Scott On the Orwigs

A Brief Milestone

2009-05-25T00:13:00.008-04:00

Wow it's a busy weekend. Grocery shopping, pool-safety shopping and flower shopping. I've been putting the finishing touches on the pool, which means I finally had to take on the uncomfortable, confusing, and not entirely un-dangerous job of relighting the pool heater. The water has been hovering in the 70s which is warm enough for the kids but not for us. It has to be at least in the low 80s before Sarah will even dip her . . .

Oh, wait . . . Sarah. Did you know Sarah just turned 40? Yes, I was there when it happened. We watched the clock turn over to midnight and I sang (softly - kids were sleeping) Happy Birthday. She did fine and I'm happy to have her in my age bracket. Then I kissed her goodnight and went back downstairs to feed the cats.

It turns out that having four kids really is keeping us young. Just not for the reasons anybody thinks.

Many people suggest that following the kids all over the place (and carrying two of them all over the place) must provide enough exercise to keep us in shape. But it doesn't. Sure, I get my heart rate up when I drop Grace off and pick her up at preschool. Carrying the twinlets (one at a time) out to the car, unloading the stroller, loading each twinlet into the stroller, pushing the stroller around the school, etc -- and then doing it in reverse -- twice -- does get the blood flowing. Sarah hauled both of the senior children through Target and Lowes today. But somehow it turns out kid excercise doesn't count. I think frustration must interfere somehow. For example, a stair climber provids excellent aerobic benifit, but if the stair climber also talked incessently, cried for NO good reason, demanded food, demanded the absence of food, and tried to wriggle away while you were changing it's diaper, then it would provide no aerobic benifit whatsoever.

I'm sure that could be proven in a labratory, but the research design would never make it past any review board. Too cruel for the experimental group. Even with rats.

Another way people suggest that kids will "keep you young" is by the viewing the world afresh through their innocent eyes. And sure, it's fun to watch the twinlets discover all the objects in the house (and taste them), and to see Harrison begin to make sense of the wider world around him. But largely what it reminds me is what a pain it was to be young. I mean, if an adult can't feed himself with a spoon we see that as a great hardship and send him for occupational therapy. That's the way the twinlets live EVERY DAY! And I am definately not jealous of HJ in the second grade. A ditto full of math problems would be the worst kind of torture for me. I'd rather do my taxes (and we pay someone to do those for us). Also I would rather be 80 years old than have to climb that rope in gym class again (even though I could totally do it now).

No, the way having four kids keeps us young is by keeping us too busy to notice we're getting old. Sarah didn't have time to dwell on her last hours in her thirties because she was too busy giving the twins a bath. She watched the clock roll over to midnight but then was much too tired from her day to stay up and think about it. Tomorrow she'll be rolling the twins around in the stroller and keeping hold of Grace while she watches Harrison and I in the Memorial Day parade. We're having dinner and cake at Grandma's but rather than mourning the passing of her youth, Sarah will be trying to feed two babies with one high chair.

So someday 20 or so years from now Sarah and I will wake up and realize we're in our sixties and ponder our advancing ages. Until then, though, we just don't have time.

Happy 40th, Dear. Hey, where did Shepard go?

Bear

2009-04-30T15:11:00.002-04:00

We have a lot of video of Bear, the dog we loved to dogsit while his real family was away. Bear often seemed to be with us during family events and he is even included in some informal family photos. It wasn't just us who admired Bear, either. He had fans all over Michigan.

When editing some other video I realized this was recorded during one of Bear's first visits, so I gave Bear a rare video of his own.

Jon + Kate + 8 - important parts of Jon

2009-04-30T13:42:00.009-04:00

Walking around with twins tends to break the ice a little in public places and we get asked questions a lot. One of the most common (after "Are they identical?" and "Do they keep you busy?") is "Have you seen Jon and Kate Plus 8?". And the answer to that is "yes." I think Sarah started watching it before we even knew we were having twins. We haven't been keeping up with it recently (we're a little busy) but we have noticed some similarities in our family situations even though theirs is much more intense. Some have even compared me to Jon, and yes we both are fathers of multiples, work in IT, and spend a lot of time at home. But there are important differences, too. Jon is in his thirties, has eight kids, and is married to a controlling woman who much of the time treats him like an employee with a performance problem and doesn't appreciate him. I, on the other hand, am in my forties and have four kids.

Still this report shocked me deeply. I absolutely cannot understand why a man like Jon would be interested in going to parties with college girls or staying out late at clubs with women. It's SO much more fun for a guy to stay home for the 45 minutes between the kids' bedtime and his bedtime, read email, and feed the cats. What was Jon thinking?

One thing is for sure, though. Even if someone could somehow convince me that I wanted to party with college girls' volleyball teams and go out to clubs, I would never do it. Because Jon and I have one thing completely in common: our wives would kill us.

Goodbye, Jon. I'll be thinking of you while I feed the cats.

Iris Luella Kelley!

2009-02-26T21:39:00.003-05:00

Iris was born today at 5:53 PM. She was 8 pounds, 10 ounces in weight, 22 inches long, and no, she is not giving you the finger. Look carefully and you'll see it's the wrong finger.

Iris was born by C-section because she was breech. Speaking as a breech baby myself (who was born the old fashioned way back before C-sections were invented) a C-section is definitely the way to go for a baby who is pointed north. Vaginal birth is humiliating when you're breech. It's not just the bad first impression you make by backing into the world and introducing your butt to everyone before they've even seen your face. It's also the whole idea that you've basically screwed up your first task ever. Everything is provided for you in there, all you have to do is face down. It's just not a good start, and a C-section is a graceful way to get around all of it and get a clean start.

