Juggling food

Q: What's the best way to juggle your food?

A: Keep throwing up!



So, anyone who has spent any significant meal time with me knows I am a relatively picky eater. I don't know how to account for why I am that way, I just am. Childhood eating habits? Parental influence? Bad taste buds? Over/under-developed sense of texture? No idea. But I know what I like, and what I don't like, and I don't want to eat stuff I don't like.

My mom and grandparents tried (maybe too hard) to get me to eat stuff, but if I tried it already and didn't like it, that was it. I'd point blank refuse no matter what the consequences. Sit at the table for hours? Fine. No dessert? Fine. I guess it's good that I wasn't beaten or anything, I'm sure I was pretty frustrating to deal with. I can certainly be stubborn.

So, perhaps my mother knew this would happen. Perhaps not, but you never know. But years later, I find the tables turned, and now I'm the parent with a picky child. A stubborn, picky child. A child who only eats what he wants and is very, very reluctant to try new things. I believe that this must be the truest definition of comeuppance I have ever witnessed. At times, this has driven me absolutely bonkers.

One recent example has been pasta. Thurman and Nico love pasta. I like it, Carma likes it. It's one of the few family meals where there's not "exceptions" occurring on the table. However, Thurman decided at one point that he only likes Rigatoni. No spaghetti, no ziti, no angel hair, no shells. Only Rigatoni. Logic didn't work. (It's the SAME!) Threats either. (Well, ok, I didn't really threaten him. But I kind of wanted to.) Stubborn is as stubborn does.

But really, if anyone has the right to complain about the situation, it's Carma. Between me and Thurman, she hardly ever gets to eat what she wants. Hopefully Nico will remain untainted by pickiness. If nothing else, she can always call her sister to commiserate (she also has a picky husband). It was around this point that Carma decided she was going to take control. She talked to Thurman and discussed with him a New Food plan. The New Food plan is relatively simple. Thurman agreed to try two new foods every week, minimum of one bite. If he doesn't like it, he doesn't have to finish it. He has a rating system on which to grade all his new foods (thumbs up, thumbs diagonal up, thumbs sideways, thumbs diagonal down, thumbs down). Anything that is thumbs diagonal up or better can become family meal options. Carma also told me I'd be trying new foods as well.

At first, I kind of had my doubts. But you know, it's actually working. Granted, we're a little bit lenient on what a "new food" is. (Cheeseburger without cheese, chicken without barbecue sauce, etc.) On our recent trip to Utah for Emily's wedding, Thurman actually tried four new foods, including chicken at an Indian restaurant. He seemed to be proud of the fact that he was so far ahead of schedule, which bodes well for the new plan. I gave my word that I'll try my best too, if nothing else to set a good example for Thurman and let him know he's not alone. But I'm hoping I can start small too. Maybe french fries without ketchup or something.

Name calling

Having the last name of "Lincoln" has been very interesting. I can't say I'm very fond of "Greg," though I am used to it by now. I have rather negative feelings about my middle name, "Alan," not necessarily because it is a bad name in an of itself (though it holds no meaning whatsoever for me either), but simply because it give me a rather poor set of initials.

I always have thought of my name as kind of uncommon, but commonly regarded and well-known. I mean, just try to find any town of over 15,000 people that doesn't have something named Lincoln in it. However, since the advent of Google, I've found way too many Greg Lincolns for my own taste. I feel much more common now.

As a kid growing up, probably the most common question I got about my name was (everyone chime in)..."Are you related to Abe?" The answer was always "no", but not always easy to explain. My father, Robert Lincoln, was adopted in his late teens by Ray Lincoln, automatically eliminating any pure-blood ties to the Lincoln name (though legally is another matter). I was able to later find out that all of Abraham Lincoln's descendants had passed away, which while tragic for that family line, made things much easier to explain without getting into a lengthy discussion involving my own genealogy.

Another childhood memory of my name (and probably a good warning for my children), is a rhyme that some other kids made up and decided was fun to sing in elementary school:

"Stinkin' Lincoln, I've been thinkin', what the heck have you been drinkin'?"

Yep, that sums up a good chunk of my childhood right there.

These days, I must say I get a lot less comments or questions (or songs) about my name, though it does occasionally pop up. Most often though, it seems my name gets noticed at church. For those of you who are not Mormon, our church has certain duties assigned to members of the congregation. These are purely acts of service, and some carry quite a bit of responsibility. My calling title is Elder's Quorum President, which means I'm supposedly in charge of the Elder's Quorum. What I never anticipated (until getting the calling), is that now a whole bunch of people commonly refer to me (in third person and to me directly) as "President Lincoln." I must admit it was quite unnerving at first. I kept hoping that no one named "Booth" would join our ward.

