This morning, Truman and I stopped by the Parents as Teachers room at the Southern Boone primary school for what is called "Drop in and Play." P.A.T. is an organization that provides helpful tips, developmental assessments, and support to parents of pre-school age children at no cost to the families. One service they provide is the opportunity for shut-ins like Truman and me to interact with other people "out in the world." You see, we don't get out much. Living 20 miles from Columbia and Jeff City leaves us with a long drive any time we wish to relieve our country-livin' induced cabin fever, so having a get-together at the school in Ashland (a very small town devoid of most forms of entertainment not involving cows and/or beer, but conveniently situated a mere three miles from our home) gives us something to do without making an hour's round trip into civilization.
As I sat in a metal folding chair observing my child NOT playing with the other children in the room, I discovered a book of advice for dads that was located on a bookshelf labeled "Parenting Resources." I thumbed through the pages while periodically peeking up to see whether Truman was having fun or bleeding to death. I saw no obvious indications of either scenario, so I continued reading. Eventually I found a passage in the book about toddlers at play that mentioned that they do not usually interact with other kids their age. They merely play near them rather than with them. Okay, I thought to myself, Truman is behaving normally for a child his age. Of course his being a Naughton prevents him from ever being truly "normal" however. (I admit that I didn't see that written anywhere in the book, but I'm sure it's true.) So if the kids aren't predisposed to play together, then I wondered why it was that we came to "drop in and play." It seems the appropriate title for the event should be "Drop in and watch your kid ignore other kids." If they would have called it that, then I would have known Truman was behaving normally without having to read it in a book. The only good parenting advice I ever read in a book suggested that when your toddler behaves in an outrageously infuriating fashion, the parent should pretend that their child is an alien born on another planet, unaware of how to behave appropriately here on Earth. Would you spank a Martian in the middle of Wal-Mart for refusing to put the family-size bag of gummy worms back on the shelf while screaming "You're killing me!" as you yank the contraband from his tiny alien fists? Of course not. You would simply say, "That's not how we act here on Earth. I don't know how it was back on your home planet, but that kind of behavior will not be tolerated in this galaxy, mister."
Even if Truman doesn't really play with the other kids, we will probably continue to "drop in and play" in the future. Living in total isolation here on Planet Naughton is probably not healthy for him. Take me for example. I've been holed-up here at the Hartsburg Hideaway for ten years now. Let's face it- "normal" is not the word you would likely use to describe me, is it?
PS: For the sake of my facebook friends, I will keep my fb account active so that my blog posts will automatically appear on my page. However, I will not check my messages or anything else, so if you wish to drop me a line, just email me. I'll be here. Or I may be in the P.A.T. room. Or I may be drunk and doing something with cows. At any rate, stay in touch.
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Facebook vs. Blogger
I have become lazy. But it's not entirely my fault. I blame it on Facebook. The social networking site has occupied countless hours of my free time - time I could have spent writing my book or writing on my blog. Instead, I have regressed to the point of writing one-sentence blurbs meant to get a quick chuckle from my 405 or so Facebook friends. While these friends are important to me, I don't feel that I am doing them or myself any favors by avoiding the task I had outlined for myself many months (and really years) ago: writing a book. Facebook is a fine way to reconnect with old friends, but so is a 20 year high school reunion (which is coming up next summer.) What the hell will we talk about if we already know what everybody is up to via Facebook? I mean, I know what these people eat for dinner, what virus their kids currently have, and how many times they get drunk every week. (I can't keep track of all that in my own life, much less theirs.)
When I started writing this blog several years ago, it re-ignited a creative spark that had dimmed over time due to various factors such as work, kids, damaged brain cells, etc. My writing has evolved through the years and I have only recently felt comfortable referring to myself as a "writer." (I have not yet published a book, but I have had two stories published in a local paper that I was actually paid for.) My novel was coming along, but when it occurred to me that fiction writing is not (at least at the present time) the format for my voice, I took a break to regroup. I intended to get started right away on a collection of non-fiction essays (some of which first appeared on this blog), but that damned old Facebook just kept getting in the way. No more! In order to save my blog and my budding writing career, I feel that I must say goodbye to Facebook.
But how will we stay in touch?! I seem to recall that I was able to interact with friends and family before Facebook was invented through something called "email." (And the telephone and snail mail for that matter.) My address is linked on my blog and can be found on the info tab of my Facebook page. I will keep my fb account active for a while in order for my peeps to glean this info, then one day, without fanfare, I will cancel my account. If you enjoy reading my random thoughts, then save this blog (travisnaughton.blogspot.com) to your favorites list and check it often. I promise that you will get a lot more enjoyment out of my blog posts than you ever could from the inane fluff I put on Facebook.
