Dietrich, halfway through his first-ever Jamba Juice:
"I no like it."
"Why not?"
"Iz too swippery! Iz too hot!"
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Favorite Christmas moments
We've moved down to Southern California, and I'm re-living Christmas as I (finally) download pictures.
The quality of this photo isn't great, but I love the way all the grown-ups are standing expectantly in the back, waiting to see if the slide will be a hit.
Wouldn't go to sleep without his new baseball book. Still won't, actually.
Aunt Jit Fong and Uncle Sam introduce Dietrich to "Yo Gabba Gabba."
Yep, it was a hit. Thanks, Craig's list!
The quality of this photo isn't great, but I love the way all the grown-ups are standing expectantly in the back, waiting to see if the slide will be a hit.
Wouldn't go to sleep without his new baseball book. Still won't, actually.
Aunt Jit Fong and Uncle Sam introduce Dietrich to "Yo Gabba Gabba."
Yep, it was a hit. Thanks, Craig's list!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Glad that's over with
Exactly two years and three months ago, 3-day-old Dietrich's eye started to well over with tears, even when he wasn't crying. Since then, we've massaged his lacrimal tear duct once or twice a day, hoping that it would open up under the pressure of our fingers.
That didn't happen, so today Dietrich had himself a wee surgery to open the duct.
Oh my was I nervous -- more about the anesthesia than about the actual procedure. (Two little boys we love have recently had heart surgery, so we recognize not having to worry about the procedure as a blessing.)
We got there early, so we killed about 30 minutes watching Thomas and charming the nurses. I initialed the problem eye, and the nurse gave Dietrich a quick dose of a sedative. Within about 10 minutes, he was calm and drowsy. Time to say goodbye. We placed him in a cute red wagon, outfitted with a fluffy pillow and a heated blanket, told him we loved him, and headed out to the waiting room. Meanwhile, he got anesthetized and had rods of increasing sizes pushed down his tear duct.
We won't know for sure if the probing worked for six weeks or so, but the doctor felt confident that it had. "A textbook case," she said. In her after-surgery meeting with us, she accidentally referred to Dietrich as a girl, apologized, and then continued to refer to him as a girl about 10 more times. To avoid an embarrassing moment, I tried to refer to him only by gender-neutral terms, such as "kiddo" and "our little one." I was quite thankful that she didn't show such signs of absentmindedness before the procedure.
Next time we saw Dietrich, he was coming-to in the arms of a nurse. We cuddled in bed, I sang to him, and he slowly woke up. He seemed more perturbed by the vital-signs monitor wrapped around his big toe than by his eye. We were warned not to let him rub his eye, but he hasn't tried to do so yet. Way to be a model patient, Dietrich!
That didn't happen, so today Dietrich had himself a wee surgery to open the duct.
Oh my was I nervous -- more about the anesthesia than about the actual procedure. (Two little boys we love have recently had heart surgery, so we recognize not having to worry about the procedure as a blessing.)
We got there early, so we killed about 30 minutes watching Thomas and charming the nurses. I initialed the problem eye, and the nurse gave Dietrich a quick dose of a sedative. Within about 10 minutes, he was calm and drowsy. Time to say goodbye. We placed him in a cute red wagon, outfitted with a fluffy pillow and a heated blanket, told him we loved him, and headed out to the waiting room. Meanwhile, he got anesthetized and had rods of increasing sizes pushed down his tear duct.
We won't know for sure if the probing worked for six weeks or so, but the doctor felt confident that it had. "A textbook case," she said. In her after-surgery meeting with us, she accidentally referred to Dietrich as a girl, apologized, and then continued to refer to him as a girl about 10 more times. To avoid an embarrassing moment, I tried to refer to him only by gender-neutral terms, such as "kiddo" and "our little one." I was quite thankful that she didn't show such signs of absentmindedness before the procedure.
Next time we saw Dietrich, he was coming-to in the arms of a nurse. We cuddled in bed, I sang to him, and he slowly woke up. He seemed more perturbed by the vital-signs monitor wrapped around his big toe than by his eye. We were warned not to let him rub his eye, but he hasn't tried to do so yet. Way to be a model patient, Dietrich!
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Important life lessons from dad
Overheard: "Dietrich, tonight I'm going to teach you how to eat a candy bar."
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Regression
We trick-or-treated tonight. Dietrich, our little dinosaur, was totally into it. We thought we'd be lucky to get 30 minutes out of the little guy, but we stumbled home, exhausted, more than two hours after we left.
And that's when I regressed. When my brother and I were younger, we meticulously sorted our Halloween candy, dividing it up by type, counting, trading and otherwise commoditizing the free loot. Once I saw the big bowl of candy that Dietrich brought home, I couldn't help myself. I present, to you, our take (though I imagine only Sam will care).
9 mini hershey bars
1 full-size hershey bar
2 kit kats
7 nestle crunches
7 bags plain m & m’s
4 bags peanut m & m’s
2 three musketeers
4 baby ruths
8 butterfingers
6 reeses cups
2 bags skittles
1 milky way
1 take five
1 twix
1 heath bar
1 charleston chew
1 heath bar
1 almond joy
1 gummy body part (sadly, we can't tell which part)
3 jolly ranchers
2 sweettarts (but one was open and hence got tossed)
1 laffy taffy
1 starburst
1 box nerds
2 tootsie roll pops
1 box red raspberry dollars
1 bag runts
1 air head
1 disney high school musical milk chocolate flavored strawberry pop rockin’ candy
consumed on the road or shared with grandpa
1 tootsie roll pop
1 charleston chew
1 kit kat
1 tootsie roll
1 full-size bag m & m’s
1 box whoppers
1 butterfinger
(I think we showed great restraint.)
