"What Sarah Said": a lo-fi, live action web comic (episode 24, Rabbit ars)

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Photo Journal of Spring Camping Trip

Four walls and a pot-bellied stove was all we needed to protect against unpredictable spring weather. Apparently this construct is known as a "lean to shelter" in the state of New Jersey. And only in the state of New Jersey.  Looks more like a primitive cabin to me. 

Sunlight wove her luminous fingers through the barren branches as she began to settle into her lunar slumber. For a brief moment, the brilliance diffused through the treetops in an angelic splash of late afternoon color. 

"You are in bear country," we were warned.  Couple that with the fact that we were the only campers on that side of the mountain. 

This trip had all of the proper makings of a deep woods slasher flick. I really shouldn't have stayed up late the night before watching horror films on Netflix. I should know better. 

My three-year-old son carefully observed as I prodded the campfire with a makeshift fire poke. 

"May I have a fire stick?" he asked. I reluctantly gave him a small branch to stick into the fire cautioning him about the dangers of fire. 

No sooner had I finished my lecture, that he had manage to whap the tip of his nose with the ember-side of the stick. Oh well. You burn, you learn. 

We looked out across the sea of moss. There are unseen worlds to be found beneath the soles of our feet... all waiting to be discovered by those curious enough to look.  

I always wonder what views there are to be seen up over that next ridge. This time I was richly rewarded with a peace-filled view, sitting on top of the world.

Maura Fern: The Hunger Games and a Look Back at 11 Months

The movie Hunger Games was just released into theaters this weekend. Watching television trailers of Katniss Everdeen evokes memories of the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, eleven months ago when Maura was first admitted as a premie for her infant epilepsy.

It was about this time last year that I was scheduled to bring my middle school students down to the Scholastic Book Fair. I always try my very best to engage with my students to learn about what they are reading. Rooting for book recommendations to buff both my classroom and personal library.

A few of my students raved about The Hunger Games, and another handful had decided to purchase the book that day. To be perfectly honest, I typically tend to avert serial science-fiction and fantasy young adult novels like the plague, as most books are poorly written excuses for movie and merchandise tie-ins.

Adolescent fandom doesn't necessarily hinge on the merits of a book's literary qualities.Team Jacob or Team Edward anyone? Even Harry Potter's saccharine storytelling makes me feel nauseous within the first few chapters. Sadly, for every successfully franchise there are dozen other clones cloying for that same level of financial success.

So it came as some small surprise when I first picked up The Hunger Games off the bookshelf. Within the first few lines, I was immediately hooked on the quality of writing. A YA book that didn't appear to be dumbed down. Yay! I purchased the book from the Scholastsic Fare and set it aside for later reading.

Just a few weeks later Caroline was admitted to Virtua for prolonged medical observation due to bleeding with a placenta previa.

There wasn't much to do at that time other than keep my wife company and try to find the sweet spot in those clumsy hospital recliners, so I picked up the Hunger Games and plowed through, cover to cover, in a single sitting. The book helped me take my mind off the emergency of present situation, and helped pass the time.

So when Maura was later admitted to CHOP, I scoured every local library for a copy of Catching Fire and Mockingjay. The local bookstores were only carrying hardback, and I was reluctant to pay several times the price when a softcover would do as nicely. Fortunately a co-worker was kind enough to lend me her copies. I read through both books in a total of three days.

Somewhere deep in my mind, I wanted to associate my daughter's struggle against epilepsy with Katniss Everdeen's fight in the games. It's not like the conflicts were even remotely comparable. No. Although at times it felt that Maura was bound to CHOP like Katniss was confined to the arena.

Rather, I needed for my daughter to have enough toughness to endure multiple seizures a day and all of the medical tests and interventions that followed. The Hunger Games' Katniss appeared like a natural parallel: a strong female protagonist whose ability to survive hinged on her inner-strength, intuition, and ingenuity.

I needed for my own daughter to grow strong enough to thrive, and begin to resist the onset of her epileptic seizures. She needed to become her own Katniss.

The past year hasn't been easy for our family; rather, it's been pocked with developmental delays and the occasional seizure. Though, good progress on all fronts. Although Maura's future with epilepsy is still uncertain, at least my wife and I aren't crushed with feelings of overwhelming despair.

Watching my middle school students energetically talk about the books and movie comes with the mix of bitter-sweetness. On one level, I'm thrilled they are as excited about the books as I once was (and still am). Though it comes as a constant reminder of Maura's struggle in life.

