Writing Light in Dark Corners

When Mamas don't feel well...

2012-01-31T17:18:00.000-05:00

I won't say that the whole house falls apart... but it's a lot easier to stand on two legs than just one.

I have so many things to write about and so little energy to do it. So I'll save the big posts for later when I have more energy.

Today I am grateful for a husband who stays home in the morning with only my noncommittal "I don't feel great" to go on. I am grateful for Kelly, who comes over after her work and scoops up my kids to take them on a walk on this gorgeous day. I am grateful for my Mom who becomes smarter and wiser with every phone call and every experience and every year I grow older. I am grateful for my older sister who journeys with me on this insane ride we got on called parenting. I am grateful for my little sister who just got a job offer, showing me the worth of determination after months and months of searching. I am grateful for a Dad who trusts me and my husband to manage the details of his mother's funeral from here. I am grateful that despite the fact that my body does not feel awesome, my spirit is still well. Hey, I am even grateful for the stupid dog, who has shown me that with a little love and including... a giant fur-ball is not so bad to have around.

Next time I shall blog about how we are literally insane to have children. HA! Stay tuned. :)

Grace

2012-01-26T10:37:00.000-05:00

I have been absorbing all the stories from the media, specifically the political circus going on right now. I have not always followed politics... I used to be blissfully unaware, and now sometimes I wish I still was. I find myself wishing Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart were running- then at least it would be funny. Someone made the comment that the people fit to be be a president don't want to be a president. I believe that to be true... or to put it another way- you have to be insane to want that job. SO we get some crazies.

In politics we're missing something huge: grace. In that grace is playfulness, the idea that we are connected, and giving the benefit of the doubt. Seeing Gabby Giffords step down from her position to fully recover from her injuries due to GUNSHOT wound....tells me something is horribly wrong. There is an article floating around about the confrontation of the Arizona governor and Obama. Our government has been trudging through a mile high pool of molasses because of this missing grace. We're drowning in bitterness, hate, defensiveness.

Jason and I had a nice long talk the other night- one of those good, hard marriage conversations that allows partners to hold a mirror up to each other. It can hurt, but with trust and grace, it can be productive and healing. No one is perfect. No one has the ultimate right answer to the grey and mucky problems of the world. I think politics needs a little couples therapy.

I don't know the answer. I'm not in the government room. But I have been in a room when the calm, non-anxious presence is drowned out by the screaming banshee. I have been in a room when the collaborators are shunned for weakness and the uncompromising are hailed for their strength. I don't know how to fix this, certainly not overnight. But grace has to enter. It must enter.

Maybe I could be the chaplain of the government. ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

"Let us pray. Dear God of all people- we come today as humans trying to make this corner of this finite time one worth naming. Lead us into grace. We think people should be able to eat nutritious food, people should be able to wear adequate clothing, people should be comforted and helped when they are sick. So far we have not detected any Cylons in our midst- so we can be safely assured that we indeed are all humans and in need of these basic elements of life. Amen."

A little Rainbow

2012-01-25T21:08:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling a little bit of the rainbow these last few days. I don't know if it's the light box, the release of having my darkness blinded by the light of shared compassion, or if it's just that all the hard work has to pay off at some point... but I'm getting a glimpse of the rainbow. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, I haven't started my own corporation or cleaned my house even. But I am doing things a little easier. The morning step out of bed is a little lighter, quicker, more hopeful. I took a shower the other day and had a distinct feeling of lightness and freshness that transported me back to Florida on a beach summer day. I didn't hold onto it the whole day- but I recognized it. I stood still in it and held it as long as it would last. That feeling - it was a freedom, almost an anticipation of certain joy. I love that feeling. My spirit craves it. It was home. Contentedness. The miracle was that I wasn't near a beach. I wasn't looking outside at a sunny day. I was looking in the mirror, fixing my hair, noticing only the curls forming.

I don't have any one thing to write about- there are plenty of things that are catching my political, social, emotional, moral, everything attention right now.... but I just want to remember that real feeling of contentedness. That happened here. In the winter. As a 30 year old with two kids in a dirty house.

I went to yoga last Thursday (which could be why my back is hurting today)- and something the instructor said in the relaxation segment at the end was very poignant for me. She said (I'm paraphrasing): "Find ways to be uniquely you." It was a pretty simple concept, but she was asking us to rediscover the things that we like and enjoy, pleasure solely for us. For me? Reading. Burning scented candles. Listening to music. Writing.

I have been burning candles every night for nearly a week. I haven't burned so many candles since I was in college. I forgot how much I love candles. We rearranged our furniture to make a play room where the dining room used to be (it actually works awesomely!!) and the moving and rearranging led us to setting things up in the living room very differently. The result? All of my beautiful pieces of glass, random heirlooms, serving pitchers, vases, odds and ends- are all OUT- sparkling by the light of my candles and well-placed lamps. All my favorite things that I usually see when grabbing some necessary serving dish (and think- man- why don't we use these things!?)- they are on display. No longer out of sight out of mind. I don't care if it wouldn't work for a magazine cover. I have brought beauty back into my living space. My stuff. My collections. My idea of beauty. And I love it.

Savoring the taste.

Opa Weekly... Or Not

2012-01-19T10:23:00.001-05:00

Well- I'm procrastinating on going downstairs to clean up the dog's lovely gift of pee on the floor, so I guess I should at least procrastinate by doing something else I've been meaning to do...

As of now, I won't be able to update the Opa weekly any more. I know, I know- I just started it- and you got a true teaser- but I jumped the gun and did not do the most important thing first: ask permission. These letters are very personal in nature- and while I believe that is what makes them special, unique, and compelling- it is also what makes them not mine to broadcast. Right now, out of respect for the wishes of my family, I will not post anymore letters. The conversation will begin and who knows what will come of it.

I think this is a common struggle... how open should we be? How vulnerable should we be? Whose right is it to showcase personal letters like these? These are questions of humanity, ethics, respect, boundaries. I am obviously a very open person- and strive to be more and more vulnerable... but I am doing it in as safe a way I know- through the thin veil of a blog and through an online community. I don't have to watch your eyes when you read my struggles, I don't have to endure the awkward shoulder squeezes. I get to put it out there and be done. Those of you who care to comment, I get to read them and process them on my own time and publish them or not. It's a controlled vulnerability.

These letters, they are the personal letters of my Grandfather to my Grandmother- and only recently did we find them. Would my Grandfather sanction their public use? I don't know. Just because my Grandparents are deceased does not mean I get free reign with their thoughts and personal items.

However, and here is the part I was thinking about before without giving too much thought to the other side.... Where do boundaries get us in the business of transforming the world? The letter I was set to post before I had the conversation of pause- was a letter from my Grandfather to my Grandmother that was just slap-happy, giddy in love and eager to find a way to win her parents' over. To me- this is Hope. Here was my Grandfather, a German refugee with no communication from his mother or extended family. He *knew* that some if not many of his family members would likely die in the war. He heard daily news of bombings and military advances. He barely made it to the United States, dodging service to the Nazi army. And here he was, giddy in love with a Kansas farm girl. Happy. Hopeful. Connecting to a new life and reaching forward to a new era- living the future of a German man peacefully living in the United States without prejudice. He wasn't quite past the stares, but he was hopeful. This is transformative. This is perspective. This is REAL life. Not a reality tv show, not a glossy interview or an edited history book. These are real letters from a real German to a real midwesterner, with real love in the middle of a real war. With real problems and ups and downs. The very vulnerability of it is what saves it from the rest of the junk we read. I feel nearly selfish for keeping it to myself and not sharing it. Of course I want to share it- I am amazed by it!

But it is a real life, a real love, a real story. And not everyone can or will respect it- so the reality is that out of respect for the personal privacy of our families, we safeguard some of our secrets...we hold close those intimate moments so that they are not by sharing turned into something grossly massive and inanimate...becoming the opposite of intimate- ruining the beauty that was there. Is it possible to share some intimate thing and have it be widely received as intimate? The only comparison that gives me hope is that the stars are a beautiful and wondrous and amazing thing to behold- and the sheer, astronomical volume of them does nothing to diminish the value... each star somehow still feels special. Each star makes me feel tiny, yet precious.

I really do struggle with this. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a fool for putting such honest and vulnerable things out there for public consumption. Our society would say yes. Because even the "reality shows" aren't real- and the real story is that America likes to see simulated reality so that they can feel better about themselves in a way of mockery. It's the ultimate bully- we don't even have to pick on a kid to feel better about ourselves- tv does it for us. But then what about the documentaries, the biographies... there is something different about those- isn't there?

I have had the privilege of living safely with my vulnerability- no one has attacked me yet. No one has called me a fool. No one has told me that I am indeed wrong or an anomaly. I have received only grace, love, and acceptance. After yesterday's post, I received at least 5 emails and letters of essentially "Oh my gosh, yes, me too...thank you." This moves me forward in my experiment in vulnerability. But I know- I just know- that the moment someone hurts me, the moment I feel the true vulnerability of what I write- that moment I will question it all- despite the dozens of encouraging and hopeful responses and "me too's" I've gotten.

Is it fair for me to experiment with someone else's vulnerability? Even if they are no longer alive? I think that is a hard question to answer. I want to ignore it- because in my hope, I see so much potential for transformation- but what price will we have to pay? And again- it isn't really my place to bargain the benefit, is it?

This has been a bit jumbled... but I guess so are my thoughts. Graham is up from his nap, so I shall end here. But for now- in respect to my Grandparents and family- I will pause posting the letters. The stories will likely still come through, and maybe one day we might agree as a family to take the risk.... or maybe we will agree that this is too private, too personal...

Disenchanted Days

2012-01-18T13:54:00.000-05:00

So... clearly I have a little problem with depression. Or maybe grief. Or both. Or being a stay-at-home-mom. Whatever the cause or sum of causes- I am a little bit tired of it. Right now Hunter is down the street at a preschool friend's house- so that I can bitch and moan while Graham naps.

Let's see... I've been pretty honest in my blogs about how I'm feeling- sort of down and like doing anything is a big production. I literally tell Jason at the end of the day if I've done any laundry, dishes, or anything else on top of general survival. Like it's a list of accomplishments to be medaled for. He responds like I deserve a medal, which has to be a bit ridiculous for him. "Yay! In your 9 hours at home you put dishes in the dishwasher and pushed start- wooooohoooooo!" He has NO idea how it feels to be me- and I don't want him to- but it does make me wonder what he thinks about the mopey mope that drags around the house all day.

Here's the thing- part of me is proud of myself. I know that for whatever reason- it takes all I have just to do the survival stuff, so to step up and do more- that's like climbing the second mountain. I have forced myself to do play dates, general outings, ridiculously cold walks, play game after mindless game with the kids, wake up, etc. I have some days that are easier than others. I am trying to do right by myself. I bought the light therapy box thing and I'm doing that every morning. I have allowed myself to be less than totally panicky about the status of our wrecked house. I have tried to stay slightly positive about the fact that I was sick, better for two days, sick again and then Jason got sick. I even let Jason sleep in two mornings- and that is like giving him an organ. He deserves it (he's up in the night more than I am some nights and he's now the sicky). I'm doing sit ups, wall push ups, squats in the shower- trying to remember to move when I can. I have meals planned that are healthy. I am making Graham baby food. I am doing ALL OF THIS SHIT and I'm tired. So so so tired. And over it. I want to stop working so hard to be normal. Especially since it's not really working. Basically I'm working hard so that everyone else is not as affected by my not normal.

There are so many rational explanations for why I feel the way I feel. Blue Winter. Grandmother died. "Newborn" who still gets up in the night occasionally. Husband who has erratic schedule. 3 year old who sucks the energy out of me. But here's the thing- that is life. A privileged life at that. If I can't make it work with a normal life- don't come see me when things actually go wrong.

I wonder why the hell Jason still is so madly in love with me. I mean honestly, I am so over me. If I were married to me- I would be really not happy with me... or at least frustrated beyond measure. Jason consistently extends grace and love- and although I know it to be genuine- I almost distrust it- because who is that patient? Who is that kind? I don't know if I would be.

All this mental illness PSA stuff out there saying it's a disease, a burden that shouldn't be shameful, etc- well- it doesn't actually make me feel any better. In fact, it just annoys me. Sure it's a "disease." The kind without a known cause, cure, and with ridiculous amounts of conflicting information around it. Helpful. I tend to get these kinds of "diseases." What's that scar on your neck from? Cue 10 minute explanation of the condition that has no name or description that makes any sense. What are your symptoms? Cue 5 minute description of weird things that exist in my body that are so much a part of me that I don't even know what is normal or not. Hearing aids- luckily that's pretty straightforward.... of course no one in the health care industry thinks my insurance should pay for the one clearly marked disability I have. Are you depressed? Maybe- well- I am now- but I'm not always... try again in 6 weeks. Think positive! What do you do? I'm a stay at home mom. OH that's SUCH a blessing....blah blah blah. OH- what a rut...blah blah blah.

I'm even starting to resent Graham for nursing. Not completely- but there are some times when he literally pinches the shit out of everything he can reach- my lips, neck, moles- everything. And I'm like, really? Can you please pretend to make this a connecting moment? I haven't been by myself without the kids for a long period of time in a WHILE. I would like to spend time with Jason- but what sadly sounds even more awesome is a silent retreat. By myself. With a journal. And tea and coffee. And good food prepared for me. And full nights sleep. No major physical strains. No coldness. I want to wear yoga pants and t-shirts and sit in the sun. With a breeze. What a princess introverted fantasy. It would be lovely. It wouldn't solve anything, but it would be lovely.

I feel like every time I begin to tap into something good- it gets poisoned. I mean literally, somebody dumps cyanide in it. I get disenchanted. Crash. High to low. Plans, dreams, excited movement halted.

And I see these people succeeding. Just easily succeeding. I know they worked hard. But they worked hard and accomplished something. I work hard and unload the dishwasher. It's defeating. It's frustrating. It's maddening. What do I really want to do anyway? Do I really want to become a chaplain? Or was I just looking for something ordained to do? I do want to write but I know I can't survive writing for the rest of my life in small, stolen spurts for no other reason than to get my thoughts on paper. I crave an audience. There it is- the vain truth. I don't want to write because I think it's a nice hobby. I want to write because I want to be transformative in the world.

The problem is - that - I am stuck at home wiping poop, nursing a pinching baby, sleeping for short stints of time and barely getting the mail inside. I live a conundrum. I want to connect with the world. Yet right now, I want no one to need me, because I keep disappointing myself and them. Just for a weekend, maybe.

And it's so. damn. cold.

All this is of course, to be taken with a mountain chunk of salt...or a half a bag of peanut butter m&ms, which I just consumed. They were on sale.

