the cause!

They have finally found what is causing the pancreatitis! It's my gallbladder. It's not working. I've never been so excited to find out I have a diseased body part. I'll just get it taken out and then be done with all of this being sick business. It's no fun at all.

The best and worst of pancreatitis

Best things about being trapped in a hospital with pancreatitis:

1. I don't have to make my own bed.

2. If I lay around all day reading books, no one judges me as lazy. In fact, that makes me a good patient.

3. I don't have to drink water to stay hydrated. I'm hooked up to a machine that does that chore for me.

4. People ask me if I need anything a million times a day. And if I say yes, they go get it.

5. Losing the extra "food storage" around my waist from not eating any food for days and days.

Worst thing about being trapped in a hospital with pancreatitis:

1. Not being able to be with my kids when they wake up, take baths, go to bed, etc. etc.

2. Not being able to sleep in the same bed as my husband.

3. Having bruises all over my arms from being poked with needles. And getting woken up everyday between 5 and 6 am to get my blood drawn.

4. Having to lug around an IV machine with me everywhere.

5. Not being able to eat any food for days and days.

Home improvements, among other things.

So if you read the last post, it was spawned by hearing a book review on NPR about the book Super Sad True Love Story in which the author paints a picture of what the near future may look like. It sounds very interesting. Oh and I might add-- Jonathan wrote that post in like 10 minutes. That would have taken me an hour or a day, so I was impressed.

Anyway, moving on...

Music has made its way back on to the blog. We added this for your listening pleasure. Also, I am planning to post a series of "Home Improvement" blog posts to document what we've been up to for the past few months. First off is the wall calendar that I finished today. I'll try to post something everyday for awhile (no guarantees this will happen everyday, but I'll try.)

This is in our kitchen. We started by painting the wall with chalkboard paint. Then, using a lot of painters tape, I painted the lines on with an off white paint to make a 6 week calendar, so now I can just write on the months, dates, and events with chalk and erase it easily. I totally love how it turned out.

And this if for Ezra to see when he wakes up in the morning. Jonathan took this picture of this Katydid on our bedroom window (it was on the outside, thankfully.) Weird but cool. It's pretty much life size.

iThink

I remember reading about Richard Feynman's experience splitting the atom, leading to the first explosion of the atomic bomb. For Feynman, and other physicists like him, splitting the atom was an interesting theoretical question--the only thought going through their minds was, "can we do it?" It wasn't until they succeeded, when they watched in the New Mexico desert as U.S. military officers celebrated the first successful test of the atomic bomb that they looked at one another and collectively thought, "crap. What did we just do?" Feynman argued that the atomic test was a triumph of means over ends, where the only important question was, "can we do it?" and not "should we do it?" or "what will it mean if we do it?"

Yesterday, as Christina and I sat with the kids at the doctor's office, we noticed a mother and her early-teenage daughter sitting near us. The daughter was absorbed in a game on the iPad, and the mother was similarly absorbed punching keys on her blackberry. Neither one appeared conscious of anything they were doing, and, although sitting but 10 inches from each other, they could have easily been in a different room or town. They had no consciousness of their surroundings--they literally gave themselves over to the device in their hands. Now, I'm not one to necessarily shun technology--I'm writing on a computer, after all--but I think there is a similar triumph of means over ends concerning our consumption of technologies. As the physicists who developed the first atomic bomb thought "can we do it?" I think the prevailing thought of contemporary human beings vis-a-vis technological devices is "can I buy it?" Buried amidst the hundreds of articles on the wonders of the iPad were a scant two or three articles that addressed questions of whether the new technological device will improve our lives. I think most consumer technologies are a wash--I mean, the computer has done some amazing things, but it also feeds some terrible addictions. Cell phones have made it literally impossible for us to be by ourselves. Video games further blur any kind of distinction we could make between reality and fantasy. When we add this seductive consumer setup to our collective (and recent) fear of letting our kids go outside lest they be snatched up, we find ourselves always indoors, always having to justify the small fortune we spend on our technological devices by giving them most of our precious hours.

This leaves me with a few thoughts: Have we lost our ability to critically assess technology? Since technologies outdate themselves before we can fully assess them, does the speed with which we consume keep us from ever being able to appreciate or assess the value of things? And, if we are losing our ability to critically assess our surroundings, what else are we losing? I teach students who are increasingly unable to read a basic textbook or sit through a 50 minute lecture because they have never had to read a book or listen to someone speak without doing something else. Life is a permanent distraction. As an educator, I wonder what sort of youth we are raising if they have no ability to assess the value of consumer technologies and have long lost their ability to concentrate. If I have one fear for my own kids, it is that they will live in a world where they cannot--literally CANNOT--reflect on anything. Life is too fast for reflection. To me, that's the scariest thing.

Mixed emotions

Today we celebrated Annika's Big Girl party. It's been really hard for her to give up the cup that she uses to help her fall asleep. We've tried numerous things; one time we "lost" the bottle for four days but caved on the fifth and gave it back to her. This time we are trying to explain to Annika that as she grows up she no longer needs her cup. We constructed a super-natural being called the "Baba Fairy" to deflect all the blame. The Baba Fairy's job is to take little sippy cups and give them to needy babies; in return she leaves a few presents to help big girls fall asleep.

In Annika's case, the Baba Fairy gave her a pink cake, a big girl cup, a pink pillowcase, and a Knuffle Bunny to hold at night time. Tonight was the first night without her baby cup. It was a night full of whimpers, disbelief, bargaining, distraught looks, going boneless, and questioning the intentions of the Baba Fairy. But, ultimately, it was also a night of sleep. Very few tears were shed--which in our book counts as success!