Teach your children the universal sign for choking. It never dawned on me that someone would have to be taught the sign for choking — I just always assumed someone choking made that sign naturally/instinctively.

I was upstairs eating some lunch alone in my quiet and peaceful bedroom, (don’t tell Wifegrit), when I heard Calfgrit9 downstairs sort of cry out. It was a weird cry. The boys had been in and out of the house a bit all morning, and I figured Calfgrit13 had done something to upset his little brother. They can’t seem to go half an hour without one aggravating the other. I put down my plate and made my way downstairs chewing a mouthful of food. I wasn’t hurrying because I didn’t hear any other cries or shouts from anyone.

Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, Calfgrit9 was there on his knees, leaning over as if to vomit. I mumbled, “What’s wrong?” through a mouth still full. Calfgrit9 just rocked and made gagging sounds. When I got to him, he pointed to himself trying to communicate. I thought he was about to throw up, as that seems to be a common activity with all kids.

I managed to swallow my the food filling my mouth, and told him to go to the bathroom to throw up. He wouldn’t move, and just rocked back and forth. I had my hands on him by this time and tried to move him towards the bathroom. He wasn’t speaking, but continued gagging and pointing to himself. Then he hacked up a half-eaten grape.

He finally caught his breath and told me he had been choking. Holy crap! I got him to talk to me about what had happened for two reasons: one to make sure his airway was clear, and two to learn exactly what had happened.

He had been eating grapes, and one got lodged in his throat. I felt awful. Here, my son had almost choked to death, and I had only ordered him to the bathroom because I thought he was just throwing up. Had I realized what was actually happening, I could have helped him. Had he not cleared his throat on his own, he might have died.

Fortunately, the situation ended well, with only a scare. But when the realization got through my head over the next few minutes, it really shook me.

Later in the day, when both boys were in the house, I talked with them about the universal sign for choking. Calfgrit13 already knew it, from school. But Calfgrit9 was just learning about it then, from me. I made sure they both fully understood how and when to make the sign, and what it means when someone else makes the sign.

Seriously — teach your children the universal sign for choking. It may save their life one day.

The situation with me telling my choking son to go to the bathroom to vomit brings up another thing. There are a lot of times that parents seem to be slow to help their children when they’re in distress. To a non-parent, this will often look like a sign of neglect. But as experienced parents, we get so used to certain things happening so much, like vomiting and falling down, that we automatically assume a current situation is just like every similar situation before it.

For instance, just today: I was running around the lake trail for exercise when I passed a mom and son on the trail. The mom was walking, and the boy, (probably about 9), was on a Razor scooter. The boy was already several yards ahead of his mom, going down hill, and a few seconds after I passed him, I heard the metal scrap and vocal shout of him falling down. I stopped and looked back.

The boy was sitting on the ground, holding his knees, and making the hissing sounds everyone makes.

As illustrated by Peter Griffin:

I was closer to the kid than his mom was, so I turned around and jogged to him. “Are you okay, buddy,” I asked. “Can you stand up?” I held out my hand to him. He looked at my hand a moment, then let go of his knees and took my hand. I pulled him up to standing. As his mother go to us, I turned to her and said, “No blood.”

As she knelt down to check him over, she said, “I just kept walking, waiting for you to stand up and say you were alright.”

Seeing they were okay, I took off running again. I totally understood her position and thought process. Kids fall all the time. All the time. And 9 times out of 10, they get right back up and continue whatever activity they were doing. No harm, no worry.

I checked on the kid because I was right there, not because I felt his mother wasn’t concerned. I knew she was concerned, like any mother would be, but like all parents who’ve been lulled into the pattern that kids’ set, she sort of got caught in the rut for a few moments. Sometimes being in that pattern makes us slower to respond to real emergencies that don’t look obviously like a real emergency. (Fortunately, though, this fall wasn’t actually an emergency, anyway.) Then we feel like bad parents when someone else reacts to our children quicker than we do. But we’re not bad parents for this. We’re just used to the pattern, and we get surprised sometimes when the situation turns out to be outside the long-set patterns.

Bullgrit

Viewed: Theater

I’ve been excited and anxious to see this movie since I first saw the trailer. Marvel Studios has been making some fantastic superhero movies — many of these Marvel movies are in my top ten favorites of all time. But, unlike the other Marvel movies, I wasn’t familiar with this title as presented in the trailer.

I remember the Guardians of the Galaxy from the 1990s, but this movie team is completely different. The GotG I know were from the 31st century, and the team roster was completely different.