Mudslide

2012-01-18T10:23:00.000-05:00

I wish I were talking about the kahlua and chocolate and ice cream concoction...man I really do wish I was talking about that. Instead I'm talking about the feeling when you're in a mud pit and you try to climb up and out and it is so hard because mud- well- it slides. I feel like I am in a 5 foot deep hole. I can see out over the top. I've got enough perspective not to be face down in it. I can function pretty well, but I feel about ankle level with the world. Like I just can't quite get up and out and thriving. Each time I rally to get up and out, something seems to slide. None of it is earth-shattering or devastating or even that upsetting to the normal person walking at sea level. But for me, it's just slippery enough to send me back to ankle-line-sight.

I'm working hard. Ankles aren't that exciting.

Current Events are Fun!

2012-01-15T12:18:00.000-05:00

Do you remember having to bring in a current events clipping to your class and writing a short essay on it? We did that- I can't remember if we shared them out loud, although I feel like we did- we must have. I loved that assignment. Maybe I didn't- but I do now. I most likely was not daring enough then and found articles on the accidental burning of a local restaurant and wrote "this is too bad, I used to eat here." But now, now it lights a fire in me.

I am currently attending a Sunday School class that does just this- pulls current events and opens the floor for discussion. The curriculum is an online source, with study questions and discussion starters. My class today decided that the current event and questions were a little too tame: the topic was on the American rescue of Iranians from some ship/pirates, etc. The questions were about whether or not to do a good deed if you wouldn't get a return on it. Um, really? This is not typical, but we totally passed on this ridiculousness. We pulled out some articles and information surrounding the MLKjr weekend. One article was a letter from a local (Hyattsvile) pastor of an AME church who was not so sure that having MLKjr in stone (alluding to the new monument in DC) was all that great. Before you judge him- he had an excellent point. (I believe the article can be found in the Saturday faith edition of the Washington Post) He said he far preferred the living, breathing voice of MLKjr that challenged the status quo, said no to war and violence, etc. Basically- a monument makes a happy image of a strong man we all like. But if MLKjr were still with us today (oh man, what would that look like?!), less people might like him than we think. He might still be pushing buttons and pissing people off.

Our class was interrupted, hijacked, poorly insulated and even a baby (mine) crashed the party. It was still the best Sunday School I've been to. Why? Because we were putting flesh on scripture. Here are stories happening rightnow- and we need to talk about them rightnow as Christians. None of this Jesus is the answer stuff- we're trying to actually follow Jesus- figure out what our faith speaks in this context- where we fit- why we think the way we think. The cool thing about this concept is you can do it with any context of history... the problem is that I think we spend too much time using stone monuments as our current event stories. MLK was a great man who fought for equal treatment of people with color. Unless you are embedded in racism, this is an easy right and wrong story. I like getting dirty with details and nuances. I like exploring the mud for what we're really made of. What are the stories that we aren't separated and commentaried on so much that we have collectively decided what is right or wrong?

For example, a friend of mine from seminary posted his opinions on the recent outrage over the marines' urinating on the dead bodies of our "enemies." The link (I have GOT to get more savvy about linking) here: http://faithhopepolitics.wordpress.com/2012/01/13/detachmentandoutrage/
I think it is definitely food for thought. This is digging deeper. Of course it's not right to urinate on a corpse! But let's get past the easy part.

Now you would think- a class with current events, a truly open dialogue (for me anyway) would be an instant hit. No. I was the only student per se. Two teachers and moi. I wonder why that is? Are we so afraid of talking current events in such a politically charged location (near DC)? I'm sure there are lots of reasons beyond my perception.... but my thought is that many of us just don't want to open pandora's box. We don't want to think about things. This described me for a long time when it came to the news. It depressed me so I shut it out. I'm serious! I didn't watch the news, read the paper, and avoided clicking on news links that were posted. Now that I'm a fabulously isolated stay at home Mom, I ran out of options and started branching out for sanity's sake. I'm addicted. I need, want, have to know what we as a human race are participating in. Do I still avoid the starving children and crying puppy videos? Yes. I'm no saint, I have a baby at home and... well- I don't want to send my soul over a cliff- I'll ease into those news stories. I'm addicted to learning about how we tick, how we think, how we relate. I think that's why I'm addicted to this blog- it's my space to think with the possibility of getting a response. I'm addicted to Facebook- it is a space to relate and share stories. I'm addicted to reading the letters by my Grandfather, because he was doing the same thing- taking his world and processing it, with his bride to be and his friends who would engage in dialogue with him. He didn't expect everyone to agree with him, but he hoped for a conversation.

Let's keep talking. Let's keep working through the muck and mud together- and really think about what it means to be human. For those of us who have faith as our guide- let's talk about where our guide would have us go.

Opa Weekly

2012-01-12T23:15:00.000-05:00

One of the gifts Jason and I gave to my family is a book bound (2 volumes, actually) collection of letters that my Grandfather (Opa) wrote to my Grandmother during their courtship and first years of marriage. When we moved my Grandmother from Virginia to Florida, we found this box full of handwritten and typed personal letters. Jason and I snatched the envelope that contained the letters from Opa to Grandmother and began the process of scanning them for preservation. As we began to read them and realize the timing and nature of the letters- we knew they needed to be put together and we used blurb.com to make the books. The books are AWESOME. SO- because it takes a long enough time to scan letters, Jason did not let me read them (for efficiency's sake). This means that Jason scanned most of the letters while I sat and read a handful. Now that we have the books- I'm reading them and unfolding the beautiful and crazy time that was America in the 1940s during World War 2, specifically in the life of a German refugee (Opa), and a Kansas farm girl (Grandmother).

As a fun element to this blog, I want to start posting some of the letters for your enjoyment- hopefully on a weekly basis.

You'll need a little background information before we get started. Here is a shortened version... Opa, my Grandfather, was a German boy born and raised in Berlin, Germany as Thomas Walter Doeppner. His mother was Jewish and his father agnostic at best. His parents divorced when Opa was growing up. His father and mother were not supporters of Hitler and his regime for obvious reasons. However, growing up in Berlin had its disadvantages for a German boy against the growing political power. Opa would arrive at school exceedingly early to avoid having to give the "heil Hitler" salute at the gate. He was forced as a school boy to be the front and center audience for multiple parades and political rallies. Opa could see Hitler parading on main street under his apartment window. I remember when I was in middle school, Opa told me that the worse thing you could say to a person is that they were like Hitler. When Hitler won his election and grew in power, spreading propoganda and censoring dissenters, Opa's father moved to Switzerland. Opa's father, August, was an editor of a newspaper and obviously was not writing the correct news. Opa and his sister remained at home with his mother. The war started and things began to be more and more dangerous. From what Opa told me, I think that the sweeping of the Jews from their homes was a little less obvious and blatant than what we might think. I don't think people realized just how very dangerous things were until it was too late. Opa's older sister had left the country for work before it became difficult to cross the borders. Then Opa learned that he was drafted into Hitler's army. He knew he would not serve, but how he was going to escape was an entirely different story. The (extremely) short version is that his father paid to have him smuggled out of Germany and he eventually landed in the United States on a student visa to go to Kansas State University. He embarked on the last ship to make it across the Atlantic before the war was over (he switched tickets with a businessman to try to make it to school on time). After reading some of his notes about his journey, and even the process he went through to become an American citizen- I am really shocked that I exist.

When Opa came to Kansas State, he was accepted and got tuition help because of a recommendation by some man named Albert Einstein, who made it a habit to help Jewish refugees...and luckily August had some connection to Einstein's secretary through the newspaper world. If I remember correctly, Opa's tuition help was provided with the conditions that he participate in the Wesleyan group (and abide by its moral code). This is where he met my Grandmother.

Grandmother grew up on a farm in Kansas and the youngest of 5 children, her older siblings all boys (and the one closest in age to her died not long after she was born). She was a princess in many ways, protected as the only girl and the precious child after the older brother died. Grandmother was in school and engaged to marry Archie, the literal "boy next door" when she met the mysterious German refugee. Something definitely clicked- and Grandmother's already festering doubts of her current engagement were somehow solidified as she broke off her engagement and began dating Opa.

Their story unfolds, unfortunately one-sided through Opa's letters- but it is FASCINATING and kind of a page turner. Which is not what you expect when reading letters between your Grandparents. The letters contain a mixture of young love, fighting hard to win the girl, political discussion, wondering about relatives in the war, following current events, finding employment, applying for visas and citizenship, sharp wit, movies, friendship, physics, philosophy, poetry, German and more.

Here is the first letter I will give you- a little love for your day. (beware- you're going to raise your expectations of your significant other after reading this love letter)

Honesty

2012-01-10T11:02:00.000-05:00

I've always said (maybe to myself) that lying is one of pet peeves. It's just annoying- especially when it doesn't involve an ethical dilemma like "Sharon will be put in a concentration camp if you reveal her identity." Obviously there are some exceptions. However, lying just because it's a little easier than telling the truth- it annoys me. I honestly think it's a habit and once you start, it is hard to break. So I'll have a little grace.

All that to say, I am a horrible liar. HORRIBLE. My pet peeve means that I have little to no practice in the art of lying. The game mafia- I usually lose. But just because I am a failure at lying, doesn't mean I have not learned the art of a well-crafted word. Telling an ugly truth can look really pretty, or being completely silent is a handy tool. One of my un-official resolutions for this year is to shed those nuances. I'm not going to completely lose my filter or stop being gracious, but I'm going to try to be more direct. I find that I would hide behind "if it's cool with you, if it's not too much trouble, only if you want to, but don't worry about it."

I'll give you an example. In my asking for help from others during my week-long plague, I started this more direct approach. Instead of beating around the bush and trying to craft my text message in 160 letters or less with all the caveats, I called and said- I'm sick, could you handle an additional 3 year old so I can take a nap? I may have given her an out- but essentially I just spit it out. Another instance was when my 3 year old was playing with a friend in the morning and another friend invited him over in the afternoon. Instead of playing the awkward "we have another date" game- I just asked... would you mind if the other child came (with their caregiver) or would you rather it just be my son? Of course the only way that this whole candid method can work well is if the recipient of my candor feels free to say No. While it's easy to say that it's not my problem whether they can say no or not, I think I can help by saying a clear yes and no here and there. And when they say no- not making it awkward. THEN the relationship is established in which there is no weird "I hope she's not doing this just to be nice and hating on me after I drop off my kid!"

Not too long ago I had the opportunity to meet with a few folks from Germany. My Opa (Grandfather) was from Berlin and has an amazing story. I told a little of it to these folks, and then sort of shyly admitted that I was disappointed that their accents didn't resemble Opa's more. I was hoping to sort of hear him again. We talked about geographical accents, etc. I mentioned that Opa had a sense of pride being from Berlin and speaking "well." They told me (very kindly) that people from Berlin were indeed different and could be seen as a little snooty. I didn't doubt this for a minute. They said it was less the accent and more the mannerisms and social rules. They said that when sitting at a table, people from other places in Germany would be involved in that dance to see who sat where, offering others seats and being polite. A Berliner would say "you sit there." Not to be rude, just frank (and I'm sure they had thought out the entire system of the table and discerned that this was indeed the most favorable spot for said person). As I had plopped myself smack in the middle of the table that night without any dance- I realized- I've got a little Berliner in me.

SO- tell me how it is. Be frank. Be gracious, but be frank. We'll see how this goes. It keeps me much more honest and realistic about what I want and need.

Rough-Housing

2012-01-09T22:29:00.000-05:00

This is one of those little things that has been dangling on my radar ever since I had my first son. The phrase "boys will be boys" is often quipped when a boy is being obnoxiously rough or plain stupid. I think we can do better. Boys can do better and we as parents, peers, weird aunts and uncles, can do better.

However, I struggle with the boundary between playfulness and roughness. I want my sons to be playful. I want my sons to be gentle. I want my sons to be able to stand up for what's right, and I don't expect them to be immune to the temptation to elbow someone in the face for being a jerk...(in fact, I may have to stifle a smile when they do it). Right now I have a sweet three year old who is a big boy- and by big I mean he is in the 90-98 percentile for height and weight. He's no shrimp among peers. My almost 9 month old looks to be shaping up about the same. The other day my oldest was wrestling another child to the ground. He was not doing it with a mean spirit- but the kid was definitely pinned to the ground. I intervened and told him to be gentle. Someone at a different time told of a similar thing happening between my son and their daughter and was happy about it- saying how their daughter was no frail thing and they were having fun. OK. But. I don't want my son pinning people down regardless of how frail or tough they are. I want gentleness to be the default. My three year old is smart and perceptive, but he cannot always discern when someone is open for a body tackle or not. I sense that he is being encouraged, and therefore his physical self is getting a little more brave. This happened when he was in a mothers-day-out program 1.5 years ago. The teachers were not concerned (most likely recognizing he was playing) but I witnessed that he was getting rougher with each unchecked physical foray. So I asked them not to let him do it, and he quickly went back to a more gentle default.

Where is the line? I wonder (seriously) if I'm being over-protective or attentive to the issue. I honestly don't know where the line is. I will be that Mom that struggles when her boys wrestle with bruises emerging. Yet- is there a need for all of us to roll around and get a little bruised up? I was a pretty physical child, I don't remember wrestling with my sister on a regular basis- but I did have outlets and even friends to rough-house with. (It was probably pretty tame, but I'm sure I thought I was a bad-ass arm wrestling for the win) In seminary, we even had leg wrestling matches (I lost at those). Do we as humans *need* to rough-house? How do I begin teaching boys about "appropriate" physicality when culturally they will be encouraged at every push and shove? Or maybe they'll be demonized because they are boys and big? I imagine there is some balance. I err on the side of gentleness, because there are plenty of temptations and expectations to the other extreme. Maybe I'm being a little Aristotelian (did I get the philosopher right?) by hoping for the "golden mean" and therefore leaning a little to one side in a situation that tends to lean a little to the other side.

Or am I just confusing the hell out of my boys? BE GENTLE! GIRLS ARE STRONG! STAND UP FOR WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN! BUT DEAR GOD- BE GENTLE!

Anyone out there have any thoughts on rough-housing?

Ask for help

2012-01-05T11:54:00.000-05:00

Then get your shit together so you can help other people. This is my New Year's resolution. I've been sick for what feels like a month and has only been about a week. I'm *finally* on the mend and really glad for it. (Another post on how I recognize my brief contact with the plague is hardly an experience of failed health- and how grateful I am for health... is coming) I had to postpone a trip to Nashville because of it (still hoping to go soon). My husband has his DMin classes this week and next week, and since I was going to be gone with the boys- he also booked his nights. Then I got sick. I have a knack for awesome timing.