Patrick on St. Patrick's Day 100m Dash (Haddonfield Adrenaline Kids Run)

There were only three things I wanted him to remember: today was St. Patrick's Day, you run to have fun, and his grandparents and godfather were here to see him race.

Patrick's pre-race enthusiasm could hardly be contained. He jogged up and down the track several times in full display of his Lucky Charms t-shirt and "Future Olympian" race bib.

He cautiously toed up to the 100 meter start, alongside two dozen other 3 to 4-year-olds. He confided, "Dad, I am a slowpoke." I assured him that was only a slowpoke at the dinner table.

With an informal ready-set-go , the children raced after their rabbit: a kilted man with Gatorade-orange hair and sneakers. The crowd shouted encouragements as each runner passed on by.

Somewhere along the 50-meter mark, Patrick stumbled over his Crocs and fell forward. Some random mother instinctively jumped off the sideline to assist my son back to his feet.

P-Finn picked up his pace, pushing himself to pass the kilted man once again. 50 meters later, he looked down to the scratched-up palms of his hands and considered crying.

Not allowing him to dwell on either falling down or minor abrasions, I ushered him to cross the finish line; he ran straight through with a sense of accomplishment.

Patrick proudly receive his medal of participation for the Haddonfield Adrenaline Kids Run, on St. Patrick's Day. Quite memorable for his first race.

Daylight Savings Strikes Back

I can't quite exactly pin when it first started to occur.

There's vague memories of P-Finn sneaking into our bed to fall back asleep in the grayness between late, late night and early, early morning. Of course, I managed to sleep through most of the disruption, only to wake with him situated sideways with his heel lodged into my rib cage.

Those visitations were few enough. It once seemed like an anomaly when Patrick would actually wake... moments before I was ready to leave for work while everyone else continued to sleep.

Turn on the TV, and flip to either Disney or Nickelodeon. Grab him a teacup full of dry cereal. A glass of ice tea. Toss a blanket atop (while carefully tucking in the sides to cocoon him under a quilted mass). I could actually manage to sneak out the door before the next commercial break.

We had unknowingly established a new morning routine.

This waking before work became a bit of a habit. Somewhere between rotation, revolution, and the tilt of the earth-- my son started to wake up a little earlier every morning as the darkness of winter gave way to longer hours of spring daylight.

The sunlight would creep, curling his luminous fingers around tightly drawn shades, prying my son's eyes open to the breaking dawn."Dad. The sun is out!" he'd exclaim as he'd burst out of the bedroom. Standing on his tippy toes, Patrick would stretch and bellow an exaggerated yawn, interjecting, "Dad. I do like you!" before resuming a mock up of my morning stretches.

The man appeared to enjoy the additional father/son time (free of Mom & Maura). So did I... at first. A few seconds compounds over time. One week I am enjoying cereal and cartoons on the couch for a few minutes.

The next week I'd find him patiently sprawled out on the cold, tile floor waiting for me to step out of the shower. I'd struggle to keep him entertained as I readied myself for work and maintain my own morning schedule.

Waking earlier provided P-Finn with the opportunity to him to flex his opinion. Morning juice? Ice tea. No... orange juice. No... apple juice. Green cup? No... Blue cup. Sorry bub, that one is in the washer. Can you believe this kid actually asked for popcorn instead of cereal? Pop corn: no good. Corn puffs: well, they are OK.

Then there was the selection of television station. We had to compare Nick against Disney to see which offered the better program. He'd ask for programs that weren't airing, and we'd have to settle on what was currently being televised.

My morning had become mired down in meeting the picky demands of a 3-year-old. It was only a matter of time before I found myself serving up a breakfast platter, satisfying his request to watch particular cartoon episodes on either Netflix or On Demand.

It wasn't as if I didn't value the added father/son time. His waking had an inverse relationship with my leaving for work on time: the earlier he rose, the later (and later) managed to sneak out the door. Handling a toddler strictly by myself, while under a tight schedule, was a bit tough.

I started to question it all: how did it come to this? Where did I go awry as a parent? I needed a fast-acting solution short of waking Mom & Maura to divert Patricks's attention in the morning.

I looked forward to the prospect of resetting the clocks to Spring Ahead. An adjustment in one hour would allow me to slip out of the household under the cover of darkness. Sure, I'd loose an hour of sleep over the weekend, but it would pale in comparison to what I'd regain with my solitary morning routine.

In reality: daylight savings is a sick experiment on the sleep time routine of little children.

