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Michael's Diary Entries Diary Navigation: Choose A Diary Entry -------------------- Latest Entry: 8/28/00 -------------------- 8/21/00 8/14/00 8/7/00 8/1/00 7/24/00 7/17/00 7/10/00 7/3/00 6/26/00 6/19/00 6/12/00 6/5/00 5/29/00 5/22/00 5/14/00 -------------------- Michael's Introduction

June 19, 2000

Dear Readers,

Last week was a busy week, so please forgive me if I’m brief as I cover a lot of ground. Here’s the quick list, some of which will be detailed below: I started taking a ten-week fiction writing class; we attended our church’s vacation bible school; we celebrated Father’s day and our sixth wedding anniversary; I commemorated the passing of one year since a very stupid act; and best of all, Brandon reached a major developmental milestone.

Sitting on the Pot Today (Developmental Milestone):
Last week Brandon finally took to the toilet regularly for both numbers. Unfortunately, this event has cast a shameful shadow upon my parenting prowess, since credit must go to Lisa who marshaled her energy to achieve this task in only her first full week off, when I couldn’t get it done in many months previously.

Actually, I didn’t try that hard: I didn’t want to force it and I didn’t want to bribe, so I ended up letting it slide, telling myself, "I’ll make it happen in the summer." Well, it didn’t work out that way. Maybe I’ll have better luck with Allie -- I hear girls are easier to get to go on the toilet. To soothe my bruised ego, I did what any decent man does: I attempted to diminish my wife’s achievement by deflecting credit from her to Doctor Webb who gave Brandon a pep talk during his 3-year-old checkup about how "big boys" don’t wear diapers. But Lisa wouldn’t have any of it and proudly proclaimed, "In a mere two days, I got him out of diapers and on the potty." Big deal, diapers weren’t so bad.

A Budding Nonconformist:
My wife and the kids attended vacation bible school this week (Monday through Thursday) and I joined them for two of the nights when I wasn’t working. In addition to the fun programs, Brandon got a lesson in group dynamics. Since he’s been too young to attend either Sunday school preschool or educational preschool (and we’re still debating whether he’ll attend the latter in the fall), he was a little unsure about following along with what everyone else does.

So while all the other kids came in and sat down, he just stood there looking at the toys, drifting around, and itching to play. He more or less got with the program, having fun playing with the other kids, making crafts, watching videos, and singing songs, but on the last day, he still missed -- ignored maybe? -- that "sit down in a circle" cue again. Oh well, how important is it sit in circle, anyway? Wait! Does this mean my little angel who had only a month’s worth of terrible twos and never causes me any trouble is a budding nonconformist?

No Aprons Or Oven Mitts Allowed:
On Father’s Day, my wife acknowledged the role I play in our home by giving me the perfect Father’s Day present ... a new deep-sided 12-inch nonstick frying pan to replace the one that wore out. This goes with the regular 12-inch nonstick frying pan my mother-in-law gave me for Christmas. But I draw the line at aprons and oven mitts -- No, no, no cooking apparel gifts. I promise I’ll return it or burn it.

Now, I can’t complain about either of these presents: I wanted both of them, asked for them in fact. But let me paint a little fuller picture of my predilections for presents. I also have received and appreciated receiving many more traditional manly gifts like books and tools and socks and ties and sporting equipment and even an old-fashioned push mower.

Utility Knife Blues:
Despite the joy I feel on Father’s Day, it is now inextricably linked to one of the stupidest acts of my life, an act that affects me everyday, an act that caused me to lose all feeling in my left hand last year on the day before Father’s Day. While in the whole of human suffering, my injury is insignificant. But it infuriates me to this day, mainly the stupidity of it.

Last year, with utility knife in my right hand and left hand on the left edge of a large empty box, I began to slice down the right side off the box, attempting to cut a flap into the side and make the box into a storage box for the kids’ balls and outside toys. At the corner, I turned the blade and began to cut across the box, moving from right to left, when the blade stuck, about twelve inches from the left edge. I attempted to muscle the blade through and succeeded -- right into my left wrist, severing the main nerve.

Even with immediate surgery and one year’s passage, I still have no feeling in my hand, except for a diffuse feeling of permanent static, like Novocain, and most likely won’t ever again. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

With numb hand holding a frying pan,
Michael