Category Archives: kids’ perspective

forts, kids' imagination, kids' perspective, memorial day, MS, pig roast, raising kids, three little pigs

The Forts We Build


We all have forts in which we live.  Some of us have more than one, and some have forts within forts, an inner sanctum where we can go for refuge while our outside façade maintains the appearance of normal.  In our modern lives where many of us separate work from home lives, we are almost required to have and maintain more than one.  How many of us act the same around loved ones as we do when they are not around?
As kids, most of us are told the story of the three little pigs where the pigs each set to make their own home, their own fort in which to rest.  The first little pig takes the easy way out making his house entirely of straw.  This pathetic little fort is blown down with the first huff of adversity.  In the story, the adversity comes in the form of a wolf, but in real life, it can be anything from a broken down car to a death in the family.
The second little pig works a bit harder, but still takes short cuts.  In the end, his house barely makes it through the puff but still falls when the wolf decides he really wants some pig for dinner.  This sadly is probably the most common approach to life.  We all look around and say, “See we’re protected.  Our fort is stronger than the poor sap’s over there.Why, he is just strung up and fit to be cooked.”  We say all of this as if it is sufficient to be better protected than the one who feels their world has just been turned upside down.
Finally, there are those whose fort seems made of stone.  They have taken the time to cultivate relationships to help them when the winter is long.  They have the mental fortitude to take in stride the misfortunes of fate, and some whose fort is truly sound can even look fate in the eye searching for opportunity.  
When I think of MS and its impact on me and my family, I think of it first as the wolf knocking down so many I know and interact with on the internet.  I see it forcing people to retire early and turning upside down even those thought to be well positioned to withstand a flipped world.  I see it and think how lucky I am.  It did not come after me first.   Well, maybe it did, but my wooden house was strong enough to give me a second chance, a chance to flee towards a stone hearth.
When I think further on MS, some times my long-term view is of it as a sapper laying siege.  Even with the seemingly invincible fortress on a hill, the MonSter remains at the gate all the while weakening the foundation over time trying to find another way inside.  I can only hope to take some of the strength my kids regularly show.  
As if a way of reminding me to stay strong, my daughter had a nasty bowel, clean out.  Last week, she was telling us to make sure to tell O not to be jealous.  While most treatments of golyely (“Go lightly”) involve adults drinking 4 liters to completely clean them out prior to a colonoscopy, A ended up taking 11 liters and the results were massive.  Even after throwing up post us coming to visit the next day, her comment was simply, “Remind me to tell O this is NOT FUN.”  Still, she came home roughly 36 hours after going checking in, and by the next night was sleeping in fort above after having played with her cousins at the annual pig roast celebration of Memorial Day.  Even in the time shortly after puking, A was her normal good spirit.
While it might seem the bears supporting the fort and the sheets draped from closets and chairs represent more of a straw home than a brick fortress, I think viewing it as such neglects the trues strengths of a fort born of fun and love.  It was built under the “Imagine” poster for a reason.  With the secret escape entrance off to the side, there are ways to escape should an intruder gain access.  With the two entrances, dogs visited frequently on their patrols.  With the bed just outside, at least one dog was on guard duty all night long.  With the long main room to go along with the side room for stores of books and lighting, I even had room to sleep under my kids’ watchful care.   The fort was even strong enough to allow me to take advantage of an easy exit in the morning to escape without alerting my sleeping benefactors.  Using the escape, I fed the dogs when they were due.  
After all, no guard can be expected to guard for free, and even a fort of imagined, spiritual stone is only as good as its guards and maintenance.
For the time being, the MonSter will have to go huff and puff somewhere else.  For today, the walls hold while we’ve gone to the Baysox game with our cousins and Louie (the mascot posing with A and O).




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bunny story, crap, hospital stay, kids' perspective, odds, poker, truth

Well, Crap

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Some periods in time really are just about crap, whether it is crap we endure or miscellaneous crap.  This past week, crap was the focal point, and not just in a Freudian Anal stage way. 

The prelude starts on the crazy crazy odds front, I was playing poker at a free tournament on base on Monday night. Out of 98 people, I made it to the final two. Between us, we had everyone’s chips. Because we had been playing for over 3 hours and they were trying to close the place, we agreed to “shove all in” until we had a winner. I mean we were close in chips, so how long could it take? I won the first hand, and we realized how close we had been. He had one chip left. Grrr. 8 all in’s later, I left with second place. Two to the eighth power. The odds of that run were 1 in 256. The people watching, including me, were somewhat amazed. They asked if I was upset, but I said I won $50 and had gotten lucky numerous times to get to that point, so no. Still, it does make for kind of a “bad beat” or a “Well, crap!” lol…sigh life has a funny way of foreshadowing the coming week.  
The week’s real story all started with finally getting the results of x-rays back to the doctor to confirm what we had suspected was happening.  She is never really cleaning her system out.  It is a case of epic constipation.  I cringe just thinking about what she must go through never being able to push all the poo out for months.   We have tried the daily Miralax, and the ex-lax treatment prescribed, but nothing seems to work.  
There is some irony in my daughter, A, being the one in our family to be “full of shit.”  She is the most honest one in our family, and watching her play ‘BS’ with her cousins was a riot because she can’t lie, and has the hardest time telling when anyone else is lying.  It is even common for her when confronted after doing something she should not have done to ask, “Tell the truth?”  When answered with an affirmative, she tells the truth even when a lie would have served her well or at least painted her actions in a better light.
The best part of the story comes with the plan to resolve the constipation.  She will have to go to the hospital for an IV treatment of ‘Go Lightly.’  I say the best part because of her reaction, “So, will I be able to control the remote and play electronics while I’m there?  It is only one needle, and then I can play right?  OK.  Now O, do not get jealous.  You’ll be at home with daddy and K, and I’ll be home the next day.”   Of course, he is very jealous.  Ours is an odd family where jealousy abides even over the opportunity to go on an epic crappy adventure to the hospital.
(Continue to the next page for the second story, and it is a cute bunny story.)

This week’s poo story almost ends there.  Except on Sat., our oldest dog brought a dead baby bunny to our back door as if to ask us to do something to save it.  Then our miniature dachshund discovered the nest, but there were no more baby bunnies in it, and after he was through digging through it, none will ever be back.  Our oldest dog proceeded to protect another dead bunny from the dachshund, and then we found a live one.    The kids were in excited awe at the thought of saving one, so we found a shelter that would care for it if we could get it there.
It was the quietest 40 minutes in the car with the kids I have ever experienced.  They were so quiet after being told loud noises could be all it takes to put the baby into shock and kill it.  The kids were so excited when we arrived and the vet said the baby bunny was alive and doing well.  She explained how much a baby bunny has to be fed at one time and how they put a tube directly in the belly to feed it.  A proudly showed her g-tube saying she understood how that works because it is like hers.  The vet also explained baby bunnies that young often died of shock just at the thought of being in danger.  Evidently, it gives them diarrhea to the point where they die.   I thought it a little ironic to have serious health issues in and around our house for the week reduced to crap, either too much or not enough.  We only do extremes around here.
The pictures below is of A and O wearing the shirts given to them by the rescue clinic.  I would almost swear the picture expresses their “been there, done that, even got the tee-shirt” attitude.  They wanted to keep the bunny, and the tee shirts were a poor substitute.  Three dogs and three kids is enough despite any desires for more.
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