Things I learned... ASK FOR HELP. The village is out there, but you kind of need to call. This is the hardest part for some reason. I did it. I called the college students. I will pay them - but I'll think of it as donating towards their tuition. I called the preschool moms and Hunter had two fabulous play dates without me. I batted away the lurking guilt when I ordered take-out. I turned my head away from the guilt of putting Graham on the floor to play or in the exersaucer and then lying down. You gotta survive! It was NOT easy. Graham had a couple rough nights with teething and growing and all those things babies do at the same inconvenient time. Hunter was freakin adorable and playful and I was missing it. I went to the doctor for meds, convinced and hopeful that I had strep- only to learn I had a virus that would take 7-10 days to run its course. I told the doctor I didn't have time for that. But the village saved me. I had to round up the village- but they came. It is really hard to ask for help when you know that most people are battling the same sad story you are. But I put away the guilt of "I can't handle being sick and having kids and my house is DISGUSTING"- and let the college kids come in and see me in all my red-eyed, puffy hair, dishes dirty, pantry and fridge bare glory. The preschool parents just saw the eye. I wore a hat when dropping off Hunter. I also wore lip-gloss, which had a surprisingly positive effect.

So now that I'm mending... I'm inspired to get my act together so that I can be a village member. One that hears a parent is sick and drops off some soup. I want to- not because I feel obligated to return the favor- but because I know that a healthy meal is a balm. I want to use my powers for good! I want to call and invite the 3 year old over for a play date- not to "Christmas threw up land" but to Hunter's house.

But first I'm going to Nashville. Let Jason get a head start.

By the way, a side effect of being sick is that you have time to think...so I've got about 4 blog entries in my head, ready to go. But first the laundry, pick up Hunter, etc.

ASK for help. do it. REST. (hard). Then get your shit together so you can help. If you can. If you can't- ask me for help in a couple weeks. I should be helpful by then.

The Struggle is Necessary

2011-12-29T15:00:00.000-05:00

A brief post script to yesterday's post... I had a comment on my blog from yesterday (which I published) that said: "Why don't you just give yourself a break? I think all grieving sucks. If your kids and dog are fed, then sit in the dark in your want." (I'm guessing she meant to write "if you want") This deserves a little response.

I write the struggle because even though I am frustrated, self-deprecating, self-defeated, and dulled... I *know* that this is where I am and that the only way out is through- so I have to go ahead and fight through it. This is not a cliche- it's true and it is hard. One of the things I have learned through the rough spots is that the struggle is necessary. If I don't fight and struggle, I lose. So- what I expressed in the blog was my way of fighting through it- voicing it gave me power and the depression ridiculousness. I know I need to grieve, I know I need grace. But my grace comes by the fist and yell here. If I stop moving and sit in the dark- I lose. The kids and dog being fed is not enough. Life does not give me space to be depressed- so when I experience it- it hurts and inconveniences. When I experience it, my kids do not have some innate ability to stop being 3 years old and 8 months old. They whine, spike fevers, want to play and cut in new teeth. This is the hardest part. But it is also the struggle that keeps me going- keeps me moving through to the other side. I cannot sit in the dark. I also don't really want to sit in the dark. I want to live my life. SO I struggle. I grow. It hurts. And like I fool- I do it in public at the smallest hope that even in my darkness- I give light to someone going through a similar thing. It feels embarrassing, but I refuse to hide it and go sit in the dark. I won't give in. This is not about grieving- this is about the darker shadow of depression that tries to piggyback on my grief. I'm shining a big fat spotlight on this thing- and I'm going to make it through.

The struggle is necessary. I don't want to sit in the dark.

My way of grieving sucks- how about yours?

2011-12-28T22:55:00.000-05:00

Guess what- I still have a blog in editing about my Grandmother and memories. I started it- felt good about it- then I was interrupted and now I don't feel like remembering. I feel like crap. Apparently when I grieve, I get depressed. I'm not naming it to claim it- I'm naming it to shit on it. Because it needs to go AWAY. I don't think it's a healthy normal way to grieve. Not this brand. There's a difference between feeling sad and feeling numbly a nonentity.

In an effort to give a vacuum of existence a space and handles... I'm going to write honestly about how I am doing. What I am doing. Here's my caveat- I don't write this to get apologies, affirmation, or anything like that. If you feel so led- fine- but I'm writing it so that by some odd chance someone out there who has the same useless method of grieving won't feel completely alone. It's about to get real here folks.

I'm feeling escapist. Visions of Florida lure my fantasies. I want to lay out in the sun, eat berries and chocolate, forget about the children and sleep for 10 hours straight every night. Oh holy Lord, yes. I want to skip winter. And rain- if it's going to rain- give me a damn thunderclap.

I'm annoyed, frustrated, and angry. At myself. I know that everyone grieves differently, everyone lives differently. I'm tired of my wrongs being the worse kind and my rights being the most painful. When I grieve, I seem to slip into the lethargic brand of depression. I stop cooking, cleaning, producing anything. I start eating and whining. My house, which was already hanging by a thread toward disaster's abyss- has fallen deep deep inside. I have no idea when I last cleaned anything in any of my bathrooms. Seriously. I haltingly and with great delay do dishes, laundry and feed my children. Often this involves dialing a delivery number. My eating habits, which were surprisingly good- are now surprisingly awful. I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Now I look 3 months pregnant.

I feel fat at all family functions. I know I am not overweight- but it is rough being the biggest girl in your family. Don't forget your petite sister-in-law. Even she doesn't have the decency to be normal for me. This is vain and honest. I want to be the hot one for once. Nope. I'm awkward, pale as a ghost and bumpy on the sides in a family of either athletes or "oh i just couldn't eat I was so stressed." What bullshit. I eat a bag of chips and salsa when I'm bored. You don't want to see stressed.

I am tired of having all of my negative effects be so damn negative. Why didn't I get the "clean to get things off your mind" gene? Or how about "lose your appetite" during a brief period? Even my clock is off. This has been all my life that it is off. I get my energy soar at 11 at night. I feel like dead weight between 7am-4pm. Rare is the day I jump out of bed with the sun in my eyes and head. Especially now. Besides it doesn't shine here anyways. Grey skies. Daily.

My most recent personal triumphs? They came through huge sacrifice and painful learning. I'm maturing- and I feel it like stabbing growth pains. My success comes in the form of becoming less important. It's appropriate- but I'd like to learn a lesson in accomplishment, talent, something uppy. Why dos my personal growth have to come in the form of humility? Sometimes being the "bigger man" really just makes me feel silenced and small. But to grow is to learn that some things really are not worth arguing and it is not important that you are right, but rather that you are still able to function in the relationship. Woo-freaking-hoo for being mature. It hurts- which is part of the maturity part- enduring it. It exhausts me.

Every accomplishment feels like climbing Mount Everest and every defeat feels like taking one wrong step and falling off a cliff.

There must be people out there like me. When things get tough- their very own soul rebels against the will to thrive. They retreat. They shut down. They do only what is necessary to do life. They get spurts of joy that keeps them moving toward the day when the stupor of whatever it is that has possessed their life wears off. They feel defenseless, defeated, tired. I'm sorry- but I do not want to have my soul respond this way. It is pissing me off.

People say- have grace- be gentle with yourself- give yourself time. It becomes frustrating and self-destructive when it feels like your "natural process" is about as difficult to recover from as the thing that you are processing. Surely there are healthy and unhealthy ways to grieve? When do I get to wake up from this coma? I promised myself that I would not do it this way when Grandmother died. I went through this with Memaush and while I still miss her every day- I did not need to grieve in depression to process and honor her death and life. But my soul didn't get the memo "no more destructive and time-warping depression." It's like my soul craves the dark cold corner- retreating there with the first excuse. I AM SICK OF IT.

Let's be honest- If I lost a child to some horrible disease- you wouldn't find me rising up and forming some fundraising foundation as a coping mechanism. I would be living in the in-law quarters at my parents' house, staring at the sky with a blank look on my face.

I'm tired of having everything thing about me not having a flip side. Grief does not give me sadness and memories- it gives me numbness. Turmoil does not give me triumph- it gives me strength to be trampled.

Aagh! I do not want my eyes to adjust to the darkness! I do not want to accept the lethargy! Why do I have to work so hard to find light and optimism? When I find that place- it is not a natural gift or ability. It is a fleeting vision that I have to focus and yet open-handedly grasp. If I try too hard, it falls. If I don't try- it never comes.

In the house I have an overwhelming urge to throw things away "Hoarders" style. And yet candy wrappers and junk mail lay on the table for days. Junk mail people are evil. Bruno brings in 625 lbs of dirt daily- and with the grey sky and rain- let's upgrade it to mud. He also now pees in the house occasionally, which we have finally ruled as a behavioral issue. I want to give the dog away. I want to get a job so I don't have to feel bad about not playing with the kids all the time. I can't make decisions and stick to them. I crave my family- putting them up on thrones they are sure to fall from.

I am Sarah, grieving via depression, and I am sick of myself for it.

My way of grieving sucks. How about you?

(fyi- i am not suicidal, my children are fed and my dog is taken care of. yadda yadda, etc- this is just me doing grief straight up lazy zoned-out style and being honest about it.)

Numbness

2011-12-14T15:13:00.000-05:00

I am so unoriginal. A week after my Grandmother's death and I feel: numb. I am struggling to find the space to grieve... something inside of me is blocking the channels- and I mean brick wall block. I have sort of been dazed these last several days. I finally got some actual tasks accomplished a couple days ago- which wore me out until today I am doing laundry again. I have yet to have made dinner. I think that's my signal to myself- when I have all the ingredients and a willing helper- but still don't make dinner. I suck at grieving. Just cry, dammit! It's the numbness that is allowing myself to hover over myself in this weird "look how stupid you are" way.

I am currently enjoying a hot chocolate with bailey's in it at oh say- 3pm. It's 5 o'clock....somewhere? The sky is the perfect depressing color of grey. It's almost laughable how predictable all of this is. Mom called today to let me know that I will be receiving Grandmother's ashes in the mail towards the end of this week, maybe early next week. Really?! It's macabre! My Grandmother will be delivered to me in the mail. In a box. And I have no emotion. I think part of my soul is SO afraid of getting all gross and depressed that it is trying to protect me from the grief. Stupid soul- if I don't feel it- it will come out some other way! Release! Drop it! Let go!

Part of my extended denial stage is the result of a strange sort of isolation and limbo-land. I am no less than 12 hours driving from any one member of my family. Sure- at least we're on the same coast, yadda yadda. Guess what? It sucks for me, so it sucks. We're in limbo because Grandmother will be buried in Arlington cemetery - the national one. Did you know that there is a wait list for burial? It will be no less than a month, maybe up to 2-3 months wait. We don't even know that for sure because the cemetery sent my Dad an *EMAIL* saying: um- we have no freakin idea when your turn will be... but we'll contact you...eventually. So- no service in sight. No plans to instruct my soul on proper grieving time. My family wishes to do the whole thing at once since traveling twice is not easy or cheap and people want to be at both the memorial service and burial. I get it- but come March, if I don't do something now- it's going to be an emotional whiplash.

So I've decided to have my own memorial service. I need to knock the wall over somehow. When Grandmother comes in the mail- I'll talk to her and come up with a plan. Then I'll play some songs, say a prayer, write a note- I don't know- SOMETHING. Because numbness is not how we humans were made to be. I'm fighting it. I'm sure sometime next week I'll be a blubbery mess and be so angry at myself for wanting it. But it sure beats this crap. I'm done with grey skies and pizza. I want homemade vegan meals, sunshine or a thunderstorm- hell- give me a fat snowstorm. (bring it) I want crying and no mascara wearing days. I want to heal. And I don't want to wait until Arlington National Cemetery calls to start my journey. So shove it- understaffed important cemetery.

So there. Maybe I'm angry now. No. Not really. Still numb- but I feel it rising.

Grandmother- denial stage

2011-12-09T10:56:00.000-05:00

My Grandmother died on December 7th, 2011 at 7:15am. My Mom called me at 7:19am to tell me.

As I sit to write this (writing as an act of grief), I am pretty sure that I still haven't quite grasped the concept that my Grandmother is gone. Life goes on so quickly, you hardly have time to even think the words "gone" and "died." All you get is "dinner" and "funeral" and "sorry" and "Christmas shopping." The last few days I have been lethargic, not having the will or the energy to do much of anything productive. I don't think it is another grieved depression like I experienced with Memaush, but instead I think my soul doesn't know how else to slow down other than to turn off. It doesn't work of course. Turning off means the thoughts turn to "oh crap, I didn't make dinner." I'm jealous of my sister, my parents are with her for the weekend to celebrate her daughter's 1st birthday. They will be sharing stories, offering hugs, being together in a moment of grief and celebration. I feel isolated up here, with no one who shares my memories. The phone is a gift, but no substitute for the dinner table.

Grandmother was my last living grandparent- maybe that is part of the reason why I am so slow on the uptake here- it's the end of a significant part of my life and who I am. Her death was neither a surprise nor an expectation. She got sick, and any time an 89 year old gets sick- there really is no telling which way it will go. She slowly breathed her last while holding the hand of my mother- the daughter she never had (she always said this about my Mom as her daughter-in-law).

It was time. She was ready. I still need space to let it fill my mind, my memories, my heart, my soul. I still need the space to find the period rather than the leaving it at a ...

I'll write more when I'm ready.

Hearing Aids and Healthcare vs Health Insurance

2011-12-03T15:27:00.000-05:00

I am about to venture into a topic I know everything and nothing about. I have worn hearing aids since I was diagnosed with congenital hearing loss around 18 months of age. I have had access to varying qualities of health care my entire life. I have been a dependent on my Father's military medical benefits, his civilian benefits, and currently my husband's medical benefits through the United Methodist Church. I have never been uninsured. I'm very blessed.

I just dropped $6,095.00 on new hearing aids. They are top of the line, digital hearing aids that will last between 4-7 years. I'm hoping to stretch them to 8 years. I am not a candidate for a cochlear implant. I do not function on "cheap" hearing aids (that's another post altogether!). Hearing aids are typically not covered under most insurance company policies. Mine is one of the most. I looked online for reasons why insurance companies exclude hearing aids from their coverage. I found this article: http://califmedicineman.blogspot.com/2007/12/why-insurance-companies-dont-pay-for.html (forgive me- I'm not up to date on creating links). This article is written by a doctor in California and is not completely researched, but not completely bogus either. The summary of this doctor's point (I believe) is that insurance companies are intended to insure against catastrophic events (ie- homeowners insurance pays for when the house burns down). SO health insurance is intended to pay for when you surprisingly have to have surgery. In this theme, the happenstance of a heart attack is insured, but the certainty that a hearing impaired person needs hearing aids cannot be "insured" because that person will definitely, always need hearing aids- so it isn't a "what-if," catastrophic possibility. I can see on paper why this makes sense. Why would you pay a company to cover all your health needs if your health needs are 100% predictable? You cut out the middle man and pay for it yourself. The company has no profit capacity if they cover the predictable.

