Vanilla Sugar

In my affinity for housewares, I rank somewhere between Homer Simpson and James Lileks. I don't do the purchasing, but I do know what I like.

A year or so ago my wife brought home some hand soap from Bed, Bath, Bodyworks & Beyond, or some such. I declared it to be a major find.

To backpeddle, hand soap is a big issue when you've got little boys. We try to get the boys to wash their hands at all of the socially acceptable times (after potty, before eating, etc.), but proper use of soap had become a real issue.

Most hand soap dispensers, in one push, give out enough soap to wash the upper half of a full-grown gorilla. Adults develop a Kerry-like appreciation for nuance, and so can press down just enough to get a small amount. Children, especially little boys, are still binary: do it all the way or don't do it at all.

This led to two problems: 1) the soap ran out fast and had to be replaced often. 2) very little of that soap actually helped to wash the hands of the boys in question. Most of it ended up on the counter, on clothes, on the cat, etc. Some of the time, these eager-to-please fellows lathered up to their armpits, only to forget to remove the lather with water. We'd find dust, dirt, and small children sticking to the boys' upper arms come bedtime.

So the glory of the new dispensers was that a) they used a small amount of soap, and b) they foamed the soap. This made handwashing both economical and fun! It's a floor wax and a dessert topping!

Knowing that this couldn't last, I asked my wife to get a lot of these new dispensers. She did, and now we have one for each sink in the house, plus a few extras to combat entropy.

Ah, bliss.

The boys primarily wash their hands in the downstairs bathroom, so I expected that dispenser to run out first. So a few weeks ago, I started noticing that it was getting low. In checking out the soap to see what would be involved in refilling it, I noticed that it was pretty runny. That must be how they get it to foam so easily. It's at least half water. No problem, I could do some tests, match the mix, and then refill it with Publix knock-off hand soap.

Then I noticed that the rate of decrease in the downstairs dispenser was accelerating. The boys must be washing their hands more, I figured, and patted myself on the back. "Good dad," I said.

So one day, I'm downstairs getting a Coke (it's a daily occurance, get over it) and notice Sam going into the bathroom, saying "Wawo," which, roughly translated, can mean "I would like to play in the water." I follow him in, intending to turn on the faucet for a few seconds and provide a major thrill.

Note: another translation of "Wawo" is, "I would like to drink some water."

Before I can get to the faucet, Sam grabs the soap dispenser, sticks it in his mouth, and begins to suck the half-soap/half-water down. He turns to me, grins, and says, again, "Wawo."

We're going back to bar soap.

History

Sometimes the past come up and hits you in the face, and sometimes that's not a bad thing. I was cooking dinner this past Friday (grits & eggs, mmmm) when the phone rang. Despite being on the unAmerican-free-enterprise-stifling-do-not-call list, we still get telemarketers, so I checked the caller ID (God bless caller ID) and it read "Westchester NY." That meant Craig.

"Craig" is The Rev. Craig Higgins of Trinity Presbyterian Church. However, back when I was in college, he was my RUF campus minister. When I started college in 1990, I had wandered through several churches trying to find someone who would answer the questions I had. Nobody did until Craig came along. The rest, as they say, is . . . well . . .

Why on earth would he be calling? Well, it turns out that he was not in "Westchester NY," but was here in Georgia (using his cell phone) visiting his family and friends. He was eating at the new Fellini's on LaVista (!!!), was going to the Pierce Pettis concert later that night, and wanted to know if I was coming.

In truth, I had known about the concert but was not planning on going. I had only heard of Pierce Pettis in passing and wasn't familiar with his music. I had been more interested in his opener, Randall Goodgame, who had sung at our church a number of times. I really like Randall's music and songwriting, but wasn't going to throw down $10 for an opening band.

Explanatory sidenote: I don't like concerts. I'm not fond of crowds, the music is usually too loud and poorly mixed, and it's a lot of money (in my mind) to pay for a one-shot deal. For the price of a concert I can usually get a CD and listen to it again and again in the comfort of my own home. We do about 1 conert a year.