Yeah, so P-Finn wakes to the rising sun a clock hour later; his nighttime routine is offset by an equal amount. It's a difficult concept for a toddler to understand that exact clock hours do not necessarily correlate with sunrise and set; our biological needs are attuned to the rhythm of day and season.

This change in clock time and extra sunlight translates into a later bedtime hours for several more days until we can veer Patrick onto a new evening routine. At least he should start sleeping through my pre-work routine. Though, to be honest, I'll miss out on that small window of father son time.

"What Sarah Said": a lo-fi, live action web comic (episode 23, Zelda Multi-Player)

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Lately P-Finn and I have started to explore our video game options outside Little Big Planet. We breezed through Kirby Yarn (well, me pushing through the heavy platforming with him making superfluous use of the "Angel" button). One day he woke early enough from a nap to catch a glimpse of me playing The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword and decided he wanted to jump in. 

Up through now, Patrick was accustomed to multiplayer options and couldn't fathom a game without an "opt in" feature. This led to some creative parenting on my part: we each took one control of the Wii nunchuk. Sometimes he would assume the analog stick and constantly run off cliffs or into lava. Other times he would figure out how to get into my inventory and use one item ad nauseum. 

We are getting better at coordinating our movement. I've managed to get through a few dungeons (sans boss fights) with P-Finn in tandem. Although my meta-gaming tendencies flare up every now and again, I can be quite content watching him aimlessly run around in circles as I try to cut down bushes and clay pots to pick up a few rupees along the way. 

#Instagram Reflection of the Week

The iPhone 4s is so intuitive, even a 3-year-old can easily navigate its features. And apparently, he manages Netflix well enough to queue up and watch episodes of Sonic Underground. Don't ask. His choice-- not mine. It's just a matter of time before he figures out how to request FaceTime with my parents. 

"What Sarah Said": a lo-fi, live action web comic (episode 22, Patrick's Nachos)

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The Lorax Movie-Going Experience

It all started with a dinnertime gimmick to keep P-Finn planted in his chair for an entire meal. We'd watch movie previews on my iPhone Trailers app in between bites of pasta and sliced apples. A total dad move on my part. To be honest, it worked wonders in keeping him seated... though the videos mostly distracted him from eating. OK. So that trick didn't work as well as I hoped it would.

Patrick noticed the Lorax trailer right away from a small thumbnail image;  something about bright orange color and signature mustache that made him jump off the page.  Dr. Seuss was a steady part of our bedtime book rotation, especially The Lorax. Seeing the image, he jumped at the opportunity to watch the trailer. And re-watch the trailer. And re-watch that same exact trailer all over again.

It had become part of an obsession on our part. We started to read (and re-read) the book several nights a week. Then, right before bed, we would turn off all the lights and watch a few trailers under the covers of his bed. He would manipulate the iPhone's touch screen. Anything in the "Family" genre was game: Hugo, Puss in Boots, The Secret World of Arietty, Brave, and especially The Lorax.



After five months in waiting, The Lorax opened on Dr. Seuss' B-Day-- also celebrated as "Read Across America". In light of P-Finn's steadfast devotion to both the book and movie trailer, my wife and I decided take him to the movies as a surprise.  I have to admit, we had some reservations about bringing Patrick to a packed theater during the movie's opening weekend.

Our previous movie-going attempts were characterized by P-Finn's sprints up and down the staircase mixed with marathon bouts of 'not listening'. Idle threats of, "Keep this up and we're leaving," even though I didn't want to miss the last 30-minutes when I paid over $30 for admission. On top of that, Maura was irritable due to a recent change in her medication. Recipe for a good time.

We arrived late-- at least 10 minutes into the previews-- and had to sit towards the front row. Maura did break down into a fit of Kepprage and pre-nap irritability. Caroline nursed her to sleep. P-Finn was firmly planted in his seat throughout the entire movie. Success! Funny enough, Patrick started to recite the lines he memorized from the trailer during the appropriate scenes.

And the best part? Patrick repeatedly asked, "Is it over? Dad, why is the movie over?" when the credits began to roll. This morning he even asked if we could head back to see Lorax in the movies. Time to get Patricked hyped up for Pixar's Brave so he can be ready by summertime.

March for Maura

Looking back over the past month, I'm not quite sure where February went. To be quite frank, I'm glad it's gone. It won't be missed by me. Nor my wife. Least of all by my daughter.