Looking forward, I'm interested to see what complaints/occurrences/cool things happen with my kids regarding their last name. I've already had some fun with it, stuff like telling Thurman (at age 4) that his mommy had dug the Lincoln Tunnel. At least I can take comfort in the fact that as a thoughtful parent, my children's initials are nothing to be ashamed of.


Some other "Lincoln" facts:

• Thurman was born in the Land of Lincoln (Illinois)
• I thoroughly enjoyed "Manhunt: The 12-day chase for Lincoln's killer" by James L. Swanson. I probably felt more avenged than most people do.
• I have a t-shirt that reads "Lincoln Shot First", I even wore it to Ford's Theater.
• They Might Be Giants (my all-time favorite band) had an album called Lincoln.
• I've been to Lincoln's tomb in Springfield, IL. That's the only nice thing that can be said about the town.
• Hoboken has a Washington, Jefferson, Adams, Monroe, Jackson, Harrison, Clinton, and even Sinatra streets, but no Lincoln.
• On my morning commute, I often ride the ferry "Abraham Lincoln."
• We have two turtles, one is named Abraham.

Daily rituals

Not everything can be exciting, fresh, and new all the time. In life, the mundane happens. Quite frequently in fact. We establish patterns, exhaust all possible variances, and settle comfortably into our ruts. But we, as humans, have so many ruts to maintain, it can be quite a challenge.

Take for instance, one rut we never seem to be able to completely master- our morning commute. Something that on the surface that seems so simple gets awfully complex in surprising ways. Four people need to get to four places by certain times, and that's that, right? Well, you be the judge.

On a typical day, we all start together. This works out well, considering we all live in the same home. I won't bore you with all the pains leading up to the first morning deadline, but needless to say getting two children (and two adults) who are prone to sleepiness and often resent morning wakefulness is a hearty challenge. However, our morning goal is to be headed out the door as the clock in the living room chimes 8:00 a.m. It is a wonderful goal, yet we hardly ever make it. Most mornings, we troop out around 8:05 (and as you will see, every minute becomes precious). Any later, and it destroys any plans of on-timeness, and often happiness, for hours to come.

The first drop-off is Nico, about a half-mile away. The most efficient route is already established (up Madison to Seventh, Seventh to Washington), but along this route there are two obstacles (as well as the occasional poorly-timed garbage truck). The first of which is the Catholic School at Seventh and Madison, where parents are dutifully dropping off their children, and drivers hope they do not obstruct the roadway in the process. The second, and more menacing obstacle is the Hoboken Cross-Town Bus. The Hoboken Cross Town Bus (HCTB, which is better than how I refer to it under my breath) seems to have been developed with a single nefarious purpose in mind: to slow any progress of other motor vehicles. If I were more paranoid, I could conclude that it was specifically designed to torment me, but that is a bit egotistical and not nearly as menacing. Either way, the coincidence of schedules of our departure and the HCTB rampage through Hoboken are a bit shady.

As we drive up Madison, we often see the HCTB cross our path along Fifth, and the race is on. The intent is to get past 7th and Adams, where the HCTB gets on Seventh for a stretch of road that involves a stop-light and a series of stop-signs. If we get in front of the HCTB, we're in the clear. If it beats us to Seventh, we endure minutes of agony, rolling behind a bus that seems to stop randomly and excessively, and maxes out at about 5 mph. It also seems impervious to honking.

The whole rush to get to Nico's school revolves around another Hoboken scheduled event, the street sweeper on the east side of Washington street. The street sweeper event is a kind of double edged sword, on one hand the threat of a parking ticket is bad, but it does open up parking spaces for this drop-off and later in the commute. Thankfully, the bad end is only relevant when there's only one adult managing the commute. When flying solo, the tricky part is taking Nico into the school (with Thurman in tow) and managing a quick (yet loving) drop-off with as few tears spilt as possible. Because the street sweeper is coming, or more importantly, the lady in the little mini-car that issues the $35 parking tickets is coming. Usually it comes around 8:20-25, but it certainly can vary. On days when it is early, we have to find another place to park, which can be difficult to do. Of course, with two legal drivers the problem is easily solved and the other can simply drive around the block to get out of the way. Honestly, it's probably a miracle that's we've only gotten two parking tickets so far in two years off drop-offs.

The next stop is Thurman's school, where he has line-up at 8:30 to go to his class. We never, ever want to be late for this because 1) it makes Thurman incredibly upset to be late, (I can relate) 2) you have to turn him over to the security guard if he is late, which makes school feel more like prison, and 3) because it makes me feel like a horrible, inadequate, borderline parent. The good thing is that we are rarely late, even on single-parent-drop-off-days. Though, again, it is much easier with two as the other can simply double-park, and drop off, which does make the next challenge easier.