Thank you to my dedicated blog followers who have not given up on me through these dark times. Your loyalty shall be rewarded. Special thanks to my cousin Larry, my uncle TK, my friend Ben, my mother-in-law Glee, and my writer-friend (and cousin-in-law) Jane for believing in me and encouraging me to keep writing. I won't let you down!
When I started writing this blog several years ago, it re-ignited a creative spark that had dimmed over time due to various factors such as work, kids, damaged brain cells, etc. My writing has evolved through the years and I have only recently felt comfortable referring to myself as a "writer." (I have not yet published a book, but I have had two stories published in a local paper that I was actually paid for.) My novel was coming along, but when it occurred to me that fiction writing is not (at least at the present time) the format for my voice, I took a break to regroup. I intended to get started right away on a collection of non-fiction essays (some of which first appeared on this blog), but that damned old Facebook just kept getting in the way. No more! In order to save my blog and my budding writing career, I feel that I must say goodbye to Facebook.
But how will we stay in touch?! I seem to recall that I was able to interact with friends and family before Facebook was invented through something called "email." (And the telephone and snail mail for that matter.) My address is linked on my blog and can be found on the info tab of my Facebook page. I will keep my fb account active for a while in order for my peeps to glean this info, then one day, without fanfare, I will cancel my account. If you enjoy reading my random thoughts, then save this blog (travisnaughton.blogspot.com) to your favorites list and check it often. I promise that you will get a lot more enjoyment out of my blog posts than you ever could from the inane fluff I put on Facebook.
Thank you to my dedicated blog followers who have not given up on me through these dark times. Your loyalty shall be rewarded. Special thanks to my cousin Larry, my uncle TK, my friend Ben, my mother-in-law Glee, and my writer-friend (and cousin-in-law) Jane for believing in me and encouraging me to keep writing. I won't let you down!
Monday, November 02, 2009
Gotcha Day
For anyone who has ever adopted, the day that you first met your child is celebrated just like a birthday. For many families, that day is called, "Gotcha Day" because that's "the day we gotcha." I am one of those lucky fathers fortunate enough to have both witnessed the birth of his biological child and experienced the joy of being handed his adoptive child after a long, long wait. Both events were life changing and more emotional than I could ever accurately describe.
As Alex was being born, on October 3rd, 2000, his heartrate dropped drastically while the doctor was trying to coax him out of his cozy little hideaway. Suddenly the medical staff leaped into action and as I was trying to soothe Bethany, my eyes met the panicked look on a nurses face. With no time to ease the baby out, the doctor abandoned her gentle and patient approach and basically yanked Alex into the world. It was not a beautiful moment. It was terrifying. For a while, he didn't make a sound, although his mama more than made up for that. Let's just say this: she used no anesthesia, and Alex weighed ten pounds. (I don't know how anyone can consider women to be the weaker sex.) A few breathless moments later, we finally heard a cry, and I was reduced to a quivering heap of sweat and tears. I whispered in Bethany's ear, "I never want us to go through that again. Next time, we're adopting a little girl from China."
Six years later and apparently unable to conceive another child, I remembered my prophetic statement in the delivery room. Bethany agreed that fate was telling us that we were not meant to bring another hungry mouth into the world. We would adopt. After two years of waiting for a baby girl, we found a picture of a beautiful, healthy two-year-old boy on our adoption agency's website. The listing included pictures of his left hand, which was missing two fingers and his left foot which was missing three toes. For these birth defects, he was abandoned on the side of the road by his birth parents and was found by a concerned stranger who then brought him to the local police station. After unsuccessfully trying to find his birth parents, he was brought to an orphanage where he spent the first year of his life with no mother or father to love him. He was lucky to be placed in a foster home after his first birthday where he remained for the second year of his life.