Anyway, word is that Megan and Iris are well. I can only guess that while Megan is the one who had the tougher day, Iris is doing most of the complaining. And this is just the beginning.

Congratulations to mother, father, aunts, and grandparents of various rank (Clara was just promoted to 'Great-Grandma'!).

Amy Lures Firemen To Her Bedroom

2009-02-05T23:26:00.013-05:00

The good news is that Amy appears to be fine. The bad news is we're not convinced the emergency room doctors really knew what the problem was. The good news is Amy is getting better rapdily. The bad news is there wasn't much room to go anywhere but up. The good news is that Amy now has quite a story to tell. The bad news is that Amy now has quite a story to tell.

Anyone who has experienced an Amy story knows that they tend to go on a bit, and well into the story, well after your head has started to spin from all the seemingly unrelated details and side-stories she includes, she casually drops in a detail that would have been the starting point (or the only point) of most people's stories. So she might say "My coworkers and I like to watch movies at lunch" blah blah blah "I brought in The Shawshank Redemption because" blah blah blah "I made some popcorn but I forgot about it being in the microwave because the movie was at that part where" blah blah blah "and then the smoke alarms went off" blah blah blah "and they evacuated the building."

The story from today will begin with Amy telling all about a recent bout of the (apparent) flu, and after a while get to the part where she wakes up in the middle of the night hardly able to move from weakness and soreness. If you don't know the story of me having Guillain-Barre Syndrome in 1995 then you're likely to hear that whole story before returning to the present day to the part about the fully outfited firemen in Amy's bedroom and a ride in the back of what little Amy used to call a "hospital truck".

At the moment it appears the ending of this story is anticlimactic. Let's hope it stays that way. Right now it appears that Amy "just" had a virus, and as of late this evening she was up, eating, and even sent Mom home.

In case you haven't experienced an Amy story, and in case you haven't seen this video already, here is a video from this Christmas giving a mild simulation of the Amy story experience:

A Fairey Tale

2009-01-20T14:05:00.004-05:00

I display this image not for political reasons. This isn't that kind of blog.

There is something significant about this now famous poster, though. It was created (independently) by an artist named Shepard Fairey of South Carolina. While his last name must have made middle school a little rough (especially for an aspiring artist), he nailed the first name. He even spelled it right.

The poster - which elicits either retro-coolness or totalitarian leader-worship, depending on your perspective - was eventually adopted by the Obama campaign with the word "Progress" replaced by "Change."

So I post this poster not to rub it in for those who aren't celebrating today, but just to make the case that we weren't entirely off-target when we chose the name "Shepard." The Obama-voting artistic Fairies of South Carolina apparently liked the name, too.

The timing is just a coincidence.

An Anxious Moment

2009-01-10T10:08:00.008-05:00

Grace: Dad, will you open the washing machine?
Dad: [suspiciously] Why Grace?
Grace: Because it's stuck.
Dad: [more suspiciously] Why do you need it open?
Grace: To wash some clothes.
Dad: [sternly] What happened to the clothes, Grace?
Grace: They got dirty.
Dad: [more sternly] Grace, how did the clothes get dirty?
Grace: [pause] Barbie got them dirty.
Dad: [exasperated] Oh, so Barbie did it. Grace, what is on the clothes?
Grace: I don't know.
Dad: [sigh] [pause] [On the way to the laundry room] Okay, I'm coming.
Grace: [from the living room] No, not that one, Daddy. The one in Barbie's Dream House.
Dad: [relieved] Oh! Yeah, I'll open that one right now!

The Twins relax after a meal

2008-12-31T22:37:00.003-05:00

Sarah snapped a quick video of the twins relaxing after a meal:

The Best of Times; The Worst of Times

2008-12-31T17:30:00.001-05:00

'Tis the season for articles with titles like "The Best Reality Show Moments of 2008," "The Worst Snack Foods of 2008," and "Why 2009 Will Be 'The Year of the Sweet Potato'." So I'm going to pile on with two lists of my own:

1. Why 2008 Was Great:

The Orwig twins are born
Goes without saying. One of the best and most significant days in my life.
Harrison milestones
Too many to mention. The guy started second grade, and has been growing up in countless ways. He seems to be making the transition from "little boy" to "young man" already. With the addition of the twins to the family, Harrison has sometimes moved into a more grown-up caretaker role even though we haven't asked him to.
Grace Milestones
Again, too many to mention. She started preschool. She changed instantly from "baby of the family" to "big sister" and "middle child." She has made the transition from toddler to little girl.
My political candidate wins for a change
Don't worry, I don't expect everyone to agree with me on this. But it was very important to me because I felt it was very important for all of us. To me, November's election seems to improve the odds we will pull through the next decade.
Ford releases some kick-butt new cars, giving hope
I had been worried, but it seemed I was starting to see some Ford cars in daily use that really could be a part of the Way Forward we've been counting on for the past three years. It wasn't just the Fusion any more. Now there were multiple Ford vehicles out there that people genuinely liked.