It hit me as I read some of the comments on the blog entry.... regardless of the logic of money- people need hearing aids and only the financially stronger folks can afford it. I have yet to pay for my own hearing aids with my own money. The last set were paid for with help from my parents and my Grandmother. This time I guess you could say I paid for this set, except it was through the yearly inheritance check from my Grandmother- hardly my own bootstraps. We do have savings- but they would have been completely depleted- 4 years of savings would be whittled down to next to nothing. In a year when it is likely that we will be moved, and possible that we will need to purchase a home- it would be bad not to have savings.

So I think the question: "Why don't health insurance companies cover hearing aids?" -is really the wrong question. The question is rather, why do we have a system of health insurance that hardly substitutes for a lack of a system of health CARE? Think about it. If the catastrophic events were the only things that broke the bank- health insurance could be fairly simple. Hospital visits and major surgeries would be covered. Health CARE is a concept that folks need care to live- for most people this includes a host of 100% necessary and predictable things. For everyone- those needs are different. For the unfortunate, those needs are more and complex. The simplest problem with how our systems operate currently is that health CARE is not affordable. So we look to health insurance to fill the gap. Health INSURANCE is trying (and failing miserably) to be the system for all health needs- when it really should just be for the house burning down. Health insurance companies are now in powerful position over our health care. This is bad. Those who are unfortunate enough to have been born with any physical or mental disability are either uninsurable or without proper care. Essentially, under this broken system- if you don't have money and you do need health care- you're screwed.

Take the basic argument for hearing aids. Hearing impairment fits under one of those "stupid amounts" statistic. As my friend Katy describes, a stupid amount of pumpkin pie is the amount you should just eat because it is too small to put back in the fridge and too much to throw away. Hearing loss over the whole population is too small to have lobbying might, but too big to include hearing aids as an included service. Too many elderly need hearing aids. Too few young people need them. I found several sites that say 1 in 5 hearing impaired people that need hearing aids actually wear them. I think some of this is due to the fact that hearing aids are an acquired taste, but largely the cost seems to be the main deterrent. For insurance companies- the argument is that they cannot justify the young paying higher premiums to cushion the cost of the elderly needs. This argument seems shaky at best, since elderly are generally more expensive and have more health care needs and costs than younger people regardless of the hearing aid issue. $6000 every 5 years is a lot to us, but is it that much for an insurance company? I honestly don't know. Again- I think the issue is that we don't have a system of health CARE in place, and so our health insurance industry is under identity crisis- providing both catastrophic insurance and basic needs when and where it wants, with profit in mind.

All I know is this: hearing is a big deal. If I don't have hearing aids- I cannot function as well in the world. I cannot participate in the economy, workforce, or socially in any way that would not require significant assistance from others. With hearing aids, despite my severe to profound hearing loss- I have even fooled some people who are surprised to learn that I cannot hear. My Grandmother needs hearing aids. Before she deteriorated to her current state of dementia, her hearing loss acted as a compounding factor in social and intellectual decline as she isolated herself because she couldn't hear. Once I got a hold of her and got her fitted with better quality hearing aids (like I said- a whole different post)- it was too late in her stage of dementia and ear health. Now her hearing aids are more of a safety feature. She may not be able to carry on a detailed social conversation, but she can hear "STOP!" There was a man who wrote a comment on the blog I linked above- he was 45 years old, his marriage was suffering from communication issues and his finances could not handle another investment in hearing aids. With hearing aids he is probably fully capable of social interaction and holding a skilled job. Without them, he is forced to retreat into his shell and figure out another way to function in the world.

This is a problem. Hearing aids are just one of a plethora of examples of how we are not close to solving the issue of health CARE in America.

What do you think? I want to petition the government or someone to help insurance coverage of hearing aids- but I think this is asking for the wrong thing... There is a much larger problem here. Any thoughts? Ideas?

5 Hour Layover

2011-12-02T20:36:00.000-05:00

I just got back from my family Thanksgiving, or Chrisgiving as we call it. We alternate holidays with the in-laws. When my family gets together for Thanksgiving, we celebrate Christmas as well: Chrisgiving as my sister, Jessa coined it. This year we had the opportunity to go to south Florida where my parents live. In the last few years we have met somewhere in Tennessee to accommodate my sister's pregnancies/baby born times.

To say that the weather was nice is like saying the beach is cute. Amazing. Weather. I'm still in cold shock. I had a wonderful two weeks with my family, and Thanksgiving with the whole gang. What I want to write about now is the little glitch on the way down to Florida.

I'll title the trip: 5 Hour Layover. Being a smart Mom, I booked myself a nonstop flight with my two sons (Jason was traveling separately because of his work schedule). We were to leave Wednesday morning (a week before Thanksgiving, avoiding the crowds) at 1030am and arrive in West Palm Beach at around 1pm. We had to get up early to make it to the flight on time. The boys slept fairly well and I had packed mostly everything the day before. Jason woke me up to feed the baby and start getting ready for the day and I went to the bathroom and went right back to bed. Suddenly my stomach was wracked with intense pain. Fetal position pain. I thought: crap, I can't travel sick with two kids. I told Jason what was happening- tried to um.. work things out- but to no avail except some dry heaving. He continued to get things ready just in case and I fell back to sleep after the pain finally subsided long enough to allow me to sleep. Meanwhile Jason called to find out how much it would be to change the tickets. $600. Because US Airways wants you to fly AND vomit with them. I woke up about an hour later feeling pretty normal. I gave Jason the go and took a quick shower and we shoved ourselves out the door. We got on the road around 9am, with an estimated 30 minute drive to hopefully be at the airport an hour (tight) ahead of our flight. Not so. DC traffic strikes again and we arrived at 10am.

The woman at the counter confirmed what I learned at the check-in kiosk: I'm too late. I've missed my flight and now I have a 3 year old, a 7 month old, two car seats, a stroller and a suitcase with no flight plan. Luckily Jason was still with me as I attempted to work some magic with the airline person. No magic was had. She was inexplicably slow (as she checked me in for a 1040am flight and then realized that it too, was not going to work). I think she was honestly trying (without much gusto or personality- but trying) to help me. There were two options: a flight leaving at noon with a 5 Hour Layover in Charlotte, or the nonstop flight the next morning. Policy was that she had to put me on the next available flight, since I had missed my flight. I begged her to put me on the 1030am flight. She looked like she might have wanted to. Then Mr. Airline Manager came to the scene. The woman visibly stiffened. I was screwed. She said that I wanted the 1030 flight and he spoke about me in third person, two feet from my face. "She MISSed her flight, so SHE will have to be put on the next available flight..." etc. I begged him- showing him the cute faces of my children and explaining why we were late. The grace button was not pushed. Jason had been hanging behind with the kids and came up for an update. I gave the update, laced with a little acid about the helpfulness and grace and mercy of the employers.

Then it dawned on me. I couldn't change a damn thing. We were going to either fly the 5 Hour Layover or pay $600 to change the flight. Either way it sucked, and I was going to have to deal with it. I decided to change my attitude. (For those who know me well- this was an act of extreme growth on my part.) SO I decided that we were going to make it. It was going to be ok and we were going to get there. And you know what? It for real made the day doable. I KNOW myself, and if I hadn't made that grown-up decision to stop sulking or simmering, the day would have been a disaster. Instead I made it through the tough moments when I was physically exhausted from walking a 3 year old and steering a 7 month old while the 3 year old tried to wander off or stand directly in the middle of airport "traffic" and the 7 month old screamed himself to sleep. In the end, there were actually some sweet moments and I was able to appreciate them.

Basically I was shoved in the back of the plane for the first flight and there was one empty seat next to me. I hoped it would remain so- but as I saw a woman continue to walk to the back of the plane, I knew she was my seat-mate. The moment she recognized where she was sitting was the best, most real expression of panic that I have ever seen in my life. I would pay money to see it again. She frantically looked for empty seats, refused to sit until she was sure she had no other options, and managed to neither speak to me or make eye contact for the entire flight. I tried to make nice, letting her off the hook for wanting to sit somewhere else and making the hopeful promise that my kids usually travel well. The ladies in front of me were making eyes at my boys, and at the end of the flight one of them turned to me and said: you were right, your boys were very well-behaved. I swelled with pride. My positive attitude made it so the terrified lady was actually the funniest thing about my day. I wasn't angry, but strangely amused. Her worse nightmare was my every day choice. HA! I've never seen someone so uncomfortable around children. The second flight went well, with some moments where I had to be creative to keep Hunter entertained. When the sky grew dark and the city lights started shining- Hunter began to tell me everything he saw: ships, cars, houses, buildings, trucks, planes. It was musical how magic the scene was for him. When we landed, the also kid-hesitant seat-mate of this flight was kind enough to complement my children as well as several others on the plane. Again I swelled with pride. My boys were so good. AND- we landed and were done.

When we arrived, my Dad picked us up- and it was so good to see my willing and able Daddy- ready to help. He took Hunter to the bathroom and laughed about how he never did that with us girls because we always went with Mom to the public bathrooms. We got to the baggage claim and I immediately saw our two car seats, but no luggage. They lost my luggage. Of course. Again- my attitude was such that I thought it was hilarious. Of course they lost my luggage! They had 5 hours to find the right plane, and not only did it go on the wrong plane to the wrong city- it went on the wrong airline! I was so relieved that we had the car seats- we could go home- I didn't care about the luggage- one less thing to haul.

They delivered the luggage the next day and already the 5 Hour Layover was a distant memory because Hunter and Graham were happily playing in sunny Florida. And I experienced the power of choosing to have a good attitude. It was a lesson that will stay with me. The nonstop flight back to DC was so easy I wondered why I ever worried about 2.5 hour flights with kids before. After the 5 Hour Layover- I could do anything!

Growing up isn't so bad.

Continued Thankfulness

2011-11-13T10:25:00.000-05:00

Ok I stopped at 6- here we go... I am thankful for:

7- Good books.
8- Coffee. (have I already mentioned it?)
9- The beautiful sun.
10- My brain. (hours of entertainment in there)
11- The ability to travel to see family.
12- Dinner Delivery. (answered prayer on some days)
13- My health. (this is no small gift)

I'll get deep as the days grow less and I have to start putting people up in here. I like being thankful for the little things though.

The Unemployed are Lazy

2011-11-10T10:10:00.000-05:00

This is a common judgment made for those who are on the streets or collecting unemployment payments. I don't understand why such a broad (and false) statement gathers so much steam. The Occupy Wall Street movement has stirred up some real conversation. Some of those conversations are more in the form of satire and sarcasm, and the backlash of people who wish to teach the "occupiers" some life lessons is strong. The misconception that unemployed are lazy or un-wise at best is at the heart of most negative responses. I have heard and read these comments lately: "Go get a job!" "I am the 1% of the 99% who work hard and don't whine."

I hear the perspective of those who are frustrated because they work their tail off and don't expect special treatment and make it work. You are to be commended for your hard work. Your wise choices of not being in credit card debt and not losing your house are rewards in themselves. America (et all) screwed up. Things got out of control. Greed is the new black. I get this. When someone who has miles of credit card debt and bad financial decisions wants to be forgiven their debts, it does smack a little of unfairness for me who has always and I mean ALWAYS paid my bills in full. Then I am challenged by the parable Jesus told of the hired hands. Remember that parable?

Matthew 20:1-16
“For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

This parable reminds me that if I got hired first- I was already lucky. I have a strong back, a clean face. Those hired last are the ones who are old, injured, or plain unlucky. Some might argue that the first ones had good reputations and were hard working and the last ones were lazy and thieves. The scripture does not give us those details. I could counter-argue that the first ones beat the weaker ones down day after day, and the last ones were persistent- standing at that corner for work all day, every day despite their disabilities. The scripture doesn't give us those details either.

Here's the part that the gainfully employed and hard working folks tend to forget... the system favored you. For those that the system did not favor- you lucked out. If you are: not a genius, mentally disabled, physically disabled, not from money, any ethnicity other than white, and a woman, then you will have to work harder. Period. Sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you work. Sometimes the cards are stacked too high against you.

I read a post on Facebook that was one of those pictures of a person holding a sheet of paper that tells their short story in relation to the Occupy Wall Street protests: "I am the 99%." This one was a satire in opposition to the movement, here is what it said: "I have a steady job with a regular paycheck, great benefits, and lots of room for promotion. Next year I will be paid to go to college and graduate with a guaranteed position making a decent salary. I am the 1% of the 99% that decided hard work and sacrifice were more prudent than complaining about how life is too hard and I'm not getting any free handouts." The writer appears to be a man named Dustin Franks who was in a US Army military uniform. I applaud his hard work- and his career choice. The military is certainly a good choice in this economic time- if you are able to make the commitment and qualify for the service. My Dad was in the Air Force, and retired a Lt. Colonel. Growing up we did not have the trendy clothes, but we had everything we needed and great medical coverage- we never waited to go to the doctor because we couldn't afford it.

I am ineligible for military service. I am hearing impaired. Our military does not accept disabled people into the service. There are valid arguments on either side of this issue, I don't want to debate it here. I just want to point out that this option is not available to me or any others with a physical disability. I don't want to be in the military, so it does not affect me personally. However, this is the only gig I know that provides all of the things that Mr. Franks listed on his paper. So, no matter how hard I work, I cannot get that opportunity. I could be like Keith Nolan (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/08/21/keith-nolan-deaf-man-army_n_932465.html) but with a 3 year old and a 6 month old and a husband with a full time job, this would not be prudent.

To those who post responses like these. Please wait. Listen. Watch. You might find that the majority of the folks now who are unemployed are not lazy. Are some of them? Heck yes. Are some military and other gainfully employed civilians lazy? Heck yes. Are there people who went in over their heads with their housing? Yes. Are there some folks who carefully planned it out and still got in over their heads because they lost their jobs and did not have the benefit of family and friends who could help them when their savings ran out? Heck yes. Don't even get me started with the medical bill debts. I have two friends (a married couple) who both have master's degrees, are hard workers and have ONE child. If they didn't have a system of financial support (I'm talking medical insurance coverage + government assistance + family support + church support + freakin HARD work)- they would be on the streets and their daughter would be dead or at least hardly functioning.

