Progress

I finally caved.

I was due for an upgrade on my cell phone so I waltzed into the AT&T shop to browse what was available. I had intended to trade up for another dumb phone (I know, I know...I realize how ridiculous it sounds now) and avoid getting an awesome device that would "change my life," as the sales guy and everyone else I know has asserted for years. It wasn't that I didn't want an iPhone, per se, but I've been convincing myself for some time now that I a) didn't need it, (still might be partially true) and b) didn't want to pay the additional $20/month for the data package. Old habits are hard to break. And what can I say, I'm cheap.

But not blind.

I know that having a multifaceted handheld computer/phone/camera/video/music/TV, etc. is no longer considered a luxury, but rather a necessity. And whether I decide to live in the dark ages like my dad (who, incidentally, owns a cellphone but has no idea how to use it...he's so cute) doesn't matter. The world in which I live is not about to rush back through a time warp to rescue my obstinate ass from the horse-drawn buggy I'm riding in as I read the newspaper, watch a VHS movie, talk on a corded rotary dial telephone and wait for my IBM-compatible Tec Master XT to finally connect to the world wide web with a dial-up signal. (Don't bother calling me while that's happening...only one phone jack.) I can adapt, like a Neanderthal learning to use a knife and fire, or be left behind like the dodo.

Fire it is.

"I'm here for an upgrade, but I really don't want a smart phone," I said to the sales guy, a lean twenty-something with black-rimmed glasses who has probably forgotten more about technology than I ever knew.

He welcomed me, the customer, thusly. "Sure, that makes total sense. Let's get you another flip-phone so you can pay more for a crappier device and actually get less value." He paused for breath. I felt like I was being berated by all my old buddies from home. "Yeah, you'd hate to be able to use the internet or find your way or share photos in the palm of your hand when you can call and text with something like you've got there." All with a straight face.

Long story short...I walked out with an iPhone 4S (for a dollar!) without an upgrade fee and the world now at my fingertips. And somehow, I'm only paying about $10 more a month with more available phone minutes and data for both me and Tanya. And I can tweet from anywhere.

I'm not going to lie, I'm happy with my new toy. But there'll always be something about that rotary phone.

New vs Old

Wee Wisdom: Keeping the Moose off my Roof

Sophia saw a bug sitting on a post and swatted at it with her book. “I’m going to kill that guy,” said my 7-year-old.

Ella was not happy with her younger sister. “Sophia!” she yelled. “You can’t just kill anything you want. Now that bug won’t be able to reproduce, and animals that feed on it won’t have enough food, then they’ll die, then nature will be out of balance and moose will stampede over our house! Do you want moose running over our house?”

I had to laugh. Not because the prospect of a thousand-pound vegetarian in my living room was particularly funny, but because of the point my fifth-grader was making. She managed to connect the seemingly trivial notion of killing one bug with a reversal of the natural order, and she made the theory actually seem plausible, like the sci-fi plot in a Michael Crichton novel.

Despite the questionable scale of Ella’s “action-reaction” comment, it’s not unreasonable to posit that everything we do is connected in some way. All living things share the Earth. If one person can be responsible for tipping the balance, does that amount to a frightening responsibility — or an exhilarating opportunity?

Full disclosure: Tanya and I have an electric bug zapper, and we’re not afraid to use it. But maybe, as Ella intimated, killing one fly is symbolic of a greater issue. Should we back off?

As individuals, we are free to make our own choices, yet none of us can exist alone. All of our actions depend on and affect others, even people we’ve never met. A worthwhile connection can happen instantly — helping an old lady cross the street, for instance — or over time, like with recycling. Actions clearly elicit reactions, and this goes on and on perpetually, gradually rolling forward like waves in the vast ocean. The ripples will endure until the universe is no more.

