Stress — or something more?

Ever wondered why you seem to be losing patience with your kids, or other parts of your life?

Turns out it may not be excessive stress, or something you can just “get over.” I’ve discovered this in an all-too-personal way.

I debated for a while whether I should bring this up on a public blog, but the importance of spreading the word have outweighed my personal self-consciousness.

Turns out I have an anxiety disorder, and the drug I’ve been prescribed is helping in more ways than I could have imagined.

For the last few months, my condition was controlling my life, in both emotional and physiological ways. I couldn’t get through a day without feeling heart palpitations, dizziness, shortness of breath or numbness in my arms and hands. Frankly, I often felt I was on the verge of a heart attack, or might lose consciousness at any moment. I’d been getting about four hours of sleep a night, and I was finding it difficult to concentrate at work or on other complex tasks.

And, of course, my kids and my wife have often felt the brunt of my impatience. It’s not fair to them, and I was tired of inflicting my condition on them.

Basically, I felt I was barely functioning, and I was growing weary of that feeling. So I visited my doctor and spilled my guts, and she sorted it out for me. She also told me that of the non-medical conditions she sees in her office, anxiety-related disorders are by far the most common.

I had no idea.

I’ll have much more to say about this in future posts, but I believe I now know what’s been wrong with me for so long. And while a simple pill can’t cure my ill, it’s a start.

I’m ready now to move ahead. It’s a great feeling.

Mission accomplished … and then some

I’d been waiting to post an update on our third-grader’s Hula-Hoop for Heifers event, as we compiled a final fundraising total. (Yup, that’s the ticket. Any port in a storm, when you’re trying to explain lengthy blog lapses like mine.)

Anyway — the event was amazingly successful, raising over $200 for Heifer International. At last check, I believe the plan was to use the money to purchase:

• A flock of ducks;
• A hive (?) of honeybees;
• A goat; and
• Part of a llama (not sure which part, exactly)

But as important as the gift itself was the spirit demonstrated in “Hula Hoops for Heifers.” Our son refused to accept the notion that he wouldn’t be allowed to participate in a fundraiser, at school, to help others less fortunate than himself. So he took the ball and ran with it, and while we encouraged him to an extent, he was the driving force.

It really was cool to see so many kids out supporting his cause, too.

I’m hoping that the spirit engendered by this effort doesn’t fade away. Our kids can’t live an insular life, unaware or unresponsive to the needs of the wider community. It’s as important a part of their education, in my view, as the lessons and homework.

More on this as it (hopefully) develops …

You go, my man

Sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands, even at age 9 — and even when your school wants no part of it.

Here’s the back story:

Our third grade teachers’ newsletter this week introduced us to Heifers International, “a nonprofit that alleviates hunger, poverty, and environmental degradation through gifts of food and income producing farm animals and training.” Our teacher pointed out that she’s supported the group’s efforts for years, and that they’ve collected class donations for a community contribution to the group every year — until this year.

The change? We were told that our school is discouraging fundraisers that don’t directly benefit the school and its PTA, so our teacher wouldn’t be able to solicit those donations from students this year. (I see the point, I guess, but I don’t agree with it.)

Anyway, our third-grader took matters into his own hands, and tomorrow afternoon after school, he’s organizing “Hula Hoops for Heifers” to solicit his own donations — off school property, of course. All proceeds will go directly to Heifers International, in the school’s name.

He’s picking up a valuable lesson about selflessness and being a true world citizen, and Heifers International will, hopefully, get the same level of support that they would have received had the school allowed the fundraiser in-house.

Well done, my son!

Soda or no soda?

This topic generated a decent amount of buzz around the office, so I thought I’d throw it on the blog and see if it gets traction.

I don’t think we’re perfect parents, by any stretch. But we’ve decided not to give our kids soda.

Don’t get me wrong. We’re not nutrition zealots. In fact, we probably could be a lot better about the things we let them eat. We try to keep their nutrition in balance, but they certainly get a “healthy” dose of snacks and treats.

They even have juice and punch on occasion. And lemonade is one of their favorites. We’ve just decided to steer them clear of carbonation. To our knowledge, neither of our kids (ages 9 and 5) has ever had a pop, or a soda, or a Coke.