On Novemeber 3rd, 2008, we were escorted into a dingy room in an old government run hotel in Nanning, China. Along with our new friends Lisa and James Foard, who were adopting a beautiful five-year-old girl they would name Avery, we were told to sit and wait. "Whatever you do, don't cry. Crying upset babies," our translator/guide David warned us. We all knew we would fall to pieces when we saw our children for the first time, like any parent does when their child is born, but we resolved to be strong. Imagine laying eyes on your beautiful child for the first time, holding them, hugging and kissing them, but trying not to get emotional! Well, we somehow managed to hold it together when after an seemingly endless wait, a beautiful little boy was carried into the room and quickly handed straight over to Bethany. I think we both were so overwhelmed with emotion that we kind of had to go into "shutdown mode" to avoid breaking down in front of the child. We were trembling, but smiling and nodding when the "aunties" from the orphanage and the foster mother were telling us about our little bundle of joy. He was given the name Jiang Yizhan and was called "Zhan-Zhan" (which sounds kinda like "John-John"). We introduced ourselves to him as "Mama" and "Baba" (Chinese for Daddy). We had learned how to say "I love you" in the Chinese language course we had taken. "Wo a'i ni," (pronounced "whoa I knee") we told him over and over. "Baba a'i ni." Daddy loves you. "Baba a'i Zhan-Zhan." Then, "Ni shi Truman." (You are Truman.) Finally, we braved, "Baba qing-qing" (pronounced cheeng-cheeng) and "Mama qing-qing." Give daddy a kiss. Give mommy a kiss. And he did it! I will never be able to find the words to describe the joy that that first kiss gave me.
So here we all are, one year later, getting along as if Truman Jiang were born into this family. He's a Naughton thru-and-thru. Crazy, tempermental, funny, ornery. We love him as much as we love Alex. We know now that we were never meant to have another biological child. We were meant to fly halfway around the world and import the greatest item ever "Made in China." Happy Gotcha Day Truman. Baba a'i ni!
As Alex was being born, on October 3rd, 2000, his heartrate dropped drastically while the doctor was trying to coax him out of his cozy little hideaway. Suddenly the medical staff leaped into action and as I was trying to soothe Bethany, my eyes met the panicked look on a nurses face. With no time to ease the baby out, the doctor abandoned her gentle and patient approach and basically yanked Alex into the world. It was not a beautiful moment. It was terrifying. For a while, he didn't make a sound, although his mama more than made up for that. Let's just say this: she used no anesthesia, and Alex weighed ten pounds. (I don't know how anyone can consider women to be the weaker sex.) A few breathless moments later, we finally heard a cry, and I was reduced to a quivering heap of sweat and tears. I whispered in Bethany's ear, "I never want us to go through that again. Next time, we're adopting a little girl from China."
Six years later and apparently unable to conceive another child, I remembered my prophetic statement in the delivery room. Bethany agreed that fate was telling us that we were not meant to bring another hungry mouth into the world. We would adopt. After two years of waiting for a baby girl, we found a picture of a beautiful, healthy two-year-old boy on our adoption agency's website. The listing included pictures of his left hand, which was missing two fingers and his left foot which was missing three toes. For these birth defects, he was abandoned on the side of the road by his birth parents and was found by a concerned stranger who then brought him to the local police station. After unsuccessfully trying to find his birth parents, he was brought to an orphanage where he spent the first year of his life with no mother or father to love him. He was lucky to be placed in a foster home after his first birthday where he remained for the second year of his life.
On Novemeber 3rd, 2008, we were escorted into a dingy room in an old government run hotel in Nanning, China. Along with our new friends Lisa and James Foard, who were adopting a beautiful five-year-old girl they would name Avery, we were told to sit and wait. "Whatever you do, don't cry. Crying upset babies," our translator/guide David warned us. We all knew we would fall to pieces when we saw our children for the first time, like any parent does when their child is born, but we resolved to be strong. Imagine laying eyes on your beautiful child for the first time, holding them, hugging and kissing them, but trying not to get emotional! Well, we somehow managed to hold it together when after an seemingly endless wait, a beautiful little boy was carried into the room and quickly handed straight over to Bethany. I think we both were so overwhelmed with emotion that we kind of had to go into "shutdown mode" to avoid breaking down in front of the child. We were trembling, but smiling and nodding when the "aunties" from the orphanage and the foster mother were telling us about our little bundle of joy. He was given the name Jiang Yizhan and was called "Zhan-Zhan" (which sounds kinda like "John-John"). We introduced ourselves to him as "Mama" and "Baba" (Chinese for Daddy). We had learned how to say "I love you" in the Chinese language course we had taken. "Wo a'i ni," (pronounced "whoa I knee") we told him over and over. "Baba a'i ni." Daddy loves you. "Baba a'i Zhan-Zhan." Then, "Ni shi Truman." (You are Truman.) Finally, we braved, "Baba qing-qing" (pronounced cheeng-cheeng) and "Mama qing-qing." Give daddy a kiss. Give mommy a kiss. And he did it! I will never be able to find the words to describe the joy that that first kiss gave me.