Please, don't judge an injustice by the exceptions. Don't be so naive as to assume that hard work is the only reason why you are employed. Are you smart? Not everyone is. The same genes that gave me my hearing disability (unannounced and unprecedented- neither of my parents nor did any of my Grandparents have congenital hearing loss) also gifted me with a high-functioning brain. We lucked out by being stationed near good school systems. My Mom had the will and ability to stay home during the day so that our education was bolstered by a constant family presence at home. My parents were nicely matched in skill so that we almost always had someone who knew the answer to a homework assignment, we did not need to seek or pay for tutoring. My Grandparents managed their money (also a military career) and only had 3 grandchildren- so they were able to pay for our college education. My Dad who had retired from the military after 22 years and a new job as a test pilot, was able to pay for my room and board in college. I went on to grad school where I got a masters with a scholarship, a very part-time job and my parents' financial help. I got married with zero debt, a car and a master's degree. I am currently a stay at home mom. Not exactly bringing home the dough, but certainly saving us some money on childcare cost. I do not kid myself that all my hard work brought me to this place. Sure I work hard. Not as hard as some, but I wouldn't call myself lazy. I would not be here if my Grandfather didn't have excellent luck and strong will (that's an entirely different post), if my Dad wasn't able to "squish" his tall frame in the cockpit to qualify physically as a pilot and make a successful career out of being a test-pilot, if my husband wasn't able and willing to work full time to support his whole family financially, if my husband's job didn't happen to come with benefits such as free housing and a generous congregation that gives you baby gifts and meals. I am not naive- I have a LOT of luck, or blessings, or community, or family. They also happen to be willing and able to help me.

I thank God for my blessings, I work hard to do what I can. My husband works harder than anyone I know. We live frugally and spend wisely. However, I know that without the support I've been given all my life to this day- I would be in a very different place.

I am the 1% of the 99% who has had a lot of things given to me and I don't assume that my hard work is why I got it.

Thankfulness

2011-11-06T11:19:00.002-05:00

I have been blessed to read the short and long lists and descriptions of things that many of my friends are thankful for. People have been updating their blogs, Facebook, and twitter with these nuggets of gratitude. I'm digging it. It's a good trend and I'm going to jump on the bandwagon. Because if anyone needs to practice thankfulness, it's me.

So I'm going to start small and inanimate for the first 6 days of November.

I am grateful for:
1) The laundry chute. Oh how I love thee.
2) My iphone. It keeps me connected and efficient.
3) My video baby monitor. As a hearing impaired person, this saves me a lot of attempts to walk quietly and check on a baby.
4) The train table in my room. Hunter has been entertained during countless showers, blogging, or bill-paying on the computer.
5) The baby activity center. Graham has been entertained and safe during those same showers and computer ventures.
6) Automatic bill-payments. Without it, we would have bad credit, guilt and late fees.

I'll try to keep this up. I imagine it'll be in spurts like this one. I'm reading a book (realllllllly slowwwwwly) that has in it a challenge to the readers to keep a short but regular journal of gratitude (5 things a day- just write them down). I haven't started this practice- but like many things I don't do- I think it's a pretty good idea. I'm almost worried at how cheerful and positive I'll get once I start counting my blessings. (I recognize that's ridiculous.)

Dreams that are obvious

2011-11-03T10:42:00.005-04:00

This is the blog post that I write basically every day without realizing it. Basically everyone has dreams, goals, hopes, aspirations. Some more lofty than others, some more attainable than others, but all are life-giving. When you stop dreaming, you sort of stop.... stagnate. This is a a little of what happened to me when I went through some of my depression issues (compounded by the loss of my Grandmother and the burden of being a Mom and caregiver for my other Grandmother). I got so busy with grief and survival and the well-being of those I cared for, that I kind of forgot about dreaming. I didn't have the energy.

Then I kind of went a little overboard. I climbed out of the ditch of darkness and started running as fast as I could for fear of falling back in. I pursued my dreams of becoming a chaplain, enrolled myself in a unit of CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education) and completed this internship and education in the last two trimesters of my pregnancy and first 2 months of my son's life. Looking back, I think, what the hell was I thinking?! It was Hard. I did it though, and the sheer completion gives me more confidence now than I've had in a while. Once I saw the light (with a little help from my peer group in the program)- I realized I didn't need to run so hard. I could pursue multiple dreams without discrediting the others. I wanted to be a Mom. One that is home, doing the home thing. Basically I feel that I can do it better than anyone else and I don't make a mint trying to prove otherwise. That, and I genuinely want to be home with the boys.

Of course, I still need the art of dreaming to keep me from stagnating and getting a little stir-crazy. So in my break from my chaplaincy training, I'm finding that the dream that excites me the most right now is writing. I don't even know what that looks like. It's been a foundational dream of mine for ages. I have felt called to various roles in my life, but my heart always falls dreamily back on the art of writing. This is what makes me happy. This is what I steal time to do. This is the scariest, most obvious dream I have. And yet- I ignore it because I don't know what to do with it. So I dabble in blogging, I read others' writing. I get inspired by random articles posted on Facebook. I get annoyed by some articles that have been published and are horrifically written. I get self-conscious about my own style and wonder if I'm making grammatical and spelling errors left and right.

So, what do we do with our obvious dreams? The ones that haunt the back of our minds because while they make us the most happy, they also scare the ever-loving bejeebus out of us. They are often the hardest to accomplish, the vaguest to plan for, and of course they make the least amount of money. Who ever heard of a rich theologian?

Observations about Mom-sponsibilities

2011-11-03T10:06:00.006-04:00

I feel the need to point out two things that bolster my feminist swingings lately. They both allude to what is generally understood to be what I call the Mom-sponsibilities. Mom-sponsibilities are the responsibilities of Moms that no one else is aware of or accountable to (according to the stereotype- I disagree with Mom-sponsibilities).

I watched a couple episodes of the show "Clean House" by TLC on my Netflix to inspire me and for fun. The host of the show (a female comedienne) did something subtle but annoying, and I'm intrigued to see if she does it again in further episodes. When entering a cluttered home of a couple, the host has twice now said "You have got to be kidding me, ______!" Fill in the blank with- you guessed it- the name of the female. Because obviously, it's her responsibility. Both shows she did this. Keep in mind, both females were not stay at home Moms (not that that should make a difference). But it was clear who the host assumed was responsible for letting the clutter get out of hand. Annoying.

Second thing, our fabulous preschool (which is truly fabulous), has a "Dad Day." This is a nice thing, encouraging dads to come for an hour or so of their children's preschool and playing with them, seeing them in their element. Is there a Mom's day? No. What did I get in Hunter's bag? A flyer reminding Dad how important it is to read to his child. Um. I'm not sure what is more weird- the fact that they assume all the dads are deadbeat, or that they assume all the moms are doing exactly what they should and don't need any special time with their child. Don't get me wrong, I understand what they are doing here, and the stereotypes they are falling into are not always untrue. However, things like this make me feel like we don't give people a chance to be awesome. We just assume Dad never sees his kid and Mom is constantly present. I would have liked a Mom Day. Most people I have shared this with give me a blank stare or some sort of defense for the preschool: "most of the Moms are stay at home, so ..." So what?

Anyway. Just my thoughts. Am I the only one here, or does this strike a chord with anyone else?

How to raise up boys right... guess #1

2011-11-01T09:30:00.003-04:00

I have been thinking about my boys and how I am so glad I have boys (see my previous posts where I am aghast at short and tight outfits for girls). I recognize that having boys does not exclude me from teaching them about women's issues. The problem is: how? How do I raise a boy to respect women, but keep him from getting the snot beat out of him in 3rd grade for being a feminist? I don't think that being a feminist is a bad thing- I just know that especially with young children, subtlety goes much further than anything that may be construed as flat-out brainwashing. So the answer to raising a female-positive-thinking boy is not to verbally explain in great and emphatic detail about how women should be treated and what the world has done wrong. I also can't depend only on the grace and respect that my husband shows towards me every day (which is definitely an example that will hold a lot of sway, don't get me wrong). It has to be deeper, more elementary and involved. More basic and profound. It has to feel like an everyday duh.

I asked out loud to Jason how we could teach our boys to respect females. He said this perfect (I think) answer: make sure they have girls as friends.

This is it. How do we learn to respect others? How do we learn to embrace differences? By engaging in relationship with the others, with the different ones. Of course! I don't need to lecture my boys on women's rights - let their friends do it for me! I don't need to tell my boys that girls don't have to play with kitchens- let the preschool girl get on the floor with my son and rev up those car engines just as loudly as he does. I don't have to explain that girls have dreams that might not fit stereotype, let the girl tell my son she wants to be an astronaut. At age 3, Hunter can learn basics on how to respect women- amazing!

Imagine as the kids grow older. Having a girl as a friend should feel normal and continue to be encouraged. When a girl is going through a tough time, my son can see it from a friends' perspective. Developing and maintaining friendships with a diverse group of kids is probably the best life preparation tool for a child! The next step is figuring out how to encourage that- but I have a feeling it is a little more organic and requires only that I also broaden my spectrum.

This is good. It relieves some of the pressure and I feel like I can relax a little. I'm sure the time will come when I have to have some conversations with my boys about what is appropriate and what is right, but in the meantime- I'm going to trust YOUR strong, independent and wonderful girls to do the groundwork. Meanwhile I will continue to work on my person, engaging myself in the things that fulfill me. I will work on my marriage, working on it in ways that show my boys that relationships are meaningful, uplifting, worth the work and full of joy and mutual respect. I will work on my speech, speaking affirmations for differences and girls and boys.

What do you think?

Church- is it worth it?

2011-10-30T19:33:00.007-04:00

I made an observation today, sort of one of those moments where a few things come together to show you what the world is like from the outside. A little background: I have been an habitual church-goer since grade school. I'm not saying we went every week or the belt was used- just- regular. As I got older I was blessed to have a church that was connecting to me and so I went with more regularity on my own volition. In college I had a hard time finding a church, but when I found one my junior year- you better believe I was there all the time. I LOVE CHURCH.

Fast forward. Seminary it was near impossible to find a church. For me, anyway. I lived in Atlanta so I certainly had no shortage of options. I had every critique and critic throughout history in my mind, so it was very hard to enjoy church or even trust church. I ultimately gave up and tried to attend chapel here and there.

Fast forward. I worked at a church- you would think working there would make you hate it, but I didn't. I love it. I have had two jobs and many ups and downs, but I have loved being a part of this methodist church community where my husband is the associate pastor. I am not even Methodist!

Fast forward. I now have two children and took the necessary and healthy break from most activities, including church, when my boys were born. After each birth, I gave myself about 2 months before I started slowly working my way back in. Now that my youngest is 6 months old, I am back in the thick of things, volunteering and attending worship. It doesn't happen every Sunday and I'm rearranging things so I can get back on track- but we're almost there. Keep in mind, we live across the street. I can leave when the service starts and only miss a couple of announcements. Even still, some days I find it difficult to get myself in worship- especially in the morning (we have an evening service that I currently work childcare for, but I fired myself today so I can get back into worship).

Now- we as church goers/leaders are constantly wondering why people don't commit to come to church. It's Sunday morning- one hour (two if you're really good)- and that's it! Doesn't God deserve that much? When put in those terms, yea, sure- the guilt piles on. However, I witnessed a couple of things Sunday that softened my heart and caused me to think about how we as a church can be reaching out.

Event #1: I dropped my son off at Sunday School (wearing jeans and leaving the baby home, asleep, in the crib- the monitor would almost stretch we're that close). A little boy that my son adores was also being dropped off by his parents, but he was having a hard time letting go of Mommy. (Meanwhile Hunter has completely ditched me for the cars and his crying friend.) I know this family and it hit me- these parents work 5 days a week in the city, with their long commute, they probably get a precious 2 hours with their kids at night each day. Weekends are sacred family time. They live about 15 minutes away. So I thought about it. Most likely the kids got up, they began the process of getting ready (2 kids, 2 adults) and then they have to defrost the car, jump in and drive to the church by 9:20 so they have time to drop off kids and get to church. From potty, showering, dressing, breakfast to the drive- this is easily a 1.5 hour endeavor. They get to church- Mom who would rather stay at home with her kids but can't afford not to work- must suffer the guilt and emotional strain of leaving her sad 3 year old with other people, again. Dad drops older daughter off at Sunday School, maybe thinking that he hasn't had a real conversation with her yet that day. Mom and Dad go to church, hoping to be inspired, enlivened, or at least engaged. They also hope that their kids are enjoying themselves and learning something. This family has actually sacrificed a lot more than I realized, just to be at church for an hour. A worthy sacrifice, yes, and of course no one said that faith was easy or being a part of a community could be done by staying at home. I get all that- but- I kept thinking about that Mom and how I would have been thinking- why the hell am I doing this?! Especially folks who are kind of "trying" the whole church thing out. If that church is not a loving, grace-filled and spirit-filled place- it's really not worth their effort.

Event #2: I read a post on facebook about a family enjoying their lazy morning with their 3 kids. The husband and wife were enjoying some quality time while the children played in the other room. I can't judge them. I was jealous.

SO- here in Northern Virginia when the parents are working so hard they hardly see their kids- if we want to have young families come to church- we better make it worth the trip. How do you balance the reality of families that hardly see one another and the reality that church is a commitment, a bit of a sacrifice? I understand the concept of costly discipleship. I think it's more about standing up for what's right, being willing to put energy into doing good things. Church is really the foundation from which we are to go out and do the costly stuff. Church is the sanctuary. It is the resting place, the gathering, the reservoir, the filling station, the place to be with other people who are on the same road as you are and share the journey - lifting each other up and encouraging one another and learning from one another. If we want people to do the costly discipleship Jesus calls for, we better have some cups of cold water ready for the race. If we want people to turn down a lazy Sunday morning with their family- a sacred time of filling- then we better be very intentional that the church is doing what it should be doing- and surround this struggling family with love and a collective will to do God's work in the world.

Am I making sense? What do you think? Is church "worth" it these days? Do we need to rethink what we're trying to do? If you're not a church-goer - what would compel you to attend church? Why would you come back?

On Needing a Villain

2011-10-22T12:49:00.006-04:00

I had an epiphany this morning, let's see if I can play it out in words well. We bent the rules for Hunter and allowed a little movie watching so I could make my grocery list and Jason could make a trip to the guitar store. He watched some weird cars knock-off episode and then I allowed him to choose one more video. He chose the movie version of the story "The Little Engine that Could." We started awkwardly in the middle of it because he had tried to watch it before. Hunter didn't seem to mind. The animated movie shows the character that is obviously the little engine that could and the toys that want to be delivered to the boys and girls over the mountain. Then comes a big old iron engine. I'm thinking- ok- this is the old engine that is too tired to help the engine (later I realized this interaction must have already happened since the engine that Could is already on board). The big iron engine is not the old man. It is a giant, creepy, red-eyed villain with iron grates for a scary mouth. He is bullying the little engine and stealing the boy (added character) and toys and running away- not without first violently pushing the little engine off the tracks.