2. Why 2008 Sucked Big-Time:

Grandma Shepard dies
The fact that this event was not unexpected makes it no less traumatic and significant for all of us. Now that the body of Wealthie was gone I'm really starting to miss the Grandma who was in my life for so long.
Luke dies
I still have trouble believing I'm even typing this one. It still doesn't make sense, and it still affects our family on a daily basis. Luke, and the loss of Luke, comes up when I'm talking to Harrison, Grace still asks questions about him, and I think of him and his family literally daily. Harrison has made new close friends but he will be forever affected by losing Luke. As stunned and sad as we were when it happened just before school started, I never would have guessed how affected we would still be now.
Claire gets sick
This story has mainly turned out to have a happy ending, but it was horrific while it was happening and it cast a dark cloud over an exciting time in the life of someone who didn't deserve it.
The economy siezes
That "Way Forward" plan mentioned above, already behind schedule, was dependant on people not only wanting but also being able to buy these new Ford cars they were starting to like. The events of the fall seemed quickly to nullify any hope of a way forward not only for Ford and the (now) "Detroit Three", but this entire region of the country.
The US Senate left us to die
I know I shouldn't take this personally. It was just politics, after all. But when the bailout failed, it killed any remaining faith I had that when necessary, politicians would rise to the occasion and become leaders. They didn't. It doesn't bother me as much when citizens who don't have all the facts make callus statements about "letting the free market take its course" or "controlled bankruptcy." But those senators knew the likely consequences and they cold heartedly decided to risk the ruin of a region of our country and even a potential depression in the hope the UAW would die in the process. As one of the people scheduled for ruin, I do take it personally.

So there's my list. I'll start work right away on my next post: "Why 2009 Will Be the Year of Early Potty Training."

Twin Milestones

2008-12-08T17:22:00.004-05:00

These startlingly cute "jackets" from Grandma Burke are creating quite a reaction whereever I take the twins. It's the ears that make the outfits. Kennedy and Shepard love the warmth, but of course they can't see the ears. Someday they're going to get old enough to check this blog and I'm going to be in trouble.

A couple of milestones over this past week or so:

Kennedy has popped out the beginnings of a lower tooth. It's just the start, but Kennedy and a babysitter both noticed it before Sarahjane and I did.
Both babies can now get up on all fours. Neither of them are moving very fast yet, and when they do move they are limited to reverse. But it tells me my days of parking them in one room and expecting them to stay are almost over. By now, the cats should know that their days of relative quiet are over, too.

Flex Manual Addendum

2008-12-08T17:15:00.001-05:00

As you may have deduced from previous posts, I am a big fan of the Ford Flex. It drives like car but hauls people like a van, and it gets great mileage for its size. I'll bet its cost-per-Orwig-hauled ratio could beat just about anything out there. It looks cool, too. The next time someone starts taking unfair shots at the ability of the "Detroit Three" to innovate, they ought to be challenged to test drive a Flex (or an Edge or a Fusion, for that matter).

Lately my Flex and I have been under some pressure. Due to child care issues and Sarah's schedule, I've been hurrying to and from work without my usual ability to stop for gas. Then yesterday I was actually allowed to go out without any kids along, but it must have thrown me because I completely ignored the fact that the Flex was running out of gas.

As I pulled into the driveway last night I saw the "Distance to Empty" indicator change from 1 to zero. I've seen that before, though, and those things always underestimate gas. Besides, I could solve the problem using the large container of gas I keep for the lawn tractor. I had been meaning to use that gas anyway, rather than letting it age all winter.

As you might have guessed (because you are reading it here), things didn't work out as I planned. Rather than complain I decided to do something more constructive: Draft a potential addendum for the Flex manual specifically designed for people like me.

Your Ford Flex requires fuel to run. While we design the vehicle to be as efficient and convenient as possible, current technology does not enable the Ford Flex to make allowances for the fact that you haven't had time to stop for gas because you've been hurrying home to relieve babysitters. It is also unable to take into account that when you drove to the grocery store over the weekend (driving past several gas stations) you were engrossed in a particularly good interview on NPR's Fresh Air and didn't notice the Distance-To-Empty gauge helplessly trying to get your attention.

Therefore, this addendum is here to offer the following information and advice:

This vehicle is equipped with the new No Bull Distance-To-Empty gauge. That means when it reports "0 miles to empty," you are actually out of gas.

This vehicle is equipped with a new Dorkfree Capless Gas Hole. We learned years ago that people like you tended to unscrew the gas cap and leave it on the roof of the car when you drive away. So we tried tethering the gas gap to the gas hole, but found that you would still forget to screw it into your gas hole and would drive around with it hanging on the side of the car. Yes you did. We saw you do that at least once. So this latest attempt to save you from yourself removes the gas cap entirely. Instead a special valve is placed over the gas hole itself. This valve will only open when the proper sized nozzle is inserted into the gas hole, and it seals tightly when you remove the nozzle.

A plastic lawn-mower gas can does not have the right size nozzle. So when you attempt to put extra gas into your car from a gas can in your driveway on a dark winter night, you will discover in the morning that the gas simply ran down the side of the car and melted all the snow in that area of the driveway.

As mentioned above, the gas hole valve seals tightly. This means that in the morning, when you attempt once again to pour gas into the car using the wrong nozzle, ALL of the gas will run uselessly down the side of the car. Your personal assurances to yourself that "some of it must have gone in" are incorrect.

Your best course of action at this time is to remain in the driveway and read the instruction manual. You, of course, won't. You'll figure you can make it a few miles to the gas station.

When you ignore the Distance To Empty warning and neglect to read these instructions, there will be no further warning when the last drops of gas are finally burned. The dash will not begin showing "-1 miles to empty" or "You're bummin', Dude". When your Ford Flex starts to stagger and stop moving forward, that is your indication that you are, in fact, bummin'.

