Sunday, September 28, 2008

communication

I took some time off from blogging. Life threw a couple curveballs at me, so frequent updates to this blog had to take a back seat for a little while.

At Kai's two year checkup, he weighed in at 31.5 pounds and 36 inches tall. The doctor said he may be speaking two to three words at a time, and climbing on everything. Kai speaks in full and complete sentences containing seven or more words, using past and present tense verbs, using personal pronouns like "I" and "you." He regularly sings entire nursery rhymes by himself. He is the great communicator - Reagan would be proud.

The cut is healing, and hopefully there won't be much scarring, for any of us.

I'm moonlighting now - bartending weekend nights at a bar downtown. The wine distributor job is blossoming as well. As we head into prime season the hard work I did over the slow summer months will begin to pay off. Things are kicking into high gear, and I couldn't be happier.

So many stories to tell from the two jobs. Let's just say that common sense is still uncommon, and ignorance is running rampant. I'm busier than I've ever been with work, and I'm probably going to just get busier. And more tired. I'm teaching my body to run on 5 hours of sleep. It's not easy, but it's worth it.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

e.r.

I'm driving down I-4 when the phone rings. It's Erin.

"I'm just calling to let you know that I'm taking Kai to the emergency room."

To say I nearly died would be an understatement. I found out where Erin was headed and immediately ran into an impenetrable traffic jam. Maintaining my composure, I navigated the backroads as quickly as possible to Kai's destination. I was nearly sick to my stomach the entire ride.

The cut was deep and the tears were real. About an inch above his right eye, an inch-long and quarter-inch deep cut revealed the blood-red muscle fibers below. The bleeding and his tears had temporarily subsided. Mine had just started.

From kai turner


The staff at Winter Park Memorial Hospital was extremely accommodating. One of the volunteers got Kai a popsicle, which is definitely the most sugary-sweet thing he's ever tasted. But I figured, a trip to the hospital was grounds for lifting the sugar-ban. He tasted it hesitantly, and pronounced it "cold." And then, "tastes good." After every bite, he uttered "tastes good."

The nurse found us a room with a TV, perhaps best for everyone in the building. The doctor took one look and said we didn't need stitches, just "superglue." Apparently, modern technology has replaced traditional stitches with some kind of glue for less-severe lacerations.

Kai was simply playing with Isaac and tripped, as toddlers are known to do. I guess it was bound to happen. Cuts and bruises are a part of life for little boys. But it's little solace.

I guess it's just as much a rite of passage for parents as it is for toddlers.

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