How does this work in your family? Are we way off base here, singling out soda as the only vice we keep from our kids? (They don’t have gum much either, so there’s another thing.)

Throw out some comments here, and vote in the poll. I really want to know what you think here.

[polldaddy poll=2747374]

We are the champions! (Sort of)

A little late getting an update out on this, but …

We had a great Pinewood Derby weekend, at least as compared with (relatively modest) expectations.

Apparently all our axle-polishing and strategic weighting efforts paid off. Our 5-year-old’s car (at right) took first place in the “Open” class at Friday night’s pre-Derby event. (There was only one other car in the race, built by a Cub Scout who couldn’t attend the Derby, but still — a win is a win, especially in a 5-year-old’s eyes.)

And on Saturday, our 8-year-old Scout’s car finished first in his 13-member den, thus qualifying for the final-round competition that started at noon. (His is the brown, viney-looking car; the “driver” is a Pokemon character named Eevee.)

The car didn’t make the championship round, but he was thrilled just to qualify for the finals, racing against older kids’ cars that dominated the finals.

Last year’s car didn’t even finish the first-round racing, stopping before the finish line, so this year’s performance was a coup de grace by comparison.

There are already plenty of ideas flowing for next year’s event — build a low-slung car and double the polishing on those axles and wheels.

(A side note: the “Victory Lane” platform housing our 5-year-0ld’s car was built at a Home Depot Kids’ Workshop this past Saturday. If you’ve never been, go. It’s a great parent-kid bonding experience, for boys and girls alike. You can get some really cool projects made, too. The next one is building a rain gauge on Saturday, March 6, 9 a.m. to noon.)

Coming together … little by little

Spent some time over the weekend with the Pinewood Derby cars, and I think we’ll have a couple of sweet rides.

At least, I’m hoping they’ll be sweet. I’ll be happy (and the kids will be, too) if they simply make it to the end of the track.

We did some serious polishing work with the axles (otherwise known as nails) over the weekend, and I’m hoping that will help.

Now comes the final assembly steps. Testing is Friday. We’ll see how we roll.

Again, any (legal) ideas/tips/strategies are welcomed.

Braces update, and a Derby challenge

Surprise, surprise: Our orthodontist actually decided our 8-year-0ld doesn’t need braces.

At least not yet.

Certainly, his teeth are a little out of whack. But they’re willing to wait for a year, or even two, before deciding to go all tin-mouth on him.

Works for me. Definitely works for me. I wasn’t looking forward to the idea, for a number of reasons. He actually seemed excited about it, but I know he wouldn’t be once he found out what was involved.

——————

Next up: The annual Pinewood Derby Conundrum.

See, I consider myself to be fairly handy, even adept, with certain tools. But woodworking is most definitely NOT one of my strengths.

So when the Scouts hand us this blank slate — a rectangular lump of wood — and tell us to craft a sleek racing machine, my head begins to spin.

Our 5-year-old wants one, too, but since he’s not a Scout yet, we can “cheat” with his. We bought him a pre-cut machine. We just need to sand and paint his.

Our actual Scout machine, on the other hand, needs to be built from scratch.

We’ve got the basic shape carved out. I’ll add a photo soon.

I just hope we can make it competitive on the track. Last year’s version stopped short of the finish line.

Time to get busy this weekend. Anyone have tips? Shoot me a reply, and let’s chat.

Braces? Oh, what never was …

So, we’re going down the road of considering braces for our 8-year-old son.

We’re far from set on the idea, but they’ve already done the full-mouth x-ray, and the visit with the orthodontist is scheduled next week. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t at least suggest we consider braces.

Cost issues aside, the whole discussion has been giving me some major flashbacks.

See, my teeth have never been the greatest. Have a look:

That gap in the middle isn’t especially noticeable in the photo, but it’s quite — shall we say — striking in person. And that snaggle-tooth look? Let’s just say I’m glad my family loves me.

One of those front teeth has been repaired, by the way. I lost a corner off one of them when a kid pushed me down on the playground in elementary school. I think that’s when they became particularly crooked, too.