At the first indication that you have starved the engine of gas, you should use your last remaining lurches of motion to pull safely to the side of the road. Do NOT attempt a U-turn back toward home (particularly not in an intersection of your subdivision) as you will stall in the middle of the turn, blocking traffic much more effectively than if you had simply pulled over.

When you ignore that advice, turn on your hazard lights so your neighbors know you are a dork stuck in the middle of the intersection with car trouble, rather than an even bigger dork who decided to park in the middle of the intersection for some reason. The hazard light switch is located in the center top of the dashboard. It's there, look again. No, higher. There you go.

By now you will likely have figured out that no gas actually is getting in the tank when you try from the gas can. Attempts to hold the gas hole valve open with foreign objects like straws and pencils will fail.

While you are trying to force open the valve with foreign objects, you will eventually notice there are little pictures drawn on the gas hole door. We didn't have much space to work with, but tried to communicate via pictures that you should not attempt to force open the valve with foreign objects. You should use a special funnel instead. We also tried to get across that you should read the manual for more instructions.

As you are looking for the manual, please refrain from profane complaints about the inconvenience of having to bring along a funnel. First of all, the need for the funnel is explained in this manual, so you can hardly blame us. Second, we have anticipated your lack of preparation and have provided a funnel for you. It is conveniently located alongside the spare tire, which is in the far back of your Flex under the twin stroller, preschool papers, and empty pop bottles.

You should really return those pop bottles.

On your way to the gas station, you will panic as you can't remember putting the twin stroller back in the car. You can stop picturing it sitting in the middle of the intersection. You didn't screw that one thing up today and the twin stroller is safely in the back of your car.

Think they look tired?

2008-11-12T23:48:00.001-05:00

You should see Grandma. She spent the day with them.

Grace, Shepard, and Sarah were all sick today. I had it last week. Harrison had it first. Kennedy is the only one to dodge the bullet so far.

ACCUWEATHER PREDICTS SCOTT WILL STAY INDOORS UNTIL 11:45PM MARCH 20, 2009

2008-11-11T12:06:00.007-05:00

I subscribe to an email weather notification service. I know, that's very 2005 of me. I should really be following the weather through a Twitter stream or an iPhone app, or at least an RSS feed. Actually, I'm doing all of those things, but I haven't yet unsubscribed from the email list.

I think I'm about to, though, and it's not just because of the embarrasingly antiquated nature of an email list. It's because the email list just doesn't get me and my . . . eh . . . sensitivities.

You see, I hate snow. There may have been a time that I enjoyed it, but I don't remember those times and I don't intend to try. I'm a Michigan resident who wishes he lived in Santa Monica, California. At least several times a day I picture what it must be like on the 3rd Street Promenade or on the Santa Monica Pier. I say what it "must" be like because it truly must be that way. Sure, the temperature can vary by 20 degrees over the year in the rest of the LA area, but with the Pacific so close, Santa Monica doesn't typically have such wild fluctuations. It's guaranteed sunny in the high 70s 99.999% of the time. It rained once while we were there and people were in shock. The temperature got down in the 60s and people were -- I kid you not -- wearing scarves. Sure, there are homeless people in Santa Monica (in fact, that's my current backup plan if things get much worse), and there are crazy people there, and even occasional violence. But generally it's close to perfect, and my favorite part is the climate.

I've heard arguments that I would miss real weather, particularly snow, but I don't believe it. And if I did miss it I figure I could visit it. Or have some snow shipped to my seaside home (or park bench).

So I spend the months from about May through September pretending I live in a warm climate. Then it's sometime around this time of year that my illusion is shattered. If reality floods in too suddenly there's no telling how I might react. Which is my problem with the email I recently received. I don't even remember the subject line, but when I opened it I found something like this:

THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IS PREDICTING SNOW ACCUMULATION OF UP TO 1 INCH IN SOME AREAS OF SOUTHEASTERN MICHIGAN

That's the kind of loud (ALL CAPS!) sudden announcement that could lead me to a total flip-out. I need a weather service that understands me. Such a service might send me a message (or Twitter or SMS or RSS) something more like this:

Hey, Scott. How are you?

Hey, we've got some news for you. Are you comfortable? Warm enough? Good. Well, you know how we've had some frost in the morning? Remember the other day when you woke up and thought the frost was snow? Yeah, well hopefully that kind of eased you into our news. The fact is, we're likely to get some snow tonight. So that's the first thing. The second thing is -- and this really isn't as big a deal as it might sound -- the second thing is that a tiny little bit of that snow may be left over in the morning. If it is -- and really, it probably won't be -- but if it is, it will melt just as soon as the sun comes out. So you can think of it as a little introduction to winter.

If it happens. Which it probably won't.

If it does happen, think how happy the kids will be! And it will cover up the lawn and look really nice. C'mon, you have to admit that snow can be very pretty at times, right? Am I right?

Sorry. Anyway, just in case -- really just as a precaution -- you might want to take a moment to make sure the snow scraper is in the car. If you don't need it tomorrow then you still will later in the season when it really does . . . er . . . so might as well get that out there tonight, right?

Have a nice, warm evening, Scott. And don't worry about the you-know-what. It probably won't happen.

If there isn't already a service like that I need to start one. Maybe I could charge for it and be able to afford a park bench with a nice view of the Pier.