So here we all are, one year later, getting along as if Truman Jiang were born into this family. He's a Naughton thru-and-thru. Crazy, tempermental, funny, ornery. We love him as much as we love Alex. We know now that we were never meant to have another biological child. We were meant to fly halfway around the world and import the greatest item ever "Made in China." Happy Gotcha Day Truman. Baba a'i ni!
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Alex's 9th Birthday
On Saturday morning, Alex woke up in Liberty, Missouri, at Bethany's sister Charla's house, as a nine year old. After telling him "happy birthday," we quickly rushed out the door to the "Eye on AIDS" 5k/10k race at Doug & Char's church. Bethany finished 2nd in her division and set her personal best time! Doug took third in his age group despite stopping during the race to tie his shoe. Char had to volunteer to work at the event, so she couldn't race. Afterwards, we enjoyed a pancake breakfast which was very tasty and filling.
Immediately after filling our bellies, we rushed to cousin Olivia's volleyball match and enjoyed watching her team win two out of three games. Then we hurried back to the Hecker House for Alex's birthday party. He opened presents, blew out the candles, scarfed down a piece of delicious German chocolate cake made by Grandma Glee, and then changed into his football uniform.
We left Liberty at 11:45 am and got to Alex's football game in Ashland at 2:15 (after a quick stop for lunch in Boonville). There, Alex's Southern Boone County (Ashland) Eagles defeated the Hallsville Indians 48-0. It could have been even more lopsided, but the coach decided to give five different players a chance to play quarterback during the second half. Alex rushed the oppposing quarterback really well on one particular play and forced him to heave a desperation pass to avoid the sack. The pass was intercepted and led to an Eagle touchdown two plays later. In the past two games, the Eagles have outscored their opponents 90-0! They are now 2-1 on the season, with a chance at revenge against Moberly coming next week.
After the game, we joined our neighbors for their annual bonfire and hayride. Truman loved riding behind the old tractor and Alex had a ball while running and playing with a bunch of other kids around his age. We ate venison chili, drank some tasty beverages, and finally called it a day at 11:00. When Alex was asked if he enjoyed his birthday he said, "This was the best birthday ever!"
It certainly was the busiest. I think the couch and I have an appointment this afternoon.
Immediately after filling our bellies, we rushed to cousin Olivia's volleyball match and enjoyed watching her team win two out of three games. Then we hurried back to the Hecker House for Alex's birthday party. He opened presents, blew out the candles, scarfed down a piece of delicious German chocolate cake made by Grandma Glee, and then changed into his football uniform.
We left Liberty at 11:45 am and got to Alex's football game in Ashland at 2:15 (after a quick stop for lunch in Boonville). There, Alex's Southern Boone County (Ashland) Eagles defeated the Hallsville Indians 48-0. It could have been even more lopsided, but the coach decided to give five different players a chance to play quarterback during the second half. Alex rushed the oppposing quarterback really well on one particular play and forced him to heave a desperation pass to avoid the sack. The pass was intercepted and led to an Eagle touchdown two plays later. In the past two games, the Eagles have outscored their opponents 90-0! They are now 2-1 on the season, with a chance at revenge against Moberly coming next week.
After the game, we joined our neighbors for their annual bonfire and hayride. Truman loved riding behind the old tractor and Alex had a ball while running and playing with a bunch of other kids around his age. We ate venison chili, drank some tasty beverages, and finally called it a day at 11:00. When Alex was asked if he enjoyed his birthday he said, "This was the best birthday ever!"
It certainly was the busiest. I think the couch and I have an appointment this afternoon.
Friday, October 02, 2009
Road Trip
I remember taking a driving vacation with my parents to the west coast back when Blake and I were kids. We had an old VW bus that Dad was prone to sticking his head out the sunroof of in order to take better pictures of the passing scenery. I specifically remember him doing this as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. It embarrassed Mom, the native Californian, to no end to have her husband so gleefully playing the part of tourist, replete with Missouri license plates on the van, camera strap around his neck, black socks pulled up to his knees, and shorts pulled up to his nipples. Now that's sexy. Dad, Susan, Blake, and I drove out to the east coast several years later and really honed our "look like a tourist" skills. We camped throughout that trip, in exotic east coast locations such as a parking lot in Jersey. That is what I call "roughing it." Many years later, when Mom decided to move back to California, I followed her out there in her Nissan pickup while she drove a car for Blake to use while he attended Stanford. A two thousand mile trip spent alone in a small, over-packed compact pickup isn't as much fun as it sounds, especially when driving through the Donner Pass during a blizzard at one in the morning with big-rigs flying past you like you were days-old road kill, harmlessly occupying an insignificant portion of the side of the road forgotten by the world of the living. Good times.