And here’s the best part. Braces weren’t really financially feasible when I was a kid, so as an alternative approach, our family dentist actually suggested — get this — PUSHING on them during my leisure time.

That’s right. PUSHING on them to straighten them out.

I tried it a few times. Let’s just say it didn’t go particularly well. And my efforts to continue the practice were short-lived.

So if it turns out our son really does need braces, I’ll embrace the concept, no matter the cost. I’d much rather have his teeth straight than to have him deal with teeth like mine.

And there’s no way I’ll ask him to push on his teeth.

An open letter to the winter of 2009-10

Dear Old Man Winter,

We get the joke.

Oh, we understand all the “weather outside is frightful” stuff. You’ve made your point — and pretty emphatically, too, I might add.

You’ve brought us plenty of snow this season, thanks. We embraced that winter wonderland thing for about a week, just long enough to ensure a white Christmas. We appreciated it. Really, we did.

But you just didn’t know when to stop, do you? Look, for all the snow you’ve brought us this year, we really haven’t enjoyed much of it. No full-out snowball fights, no monumental snowmen, no igloos, no heavenly snow angels. We haven’t even been sledding this year. NOT ONCE, dangit. Your snow has either been too talcum-powder dry (like last week) or just too freakin’ MUCH (like a few weeks ago).

And that’s to say nothing of the sun-less days and biting winds. I mean, really. Can’t envision Currier and Ives scenes when everything has the pallor of soggy wool socks and the sting of rubbing alcohol on a sunburn.

I mean, you’re supposed to be fun for kids of all ages, right? Not hearing many squeals of delight around our house lately.

And now we’re getting the gloomy, sun-less stuff. Even when you thaw just a little, you can’t let us have even a glimmer of shiny hope, can you?

This isn’t the first year we’ve had this discussion, either. Remember the ice storms of two years ago (the one that brought a tree branch through our roof)? Ring a bell? And how about the snow avalanches of 2008-09? It’s deja vu all over again, dude, and we’re not down with it.

Seems this is what global warming’s all about — that winters can actually be harsher. I think that Gore fellow’s on to something. (I prefer the term “climate change,” actually. A little less misleading.)

Here’s the deal, Winter Guy. We’ve had our little fling. It’s over. I’ve found another season to love. The thrill is gone.

Sing it, Terry:

Nothing personal, Winter. You’ve just overstayed your welcome.

I’m sure we’ll get over it, and welcome you back in December. For a week or two, at least. But for now — time to hit the road, Jack Frost. We get the joke. It’s just not funny any more when you keep telling it over, and over, and over.

Sincerely,

The Pratt family, the state of Iowa, and most of the northern United States

cc: Mother Nature

What’s changed since 2000? What hasn’t?

Frankly, I don’t have any great words of wisdom to share as we prepare to emerge from the 2000s, or the “aughts,” as they’ve become known.

I do realize, though, that as parents, we tend to operate in the short term. Which practice is on the schedule tonight? When’s the Pinewood Derby car need to be done for Scouts? (soon, actually) Where’s the gear for the upcoming season, whether it be snow boots or swim trunks?

I took some time today to reflect on all the changes we’ve experienced, as a family, since the decade began. The big picture, as it were. What’s changed?

Everything.

Both of our kids were born in this decade. That’s change enough for anyone, with the routine of life turned upside down.

Other changes have been substantial, too: Settling into the house we had recently purchased in 1999, a new car bought in 2000 (the car we’re still driving, in fact). And that’s to say nothing of the Clinton-Lewinsky affair, 9/11 and the myriad of world events that have been chronicled endless on the decade-retrospective lists.

But in our little corner of the world, it’s been the kids that have shaped our decade. We’ve gone from decorating a nursery to solving algebra equations. From bottle-feedings, to hospitalizations and surgeries, to the first successful bike-ride and the family traditions we’ve begun to establish.

What did we do with our time before we had kids? I know we were busy, but I can’t imagine we were busier than we are now. Sometimes it’s a little much, but we’re on the path now. No turning back.

At this point, nearly a decade into our parenting journey, I’m not sure we’d even know which direction to go.

Next Page »