So I was a little conflicted. Here was a chance to see Craig and his family, but in a venue I was not prepared for and which didn't really lend itself to conversation. In my opinion, if you're going to meet with old friends, a week's worth of 3-hour long dinners is the minimum that should be required. A lot happens in 10 years, you know?

My wife talked me into it, and I'm glad she did. Craig & Ann were there, but their kids (two of whom I held as babies) were not. We got to talk some between sets, so that was good. I probably cut into the time Craig got to spend with his other friends, one of whom is the head pastor of my church, so that may not be a good thing.

The concert itself was excellent. There are folks whose work and style are perfect for a one man/one guitar setting, and both Goodgame and Pettis fall into that category. One of the better concerts I've been to in a few years.

I'm really, really picky about vocals, and Pierce Pettis' voice rubbed me wrong just a little bit. He's great in concert, and I'd go see him again, but I probably can't buy any of his albums (I did get his version of the Mark Heard classic, Another Day In Limbo from iTunes).

But I'll be buying all of Randall Goodgame's albums. Very good. Excellent songwriter, excellent singer and performer. A good match for my ears and state of mind.

There's not really a moral to this story. I got to spend some time with an old friend and mentor and got to hear a great concert. I'll probably go download some of Craig's sermons and listen to them, and it will most likely change my life again. Probably not as drastically as in college, since there's a lot more inertia here. But a little nudge in the right direction is always good.

Of note

In case you're wondering, it is possible to disentangle dental floss from two hands, remove iPod headphones from inside your ears, pick up a handset and answer the phone before the second ring. But it takes practice.

Just in case you're wondering.

Chicken, the other vegetable

Last night we had stir-fry for dinner, in order to use up some of the vegetables in our fridge before they went bad. There was chicken, broccoli, and zucchini (and onion and garlic, of course).
Within one minute after the end of the blessing, all 3 of the big boys had left the table. "I'm not hungry, blah blah." The boys hate stir-fry. We reminded them of The Rule, but they declined anyway.

The Rule is this. If you don't eat dinner, you don't get cookies. If you eat some of your dinner (the term "some" is loosely defined), then you get one cookie. If you eat all of your dinner, you get two cookies.

Two cookies is the pinnacle of joy for the boys. It is what they strive and beg for. And yet, as a reward whose requirements are known,it is rarely attained. Stephen is by far the greatest achiever here. He will regularly clear off whatever is on his plate once he is reminded of The Rule. Timothy is only up to the challenge when mac & cheese is served. Jonah rarely makes it, even when we serve something he likes. The boy just doesn't eat dinner, but he's old enough that rules have to be enforced.

The Rule does not apply to Sam. Why? Because he's the fourth. We're tired; cut us some slack. Seriously, though, Sam and Jonah are regressive eaters, like their mother. Huge breakfasts (frequently two Pop Tarts each), normal lunches, and tiny dinners. (I, on the other hand, approach all meals equally. They're Pre-Mil; I'm Amil.) And yet, The Rule doesn't apply to Sam, because he just doesn't get it yet. Telling him "no cookies" makes absolutely no difference. It's like grounding a 1 year old or taking away phone privileges for a toddler. Like they care.

So anyway, the big 3 are gone, my wife and I are happily eating our dinner, when in comes Jonah. He's back for a second chance. He picks out a couple of pieces of chicken, eats one, then leaves. I figure the game is up.

Later on, I'm making cookies (oatmeal chocolate chip, by the way, mmmm) and I hear my wife and Jonah talking. Apparently he's eating all of his chicken now. He finishes, and my wife goes and gets him a cookie (just one, as per The Rule).

He gets his one cookie, and it begins, "One cookie?!? I wanted two cookies!"

My wife calmly explains, "Jonah, I said that you could have one cookie if you at all your chicken."

"But I get two cookies!"

My turn, "Jonah, did you eat your vegetables?"

"Yes," he says. I look to my wife, who shakes her head. Gotcha.

I ask, "Jonah, did you eat your broccoli?"

"No."

"Did you eat your zucchini?"

"No!"

"Then you didn't eat your vegetables," I say reasonably. I figure I've caught him in a lie, but I'm on the woefully wrong path.

"Yes I did! I ate my chicken!"

"Huh?" Now I'm catching up. We've entered Jonahland.

