I am still planning on a return to blogging… it’s just I haven’t had anything pop into my head that I would consider suitable enough for my first return post.
But I, along with The Wife, are taking the Gemelas to see the Jonas Brothers in concert tomorrow.
If that doesn’t give me fodder for writing, I don’t know what will…
Well…
We found a house, made an offer, had the offer accepted, put our house on the market, saw it sell within 3 weeks (in this market), had the home inspection done on the new house which showed that there was over $50,000 worth of repairs needed including electrical, plumbing and foundation work, rescinded said offer, threatened legal action if our earnest money wasn’t returned, continued with the sale of our house, decided to build on the lot we bought last year, realized we will be homeless by June 6th, started looking for apartments to live in while the house is built, got our earnest check back, started packing, started looking at house plans, found a house plan, looked for builders, found a builder, met with builder, found out it will take anywhere from 6 months to 1 year to build house, started freaking out, started to get ready for HoMu’s graduation this weekend (she finally finished her Master’s Degree), getting ready for The PB & The J’s 6th birthday, decided to have a family one at Chuck E. Cheese (eep) and another at our house with their friends from school and dance (double eep), decided to have a moving sale at the end of the month, found an apartment, realized I hadn’t gotten HoMu anything for her graduation yet and realized that we have to move by June 4th.
What’s up with you?
Yes, I am still here... I am still writing, I just haven't had a chance to write lately.
Not only did The Peanut Butter get the flu, so did Honey Mustard... the two of them then got upper respitory infections... followed by The Jelly getting a sinus infection (but NOT the flu thank God).
I, knock on wood, have not gotten anything... wait, does my throat feel scratchy now? Do I feel warm?
Sorry.
This weekend marks the annual Chorizo-making fun with my Dad, brother and a slew of cousins and Uncles. And making a special guest-appearance this weekend is none other than that other missing blogger; Scott.
Hopefully I will have more stories to regale you with upon my return.
Now I'm going to take some Vitamin C and echinacea...
A play in one scene: “5-Year Old Smack-down”
Cast of Characters:
Narrator: The Voices in My Head
Daddy: Kemp
Sweetie: The Peanut Butter
Sissy: The Jelly
Setting: Kankakee, Illinois - Friday, December 21, 2007. 7:45 AM.
The wind was out of the SE at 8 MPH, with an air temperature of 37 degrees Fahrenheit. It was foggy with visibility at 2.50 miles…
Sweetie: “Daddy, I was good this morning wasn’t I?”
Daddy: “Yes sweetie, you were very good. Thank you.”
Sissy: “Was I Daddy?”
Narrator: “She wasn’t…”
Sweetie: “Not really Sissy…”
Narrator: “Sisters…”
The Peanut Butter has been released from the hospital…
She had the 48 hour EEG done and the readings showed no irregular brain patterns, no spikes and no seizures.
The Neurologist isn’t ready to completely take her off the medication yet, so she will be kept on 2 pills a night for the next six months, after which she will have another EEG to see where she is at that time.
The doctor also wants her to be tested for dyslexia, which is something I’ve been asking to be done for some time.
More details to come…
Also, if you ever find yourself at the University of Chicago’s Comer Children’s Hospital, be prepared to be pampered.
Some of the amenities; one patient per room… flat-screen HD TV… free on-demand movies… free on-line games… room-service type food service (they don’t bring it by, you order it when you’re ready and they then bring it to you…) and for the parents, a sofa that folds out to a twin-sized bed. A far cry from the thing I had to sleep on when HoMu was on bed-rest during pregnancy… those things were far from comfortable…
Regular readers of my blog know that The Peanut Butter was diagnosed with a “seizure disorder” a little more than a year ago and was prescribed medication to combat it.
When she started kindergarten this year, HoMu and I, along with her teacher, noticed that at times she wasn’t paying attention in class, was easily distracted, seemed distant and un-interested and sometimes would act as though she didn’t know something even though she did the day or even hours before.
Like we did before she was put on the medication, we started researching the side-effects of her medication again and discovered that these were indeed side-effects of taking it. So at her bi-annual exam with her Neurologist, we discussed with the doctor and it was decided that we would wean her off of the medication and, for the last 8 weeks, we’ve been doing just that.