After depositing our eldest, the race is back on. There is a Mid-town ferry that leaves the 13th Street Hoboken ferry terminal at 8:40, though there is a slight chance of reprieve since it is occasionally delayed by the previous ferry (bound for downtown Manhattan). With two, this is usually easy. However, due to the nature of all the one-way streets, layout of Hoboken, and lack of availability of legal parking near the school, it is much more difficult on my own. Trying to navigate the one-ways is difficult enough, but any deviation from the route (detours around flooded streets, downed wires, police interference) or mishaps (garbage trucks, police pulling me over, fires) guarantees I will not make the 8:40 ferry.

Even if you make it to Washington Street on time to park, it still all depends on the street sweepers progress. Vacated spots are abound, but do you no good if the sweeper has not done its duty. If the sweeper is running late, you will be too. If it is too early, the spots may already be all taken.

The worse case scenario is that I don't make the 8:40 ferry. There's another at 9:00, which gives me a little time to sit and listen to Mike & Mike for 10 minutes or so before going to catch it. Regardless of which ferry I take, the result is the same (excepting the 20 minute delay). I ride the ferry, then take the ferry bus to 5th Ave listening to audiobooks, or reading, or watching something, or lightly napping along the way. I honestly need that little bit of rest each day just to recover from the stresses of drop-offs.

Yeah, in a town that's only one square mile, you'd think orchestrating drop-offs, etc. would be easier. At least next year, there's the prospect of having both boys attend school in the same building. But I'm sure the fiends behind the HCTB will find a way to make it more difficult and complicated. Regardless, it sure beats living in Manhattan.

Filler material

I don't have anything particular to rant about at the moment, but a number of non-related things have been occupying the meager space in my brain. Consider it an expanded version of "Headlines that didn't make the cut."

Health is a good thing. You often don't appreciate it until it leaves you. I hope the same thing will never be said about my wife. 

Baseball season is approaching, which is great. With the writer's strike and everything, I have hardly watched anything (other than children's television items) since the Super Bowl. I always look forward to the baseball opening, but it has gotten to be quite a crowded time. Usually, the first weekend of baseball occurs on the first weekend of April, which also happens to be General Conference weekend for us Mormon folk. (Those of you unfamiliar- it's a world-wide church satellite broadcast, 4 hours on Sat. and Sunday.) It also coincides around Nico's birthday (April 5th). I've got to figure out a proper way to celebrate this as a huge holiday. 

Speaking of baseball, we started our fantasy baseball draft this past weekend. So if I'm talking to you and get lost on a tangent about the pros and cons of John Maine vs. Aaron Harang, feel free to ignore me. I'll be over it in a couple of weeks.

If any of you are readers, I have to plug an author. Bill Bryson has become one of my favorites in a very short amount of time. With the change in my commute, I have become a frequent listener of audiobooks, and I stumbled upon "In a Sunburned Country" (which Carma had purchased to learn more about Australia to connect with coworkers) and loved it. I've listened to several others since, and really enjoy most of them. (It's best when he reads them, the deliveries for all his jokes are much better that way.) My other favorites so far are "The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid" and "I'm a Stranger Here Myself." (I've posted the link somewhere over there on the left...)

Not that I get to watch much TV, but I am eagerly awaiting new material for Battlestar Galactica (April), Chuck (fall), and Heroes (fall). I'm moderately interested in The Office (soon), Pushing Daisies (fall), and the current Terminator series that's also renewed for the fall (I think?). And in a year, I'm sure I'll be glad Jack Bauer is back out of jail. The only reason I can keep up with anything is the miracle of DVR.  Now if only I could get recorded episodes from that downloaded onto my iPhone...

You'll notice I updated the site a little. Or maybe you didn't. No one seems to enjoy the poll so far, but I'll keep trying. Maybe I'll experiment with the YouTube functionality later on.

Guilty pleasure confession: a few weeks ago, I bought the game "Rock Band." I'm not planning to go on tour anytime soon, but I do have to say I enjoy it quite a bit. I've always liked the idea of playing the drums, and this is the closest I'll ever get to actually doing it. I stink on the guitar (and bass) so far, but can do well enough on the vocals. Thurman likes to rock out with me on the drums occasionally- he gets one drum stick and hits all the notes for one pad while I cover the rest. I also will confess to having a couple of friends over (identities withheld to protect the potentially embarrassed) to rock out for a couple of hours. And I can't wait to do it again. This is probably also a good spot to offer a smile and a hearty "Thanks for putting up with me" to my wife.