This is issue #1, (which I own), and the team shows no similarity to the movie characters. But, a couple of the individual movie characters, themselves, I do recognize. Although, again, they seem a bit different. For instance, the Drax the Destroyer I know of is super strong and flies and shoots energy blasts from his hands. Gamora, I know of also, but not so well. The others, Peter Quill, Rocket, and Groot, I’ve never seen in a comic. From what I’ve read recently, *this* GotG team is based on the newer, 2000s, version of the comic group.

But, hey, I didn’t follow the original comics version of GotG much beyond several issues, and I know the Marvel movies are based on their newer stories and reboots of all their characters. So I wasn’t looking for a movie to show the older GotG. In fact, from what I remember of the older GotG, those characters probably wouldn’t make a good movie anyway.

I’ve come to trust Marvel’s ability to produce a good comic book/superhero movie. And with this movie, they have confirmed my trust is well placed. Guardians of the Galaxy is a great movie!

I took both Calfgrit13 and Calfgrit9, and two of their neighborhood friends to see the movie this past weekend, and we all liked it. (I loved it!) It’s well written, well acted, well directed — just a total good flick, all around.

And although I don’t know this particular team from the comics, I did recognize many of the other characters — Thanos, Ronan, The Collector, Nebula, the Nova Corps, and more. I also recognized the overall Marvel Universe — Marvel has done excellently well with staying true to their comic universe as well as keeping it consistent through the various movies they’ve produced.

This movie has great characters, great action, great comedy, and brings them all together very well. I want to see it again, so Wifegrit has already agreed to a date night for us to see it together. (Usually we wouldn’t waste a date night sitting in a theater, both of us looking away at a screen, but I do really like this movie enough to trade in a romantic dinner one time for it.)

Bullgrit

I just turned 47 years old. When it dawned on me, the other day, that I’m now closer to 50 than to 40, it kind of depressed me. I’m not ready to see 50 years old coming. This isn’t right. I can’t be getting this old. I’m not done with my 20s, yet.

Since my 46th birthday, last July, I determined I wanted to bulk up with just a little more muscle. I didn’t want to get all bodybuilder “swole”; I just wanted a little more meat on my frame. So over the fall and winter, I did my P90X regimen, including the weight lifting, and I increased my caloric intake, (especially protein). Come springtime, I had put on 10 pounds.

With the arrival of spring, I started cutting back on the calories, and started doing more cardio, including running. (I don’t like running in the winter cold; I only run in the warm seasons.) I knew I’d finally have my six-pack abs for my 47th birthday.

As the pounds melted away, I was disappointed to learn that apparently the 10 pounds I had put on during my “bulking” phase was not muscle. Come to this birthday, my weight was back to exactly what it was last year, and my body looks exactly the same as it has since I originally accomplished my fitness challenge. I mean, exactly:

Apologies for the poor focus :-(

It’s frustrating. I wanted just a little more muscle size, and just a little less fat layer. I worked damn hard this year — just as hard, (and I thought, smarter), as I have any year since I started this effort to get super fit. I’m not saying I’m unhappy with my fitness level. Nor am I complaining about being “skinny.” This is not a whining post. I’m just relating information from my experience.

Getting six-packs abs is hard. I’ve done extreme exercise at least an hour a day, six days a week, for four years. I’ve carefully watched my nutrition, counting every calorie I’ve ingested. And still I haven’t been able to resolve that last thin layer of fat that would reveal well defined abs. I’m not unhappy with my results, at all, but I really was hoping and working hard to get the visible six-pack.

Anyway, even without getting the sharply defined six-pack, being fit is awesome, (compared to how I was before). And I’ve learned some things about the human body’s physiology and biology that I didn’t know before. Or, rather, that I didn’t really, truly understand — *get* — until going through this effort. Here are some things I’ve learned about a body that I didn’t truly realize until experiencing it for myself:

• My body can vary up to 3-4 pounds in weight in one day, from morning to evening. I’ve “lost” 3 pounds while sleeping over night. And then “found” them again the next evening. This is why you should weigh yourself always at the same time, only in the morning. Sure, I know I’m eating food all day, and that’s adding weight into my body, but it’s weird to have it seemingly just “evaporate” while sleeping for 8 hours.
• I get cold easier without the body fat to insulate my internal temperature. I didn’t appreciate how well fat really does keep warmth contained.
• I can feel my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans when I sit down. And sitting on chairs or bleachers without a cushion is very uncomfortable. This is something you’d think would be subtle only, but it actually is very noticeable, and a bit annoying if you’re used to a nice cushiony buttocks.
• Clothes fit so much better on a skinny/lean body. This is something I’m sure everyone knows is obvious, but it’s even more important than I expected. Everything is just more comfortable.
• And finally, when you realize just how hard and long you have to exercise to burn off calories, (like by using a heart rate monitor), it gets easier to say no to dessert and unnecessary foods. Knowing that doughnut will require 30-40 minutes of really hard work, (not just a walk around the neighborhood), helps keep a diet.