After being dropped from 4 doses a day to 2, she showed a drastic increase in her testing and schoolwork, scoring a 27 on a numbers test weeks before when she was under full dosage to an astounding 49 (out of 50) when her dosing was cut in half.
She is now totally off the meds and, knock on wood, has not had a seizure during that time… and today she starts her 48-hour, in-hospital EEG at the University of Chicago Hospital (also where they were born) to see if she is still having them (she was having them in her sleep, hence the 48-hour EEG).
This is significant for two reasons: First; hopefully we can find out if she has, as most children who develop this type of seizure disorder do, grown out of the seizures.
Second: this means that she and The Jelly will be separated… for 3 days/2 nights.
For those of you reading that don’t have twins, everything you’ve heard about the connections that twins have with each other is, for the most part, true… and in the past, their separations have not worked out very well.
So this time we’re trying something different.
I am teaching two ‘Introduction to Public Speaking’ classes this semester and this week are final exams and final speeches, so I can’t cancel class. HoMu will be staying with The PB in the hospital and I will be down here with The J. But since I teach tonight until 10:00, and in an attempt to make The J more at ease, one of my SIL’s graciously said that The J can stay with them… so rather than staying up late until I pick her up… and rather than staying with a set of grandparents, she will be with one of her Aunts and Uncles and three of her cousins…
Hopefully my nephews and niece will help The J get through this first night… my wife will help The PB get through her first night… and me? Well… in front of people I will be the strong father, stoic and solid. But when I get home tonight, with no one around, and when I start thinking about my wife and daughters and what one of them is going through at the hospital and the other is going through away from her sister… I’m sure I’ll sit down for a nice cry…
And I have no problem with that…
Kemp's Note: The story you are about to see is true; the names have been changed to protect the innocent. For example: George Baker is now called "Sylvia Wiss. "
My older brother got married last Friday. I was the Best Man and The Peanut Butter and The Jelly were the Flower Girls. As the Best Man, I was required to give a toast to the happy couple... for your convenience, it's below.
More wedding shenanigans later...
If I could just say a few words... I'd be a better public speaker.
For those of you who don't know me, I'm Kemp, Prof’s little brother… in age, not in size.
Let me just start by saying that Lawyer looks absolutely stunning while Prof looks... well, stunned.
I consider it a great privilege that Prof asked me to be his best man as he has quite generously returned the favor that I asked of him 10 ½ years ago, during which he took the opportunity to make lots of cheap jokes at my expense... which means I now have the right to reciprocate… I should warn you now; pay back is gonna be a bitch.
When Prof asked me to be his Best Man, I immediately started going through all the stories about him that would best embar– I mean, describe him…
I could start by telling the story of how, on my 24th birthday, we went golfing and he got hit IN the head with a golf ball… or the story of his 30th birthday when he got hit ON by two 70-year old women at the Denny’s restaurant in Peoria… or how he almost got hit by a wayward bottle rocket one fourth of July… how he fell into a Christmas tree one year... or how my wife Honey Mustard likes to compare us to Frasier and Niles Crane... HoMu, you and Lawyer will have to decide which of you is Maris and which of you is Lilith...
But then I thought of a better story.
You see; many people thought that Prof was a confirmed bachelor, but something happened about five and a half years ago that changed him and made him more reflective on his life, and that was the birth of his nieces, The PB & The J…
Long story, somewhat short version... my wife HoMu was hospitalized with a difficult pregnancy 6 weeks prior to the birth of our twins. Surprising everyone, the girls… without me being there, hell without anyone being there, decided to come into this world a little earlier than planned.
Since I was a good 2-hour drive away in Aurora, and HoMu was in Chicago, I was unable to be there when the girls were hastily born … but I knew that Prof was only a few miles away so I called him, trembling - my voice cracking, and told him that the girls had been born, and someone needed to be there when HoMu woke up. Prof dropped everything, raced out of his DePaul office and took a very expensive cab ride to the University of Chicago Hospital.
Of course the nurses assumed he was the father and started telling him about the birth... and the incisions... and then, came the pictures... ending with one nurse asking Prof if he had ever seen a placenta that large... Prof’s response was a sardonic ‘not since breakfast.’