2008 Seeks Redemption

2008-11-05T19:08:00.003-05:00

The Elders are Gone - Long Live the Elders

2008-11-04T10:10:00.005-05:00

Dale left much too early. Wealthie was the last and (she would have said) a few years too late. But regardless, the torch has been passed to Mary Ann Shepard (Orwig)(Labuta) and Blaine Orwig (Orwig)(Orwig) as the matriarch and patriarch of our small but rapidly branching family.

Wealthie Eileen Shepard 1915 - 2008

2008-10-31T21:53:00.015-04:00

Wealthie Eileen Myers Shepard (originally Myers) died early this morning. It was not unexpected, but traumatic nonetheless. She was the only daughter of Delpha F. Myers (originally Whitman) and Claude B. Myers. She married Donald L. Shepard in 1933, and they had their only child Mary Ann Shepard (then Orwig)(now Labuta) in, I think, 1970 or something like that (that's what Mom says, anyway). Wealthie lived in McClure Ohio, Allen Park, MI, Leesburg, FL, Toledo, and Bowling Green before coming to the nursing home in Saline.

Wealthie was a wife, a Mom, then became a very successful Grandma. Amy and I have tons of memories of Grandma and Grandpa when we were little. Wealthie just got to experience being a Great Grandma for a short time ("Oh, God," she would say when we called her that. "It's awful isn't it? How did I live so long?"). After a few years as a Great Grandma, the Alzheimer's shifted everything back a generation for her. I became "Blaine", and she called Harrison "Scott". Then she didn't call us anything at all, just seeing us as some of the generic friends and family who she "ran into" at the nursing home. Great Grandma got to meet Kennedy and Shepard but I don't think she really understood who they were.

When we got the news this morning, Mom, Amy, and I did the traditional things. We got together and inflicted emotional injury on each other as only family can, made up, fed babies, ate, and made funeral plans. After a while Amy tended to her grief by performing the traditional "make a funeral music playlist on iTunes" activity (Dr. Joe helped with that) and abusing prescription medications. Mom handled the more practical preparations for the funeral. And I consoled Mom as sons have in times of grief for generations: I set up her wireless network.

It looks like the funeral will be in McClure on Monday afternoon.

The year 2008 is lucky it hosted the births of Shepard and Kennedy, because if not for that -- so far -- it would totally SUCK.

Anyway, below are some pictures of Wealthie Shepard in happier times, along with two videos that include her from Christmas 2000.

Wealthie Shepard

2008-10-30T17:28:00.009-04:00

Wealthie Shepard was born, raised, and raised her family in McClure, Ohio, but she is spending the end of her life here with us and with her daughter Mary in Saline. We moved her up here, which was torturous for everyone (Wealthie especially) a few years ago. Since that time she has gone from being occasionally confused about who we are, to being usually confused, to not knowing anyone, to her current state. She was frantic at first about being in assisted living then a nursing home, but after a while she lost track of where she was and almost seemed to enjoy her surroundings. The nursing home in Saline became McClure for her, her room was her home, and everyone there was a friend or relative coming to see her.

It didn't last, of course, and over the past 8 months, maybe a year, even this faded view of Grandma has disappeared. Now, by all accounts, she is in the last days or even hours of her life. She's getting services from hospice in a different wing of the same nursing home. It's a little nicer, but not as nice as her homes throughout the years. People who work at the nursing home keep coming down to see her in her new room. They liked the woman they got to know over the past few years. She was nice, and fun, and caring, but not as much as she had been for the 90-some years before. And sometimes she was content or even happy, but not nearly as much as she had been before her husband Donald "Shep" Shepard died in the late '90s.

Now she isn't happy or content or fun or caring or even nice. All those parts have been taken away by what we think is Alzheimer's disease. All that's left is a 93 year-old body, and now even that is about to go. We're all not sure how to feel. The body, with tiny fragments of Wealthie Shepard inside, is clearly uncomfortable and just wants peace. But we've been so busy watching the rapid un-development of our Grandma, Great Grandma, or mother that we haven't really grieved yet. It's been literally the opposite of watching a baby develop, and similar in that you don't really recognize the changes in the person until they're about to leave you.

Wealthie is the last of her generation for us. We lost Grandpa Shepard about 10 years ago. Before that, we lost Mildred Orwig-Wagner, my Dad's mother -- in much the same way as Wealthie -- to suspected Alzheimer's. Dale Orwig died before my generation was even thought of.

So while we've all been so focused on the beginning of life in recent years, suddenly I'm studying up on the end of life, trying to make sense of it all.

Pictures from the Morning Routine

2008-10-26T11:34:00.005-04:00

Grow, Speed Racer!

2008-10-25T13:39:00.006-04:00

Lately Harrison and I have been watching old Speed Racer episodes on DVD. It's been nostalgic for me. I used to watch Speed Racer when I was five years old and living in Pennsylvania. If you are exactly the right age (i.e. my age to about 10 years younger than me) then you probably know that "Speed Racer" started life in Japan as a comic book and anime called "Mach Go Go Go". The main character of the show (Racer, Speed) wore a helmet with a large "M" on the front. It was dubbed in English, renamed (fortunately), and released in the United States just 5 days before I was born. Despite my early exposure to television I didn't actually watch Speed Racer as a newborn. That came later, as I watched it on UHF via a rooftop antenna (remember those?).

If you have ever watched the show then I am certain the Speed Racer Theme Song is now playing in your head (listen, it's there) where it will continue for the next 12 hours or so. If not, please report for indoctrination. Sarah and Grace never watched Speed Racer but I have caught them both singing the theme music since HJ and I started watching the show.

