratcheted up pretty damn high as well, but I can notice the difference internally at least.

My pain tolerance seems to have gone up as well, but I suspect that’s a side effect of the patience – or maybe just repeated injury.

I can sleep in stranger places.  Chairs, weird angles on couches.  Floors (true – sometimes I have to lay down on the floor next to Z’s crib to get him to go to sleep & I have to be careful not to get stuck in there for more than a few minutes or I’m likely to be gone as well).  When I catch myself falling asleep mid-word while reading to Z  I have to crack up a little.

Mostly it’s the love that amazes me though.  What will 3 or 4 children be like?  Equally incomprehensible I suspect.  Maybe we’ll find out.

M is so tiny…even the briefest exposure of the two simultaneously to my perception field has forever warped/awakened it.  Z is now huge!

I’m like, expecting him to start job hunting any day; it’s creepy.

It seems like it’s only been a day…somehow the time went by REALLY fast.  He’s extra adorable, although not much on personality yet – although, if things can be read into it, he does seem somewhat levelheaded in the sense that it only cries if he needs something.  IE we’ve lucked out and figured out what he’s needed thus far ;).

Back to work tomorrow…that’s going to be strange and annoying.  I’ve got 2 more days off I can (and will) take off this month, and I don’t work Mondays, so it’s not that bad.  Bethany is here keeping Jen company for a week, so that helps too.

And the beat(s!) go on.

Yes.  He REALLY looks like his brother.