I'm thinking... WTF? This is the weirdest rendition of this story that I have seen! (A little akin to the Polar Express movie- a LOT of random, creepy images that are added to make a movie out of a 12 page book with mostly pictures.) I continue to watch over my shoulder, forgetting my grocery list. The scenery, characters and story line all are dark and dreary and getting more dramatic and desperate as time goes on. So I am wondering if I should choose some other video for Hunter to watch. Keep in mind that Hunter is 3 years old, and while I am not a developmental or psychological expert- I do know the simple fact that this age sees an increase in real or imagined fears. Many are irrational and 3 year olds are not quite at the point where you can explain something to them with reason for them to change their mind. Waking up a 3am with a nightmare is not uncommon for this age group. Hunter does not seem to be too phased by the scary villain, so I let it go. But I think about it.

I casually post on Facebook about it, writing: "What is up with making nice, normal stories into scary, creepy, dramatic movies? Hunter is watching an extended rendition of the little engine that could- complete with a big, scary, villainous train." I expected responses from parents in agreement. I did not get that. The responses were appropriate and thoughtful, saying essentially that having a villain was in fact probably more realistic to life and could be a positive venue for our children to learn about how to deal with evil and "villains" in the real world. Here is the direct quote from Kate Meacham: "OK - I have a theory on this. I think that we like to forget the villains and pretend that everything can be all kumbayah. BUT - the thieves in the bushes are an important part of so many stories - and as adults, I know that I am continually disappointed when I discover mal-intentions. BUT if we'd just remembered and realized that the villains are part of our world, and we need to anticipate their presence - we wouldn't be so disappointed. . . all this is to say - maybe it plays a role in real life awareness?" To some extent I agreed with my two friends, but something in me was still concerned. It challenged me to think deeper into what was really bothering me about the responses and even more so- the movie. The two responses I received were from two friends who I would say are at opposite ends of the theological spectrum. I think this is helpful to keep in mind because this is not a polarized thought from one theological paradigm. I started verbalizing my thoughts to Jason when it hit me... The idea that we need a villain to understand evil is, to me, misdirection.

I think most people who understand the realities of the world would probably agree to some extent with my friends, as I did. However, and I hope to bring a new idea to the table, I have misgivings about this approach.

I may be reading too much into what my friends said, but I think more generally the idea is that villains in stories are appropriate tools for communicating the presence of evil in the world. I agree that they are convenient tools. However, if we unpack this a little bit, I think we might be making a mistake to emphasize the villain as the obvious and true choice to recognize and fight evil. I think personifying evil in the real world is often what gets us in trouble, in hatred, and in powerlessness. We demonize a people-group, a person, or even an idea or moral standard (and the one who believes it believes in evil). We label the evil and then it becomes bigger and scarier than we know how to handle, so the Evil wins at our timidity. Sometimes we need a villain so we can be the victim. We need a villain so that someone or something is to blame.

In these kids movies there is increasing drama, and seemingly insurmountable obstacles. There are creepy, evil villains that personally hound the "hero" of the story. That hero often (in kids movies) saves the day with help from friends. I do think that these can be very positive life lessons. However, in the real world- does this happen this way? Is evil in the form of one person or thing that makes it a personal goal to hound us? Are we traveling up the hill only to find that we are out of gas and then suddenly the sun is blacked out and it starts pouring down with snow? Maybe some days we FEEL like that (maybe because we interpret it that way). Honestly, most of the time evil in my world starts with me. It starts with my attitude. It starts with my unwillingness to do something, to stand up for something. I most often experience evil as the ABSENCE of good being done, rather than the ACT of evil being forged. And how do we fight inaction? We often don't- because we don't readily recognize it.

Don't misunderstand me. There ARE evil-acting people and ideas and forces in this world. Whether you believe in a personified devil or not, evil is actively happening everywhere in the world. We don't have to have a red critter with horns to believe that. We can blame it on the devil, we can blame it on God. Or we can start doing something. A person of faith has the reassurance and hope that God is with them. A person without faith can still fight- they just might grow weary. However- the power of evil lies not in the power of the evil one, but the powerlessness in those who choose not to fight it. Evil is a vacuum, Good is a force.

Take the original story of the little engine that could. It depicts a broken down train who is trying to make its way over the mountain to deliver food and toys to the village. The toys cry out for help. An old train stops to speak with the toys and apologizes for being too old and tired and unable to help. A shiny new train stops and snobbily turns its nose at the train and refuses to help as it is beneath him to pull such a train. Finally, a little engine comes and admits weakness, but offers to try. The engine tries and repeats positive, hopeful determination to itself...I think I can, I think I can. When the train succeeds, it provides its own affirmation...I thought I could, I thought I could! The food and toys are delivered and the children are happy. There is no specific villain- the snobby train could be one, but it doesn't get much mention. The ones who wouldn't or couldn't are not dwelled on. The true victory is that the little engine thought it could, tried, and succeeded. This is a much more useful lesson to my life. I could learn a lot more from not dwelling on what went wrong and what didn't happen my way. I could learn a lot from the lesson of trying with hopeful determination. These are not pollyanna lessons, they are hard. At least they are hard for me.

When I see stories of overwhelming triumphs over overwhelming evil- I often think- I would've given up 8 scenes ago. It is out of reach and inconceivable. I know that these stories have real parallels in the real world, but most of them are dramatized beyond reality. Adult movies and shows are not very different from kids' are they? Startling evil villains, mind-boggling obstacles, super-heroics are required to be victorious. Maybe that is why we are so obsessed with supers these days. We've made our villains too big- we can't handle them. We are frozen in apathy and need someone bigger to take care of it.

I think this is a part of why Occupy Wall Street is so compelling to me. Sure, many of those folks have some personified demons to point out- but as a whole- it's a large group of people who are tired of doing nothing. They don't have demands because they haven't agreed on a villain. I kind of hope they don't ever agree on one. I like that it is a rising of people who want to do something different and offer a different point of view, a different opinion.

So to take this more specifically to my faith... Jesus was a big story-teller. He had his way of making himself understood - although at times it seemed more confusing. His wisdom in sharing parables and stories rather than theological treatises and dogma becomes more and more apparent to me. I wonder (and I really am thinking about this- please offer your thoughts)- are there many villains in Jesus' stories? The ones that come to mind lack a true villain... instead are stories of action and inaction, perception of justice and descriptions of The Kingdom. This is interesting to me.

Do we really exist in a world of obvious villains who are after us in as many crafty ways as they can muster? Or are our true villains the voices inside that say "don't do anything," "wait," "it's more than you should do," "it's not your problem," "THEY are evil, you are right," "YOU deserve this, THEY don't." I believe that life offers us many more opportunities to be heroes than we can imagine. The "villains" we encounter on a daily basis are really at a basic level people who think only of themselves. The "super-villains" have been unchecked for far too long. We can be heroes simply by doing something for someone else.

I don't need a villain, I need a will to do good. I'm reminded of one of my favorite gospel songs:

I'm gonna live so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime

I'm gonna pray so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime

I'm gonna sing so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime

I'm gonna work so
God can use me
Anywhere Lord, Anytime

Amen.

Feminism and pettiness and confession

2011-10-19T19:22:00.003-04:00

I have a confession to make. I spent a solid hour (give or take) making fun of and/or ridiculing the dresses of the latest local homecoming dance. That wasn't nice. Let me explain. I was the youth director at my husband's church a little while ago and am friends with several of the "kids" on facebook. Some photo albums tagging some of our youth came up and to say it bluntly- I was shocked like a 50s housewife looking at porn. I mean- wow. I will add a disclaimer that "my" girls were for the most part tastefully dressed (some in dresses that were too short for my taste, but I hate my knees- so that's a bit harsh).

What the hell are people letting their daughters wear? Wait- let me be even more cliche- WHY did they let her go out dressed like that? Apparently the new style is skin-tight, SHORT, and let's make it strapless too. Because I want to see BOTH ends fall out. Really?! I know, I just turned thirty, maybe I'm showing my age. But I PROMISE you that if some of these girls even so much attempted to pick up a penny or stretch- their world was going to be visible.

On a more serious note- this is bad. Really bad. Worse than I thought. These girls were not only dressed as 25 year olds, they were dressed as 25 year old prostitutes. And I'm not kidding or exaggerating. What concerns me is that it wasn't a few girls who were able to slip past Mom and Dad (or had oblivious guardians who thought this was appropriate)- this wasn't even THAT girl who was just too oblivious to realize that Paris Hilton doesn't translate. No- the MAJORITY were dressed like this. Even the ones with more modest tops (a sleeve, for example)- still had the super short dress going on. This concerns me for the women who thought their daughter should or could wear these dresses. It concerns me for the girls who wanted to. And it concerns me for the poor ones who refused to because you just KNOW they aren't cool. There was such an overwhelming majority of these dresses that it seemed oppressive for any girl to make a stand against it. Some kids made their way around it- and I applaud them. One of the girls I knew wore a dress that was similarly styled but a good 3 inches longer than most- not noticeably long- but hey- it covered her butt.

I was talking to a Mom of one of these girls whose daughter was beautifully and not prostitutely dressed- and she talked about how it was almost impossible to find clothing that wasn't like this for her daughter. If her daughter wants to wear shorts- her options are capris, bermuda pants or up-your-butt shorts. What is wrong with this picture?

Ultimately women are still not doing well in terms of general equality and respect. (Obviously) The boys- what were they wearing? Coat and tie. I thanked God I had boys and then promised God I would teach them to respect women.

How do you teach boys to respect women? I have the love and respect of my husband and I don't dress like a tramp- that's a start. But there will be girls who do dress and act his way- and many of them will do it because they have been taught from day one that to be attractive is A #1 how to be loved. I read an article recently that highlighted how we innocently start this teaching to the littlest one. You see a little girl and what do you say? Oh, how beautiful you are in your little dress! A boy we may call handsome, or we call them big and boyish.

God, give us grace, give us wisdom, guide us and help us. And please don't let my sons date girls who dress like prostitutes. Because then I'm going to have to give that girl a lecture. Amen.

I did it again

2011-10-16T09:55:00.004-04:00

I threw Christians under the bus. In an OB appointment, no less. I had my yearly "ain't it great to be a woman" exam and was chatting with my new doctor (new partner in the practice) who is a man and fabulously gay. Well- he didn't say he was- but I would bet a lot of money on it, and I'm not a betting gal. The point is, here is a person who is most likely ostracized by the "Church." He's a highly intelligent surgeon/Dr who is gay. It is almost without question that this man has felt some demonization from some branches of the church. I am in perfect position to be a witness for a loving God.

Here's what I do instead: Dr. comments on my chick fil a coffee mug- surprised to learn that they serve breakfast. I shamefully admit that they do, and a wonderful one at that- but that I feel guilty taking advantage of it as I should be boycotting them. He asks why and I explain that among other political contributions that I disagree with, they are financial supporters of anti-gay rights groups and politics. Dr is devastated and agrees with my conundrum- wonderful service and yummy chicken- bad politics (in our opinion). Of course Chick fil a is more than justified in funding and donating to whom they deem worthy, I just have an obligation of conscience to be aware of where my money goes to support. My breakfast is a drop in the bucket of their larger budget, but that justification should only work a few times. So the doc and I are having a very light-hearted conversation about that and other things... Before the doctor leaves the room, he says: "I want to say you have been my favorite patient today, except you burst my bubble on that chick fil a thing! I should have known something was up with the whole "closed on Sunday" bit."

Large gaping open wide doorway for positive witness.

I say.... N O T H I N G. I even smile, as if to agree.

Son of a bitch, Sarah- you love Sunday! You love Sabbath! You think it's cool that they close on Sunday and still manage to reap a giant, fat profit in the face of an economy that believes you may never close your door or you will lose your money. To some extent- this practice is what drew me to the company to begin with! And what do I do? ABsolutely nothing. My silence alludes that I agree with the doctor's unfortunate assumption (and who can blame him when no other voices speak) that all Christians hate gay people. People really believe that!

One of the comments from my other post was from a friend of mine in seminary, Chris. He suggested (lightheartedly, although I think we both agree there is some realness to the suggestion)- that we begin a movement within Christianity to go along with the 99% mantra of Occupy Wall Street. We are the 99% of Christians who love people and don't think it's cool to shun or dehumanize those who are not like us. I don't believe 99% would be accurate, but if you think of all the people out there who consider themselves spiritual or connected or even marginally believe in the God of Abraham and Jacob- I bet you could find a decent amount who would be on board. I wonder how many? Is there a silent majority here? Are there folks who have been alienated from the "Church" who might be able to get on board with a movement led by the vision of Jesus? I'm not just talking about the hot topics like homosexuality. Maybe we could be like that protest in DC a few years back - the "Unprotest" led by Steve Colbert and Jon Stewart. We as Christians are tired of being labeled and witnessed as the haters of the poor, the stranger, the widow, the broken, the outcast. We are tired of the hot topics getting in the way of what matters. Why are we going in theological circles about whether gay people are sinners or not when it is never (and has never) been our job to judge? Shouldn't we be loving and welcoming? Jesus hung out with prostitutes and tax collectors. Really. Why have we lost our focus?

I for one am sick of it. And obviously- it's my own damn fault. I'm challenging myself to represent. Witness- use that wonderful word that now sounds like an insult or weapon to the ears of people who have been oppressed by a "witness." I'm going to be a witness of God's love. Even if it gets me in trouble with the loud people who disagree. I'm going to stop being quiet about the important stuff. I am going to represent the 64.8% or whatever of the Christians in this world who love Jesus and just want to help bring heaven to earth- loving and praying their way.

Candle, Wine, Write

2011-10-12T21:17:00.003-04:00

This is my recipe for relaxing. The wine keeps me from thinking about the dirty fill-in-the-blank, the candle transports me to a different place and the writing- it's my only outlet. I don't know what I plan to write today. I usually have a topic that is nagging. Tonight I just want to feel my fingertips moving across the keyboard. I want to do something that is not truly productive and wholly for me.

Lately I've been feeling a bit ... escapist. It may have been the solid week of rain (and today's all day rain affair after a few days of legit fall weather). It may have been the fact that my Mom was in town and as she puts it- was the "laundry fairy" and then she left town... It's hard to have your laundry fairy and adult company leave. It could be Hunter's new shiny (with fake tears) whiny personality that I am praying is a short-lived phase. My tolerance level has decreased to negative 1200. It could be that I'm becoming more politically and socially and globally aware- and it makes my heart hurt to see things that I was ignorant to before. Knowledge is supposed to be power- but I feel so powerless when confronted with the enormity of ... ugly.... that is out there.