This household interest in Speed Racer was very timely, because it happened about the same time that Sarah, Grandma, and I began to become impatient with Shepard. We realized a few weeks after Shepard was born that his head was not round. We're still not sure if he came out that way and we just didn't notice, or if it started to flatten after he was born. We are certain that it wasn't the fault of improper "positioning" when he slept, as is true for most kids with flat spots. Every time we expressed concern to the pediatrician we got the standard speech about not letting him lay the same way every night. It turns out on kids three and four you begin to recognize when you're getting a standard speech. Our other three kids' heads turned out symmetrical - clearly there was something significantly different about Shepard.

We turned and propped and adjusted that kid for months, and although he might have been getting a little rounder (both above and below the neck) it just wasn't happening fast enough for us. Viewing Shepard from above, it looked as if someone had pushed the whole left side of his head very slightly forward. His left ear and even his left forehead were a little closer to the front than their counterparts on the right. We were concerned he might get stuck that way.

The doctor was about to give us the positioning speech again but we got pushy. We're Saline parents. We're entitled. So we got a referal to an "orthotics" specialist to have Shepard fitted for a helmet. The helmet, we learned, is fitted to touch Shepard at the biggest parts of his head. Then, as his head grows, it is shaped as it grows into the round helmet in the same way a watermelon might grow to the shape of a box.

The fitting was extremely cute. Shepard was seated in a little chair with a white cap on his head that had lots of silver dots. He looked like he was playing astronaut. The Orthoticist (I totally just made up that title) then scanned his head. And by "scanned," I don't mean like in an MRI. I mean like at a supermarket checkout. She used a handheld scanner that noted the position of the silver dots on the cap and beeped every time it got a new reading. As she worked a crude 3D image of Shepard's head appeared on the screen of an attached laptop. The whole time Shepard sat facing forward as if waiting for liftoff.

There were lots of choices of helmet color. We chose a nice neutral blue. I'm not sure when we started referring to Shepard as Speed Racer, but unfortunately it was after we chose the helmet. If he had picked up the nickname just a little sooner we would naturally have chosen a white helmet, onto which we could paint a big red "M".

We'll have to do that with the next kid (kidding! kidding!).

So Shepard is now known around here as Speed Racer, and Harrison as Rex Racer (or - spoiler alert! - "Racer X").

Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

2008-10-11T23:55:00.007-04:00

So far this has been the scariest Halloween season ever. For the past few days I've been just a tiny bit completely obsessed with our financial future -- or lack thereof. Up until this week I thought I was obsessed by the presidential election (I'm something of a political junkie, following politics in much the same way normal men follow sports, although I'm less objective and reasonable about it). This week, though, events overtook the election. I've never followed the stock market, even when it is significantly high or low. Now I'm checking the Dow and Ford stock constantly. I need an iPhone app that shows me Ford's cash reserves and sales figures in real time.

I don't so much care about the money per se (although a lot of our retirement is in stocks - particularly Ford stock). It's our family lifestyle that I feel is threatened. Things have been good. We've been living comfortably, in a very nice house, and near to much of our extended families. Most importantly, with me away at work only two days a week, we've had a family life and been able to enjoy being parents.

It was nice while it lasted.

As I have mentioned before, our backup plan (if something catastrophic happened at Ford) was to move away to a region of the country that wasn't dying on the vine and start over. It would be painful, but possible. As of this week, though, the odds of something catastrophic happening at Ford have increased, and the odds of finding a healthy part of the country (or the world, for that matter) seem quite diminished. In fact, there is a terrible causal relationship between the two problems: Decreasing financial health of other places in the world increases our potential need to find a better place. It isn't certain doom for Ford, Michigan, or us, but our condition has been downgraded from "serious" to "critical."

Sarah and her colleagues are working hard to bring Ford back. If they can pull it off they're going to have one heck of a story to tell for generations. These are historic times.

In the mean time, wouldn't you like to buy a nice Ford Flex or F-150? Sarah can get you a deal. And really, isn't a car a better investment nowadays than stock?

Bloggus interruptus

2008-09-27T10:06:00.007-04:00

It's going to sound like I'm making excuses (because I am) but there are a few reasons I haven't been able to post very often. One of them is my utter lack of uninterrupted time at the computer. As I type this, Harrison has taken over Sarah's computer, tossing regular questions my way ("Dad, what does this say?", "Dad, where do I click now?", "Dad, can we get this?", and the always popular "Dad look at this. Dad look at this. Dad look at this."). In a few minutes Grace will approach wanting to use the computer, and a fight will ensue. Finally Harrison will have stretched his time as long as possible (the last 10 minutes just to annoy Grace as she stands there and whines), and she will sit down. Then she'll say "Dad, can I play the Strawberry Shortcake game?", which actually means "Dad, will you stand up and come over here, put the keyboard back where it goes, find the Strawberry Shortcake page, adjust the volume (or I'll scream!), remind me how to play (or I'll cry!), and then get up to help me every 90 seconds when I get stuck?".

I'm about ready to make each kid a computer, put it in their room, and tell them they can do whatever they want for as long as I want as long as they give me a little time to ...

WHAT HARRISON??

... He wanted to register for a website. That's a guaranteed 10-minute pain in the . . . I mean, an opportunity to teach typing, computers, and Internet safety.

In other words, I could post a lot more frequently here (and also respond to emails, program, live a life of my own, etc) if it weren't for all this PARENTING.