When HoMu woke up, Prof was there to comfort her, hold her hand, assure her that everything was fine, the girls were doing well, and that I was on my way…
After I got there, Prof's adventures continued as he traveled on foot in the dead of night, through the South Side of Chicago looking for a place to develop pictures of his nieces so HoMu, who wouldn’t be able to see the girls until the next day, could see them.
The first time I met Lawyer I told her this story… and she, and Prof, started to mist up… and it was then that I knew that these two were meant to be together
Lawyer, I know that Prof loves you very much because, you know, he spent a long time writing this speech FOR me.
And I know that you love him because you have accepted the eccentric, sometimes complicated (insert generic last name here) family.
But in all seriousness, I’d like to end with a quote for the two of you to remember from one of my favorite authors, Henry David Thoreau; “There is no remedy for love than to love more” so let’s raise our glasses to the happy couple, Prof and lawyer; may the joys you share today be the beginning of a lifetime of great happiness and fulfillment. Congratulations, I love you both.
“The female of the species is more deadly than the male.” - Rudyard Kipling
There were approximately 7300 people at the concert, with the breakdown something like this:
Ok, there were probably more than 10 men there, but not a whole-lot more… I was definitely outnumbered and realize I could have been trampled and overpowered at any given moment, but that is part of being a good father. And when The PB & The J told me that I was the best Daddy in the world for taking them to the concert... well, my heart was bursting with pride and joy.
When the first act, Jordan Pruitt, came out the audience response was a succinct; meh.
When Drake Bell (of Nickelodeon’s Drake & Josh) came out… the audience roared with approval.
When Corbin came out, all I heard was the squealing of thousands of girls… something along the lines of "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"
That was immediately followed by a semi-constant ringing in my ears that went away… well, it really hasn’t yet…
The PB & The J enjoyed themselves immensely… and were dancing and singing with all the other girls in attendance.
The PB & The J are five… and we saw plenty of other girls around the same age… with their High School Musical or “I heart Corbin” t-shirts on… teeny-bopping around, screaming, and generally acting like a concert-goer.
But seeing all of this – seeing the throngs of girls in a tizzy ready to rip the eyes out of any other girl that made eyes at Corbin – made me realize one thing;
I am oh-so-screwed…
It’s gonna be me… HoMu… and The PB & The J… no other males in the house…
Me… and three females…
Pray for me…
In all seriousness though; Bell wasn’t bad. His musical influences are The Beatles, and you can definitely hear it in his music and also in his fashion with his publicty photo on the state fair’s website looking very early-Beatlesesque;
As far as Corbin goes, he’s been working out since “High School Musical.” Midway through his show he removed his shirt to reveal a tank top with a glittery peace sign, and his muscles were a’bulging with more than a few of the mother’s oooing and aahing… never mind the fact that he’s only 20…
And one other question; when the HELL did concert t-shirts get so ridiculously expensive? $30, are you kidding me?
At first I was supposed to go out to L.A. on business…
Then that changed to Boston on business…
Then that got cancelled altogether and now I’m going to Norman, Oklahoma…
From LA to Boston to Norman… that’s a rather strange progression isn’t it?
One of my cousins got married recently and they are having a reception on Saturday. And seeing as how this is one of only two cousins on my Mom’s side, Honey Mustard, The Peanut Butter, The Jelly and I – along with my parents, my brother and his fiancée – are making the trek down.
Twelve hours in a car with two 5-year olds…
Oh. My. God.
Sure, we’ll have the dual DVD player… and The PB & The J will have their Gameboys (which, quite frankly, they don’t really like)… and they’ll have enough books that they would be able to take over for the Library of Congress… and coloring books. But even with all those diversions, it’s still going to be a bumpy ride so to speak.
Why? Well, save for a short portion through the Ozarks, the states of Illinois, Missouri and Oklahoma are pretty damn flat…
For those of you in New York or Virginia or California or Florida who have never driven through those states, it looks something like this:
Okay, maybe not that bad, but you get the idea.
So… I’ll be back Tuesday with tales to regale about a trip that, while shorter than last year’s jaunt to Washington DC, will surely be…
Be…
...
... well... how about we just say ‘interesting’ at this point at leave it at that?
Oh... and a prize to whomever can accurately guess what the total expenditure of gas on this trip will be while driving a Ford Explorer.
Dear The PB & The J:
It was five years ago today… at 4:19 PM… that you came into this world.
The PB, you came out loud and crying at 4 pounds, 14ounces.