Sometimes the consequences of our actions happen remotely in time, distance or measure. That’s when things get tricky. Unfortunately, we are often too short sighted to appreciate the results of what we’ve done. This can lead to trouble, like Ella’s threat of antlered beasts roving through suburbia. Part of the problem is that instead of accepting that we are each threads of the same garment, we try to prove (incorrectly) that we come from different clothes altogether. It won’t work.

And so, the debates rage on about how to tame our unruly national debt and figure out how to pay our bills, and over who’s at fault when the government of the most powerful country in the world shuts down for 16 days. Our elected leaders can’t grasp that we — every last one of us — are both the cause and the solution. The sooner we realize that, the quicker we can get back to picking each other up, instead of knocking each other down.

Or helping me keep that darned moose off my roof.

No farting at the dinner table...at least until Mom's gone

This is going to be a bit awkward, but the whole point of this blog is about letting you into our lives, so here goes. Don't worry, I'll keep it short.

I fart.

Before you rush to judge, remember that everyone does it. Including women and children. And sometimes, the fart itself is merely a metaphor, representing something even greater than a gross sound and unpleasant odor.

Work with me, here, people.

A couple of weeks ago I was sitting at the dinner table with Tanya, Ella and Sophia, when Ella let one rip. Tanya, channeling her usual disdain for flatulence at mealtime, said to our 10-year-old, "It's polite to walk away from the table before doing that." Amid the undercurrent of quiet laughter from the three others in the room who weren't particularly bothered, Tanya shook her head in exasperation. Oy vey, she seemed to say.

We finished eating and Tanya soon went upstairs, but our dainty 10-year-old continued her assault on our senses. Like most men, the farting doesn't bother me that much, so I figured I'd have a little fun and see where it went.

"Why didn't you walk away to do that?" I asked Ella, only a tiny bit guilty at hearing my own sarcasm. "You heard mom."

"Sometimes, I can't help not being polite," Ella responded. "It's just how I do things. Because you're my dad."

I'm sure you can imagine the rush of paternal pride I felt. Forget about the flatulence: my eldest child had essentially confirmed that she had no desire to pull the brakes on the gene train. Despite Tanya's efforts for a well-mannered and polite household, my firstborn clearly understood the inevitability of DNA, and wasn't about to fight.

What more could a father hope for?

Pass the beans.

Goodbye live TV, hello...what, exactly?

As of September 30, 2013, at 12:00 am, live television no longer exists in our home.

So far, it feels great.

This was not an impulsive, reflexive action based on the advice of some anti-electronics parenting guru or a self-righteous child psychology expert. The choice to cancel our monthly DirecTV service and just go with movies, Netflix, Hulu Plus, and other online-based entertainment was based on a number of reasons, with cost as the greatest factor. I was paying about $75 a month for something we simply didn't use very much.

Aside from bits and pieces of sports highlights and the same old movies on TNT, TBS, AMC and USA networks (I'll miss you Rocky I-IV, Jerry Maguire, JFK, Footloose...), there's not much we can't watch on Hulu Plus or Netflix. We rent movies occasionally. Tanya's been semi-addicted to shows like Orange is the New Black and Scandal, which she watches on Netflix or Hulu on her iPad. The kids stream Netflix through the Wii or watch DVDs on the Blu Ray player in the basement. The fewer commercials the better, to be honest.

I know TV will always be a part of our lives. In fact, to compensate for the lack of live entertainment on the idiot box, I bought a considerably more intelligent piece of equipment: literally. I hit a clearance special at Best Buy and bought a 40" Vizio smart TV and hung it on our wall where a monstrous armoire used to be. Getting rid of the TV was, in effect, just one of many changes we've made lately.

For some time now, we've been steadily clearing clutter from every room in the house, getting rid of things that we don't use, repositioning others that we do, and filling our space with more positive energy. At least once a month, it seems, we give away three or four bags or boxes full of clothes, household goods and old electronics to the local Goodwill store. (It's a wonder we have anything left.) Tanya has spent hours organizing her closet and drawers, and has given away more clothes than some people own.