Notice I haven't mentioned the twins. They're easy. Despite the hinted opinion of more than one relative that having the twins was a bad thing to do to Harrison and Grace because they sacrifice in a zero-sum parenting game, I don't think the twins are having a negative impact at all. The babies' needs are very different, finite, and predictable at this point. And what they give back to the whole family is immeasurable.

Ask me about this again when our driveway is full of cars, or we're paying college tuition for four.

I had much more to say, but a fight is breaking out over exactly how the desk chair should be positioned.

Only 37 days, 38 nights left to go

2008-09-14T20:12:00.012-04:00

It's been raining. A lot.

My most regular activity for the past few days has been draining water off the pool. Just a few inches of continuous rain is enough to raise the water level above the top of the skimmer, and as water pours out of the back of the skimmer there's a danger it will erode the delicate sand under the pool as the water runs to low ground. So I turn on the pool pump from inside, grab an umbrella, and splash through the puddles to switch the pump to "waste," which pumps my carefully balanced crystal-clear pool water into the lawn. After my last effort I was so badly soaked from the driving rain that had blown under my umbrella, I considered just jumping in the pool. I was already wet. Why not enjoy it?

I pump the water to the lawn, but it still doesn't have anywhere to go. The ground had been bone dry until recently, but by sometime yesterday it became completely saturated. So the still-brown grass (which didn't even get a chance to use the water) is completely submerged in places. Fortunately we're on pretty high ground here. The next-door neighbors - well, I hope they've got a good sump pump.

To add to the adventure, the sump pumps were out for a while today, too. In the shower I noticed the pressure start to drop and then the water just stopped coming. The power had gone out, and once the water was gone from the pressure tank, there wasn't any pump to bring more water from the well. So as it turned out our shower was one of the few places today I couldn't get wet. I'm still kinda soapy.

The power was out for hours. Sarah took the senior children out shopping, which left me with quality time to spend with the twins for a few hours. After some time of cooing and smiling at each other, the quality time began to become noticeably lower in quality. The twins aren't very good conversationalists. Soon we were all bored. They fell asleep, and I was left to confront a lonely life without electricity. I couldn't program and I couldn't watch anything. All my reading nowadays is on a screen. I had let the battery on my iPhone get low, so I couldn't listen to or watch anything on there. Heck, and can't even sleep without electricity anymore. All this quiet time to myself and I couldn't use it at all. It reminded me of that show with Burgess Meredith where he loves to watch TV but the power goes out. Or was it that Batman broke his monocle so all he could do was train Rocky to fight? Something like that.

Anyway, it made for a long day. Fortunately the lights came on before it got so dark that I couldn't read old-fashioned paper.

Tomorrow it's supposed to be partly sunny. Which is good, because I've got a lot of mowing to do. Anyone know if they make pontoons for lawn tractors?

Second Grade and Poop Corner

2008-09-08T21:50:00.000-04:00

Over the past week both Harrison and Grace started school. For Harrison, it was the beginning of 2nd Grade. It was both less exciting and less anxiety-provoking than the past two years of seeing him off on his first bus trip. Two years ago was his first bus ride as he headed off to kindergarten. Last year he was headed off to a new school and his first full day. This year that had all been done. Same bus, same bus driver, and same school. He got ready and headed out just like any day last year. The only differences, of course, were a new class of kids, a new teacher, and the absence of Luke.

I was strangely comforted when I learned this week that Luke wasn't going to be in Harrison's class. I guess that meant that Harrison's life won't be dramatically altered in a practical way on a day-to-day basis. Those who meet Harrison in his shy turtle mode would be surprised to hear that he was quite the chatterbox in school last year, and Luke was his most common accomplice. Knowing that losing Luke won't have a major impact on this classroom time is some consolation.

Still, Luke's absence hung over that first morning like a cloud.

I was determined to walk HJ out to the bus on his first day of 2nd grade, but as with anything around here there were logistical problems (by the name of Shepard and Kennedy). If I put them in the stroller and took them down the driveway they would probably be quiet and watch the scenery, but then it would all be about them rather than HJ. Also I didn't think I could deploy the NASA-designed folding twins stroller without Sarah's help (finding it is no problem, however -- it is always In The Way). If I stopped to feed them I wouldn't make it to the driveway until after the bus was long gone. But if I left them unfed I expected I would return to the house to hear them shrieking from abandonment, perhaps already having learned to dial the phone to report me to protective services and Oprah (Irresponsible Parents Who Leave Their Twins Home Alone). Maybe I would even be able to hear the shrieking from the road, the Telltale Twins announcing my irresponsible choices to the neighbors.

So I strapped them into their vibrachairs and held bottles for each of them while Harrison got ready. They only got a few ounces before I took the bottles away and left with Harrison, but it was enough. They only looked mildly (and quietly) impatient when Grace and I returned to the house.

In keeping with the family tradition started by my Mom, I got a "first day of school" picture of Harrison before he got on the bus. I did break with tradition somewhat in not requiring him to stare into the sun while I took the picture. First-day-of-school pictures of Amy and I show the strange combination of excitement, pride in our new metal lunchboxes, and retinal burning.

The bus arrived, Harrison hopped in, and found a seat. In a few moments our new second grader was out of sight. I had the typical, can't-win parent attitude: Relief that I was down to three kids to care for quickly changed to sadness that I only had three kids to care for. Is it just me, or do all parents manage to find sadness in every happy milestone?

That Friday Grace got to visit Pooh Corner, the preschool run by Saline Area Schools. This was the same program Harrison attended when he was four, so it felt to me like Grace was a little too young. When we got there, though, there were lots of kids her age. I think she'll do well.