The J, you came out ‘floppy and unresponsive’ at 4 pounds, 3 ounces and with 10 tangles in your umbilical cord.
But you were healthy, and for that your Mother and I are eternally grateful.
After three weeks of life in the NICU, we brought you home. To say your Mommy and I were nervous would be a colossal understatement…
We were scared to death.
Dozens of questions went through our heads; ‘Would we be good parents?’, ‘Would we be so-so parents?’… ‘Would we be parents that you would have to talk to therapists about when you’re both older?’
There were adjustments, and some of them were hard to... well, adjust to. Some weren't... like sleep, since you both started to sleep through the night around 4 months of age...
You crawled...
You walked...
You talked...
You sassed...
And…
You’ve grown..
Happy Birthday girls… I love you both very, very much… more than anything else in the world, and will continue to do so, always... and forever..
Love Daddy
Honey Mustard and I leave for Las Vegas tomorrow without the The Peanut Butter & The Jelly.
That’s right, just the two of us… and we’re positively giddy about the idea.
Now don’t get us wrong, we absolutely, unequivocally, unconditionally love our children, but… come on… anyone with kids knows exactly what I’m talking about.
However, there is one problem…
In The PB and The J’s 4 ¾ on this planet (and NOT counting the nights they were in the NICU since we were next door at the Ronald McDonald House) we’ve been apart from them, overnight, for a grand total of two times…
You read that right… two times.
Once, a year and two months after they were born when my Uncle Nishan (who I am named for and who was always like a grandfather to me) passed away.
The second time was two years ago when we decided to have some salvation for an evening and stayed the night at Hotel 71 in Chicago, had dinner at Miller’s Pub, drank too much with friends of ours at the Congress Hotel Bar (which is THE BEST dive bar in Chicago btw), and had Sunday Brunch at The Signature Room atop the John Hancock building…
And that’s it.
So here we are… on the cusp of multiple nights away from our little demoñios angels… and HoMu and I are more than a little nervous.
The girls?They’re excited… no, scratch that… they’re thrilled... after all, they get to spend two nights with HoMu’s parents, then two nights with my parents.
Four nights of spoiling… four nights of being given money from Abuelo (my Dad)… four nights of being the center of attention from their Gama (HoMu’s Mom, whom they usually have to share with six other grandchildren)…
It’s enough to make them push us out the door two days early.
...
… but it’s also enough to make HoMu and I a little worried.
But, we’ll muddle through somehow.
We put an offer on a larger house Saturday... one that has 2.5 bathrooms, 4 bedrooms and sits on 1/4 of an acre...
Now comes the joy of trying to sell our current house so we can buy and move into the new one...
Why, oh why?
Time to reach into the official “Kemp’s Blog Mailbag” and answer some e-mail/comment questions…
I enjoyed the questions. If you have any more , leave ‘em in comments or send me an email – kempsblog at gmail dot com
Thanks… and enjoy…
Honey Mustard had class the other night and wasn’t home yet.
The Peanut Butter and The Jelly were playing with their dolls so I quickly went down to the laundry room and got some laundry to fold... yes, I fold laundry...
I brought the laundry up, put it down near the couch and then had to put the dog outside as she was dancing a jig and I know if I didn’t put her out now, she’s piddle all over the floor.
So I put the dog out, brought her in and gave her some water. All told, about 7 minutes I was away from the laundry basket.
I go into the front room to fold it, and to my surprise, my daughters... my 4 ½ year old daughters... had folded it all.
You read that right... they folded the laundry... all of it... nicely... and had it in perfect stacks...
I remember them not being able to hold their heads up like it was yesterday... and now here they are folding laundry (and nicer than the job I can do quite frankly)...
I don’t want to sound like a schmo here... but I was amazed. I know, I know, I know... they’re getting older, there are a lot of things they can do... but it still surprised me and brought home one, simple fact that, I think, some parents tend to forget...
Time.
Flies.
Enjoy it while you can...
I leave after work this afternoon for my sojourn into sausage making (there are two things you never want people to see you make; laws and sausages)
This Saturday is the Day of the Chorizo.
A family tradition that I, along with my dad, my brother, a few of my cousins partake in annually. It’s the day we make the family-chorizo for the coming year. We use a recipe that my Abuela brought over with her when she immigrated (or is that emigrated) from Spain at the age of 19.