Late January the neurologist gave the go ahead ween Maura off Topomax over a three week period. She was five months seizure free, and we felt quite confident Keppra could singularly control her epilepsy. And she did well enough. Five months seizure free. The weening appeared successful.

That was thirty days ago. Twenty seizures later.

Her incidents started the weekend immediately following her last dosage. My work week became a blur of mid-day text messages bluntly declaring, "Maura had another." Wanting nothing more than to rush home, but I'd have to slough through the rest of my work day instead.

Even if I could be home, there was nothing I could do to prevent her seizures. Actually, there wasn't much that could be done following in the wake. Other than perpetuate a feedback loop of anxiety over where and when she would have another episode.

In speaking with the neurologist, we've decided to place Maura back on a light dosage of Topomax and adjust as necessary. The thought of having an epilepsy-free child who doesn't require daily medication was nice, but it's far better to actually have her seizures completely under control... no matter how many medications this requires.

I can't believe my little daughter will be 10-months-old come March 2nd. Or that she will be a year old. My wife came up with the brilliant idea to participate in a March of Dimes to commemorate her first revolution around the sun.  To celebrate the other preemies born this year. But most of all, to provide support to families who have yet to endure weeks (if not months) in the NICU.

My wife has set a goal to fund raise $500. I'm personally aiming for $100. Check out my fundraising page if interested in making a donation towards our March for Maura to donate to the greater good of March of Dimes: http://www.marchforbabies.org/janalon

#Instagram Reflection of the Week

Our pleasantries measured the changes in life since our last acquaintance. I eagerly shared the news of my daughter Maura. She remarked, "As long as they are born healthy… that is all that matters." I choked back on the thought of my daughter's epilepsy, and decided to end the conversation with a silent nod. After all, wasn't she a happy and healthy child?

"What Sarah Said": a lo-fi, live action web comic (episode 21, Super Bowl XLmnop?)

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#Instagram Reflection of the Week

We stared at the thinning crescent of the waning moon and wondered where the sun had gone. He asked if the sun was asleep. I pointed out the sun was always shing, but sometimes just beyond our sight.

"What Sarah Said": a lo-fi, live action web comic (episode 20, Rebekah's First Snow)

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Maura Fern: Phased Topomax & Recent Epileptic Seizures

Patrick Finn rooted through the Fisher Price medical kit kit with surgical precision. Although the word stethoscope wasn't yet a part of his 3-year-old vocabulary, he could expertly demonstrate how to use the instrument. The blood pressure cuff was a particular hit, as each pump of the bulb sent the dial spinning into a frenzied rotation. Yupp. We're talking Dr. P-Finn. 


My wife and I always wondered how much he would remember of Maura's 2-month stay at the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, or the flurry of neurological and pediatric check-ups after her release. Judging by his sense of purpose applying the medical kit, those memories were still a part of his vivid recall. The toys offered him a creative means to activate and explore those memories.


For all his deliberate play, I was shocked when he plunged the fake syringe into my mouth. It caught me off guard, and I nearly managed to choke out a reprimand when my wife shot me a sideways glance from across. the room. Then it dawned on me. This wasn't a pointy needle for immunization; he imagined the oral syringe we used to administer Maura's anti-seizure medication three times a day. Who could fault such a keen observer?


As for Maura, each and every day was marked progress. Each and every day distanced us from her last episode of epilepsy in early Septmber. Having already weened her off the anti-seizure medication Phenobarbital, my wife and I were eager to begin phasing out Topomax-- a medication more commonly known to treat migraine headaches. 


Topo was also the only medication which required constant refrigeration, which seriously hampered our ability to "pick up and go" without more seriously planning our outings around her medication schedule. With a fair amount of consultation with CHOP's neurology specialists, we delicately planned to decrease Maura's Topomax schedule over a three week span-- ultimately eliminating the need for this particular treatment. 


My wife administered the last dose of Topomax earlier this week. We allowed that major milestone to gracefully pass by with not much more than a FaceBook post acknowledging the event. It only took one incoming phone call to break that piece of mind.


Twenty-seven of my seventh grade students continued to research and write annotated bibliographies well into that Friday afternoon as the front office directed the phone call to my classroom; I discreetly answered the phone, nervously anticipating the next weighty words to drop with crushing gravity. 


"Joe, Maura had a seizure this afternoon." There wasn't much more that could be said over the phone, and I could accomplish even less from my remote location miles away from my wife and children. We exchanged a few more words: Caroline outlined the narrative with a few critical details, and I offered a few words of heartfelt support. I hung up the phone and turned to finish out the rest of my school day.