Anyone want to trade?
For those of you who aren't so interested in the various forms that our Halloween goodies took, here's a treat: Our little dinosaur. Or toucan, according to one mask-wearing celebrant.
As Dietrich would say: "Happy Ween!"
And that's when I regressed. When my brother and I were younger, we meticulously sorted our Halloween candy, dividing it up by type, counting, trading and otherwise commoditizing the free loot. Once I saw the big bowl of candy that Dietrich brought home, I couldn't help myself. I present, to you, our take (though I imagine only Sam will care).
9 mini hershey bars
1 full-size hershey bar
2 kit kats
7 nestle crunches
7 bags plain m & m’s
4 bags peanut m & m’s
2 three musketeers
4 baby ruths
8 butterfingers
6 reeses cups
2 bags skittles
1 milky way
1 take five
1 twix
1 heath bar
1 charleston chew
1 heath bar
1 almond joy
1 gummy body part (sadly, we can't tell which part)
3 jolly ranchers
2 sweettarts (but one was open and hence got tossed)
1 laffy taffy
1 starburst
1 box nerds
2 tootsie roll pops
1 box red raspberry dollars
1 bag runts
1 air head
1 disney high school musical milk chocolate flavored strawberry pop rockin’ candy
consumed on the road or shared with grandpa
1 tootsie roll pop
1 charleston chew
1 kit kat
1 tootsie roll
1 full-size bag m & m’s
1 box whoppers
1 butterfinger
(I think we showed great restraint.)
Anyone want to trade?
For those of you who aren't so interested in the various forms that our Halloween goodies took, here's a treat: Our little dinosaur. Or toucan, according to one mask-wearing celebrant.
As Dietrich would say: "Happy Ween!"
Thursday, October 30, 2008
It's all relative
While we were in Southern California last week, we got to check out our next home -- a back house in the historic section of Whittier. The property is owned by a family at our church in La Mirada, and we are not, by any means, the first people we know to live there. We've been to at least three gatherings at the little cottage, and each time the renters have been a different couple from our church. It's young-family approved.
The first time I set foot in the cottage, five or so years ago, I instantly wanted to live in it. It's old (historic!) with interesting angles, groovy built-in cabinets and tall windows.
I also remember thinking that it was very small. But, now that we've spent about a month living in a trailer, a one-bedroom cottage seems spacious indeed.
I also had never noticed the washer/dryer, the rows of built-in drawers or the space out back for a garden.
Isn't it fun to see how the Lord provides? I'm enjoying it.
The first time I set foot in the cottage, five or so years ago, I instantly wanted to live in it. It's old (historic!) with interesting angles, groovy built-in cabinets and tall windows.
I also remember thinking that it was very small. But, now that we've spent about a month living in a trailer, a one-bedroom cottage seems spacious indeed.
I also had never noticed the washer/dryer, the rows of built-in drawers or the space out back for a garden.
Isn't it fun to see how the Lord provides? I'm enjoying it.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Missing Ukraine
Last night we went to a missions dinner at our home church in Southern California. The speaker, Rudi Wiens from Far East Broadcasting Company, spoke a lot about the organization's ministry in Russia.
I got rather homesick -- twice. The first moment of nostalgia hit when Rudi sang in Russian. That made sense; I've grown accustomed to the language and the tenor of Slavic music.
The second moment, however, was rather random. Rudi showed a picture. I imagine he chose it because of the foreground image: an elderly woman, warmly dressed in traditional clothing.
The picture affected me, however, because of the background. It showed a crowd of people strolling down the street. Two of them were walking side-by-side, each carrying one handle of a plaid plastic bag. We call these bags Poland bags. They're sold in the markets, but the tags inside say they're made in Poland. The are a frequent sight on public transportation in Kyiv, snuggled between people's legs on the subway, taking up narrow aisle space on the buses.
We have at least five of them. We use them all the time: To move, to carry boxes of cookies to the seminary for big events, to haul Thermoses of hot tea to church on communion Sundays.
At the moment, they're stuffed full of my clothes, Dietrich's toys, our cozy blankets ... all sitting in Dietrich's old room, waiting for our return.
I got rather homesick -- twice. The first moment of nostalgia hit when Rudi sang in Russian. That made sense; I've grown accustomed to the language and the tenor of Slavic music.
The second moment, however, was rather random. Rudi showed a picture. I imagine he chose it because of the foreground image: an elderly woman, warmly dressed in traditional clothing.
The picture affected me, however, because of the background. It showed a crowd of people strolling down the street. Two of them were walking side-by-side, each carrying one handle of a plaid plastic bag. We call these bags Poland bags. They're sold in the markets, but the tags inside say they're made in Poland. The are a frequent sight on public transportation in Kyiv, snuggled between people's legs on the subway, taking up narrow aisle space on the buses.
We have at least five of them. We use them all the time: To move, to carry boxes of cookies to the seminary for big events, to haul Thermoses of hot tea to church on communion Sundays.
At the moment, they're stuffed full of my clothes, Dietrich's toys, our cozy blankets ... all sitting in Dietrich's old room, waiting for our return.
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