We butcher the hog, we add the spices, we mix it, we put it in a grinder, we encase it and we let it smoke for a few days.
Last year I was too sick to participate... but this year I am feeling fine and ready to go.
Because The Peanut Butter and The Jelly have dance class (and a recital in May that they’re practicing for), and Honey Mustard has midterms next week (that she has to study for) they are not going...I am going sans family.
Last night at dinner, The PB asked if we could go see a movie this weekend, and HoMu said ‘Daddy will be out of town this weekend.”
(Note: We are not telling the girls where I am actually going... if they knew I was going to my parents, their Abuelo and Abuela, they would want to go and would throw a fit that could very well go down as the most impressive fit by a child EVER)
The J started crying... actually crying... saying “But I love Daddy. I want him to stay home. Don’t go Daddy, don’t go.”
My heart... was breaking...
Then The PB decided to join in... and my heart was doubly breaking...
(Let me explain something about my daughters… being twins, they know how to play off each other… whether it be for fun or dramatic effect or for getting what they want – and they’re only four, so get ready Sarah, Becky, Matthew – so I knew that I was in trouble)
This went on for about 20 minutes until The J said, “I’ll miss you Daddy but you can go” followed by The PB saying, “Go Daddy.”
Great... they feel better, but my heart is still breaking...
If they’re acting like this now, what are they going to do when both HoMu and I go to Las Vegas in April for our 10 Year wedding anniversary??
What do you guys do when you have to be away from the kids?
...
And incidentally, my family’s version of chorizo does NOT use the “varietal parts of the animal, such as cheeks, salivary glands or lymph nodes” that Wikipedia mentions...
This morning, as I’m leaving for work, The Peanut Butter and The Jelly are eating breakfast. After I kiss and hug them and HoMu goodbye, I walk out the door. As I’m walking down the sidewalk to the garage, I hear the door open and The PB says to me, “Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy”… I go back to the door and tell her Valentine’s Day was yesterday, and she responded, “I know, I just wanted you to come back inside so I could tell you I love you again…”
I love being a daddy…
Sigh… The Peanut Butter, The Jelly & Honey Mustard all have a snow day today…
But not me…no sireeee, I’m at work… toiling away, listening to the wind howl and watching the snow pile up and swirl outside my office window (yes, I have an actual office with an actual window – one positive about this job…)
Has anyone ever seen the episode of The Simpsons (Episode 7F03 – ‘Bart Gets an F’) where Bart prays for snow because of a test? He gets his prayer answered and while the entire town of Springfield has fun in the snow (a day Mayor Quimby proclaims as “…Snow Day, the funnest day in the history of Springfield!”), he’s stuck inside…
Welcome to my world...
Sure, my employees are here (most of them) the doctors are nowhere to be found… and we’re under a Blizzard Warning until midnight.
Sigh...
Why did I get into HR/Operations? Why didn’t I follow my brother (a professor) and my wife (an administrator) into education?
Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.
But you all knew that......
The Peanut Butter and the Jelly are musical people with music in their heart. They both love to sing and they both love to dance.
They love watching anything on TV with music… one of their new favorite movies is “Mary Poppins”… if it has music, they like it.
Henceforth lies the problem…
How many of you saw the musical episode of “Scrubs” a few weeks back with the stirring musical numbers “Everything Comes Down to Poo”, “Guy Love” and “Dominican Tango”?
Not a bad episode, and the musical numbers were catchy…
The problem is that is has become The PB & The J’s favorite show.
More so than Mickey’s Clubhouse or Handy Manny… they now want to watch the “singing doctor show.”
Every. Single. Minute.
Why is this a problem? Because now I have all of those songs stuck in my head.
From the top of your head, to the sole of your shoeWe can figure out what's wrong with yo—
Stop it...
Every. Single. One.
Sometimes you're better off not knowingI said stop it...
But this isn't one of those times
Your world's become a musical
And your doctors speak in—
Let's face the facts about me and you
A love unspecified
Though I'm proud to call you Chocolate Bear
The crowd will always talk and stare
The thing is guys remember facts
Like what Derek Jeter hit last year, which was 3-oh-3!
And that is why our brains are maxed
And there's no room for things like birthdays or ethnicities
Son of a bit—
Help me. Please help me.