In college, several fraternity brothers and I road tripped from Columbia to New Madrid, MO on the date that all the experts predicted the end-of-the-world earthquake would happen back in 1992. We figured there was no better place to be than the epicenter to feel the earth-ending quake. We were a little disappointed that the cataclysmic event never occurred, but we did get on "Good Morning America", and were interviewed by several radio stations and newspapers. The same group of guys also took trips to Carbondale IL, Ames IA, and Rolla MO. Those memories are pleasant if not extremely blurry.
My Hannibal friends and I have taken more road trips than I could ever count. Many entailed simply driving aimlessly on back roads with no destination in mind. Several have been taken with the goal of visiting a friend who circumstances have caused to move away. A few have ended with a piece of furniture being defiled and/or burned. One trip saw Bill Herrin and I drive to Vegas and back in a 1984 Plymouth Horizon that was literally held together with duct tape and baling wire. How any of us survived these wild days on the road is a mystery to me.
Now my family gets subjected to my love of the road whenever we go on vacation. We have driven to Orlando, Colorado, Michigan, Baltimore, Chicago four times, and Kansas City and St. Louis many, many times. Thank God for portable DVD players. Actually, the kids are good travellers, as is my beautiful spouse (whenever she has managed NOT to lose her glasses in the ocean.) I am still trying to convince her to: 1. Let me buy an RV and 2. Drive out to see Blake and Meredith in Philly this Christmas rather than fly. (We could buy an RV for what we would spend on airfare for four people.) I'll let you know how it turns out.
After recently reading "On The Road" by Jack Kerouac (for the first time in my 38 years, sadly), I have been re-energized and I have re-dedicated myself to a life of discovery that can only be found on the road. I hope to get that RV (a small, used one will do) and set out on new road-tripping adventures soon. Don't be surprised if you hear a honk in your driveway or a knock on your door sometime in the near future. And when the road calls, you'd better answer. Or else you may find a flaming bag of poo on your front porch. "Shitter's full, Clark."
In college, several fraternity brothers and I road tripped from Columbia to New Madrid, MO on the date that all the experts predicted the end-of-the-world earthquake would happen back in 1992. We figured there was no better place to be than the epicenter to feel the earth-ending quake. We were a little disappointed that the cataclysmic event never occurred, but we did get on "Good Morning America", and were interviewed by several radio stations and newspapers. The same group of guys also took trips to Carbondale IL, Ames IA, and Rolla MO. Those memories are pleasant if not extremely blurry.
My Hannibal friends and I have taken more road trips than I could ever count. Many entailed simply driving aimlessly on back roads with no destination in mind. Several have been taken with the goal of visiting a friend who circumstances have caused to move away. A few have ended with a piece of furniture being defiled and/or burned. One trip saw Bill Herrin and I drive to Vegas and back in a 1984 Plymouth Horizon that was literally held together with duct tape and baling wire. How any of us survived these wild days on the road is a mystery to me.
Now my family gets subjected to my love of the road whenever we go on vacation. We have driven to Orlando, Colorado, Michigan, Baltimore, Chicago four times, and Kansas City and St. Louis many, many times. Thank God for portable DVD players. Actually, the kids are good travellers, as is my beautiful spouse (whenever she has managed NOT to lose her glasses in the ocean.) I am still trying to convince her to: 1. Let me buy an RV and 2. Drive out to see Blake and Meredith in Philly this Christmas rather than fly. (We could buy an RV for what we would spend on airfare for four people.) I'll let you know how it turns out.
After recently reading "On The Road" by Jack Kerouac (for the first time in my 38 years, sadly), I have been re-energized and I have re-dedicated myself to a life of discovery that can only be found on the road. I hope to get that RV (a small, used one will do) and set out on new road-tripping adventures soon. Don't be surprised if you hear a honk in your driveway or a knock on your door sometime in the near future. And when the road calls, you'd better answer. Or else you may find a flaming bag of poo on your front porch. "Shitter's full, Clark."
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