So, this is my traditional annual birthday/fitness update post. I’m maintaining my level, and I’m still very happy with how I’ve handled my mid-life crisis. Now if I can just keep this up while the big 5-0 grows larger on the horizon, maybe the half-century mark won’t hit me so hard.

Bullgrit

Wifegrit picked up a substitute teaching day at Calfgrit9’s school, for CG9’s own class. She ran the idea by him before accepting it, and he OKed it with one condition: She can’t use his nickname or his full name. Actually, what he considers his name is a nickname, itself – a shortened form of his full name. But Wifegrit also occasionally uses her own “sweet” name for him – basically his shortened name with a y on the end. (Compare to “Timothy,” “Tim,” and “Timmy.”)

He doesn’t like attention, and is easily embarrassed. He’s much like both his parents in that regard. So, he doesn’t want his classmates to know – or heaven forbid, use — any name for him other than the one he’s always gone by.

When Wifegrit and I were picking names for our boys, we wanted to avoid giving them nicknames. Unfortunately, we goofed on Calfgrit9’s name. Wifegrit wanted to name him what he considers his name, but I really liked the sound of the full-length name. So we compromised: his official/full name would be what I liked, but we would call him the shortened form. I mildly regret that, now. Although, his shortened/nick name is obvious from his full name, so it shouldn’t cause any confusion for anyone that deals with him and his name. (And it shouldn’t be embarrassing for him, but he’s so sensitive about any attention.)

Wifegrit and I both have nicknames we dislike. They both sound like names for 9 year old children, and we both tried to shake them during college. Hers at least is based off her full name, so few would be confused hearing it. She managed to transition from her childish nickname to her mature full name after college, and now only her close family, (including mine, her in-laws), ever use her nickname. I use it at home, but I use her full name when outside our home or around non-family people.

My name, though, is more complicated. I tried to drop my nickname during college, but I had three complications. One, my nickname had too-deep roots in my life; I was so used to it. Two, my nickname was completely unrelated to my real name, so no one would ever connect to the two names to the same person. Three, my full name is unusual, (both first and middle names), so I wanted to shorten it to something more common.

Basically, because I disliked both my unusual full name and my childish nickname, I had to pick a shortened form of my full name to serve as a better nickname. So. Damn. Complicated. I tried a transition during college, but it got weird. Some people knew one nickname, and other people knew the other nickname, and all people were confused when they heard my full name. I never really managed to make the change stick in my life. Too many people knew me by the old nickname, and explaining to them why I wanted to change was too aggravating. No one who knew my old nickname knew my full name, so the new nickname made no sense unless I explained it all. After a couple of years, I just gave up and stuck with my old nickname.

When I left college and started into my professional life, I should have attempted the change in names again. But having struggled with it previously, I just kind of didn’t bother. I dearly wish I had, though. In recent years, I’ve dabbled with using my shortened full name, but again, my nickname has too deep roots in my life. I’ve considered making the change when changing jobs, but that complicates résumés and references – no coworkers or even supervisors would recognize my shortened or full name. (Only HR departments usually know my full name.)

I’ve used my shortened full name in some situations and places. For instance, I’ve used my shortened full name at restaurants or other places where they call out to you.

I’ve used it when going to a new hair stylist, but then that got complicated and embarrassing: I slipped and used my nickname with one stylist and later had another stylist in the same salon call me by the other name. There was some confusion over why I’d give a completely different name, as if I was being secretive. *sigh* No, I just hate this name.

Yeah, my name is a mess. I really, really dislike my old nickname because it just sounds so childish. And I really dislike my full name because it’s so unusual. If I had a definite break in my life, (like moving to a different state, with all new people), I’d definitely make the change at that point. But that’s not going to happen, so I just have to accept that I’m a middle-age man with a child’s nickname, and also a 21^st century man with a 19^th century full name.

Bullgrit