There were two major requirements for Grace to attend Pooh Corner:

She had to be completely potty trained. They don't do toileting at Pooh Corner.
She had to stop calling it "Poop Corner." It was an understandable mistake considering how much we kept telling her about item #1, but I can't imaging what kind of a place she thought we were sending her. A place called Poop Corner where you have to go potty on the potty?

Grief, Hope, and the Obamatron

2008-09-01T20:26:00.003-04:00

It was a rough night. Sarah and I, being somewhat experienced at grief, are plowing right through it, alternating between grieving for Luke himself, grieving for our lost delusion that this can't happen when parents follow all the safety rules, and feeling terrible for Luke's parents and siblings. Harrison is approaching it more slowly. Every once in a while he thinks of something he won't be able to do with Luke anymore and he gets very sad, then slowly recovers. Then the cycle starts again. He also gets angry with "why" questions, and just plain angry with the person who ran the stop sign.

This morning we decided that as a diversion we would keep our original plans for today: Attending Barack Obama's Labor Day speech in Hart Plaza. As part of her new job, Sarah has some access to the UAW-Ford National Programs Center (NPC), which is right next to Hart Plaza. We planned to drop off the twins at Grandma's, pick up Sarah's new coworker Anna and her husband Nate in Dearborn, breeze into the underground parking at the NPC, and saunter over to Hart Plaza. This plan can be simply diagrammed as follows:

What actually happened is much tougher to diagram.

It turned out the road to the NPC was closed. I drove up to the policeman manning the entrance, asked Sarah to do the talking (expecting she could hit him with some important-sounding names and acronyms and apply her forceful persuasive powers to get us through to the UAW-Ford building), and rolled down the window. It was then that Sarah, known for her powerful skills of getting things done with difficult people in difficult situations, apparently went into passive mode. Maybe it was the gun. "Uh, can we get through there?", she asked apologetically. The slightly amused cop directed us to Cobo rooftop parking. I dove away while making fun of Sarah mercilessly, which I intend to keep doing until she threatens me (I don't carry a gun).

As it turned out there was lots of parking left at Cobo. So the plan was adjusted. We would walk to the NPC like the common folk and then pick up our VIP plan from there. As we neared the building, Sarah redeemed herself by talking the police into letting us pass, although they told us we wouldn't be allowed to get into the NPC. We smiled politely at their lack of understanding of our special status. They didn't realize that we were "on the list."

At the NPC, of course, we were surprised to find that we couldn't get in. While the NPC security people were sufficiently impressed with Sarah and Anna's name and acronym-dropping, regular security didn't control the building at that point. The Secret Service did, and the Secret Service doesn't speak Ford.

So we went to stand in line. Actually, the word "line" hardly begins to describe it. It was more of a serial crowd winding up Jefferson, then Washington along Cobo Hall, and then through a convoluted set of folds on downtown side streets. It was like we were waiting for the "Detroit" ride at Disneyland, enjoying the carefully reproduced ambiance. The line moved but as Obamatime approached and we still couldn't even see Hart Plaza, we knew we wouldn't be shaking hands with The One. The strangest part was people didn't seem very upset about it. It was a pleasant, mostly shady walk downtown. We all figured we would see or hear something, and the whole event had a slight air of history to it. Harrison and I kept a running joke going between us of spotting undercover Secret Service agents. "See that bird?" he would ask. "Secret Service."

Every once in a while Harrison would get a little sniffly and say he was "still sad about Luke." I took that as a healthy thing. He's learning that life goes on, even if not as happily for a while and never in quite the same way.

As we finally turned the corner on Jefferson the line just sort of broke up and turned into a crowd. Apparently they had finally closed off Hart Plaza. So we stood in the intersection of Jefferson and Griswold and watched the huge screen erected for the occasion. Apparently they hadn't considered that people would want to actually listen to the speech though. There might have been some small speakers, but I got the impression we were listening to the sound system from the stage in Hart Plaza. We heard The One sing to Aretha Franklin, heard his clear, declarative sentences in support of organized labor, and could tell that much of the speech was actually about helping hurricane victims. I missed the fact that there was a moment of silent prayer, which was probably just as well.

By then we were in the sun and the kids were wilting. So when the speech ended after less than fifteen minutes we weren't disappointed. We worked our way back to Cobo and the car, dropped off Anna and Nate, and were having lunch at a Chili's within an hour. Sarah and I can't take the senior kids to a restaurant very often so we didn't feel too guilty about taking advantage of Grandma for an extra 30 minutes.

So the last day of summer vacation turned out to be a pretty good day, all things considered.

There are more pictures on our Flickr stream.

Luke

2008-08-31T19:42:00.004-04:00

We got the news this afternoon that Luke passed away. Harrison is very sad. Luke was one of his favorite friends, and he's still processing what all this means. School starts the day after tomorrow and Harrison has been looking forward to seeing Luke and telling him about his summer.

Fortunately for Harrison, Aunt Amy was here today along with Grandma and Grandpa Labuta. Amy is a professional at this kind of thing. She helped him talk through it.

Sarah and I are sad and stunned. Luke was such a nice boy. Exactly the kind of friend you want your child to have. The only way we allow the kids to leave the house at all is to delude ourselves into thinking things like this can't happen. So when it happens to a child so much like (and so close to) our child, who was with his parents who loved him so much and took such good care of him . . . it just doesn't compute.

Our thoughts are with Luke's parents right now, and his twin brother, and his entire family.