There was an article on the protestors on Wall Street (which has and is spreading) that focused on a group of Christian leaders (seminarians, clergy, etc). This group of folks had gathered to provide a spiritual ground and focus for anyone who wanted to participate in integrating their faith with their fight. They were called chaplains of the protestors. Some of the comments made me really sad- one in particular was disappointing to put it lightly. The response these "chaplains" got from the crowd was one of surprise and specifically one protestor noted that they had never met a Christian protestor in the same kind of protest. I'm guessing they meant any protest that wasn't centered around highly charged religious debate (abortion, homosexuality, etc). That to me is S.A.D. sad. Are you a Christian? Are you a progressive Christian? Why do we let the loudest and most misogynistic and hating voices be heard as the voice of Christianity? I wonder if "Christian" has gotten such a bad name, we're actually present at these protests, but in disguise as a "normal person." I wonder if I've done this myself, dimming the light on my faith when it comes to the reasons why I stand for something. Actually what I usually find myself saying is: "I'm not like your typical Christian- I believe ..... you know- we should feed the poor." Way to throw the title "christian" under the bus, Sarah. But I think I'm actually afraid of other Christians more than those with no nominal faith. Even on Facebook- I hesitate to put certain things, basically because I just don't want to deal with the backlash of the Christian comments (see- I did it again).

I need to stand up for my faith. I need to put God's person with the truths I feel called to uphold. I need to keep myself open to hearing God's calling. I need not to hide my faith under a bushel or put out the light. It is DARK out there- and this world needs light. I need to quit hiding mine. So- I will proclaim the GOOD news and claim Christian and give Jesus some legs to walk on in this world who sees him as either a smiter with no sense of humor or a hippy with no sense.

Troy Davis Case

2011-09-20T10:21:00.002-04:00

This has been one of those stories that keeps popping up in my face lately, and I kept pushing it aside because I was honestly a little bewildered at all the attention it was getting. Surely there are multiple people who get executed in cases that are a bit wishy-washy (and in light of this story's gained interest, more of those stories are coming out). Let's get the first thing out of the way: I don't think he should be executed. However, all the media attention and my reaction to it made me pause. Why was I so weird about it? I'm a peace-loving, people-redeeming kind of gal. What was my hesitance?

I think it is multi-faceted, but the bottom line is, I hadn't decided in my head and heart if I believed in capital punishment. I mean, really, why did I never process it out? Because I was never affected by it. Do YOU know anyone about to be put to death? I would guess for the majority it's no. So here is Troy's face staring at me from all the news articles and I realized I needed to have a little discussion with myself. It didn't take long for me to discover that as a human, as a Christian, as a logical thinker, I couldn't support capital punishment. I used two different angles to come to this conclusion. As a student of philosophy (yes- I got THAT *employable* degree)- I have learned that it is pretty difficult to find black and white. The justice system asks for a tall order when we only convict when sure beyond a reasonable doubt of guilt. When it comes to killing a person- I think the only doubt should be theories of unicorn intervention or alternate universes. So logically, it is nearly impossible (in my opinion) to be THAT sure. As a Christian and really as a human who cares, I believe killing is wrong. Period. It doesn't redeem things. It solves things sometimes, but I'm for redemption. That may seem naive, but I believe it is the way of the Kingdom of God. So logic won't ever hand us a clean black or white for the justice system to convict with intent to punish by death, and faith and common humanity does not allow me to take or condone taking the life of another.

I think the thing that stood in the way for me to make these moral judgments was that I was focused on whether Troy was indeed guilty or not. There is this looming shadow of doubt, for sure, but it's all a little fishy. Chances are the truth lies somewhere in the middle of total guilt and total innocence. When I stepped back from this dialogue of guilt I realized that it didn't matter if I thought he was all the way guilty or not. In terms of the legal system requiring that accused be guilty beyond reasonable doubt- it seems obvious that this is not the case for Troy Davis. However, I bet Troy did something wrong. I bet he did a lot of somethings wrong. This is most likely the stumbling block for those who favor his execution. That, and he's black. Very unfortunate for him.

This was the second sort of epiphany for me. Race issues keep popping up discreetly and not-so-discreetly. I firmly believe that being black was a hazard to this man's sentencing. I have to remind myself of the context of time and how very recent the civil rights movement began... and even how recent the emancipation of slaves began. This history is not so far away and to ignore the ramifications of that is to be .... um.... ignorant. I don't know what else can be said on this except to pray that God help us all. Redeem the minds warped by history that have flashes of violence and mistrust when they see someone of color walking along the street. Redeem our society that trains by expectations and poverty for those same people of color to be self-fulfilled prophecies. It is injustice compounded.

So, Troy Davis- I'm sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to care about your case. I'm sorry that the justice system is flawed and that you happen to have the worse case scenario when it comes to being screwed by the system. And I pray for all of us that we may be continually redeemed by the God of grace, mercy, and love.

Focused

2011-09-15T09:49:00.002-04:00

This is hopefully going to be a short, focused post.

I was chatting with a preschool Mom the other day about the normal things that you would expect preschool Moms to chat about. We were cliche in every way (potty training, how awesome we think our kids are, etc). I felt a quick connection with this woman, she seemed to value and struggle with similar things. We talked about the female "have it all" myth- that you can have a career, children, social life, etc. You can have it all! No. No you can't. Something's going to give at various points and you have to learn to be a master juggler and either be the bearer of great guilt or an oblivious person. The part that made me feel better about someone else sharing this same struggle- was that this woman is bad-ass. I mean- she used to work in a prison, she now works in foreign politics and is no stranger to governments collapsing around her. SHE struggles, and she's freakin Jane Bond.

Something she said to me really stuck. She said that when she comes home from work she is laser focused on her kids. She- Jane Bond, would rather stay home with the kids. But as it is this world, not working is often not a viable option. So she is focused. I realized that as a stay-at-home Mom, because I am with my children all the time, I can fall into the trap of not focusing. If the kids are happy, who am I to intervene and try to do some fancy activity or play in their make-believe world? I will say that I am a big fan of relaxed parenting and self-awareness, so I'm not going to start doing arts and crafts with my kid unless it really makes sense. And independent play is good. But yesterday Hunter and I spent the entire day outside. Playing. Genuinely playing. I was focused on him. It was really great. Of course the weather is gorgeous, and that helps. I was exhausted at the end of the day- but this time from play and running around rather than emotional drainage from whining (don't get me wrong- whining occurred, but it's harder to whine when Mommy is rolling around in the grass with you). Graham gets my focus when I nurse him and Lord knows Hunter talks to him enough for him to feel super loved. I need to be even more intentional about those moments with him.

This is my job, I've claimed it, I'm down with it. I'm even doing play-dates for crying out loud. So my new friend has just provided some continuing education for me. Thanks to her. So here's to another focused, energy-sapping but connection-rich day.

Love Thy Neighbor

2011-09-11T11:10:00.004-04:00

Today is a pervasive date. September 11th. It is astonishing how a simple recitation of a date can elicit such strong emotions. I have purposely avoided watching the news, reading all the patriotic articles, and viewing the clips posted on facebook. Mainly because I kind of wanted to avoid the pervasiveness of this date. My stupid strategy for fighting all the strong emotions from this day was to avoid it. Generally that's a bad policy, but it works a little too well for me.

Yesterday I was with my in-laws and they had the news on (can't exactly tell your in-laws to turn off the news). I was struck with the images flashing in front of my eyes again. I made it a point not to dwell on the pictures of destruction soon after the attacks of 9/11. I think in terms of my soul, that was a good idea. Seeing the images again, it still felt like it did that day: surreal. I finally allowed myself to look at a link that depicted images of service dogs who were still alive today and had been part of the search and rescue team.

Then there are the posts on facebook, many patriotic, many honoring those who served on that day and in the military since then. None of this really resonates with me. Not because I don't remember and honor and bless all of those who serve and who have lost their lives- hear me- I do. What doesn't sit well is that this day of drastic human tragedy has resulted in a focus on patriotism and justification for war. I don't believe this to be the universal truth- but it certainly is a large part of how the world turned after this event.

What I have avoided exposing myself to the most are the personal stories of loss. Also the stories of hate. This is what really happened, this is what I remember. This is what hurts. I have an image in my head of a very attractive young woman on the TV screen with tears running down her face and holding a picture of her fiance in the vain hope that he was dazed and confused and waiting to be found. Everything about that image screamed hopes dashed. Dreams dismantled. Future halted. Humanity hating.

What happened after 9/11 was unsettling. Revenge. War. Hate. Stricter borders to keep *them* out. We became far less vulnerable and far more cynical. To most, this was the growing up that America needed to do- we had been ignorant and this was a wake up call that our neighbors hated us. We fought overseas, we fought political wars on our soil, we fought religious wars in the media and in schools and in every sacred place. It was a loss of innocence- but more akin to Adam and Eve eating from the tree of good and evil. We ran amok with our knowledge. We have not had the wisdom to handle it.

When this tragedy descends on me with all the unforgettable moments (as hard as I have tried to avoid the pain)... I recognize that the largest tragedy is that we all have still not learned the only thing Jesus really felt was necessary: Love thy neighbor, and love God. We see an act that loves an ideal at the sacrifice of the neighbor and shows hatred toward God, by invoking God's name in the act- it steps up to a level of blasphemy.... and how do we respond? Loving ourselves and hating their God.

We have stopped up our ears with vague patriotism and developed and infectious hatred for all those who do not look or act American. We have ignored the majority of muslims who live as peaceful and faithful followers of a God who is not historically very separate from the Christian God. In our fear, the loudest and seemingly most influential voices are telling us to hate our neighbor, at least deport them. Hate our neighbor that does not get married like we do. Hate our neighbor that does not worship like we do. Hate our neighbor that does not speak like we do. Hate our neighbor that does not dress like we do.

I'm afraid to post this because I assume it will not go over easy. I am speaking for love. I am trying to be a faithful disciple of Christ. I want evil to lose. Big time lose. We've been fighting evil with a fist, a knife, a gun, a bomb for years and years. I want to think that Jesus might have been trying to say something about a new way to fight. Martin Luther King, Jr caught on to this crazy Jesus idea and lead a revolution that succeeded and can continue to succeed if based on love and not hate.

Hear my heart: I want the kingdom of God to be present here, now. I want my sons to love their neighbors and love their God. I want my country to be leading the world in compassion, grace, and love- starting a revolution of a new kind of power. I know it isn't easy or manageable. You don't see me running for presidency. All I know is that I believe that Jesus was God with us- and I'm inclined to listen.

I remember the day that hate won a battle. I believe that love will win the war.

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: you shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets." Matthew 22:37-40

Life is Normal

2011-08-29T21:04:00.003-04:00

I have thought many times of things to write in this black hole of a cyberspace corner. I have had emotions ranging from pure joy to total frustration- luckily not all the way down to the pits. I have read articles that made me think deep and intellectual thoughts. I have had mommy moments that begged to be recorded. But- life is normal, and write I did not. Right now I have one of those rare moments where the kids are sleeping, the husband isn't home and I fear breaking the silence- so I have nothing else to do but stalk facebook and finally, write.

I have so much to be grateful for. My attitude for once is improved. I feel genuinely grown... if that makes sense. This last year of growth from climbing out of depression, birthing a second child, completing a chaplain internship and dealing with some difficult situations- it has actually made me stronger. It is not always the case that I feel growth from hardship. Many folks out there are the type that can chant "no pain, no gain!" and other cliches like that.... I'm not one of those. Pain is very real and very heartbreaking to me. I usually deal with pain by denial, bittered acceptance, and flippancy. When I engage the pain I run the risk of depression and brokenness. In this past year I've done all this, but most importantly I ultimately and finally grabbed hold and lifted myself up and sat above the pain- exhausted, but triumphant and with a new view. This is a victory for me. It gives me a new way to deal with life's struggles and encourages me to trudge through when I get knocked by it again. I'm also learning to lean- most specifically on my husband- for help in the struggle... for a voice of reason and hope and encouragement that I can trust more than my own. I am deeply grateful for the person my husband is and the integrity he has. I genuinely think that he is the best person in the world. Seriously. It makes me wonder about people who do not have a confidant. I don't mean a spouse- although there is certainly a wealth to be had in that- but I mean the simple and yet profound gift of having another human being that you can be vulnerable with and lean on.

We had a joke in seminary that was more of a "truth" that we spouted to cover every question: "It's all about relationship." I still believe it today- and if I give myself time to think about it- I realize how incredibly sad and poor we as humans are now. How many healthy (or at least functionally working on healthy) relationships do we have? I often see married couples and how they interact (or don't) and wonder how a person can survive will no connection. I have perhaps a handful of people in my life that I would say I have a genuine relationship with. I consider that to be wealthy- but I'm greedy and I want more.

At the core of all that is evil and all that is good- I believe it might trace back to our need for relationship. When we are disconnected- things go awry, when we are connected- there is deep joy (and pain). Been thinking about that lately.

Other things I've been thinking about: how little I think. Ha. I bought a smart phone recently (the latest iphone) and I am in information overload! I was somewhat isolated and clueless as a stay-at-home mom with a husband in a local church and as a resident in a fairly wealthy area of town (yea for church-owned housing!). Now I can read an article that my exceedingly well-informed and intelligent friend shared on facebook. Yes- it's a joke that I'm getting my news from facebook, but the articles are authentic and from good and multiple sources. I've somehow landed on some mailing lists that have increased the news input into my tiny little smart-phone. I could be a technology antagonist and ban the influx, but I am hungry for it. I read an article a little while ago that actually challenged me to think in a different way. I cannot over-emphasize how rare and refreshing that was. To find articles that are well-written and well-sourced being placed neatly in my lap by smarter friends is a blessing that I choose to accept and appreciate. It is a little depressing to see the corruption in the world- but it is necessary for me to see it. How else can I throw punches at it?

All this is happening while I canter through my normal life: making my 4 month old laugh, potty training my almost 3 year old just in time for preschool, volunteering in the crib room, grocery shopping, making vegan meals, working out schedules and chores and discipline and then having space for connection.... because that is what it is all about.