Fists clenched by his sides, standing in the middle of the kitchen, he yells out, "Chicken is a vegetable!"

Oh crap. "No Jonah," I say as calmly as I can. My wife has run into another room, suppressing laughter. "Chicken is meat, not a vegetable."

Louder, with even more clinching, "CHICKEN IS NOT MEAT!"

"Don't yell at daddy," I say, and almost say not to argue with daddy about the nature of being. But that's too weird. I have no idea what to do.

Mommy rescues us. "Jonah, do you want to give me back your one cookie?"

It works. Back from Jonahland, he says "No," and walks off.

My wife looks at me, "That goes in the blog." And so it does.

Actual conversation

I overheard this conversation this morning while downstairs getting a Coke. There was no Coke, by the way.

Timothy: "Give it back!"

Stephen: "But I've got it!"

T: "But it's mine!"

S: "But you left it!"

T: "I just put it down!"

-pause-

S: "We can share it."

T: "It's a hat, we can't both wear it."

S: "We can try!"

-pause, during which Stephen apparently gives back the hat-

S: "I don't like you!"

-pause, after which Timothy inexplicably continues trying to refute Stephen's logic and point out the error of his ways-

T: "You know, two people can't both wear a hat at the same time."

S: "I saw it on a commercial." (he says this in a singsong voice, which means he's lying)

T: "You know, commercials . . . commercials aren't true."

Sick

We've all been sick for a few weeks now.

First, the flu came to visit, hitching along with my nephew when my sister came to town. All 4 boys got it, and of course it turned into bronchial infections for 3 of them, requiring doctor visits and "breathing treatments".

Each child (and sometimes each family) seems to have a default illness. Some kids get ear infections (my nephew gets them if you look at him funny). Some get strep throat. My guys get bronchial infections. We keep albuterol in the medicine closet. We even have our own nebulizer and kids inhaler, and both have seen heavy use in the past 2 weeks.

We also have some prescription eye drops in the closet, because Jonah and Sam seem to get pink eye at the drop of a hat. If they get anything else that causes a fever, they'll get pink eye.

They weren't all sick at once, which may be a blessing or a curse. A blessing, because one whiny kid at a time is bad enough. And keeping track of Motrin, Tylenol, eye drops, and breathing treatments for one child already requires a spreadsheet. Doing this for all four would probably need a customized database.

But it would be nice if they all did the 4-day sick thing for the same 4 days, instead of dragging it out for weeks. Just when you question whether or not you'll be able to make it through the 8th daily viewing of Finding Nemo, along comes another slightly-warmer-than-normal body to encamp on the couch. At least they like different movies.

On top of all this, allergy season has started. I've been alternating between Benadryl, Sudafed, and Claritin D for the past week, trying to find one that will allow me to stay coherent. It's difficult to help someone troubleshoot software problems when the pink elephants come marching through the office and start pelting me with marshmallow zepplins.

I'm used to allergy season. It's always been rough for me. In college I used to just stay in bed for a week. This is where a 5-pound box of CheezIts comes in handy. I can't do that now.

But now it looks like at least a few of the boys have inherited their father's inability to deal with pollen. My poor wife. Will she have to deal, in Springtimes to come, with 5 Benadryl snores every night? One hopes not.

You would think that this spate of illness would leave us in some kind of quarrantine. Not so. Again, birds of a feather. One night last week we went out for pizza with Jonah and Stephen couging all over the place. We told our friends that the boys were sick, but they didn't care. They said their kids were sick too, so off we went.

And the one night when all 4 boys were in coughing fits, two of my wife's sisters decide to come over for dinner and bring their kids. We tried to wave them off, but they didn't care either. Nine screaming, coughing, runny-eyed kids romping madly through the house.

I made soup (see below).

So, by now, the boys are mostly better. Timothy still has a minor fever, Jonah is still couging a little, and Sam has some junk in his eye every now and then. But they can play now and are feeling chipper, etc.

And it's my turn. Itchy, watery eyes, runny nose, cough and sneezing. Ah, well.

As to how my medications are doing, please see the list below:

• Sudafed: lucid but still leaky
• Claritin D: dry but woozy, lots of typos
• Benadryl: asleep