Am I disappointed? No. The word too heavily conveys the idea of failure, lack of hope, and feeling unfulfilled. If anything I feel very relieved that Maura and her medications were able to hold the seizures at bay for such a long duration. Proud in my wife's determination to work with Early Intervention and physical therapy to develop the gross motor skills. Relieved that my son is handling our family crisis like a well adjusted 3-year-old. 


So... we restart the clock back to "day zero seizure free," continue to manage Maura's seizures through the best medical attention CHOP can provide, and and continue to hope Maura will one day outgrow her epilepsy.

"What Sarah Said": a lo-fi, live action web comic (episode 19, We Shall Overcome!)

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Instagram: an late-comer app review for the tech secluded

2011 has come and gone, giving way to several weeks worth of the year's "best of" from critics and bloggers alike. Jumping over to my iPhone's App Store, I explored through the Rewind 2011 and browsed through the best apps of the year to discover Instagram.

I eagerly shared this tidbit with my wife to discover that I am late to jump on the bandwagon. Very late in fact. Ah well, looks like I am one of the last to know about this gem. So I'll bring up the rear on this with my Instagram app review for the tech secluded.

WHAT IS IT?

Instagram is a free app offered exclusively available through the Mac App Store and iTunes.

On the surface, it is just another photography app that offers a limited variety of finishes, most of which give a blurred or washed out appearance as if the picture aged from the 50's or 60's. Filters are applied after the fact, allowing for both spontaneity and thoughtful post-production. All-in-all, the controls are intuitive and can be fully explored within several minutes.
 
I found the resulting alteration somewhat gimmicky, and could quickly loose entertainment value (like CamWow after 5 minutes of play). For those seeking a wider array of visual effects, consider Instagram can directly import from the photo album. Apps like Leme Camera, Photo Toaster, and 100 Cameras in 1 (just to name a few) can be used in tangent, allowing for a wider range of expression.

Layering effects proved easy to learn, but time-consuming to master.

  WHO WILL LIKE IT?

Dig a little deeper and Instagram offers a layer of social networking. Images are published directly to a feed, which means you can follow others as they can also follow you. Images are aggregated directly into the app in an easy to view photo stream. Contacts can be imported from various other social networks, including FaceBook, making it easy to connect with others.

Email. Facebook. Twitter. Flickr. Four Square. Tumblr. Yeah, who needs another social network, right?

The most brilliant aspect of Instagram are the toggles to push photos out into your other various social networks... simultaneously. As a social networking app, Instagram felt... well... networked. The integrated nature of Instagram enhanced the way I engage with my other networks; though I am disappointed there is no direct port to Blogger outside of a widget or badge.

WHY USE IT?

Check it out. From my standpoint, Instagram appears popular with the +25-something tech savvy mommy/daddy posters. Consider how the Noah's Dad blog utilizes Instagram as an added layer of social media. Or how my wife's Rivergirl 365 + 1 blog uses Instagram photos on the go to maintain her efforts to post once a day over the course of a year. Another half-dozen mommy/daddy friends are also using Instagram to publish to Facebook.

There is also the burgeoning moblog (mobile blog) and photography scenes. Actually, I'm quite impressed by what people are able to achieve given the fixed focal length of any mobile Apple product. For those who didn't know, the "zoom" feature only crops! Check out the works of my friends PraiseBoognish and HeadManSays who are really pushing the boundaries of technology and art. Quite astounding.

And ooh, check out my feed while you are at it. I'm trying to balance visual curiosity combined with those small, family moments.

"What Sarah Said": a lo-fi, live action web comic (episode 18, Sunset Over This Year's Resolution)

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P-Finn's Secret Wish

P-Finn broke away and sprinted toward the fountain under the mall's spacious atrium. "Mom, can I have a coin?" he requested. My wife shook a few pennies and dimes out of her coin purse, and handed them over to the toddler. In a single motion, my son threw a fistful of coins toward the water, sending back a hearty splash.

In reconsideration, he turned back to my wife and asked, "Do you have any more coins?" She shook her head in denial. P-Finn the turned to me. "Daddie, why are there coins under the water?" I began to explain something about making a wish... or the monies being donated to various charities. He looked confused.

Switching subjects, I ask if he made a wish. Caroline quickly interjected, "Wishes don't come true if you tell somebody else. Keep it a secret." At that moment, my son scrunched his eyelids shut into his keeping-a-secret facial expression. Guess now I'll never know about his wishes.