Canceling the satellite service feels like a symbolic step toward emotional betterment. I can't just flip on the tube for 10 minutes to a dumb talk show or more negativity on the news that I'm barely paying attention to while I brush my teeth and get dressed. I am no longer able to flip through channels mindlessly in search of something to watch when I could be doing something useful. Like breathing or reading. The part of my spirit that values being present and fully in the moment thanks me, I'm sure.

I know this because every time we go on vacation or some kind of adventure with a minimum of electronics availability and schedules packed with family time and outdoor activities, I feel happier. Much happier.

I will, however, admit this: I think I might miss live sports a little. I rarely watch a whole game of any sport, but I like having it available at any time, especially for the playoffs. Super Bowl parties make that a non-issue, but I can only foresee one problem: March Madness.

When the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament rolls around for three glorious weeks in the spring and it's college basketball 24/7 for three weeks, please tell my wife when you see her that if she needs me, I'll be at the local sports bar, and will check back in April.

Wee Wisdom: Time to Get Tired

I took a jog with Sophia the other day. We had almost arrived home when she leaned over and rested her hands on her knees.

Out of breath, my 7-year-old said, “I’m tired.”

“Great!” I replied. “I tell my patients at the hospital, ‘If you’re not a little tired, you’re probably not working hard enough!’ ”

Sophia thought about it. “What if you’re tired, and you’ve barely done anything?”

“Then you’re probably out of shape,” I answered.

The experience reminded me of Ella’s yearly physical this past May. The pediatrician asked my 10-year-old how much exercise she did that involved sweating and feeling moderately tired. Both the doctor and I were aware of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, or CDC, recommendation that kids get 60 minutes of daily moderate to vigorous exercise; Ella and I agreed that she might not have been getting enough.

I was a bit embarrassed that the daughter of two physical therapists might not have been up to par in the activity department.

Childhood obesity is a major public health issue, so I understand the concern. However, I had never considered that kids should worry about the intensity of their exercise, as long as they weren’t stuck to the couch for a cartoon marathon. The CDC’s prescribed amount of exercise can be hard to achieve if you factor in homework, hobbies, meals and rest time. Organized sports can certainly help, but what if your kid isn’t interested in the rigors of daily swim team practice or climbing the club soccer ranks?

For a second, I panicked: Am I hurting my children by promoting general activity over organized sports?

Our daughters attend jazz class once a week and love dancing more than almost anything. Ella has tried soccer and tennis and didn’t love either one. She enjoys short hikes and walks, but I don’t see fourteeners in her future. She can play in the pool for hours, but lap swimming for fun isn’t her thing.

Sophia loves tumbling and gymnastics and jumps at every chance to play outside. She hasn’t yet expressed interest in any one sport, though she’s considering volleyball, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she appeases her dad by taking up basketball. She is much happier playing at the park than she is watching television.

Clearly, our daughters are not slugs, but I also don’t foresee them becoming athletic prodigies. They might never appreciate the adrenaline high of running or the oddly addictive muscle soreness that follows weightlifting, feelings that are common to a large number of exercise-crazy Coloradans, including me. But they do understand the importance of moving and being outdoors, which makes me happy.

There’s a fine line between encouragement and pushing too hard, and I’m reluctant to cross that line. Could my kids be more active? Sure. Might they rebel if I force them into something they don’t enjoy? That’s also possible. I’d rather step backward than impose my desires in their faces.

I hope their pediatrician isn’t reading this.

Mind+Body Magazine is online!

I found out Mind+Body Magazine is online, so click here for the September issue.

(Here's the actual link: http://issuu.com/bhuey/docs/mindbody_september2013)

I have three articles in there about nutritional supplements, sleep, and Missie's "Weight Loss Journey" we've been following along since January. I'm excited that anyone can read this, just not those who live in Northern Colorado.

I'll keep posting the links to subsequent issues to keep my work out there in the cyber-universe, as well as on paper. And as usual, feel free to share.

Thanks to everyone for reading, and for always supporting me as a writer. I feel big things coming in the future!