Impromptu Sermon

2011-07-03T21:32:00.002-04:00

So I agreed Monday to preach the evening service tonight - and here's the sermon! I'm hoping to get back to some blogging soon. : )

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
16“But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another, 17‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ 18For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’;19the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”
25At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; 26yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. 27All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. 28“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find res t for your souls. 30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

I am a facebook addict. I am. I admit it. I am weirdly intrigued by the minutia of people’s every day thoughts and documentation of life from status updates to pictures (I especially love the pictures). For those of you who aren’t obsessed with facebook- let me give you a brief tutorial on the lingo. Everyone has their own webpage that friends are invited to see and interact on. If I’m having a particularly rough morning- I can go on my facebook page and write something like: “Two temper tantrums, 1 diaper blowout and a skipped nap- gotta love parenthood.” That is what we call a status update or a post. Then my friends who read the post can write a response to that- we call those comments. People will also post links to other websites or articles that they find online. I am ashamed to admit that I learn most of my current events from my much smarter friends who post news stories on their facebook page. It’s a great social networking community with the ability to share pictures and updates on your life. A while ago one of my friends posted a link to a website that listed a series of what they called “annoying facebook one-uppers”- and the common culprit was of course some of the most annoying and obnoxious people in the world: parents. It was basically your general parental postings about temper tantrums, sleepless nights, etc- and the subsequent comments from other parents that recounted their experiences that were obviously so much harder and more traumatizing to deal with. Annoying one-uppers. The examples were like this one that is a real conversation from a friend’s page. (show write up) I understand comraderie- but most of these comments were really to turn the focus on the more horrifyingly awesome story that the new commenter had posted. (If Kristin Wiig a possibiity- do it here)

Although reading these posts was funny- it rang very true to me, how often do you see this in life? People one-upping each other to make themselves feel more important? We have to admit it to ourselves- we - each of us- has a one-upper inside of us. You know you do- you hear a story about a surgery or a child’s cuteness, anything- and you have a story just like it... only better. You want to share- you need to share. Seriously though- here in northern virginia culture there is a pervasiveness of competition. Everyone is awesome in northern virginia- so the goal is to figure out how to prove that you are awesome plus 1. The lagging job market, burgeoning schools and lack of space only exacerbate this cultural norm to compete. This pressure-cooker of competition and one-upmanship causes us to turn the focus inward- to be concerned with how much we know, how good we are and how much more we know and are able to do than others.

Jesus sticks up for the underdog a lot in scriptures. He isn’t impressed with people who beat out the competition and show how awesome plus 1 they are. He doesn’t appreciate the showy-ness of the pharisees or the knowledge of the self-proclaimed wise. This is bad news for smart and competitive folks like us. Or is it good news?

Do you ever think- man- I’m just over it? Over the competition, over having to prove myself, over having to be in these one-upping conversations? It’s frustrating that we are so ingrained in this need to be the best and look the best- it’s hard to escape. It is burdensome. It’s hard to look and be perfect all the time, especially since we aren’t. It seems counter-intuitive, but I think we are the most weary and burdened when all we think about is ourselves.

When I read the scripture for today- after really thinking about it- I got the feeling that Jesus was also kind of over the whole scene of being important and doing what everyone else expects or wants you to do. He talks about the kids fussing with each other in the market- the children won’t laugh or cry at the right time for the other kids. He talks about the irony of people criticizing John for not partying enough and then turning around and criticizing Jesus for partying too much. It’s a little ridiculous. In a sigh of a prayer- Jesus thanks God for giving wisdom to the infants. I think he is just so fed up with people posturing themselves and talking about what they know and how important they are that he just flips it all upside down. Babies know more than these folks- and how refreshing. I believe it. Sometimes I look at my 2 month old son and his innocent smile and just breathe a little sigh of relief. He is not burdened by a thing, and yet he cannot do a thing for himself.

We hear the last phrase in this scripture a lot in Christian circles- and it’s really comforting to hear: “come to me all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” I think we often hear this text as sort of a blanket promise that if we hang out with Jesus- he’ll carry our burdens for us and life will be easier. I’ve actually heard variations of this interpretation often. If you’re like me- you think- really- I feel like my burdens are the same if not more because I hang out with Jesus. My life did not get any easier the second I became a Christian- I didn’t suddenly develop the skill to glide through hardships the second I decided to follow Jesus. If we’re honest- I think we all can agree that life has some real burdens- no matter who you follow or how good you try to be. What could Jesus be saying in this scripture?

Maybe Jesus is not talking about an easier life here but a better way to carry the load. A wiser way - but the wisdom of infants. I hear Jesus telling us that the rest for our souls is found in learning gentleness and humility. I hear that word as a soft whisper of hope under the chaotic noise of competition, one-up-man-ship, defensiveness, and all the other trappings that come with feeling that we need to prove ourselves. The ironic thing that I have found in my relationships with all ages of folks- is that the most humble are the ones who are the most comfortable in their own skin. They are the ones who actually are surest of themselves. This sureness comes from an awareness of their strengths and weaknesses, and an acceptance of them. And when you have this comfort with yourself- you don’t feel the need to prove your worth to others- you already know that you are valuable. Jesus is certainly comfortable with who he is and does not feel the need to assert his power. Can you imagine how much time Jesus would have wasted if his focus was to prove who he was? Instead of focusing on proving his identity, he focused on being his identity- God incarnate.

As I was reading some commentaries on this scripture passage- something struck me that might be obvious to you- but it was a helpful distinction for me. When I heard the word yoke- I always heard it as synonymous with burden... but really the yoke is a method for carrying a burden. Like this yoke on the altar- it is a simple device placed on an animal that makes it easier to pull a heavy load. The load feels light. Often these yokes are shared between two animals to pull the load together.

Now I can get really into this whole yoke analogy and extrapolate all sorts of helpful nuances- but what I find most helpful is that Jesus isn’t promising the burdens to disappear. Jesus is offering to share the load- and what’s more- Jesus is sharing his yoke which is made so well that the burdens may feel lighter. Jesus is also asking you to lay down your burdens and share in his burdens, which do not involve puffing ourselves up or winning the competition- but rather, they are more valuable burdens to bear.

If we look closer at this scripture we can see the work that Jesus asks us to do. Jesus says: “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” Part of the process of being able to lay down our heavy burdens is that we learn from Jesus’ gentleness and humility. That is what gives us rest, that is what makes the yoke easy and burdens light- and it is hard work.

If we drop the burdens of being the best, drop the need to prove ourselves, drop the battle that we war on ourselves with every critical thought and self-loathing behavior, we might find rest. We have a chance to escape from the confines of a narrow self-focused vision. We have the hope to be free from concern of scrutiny and judgement. We can turn our attention to caring for others and sharing their loads- this is the worthy load that Jesus carries.

Maybe there are some of you who are one of the babes that Jesus speaks about- you have managed to escape the tick that most of us have compelling us to one-up each other, thinking more and more of ourselves and less and less of others. Bless you who are graced with a natural gentleness and humility. Help the rest of us in our journey. Pray for us.

So here is my challenge to all of us in the coming weeks. Let’s learn from the gentle and humble Jesus. Let’s stop ourselves before we stop listening and start telling our story. Let’s recognize that God has created us and called us good- we can rest in that affirmation and stop proving ourselves to each other. Let’s get over ourselves. Then we are free to pick up the yoke of Christ and carry the burdens worth carrying. We can stop carrying our selfishness and start carrying others. We can stop carrying our high standard of living and start carrying the homeless. We can stop carrying our genius title and start carrying the mentally disabled. We can stop carrying our precarious hold of power and start carrying the powerless. We can stop carrying our ego and start carrying the hopes and dreams of our neighbors. Let’s drop the burdens of being important and all knowing- and learn from Jesus’ gentleness and humbleness and pick up the burdens of those who need our help. Amen.

Sermonized

2011-03-06T20:58:00.002-05:00

So- I preached today. Felt good although I will say at 34 weeks pregnant, I might have overstepped my physical boundaries to preach all 4 services. I got a good nap this afternoon- and now I am trying to relax a little before having a good long muddy day tomorrow with Hunter (it has been raining all day!!). For those who would like it- here is a copy of my sermon. : )

Sermon- March 6th
Matthew 17:1-9

The Transfiguration

17Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. 2And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. 3Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. 4Then Peter said to Jesus, ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I* will make three dwellings* here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.’ 5While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved;* with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’ 6When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. 7But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ 8And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.

9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, ‘Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.’

You know- my family has this expression when we encounter experiences that are different- if something is funny we’ll say “that’s some kind of funny.” The prefix “that’s some kind of..” works for a lot of things. After reading this scripture- I find myself saying: This transfiguration story is some kind of weird. When reading scripture, I try to put myself somewhere in the audience, become a disciple, a samaritan, the woman at the well, and if I’m really daring- I put myself in Jesus’ shoes. This story I tried a few angles. The easiest one is to become the disciples- experience this mountain top transfiguration light up. Imagine you are one of the 3 disciples who saw this happen. What would your reaction be? All I can think of is- what just happened? And the poor disciples get the gag order from Jesus- don’t say anything until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead. Well- if we’re honest with ourselves as disciples in this story- even the gag order is confusing. What is Jesus doing? Who is he talking about when he says Son of Man? Why did he just light up and bring our favorite pop artists of prophecy and ancestry to chat on a mountain? WHAT JUST HAPPENED?

But don’t talk about it. Sit with it. Let it stew in your mind until the time is right, which hopefully will be obvious even though it isn’t right now.

Jesus is really cool and shiny- but if I got the gag order after this amazing and confusing experience, I think I would be a little put-off. How am I supposed to take this experience if I don’t talk to my Mom, sister, friend and dog about it? Can I at least have a little small group discussion with my fellow witnesses on the way down the mountain? How do I process this event if I don’t unpack it, write about it and maybe come up with some lyrics for a song?

Don’t mention it until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead. Wait.

In our church experience- we are about to enter into the season of lent. This is a very meaningful time in the rituals of our church life. We get faced with death- we recognize our ashes on Ash Wednesday and strive with the growing light of day for all things shiny and new. We want spring, we want Jesus alive and well, we want shiny happy people all around. We ache for spring at this point. I personally have a love/hate relationship with lent. To me- it can sometimes be a little overkill. Just when I want to fly up to the sun and lasso it closer to the earth- we get toyed around with crazy weather patterns 20 degree nights followed by 60 degree days followed by a monsoon followed by a potential late in the season snow storm. Gardening folks do the back and forth dance guessing at what point they can plant their crop without threat of another frost. And it always seems that Mother Earth has one last frost in her pocket just when you think you’re in the clear. Winter is a lingering house guest you want to kick out. Then we have our church ritualizing our despair. The church forces us to look at the dead leaves on the ground, the lack of green and the barrenness around us. We smudge ashes on our foreheads or hands and get told not to say hallelujah until the time is right. But this is time when we yearn the most for hallelujah and green! We get a little lucky on years like this when lent falls later in the year and we cheat by looking at the coming buds on our trees. But usually we just stare at darkness and barrenness and the church trains our eyes to keep us focused on that.

Don’t even say hallelujah until the Son of Man Rises from the Dead on Easter Sunday.

Why do we do this as a church? Why do we give ourselves the gag order during lent- sort of wallowing in the ashes until Easter comes? Why does Jesus give these poor disciples an amazingly confusing mountaintop experience, only to tell them- don’t be afraid and wait, shhh?

Maybe there is credit to Jesus’ command to be silent and wait. Maybe there is some wisdom in letting something percolate inside your brain before you talk, write, dance, sing and shout about it. Maybe we miss something in the verbiage that we can only notice in the silence. I don’t know a huge amount about other cultures, but I get the sense that Americans are increasingly awful at waiting and being silent. In my chaplain internship, a woman, Linda, spoke of her experience traveling to other countries and living in Thailand for a couple of years. She said one day she was conversing with a woman from Japan and suddenly was struck by the fact that she had been asking all the questions. Linda fell silent and then asked one more question to her new friend- she asked- why haven’t you asked me any questions? The woman replied: In my culture it is considered rude to ask a lot of questions. Oops. Linda felt silly at first and then reflected on how strange the contrasts of our cultures are. Americans feel it is rude or poor manners if you do not inquire into the lives of others.

I’m not proposing that we stop asking questions of each other or especially of life. Lord knows I’m the queen of questions. I am wondering if we might balance our cultural tendency to ask, speak, label and pick things apart with moments of silence and waiting. Maybe this is why I have a love/hate relationship with lent. It forces us to actively and with awareness, wait. Wait for Easter, wait for Spring, wait for the glory of God revealed. It forces us to reflect in that time of waiting.

Maybe this experience on the mountain was one that Jesus wanted his disciples to think about before they started talking. It was obvious even during the transfiguration event that the disciples were confused and misled on what to do. They automatically went to the mode of- let’s build a dwelling - one for each of you- Moses, Jesus and Elijah. This is an echo of the ancient Hebrew way of understanding God. God was a being that lived in the sacred places that God instructed the Hebrew people to make. God dwelt amongst the Israelites in the tabernacle. God was in the clouds on mount Sinai and Moses only saw God pass and came down the mountain with his face shining as a result. God was a real, physical presence that needed a home. This was good to have a physical closeness to God- but over time our understanding of God has expanded. We now know better than to look for God contained in a box somewhere. We understand God to be omnipresent- everywhere and anywhere. There are times of confusion when I desperately wish I could go to a physical location, knock on the door and have God answer and talk with me. Maybe this transfiguration moment caused Peter, James and John to need to somehow contain the experience. Build a place for it to live. But as soon as they talk about building things, the lights go out on the prophets and center on Jesus. Then God speaks again like the moment of Jesus’ baptism- This is my son! I am pleased with him! It’s almost like God is saying- hey- this is the guy you need to pay the most attention to! He’s even more important than your favorite ancestors! And he cannot be contained or made to dwell in one place. This is so much bigger than you realize! Of course like anyone else would- as soon as the voice of God and a giant gleaming cloud takes over- you get a little scared. All three disciples fall to the ground, speechless, numb with fear and confusion. Jesus bends down and touches them and says- don’t be afraid.

Then he tells them to wait, don’t mention this.

The three disciples are stuck with this vision they don’t fully comprehend. Jesus gives them the space to let it marinate. Think about it. Wait for other things to happen before you think you have the full picture.

Wouldn’t this wisdom of waiting be so helpful in our own lives? This concept of wait and see, think before you speak, look before you leap, let it soak a while, give it time... this concept can help us in so many ways, both practically and spiritually. In the church life we will start lent this week staring at our ashes.... but in a way- how could we appreciate life everlasting if we didn’t recognize the reality of death? How can our joy over spring be best understood but through the lens of a long, hard winter?

In our day to day life the command to be silent and wait can save us a lot of trouble. When we hear something about someone that confuses us- rather than ask the next 20 people we see if they think it is true or not- should we not wait and see what the truth is? Seek it out from the person? Or even more brave- decide that we may not know all there is to know and that it does not benefit us to speculate at the expense of someone else’s reputation? Wait before you assume someone is not who you thought they were. Wait before you assume someone is angry with you or does not like you. You may be surprised what the deeper story is. Mother Theresa said wisely: “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”

Maybe you have had an experience with God- a mountaintop experience- something that meant one thing at the time it happened and continues to unfold as you think about it and gain some distance from it. One of my favorite poets is the Lebanese poet Kahlil Gibran. Nestled in one of his poems is this nugget of truth, he says: “The mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.” Distance from these mountaintop experiences- be they joy and laughter with family or a very shiny experience with Jesus- does not make the experience dull, null and void. Sometimes like Kahlil Gibran said- we see things clearer from a distance that we might not have appreciated in the moment.

Scripture is like this, isn’t it? When we hear a verse in one season of our lives it means very poignantly one thing, and then in another season we see the words in a completely different light, or with greater understanding. I asked Jason to help me come up with an example to illustrate this- and he said with a chuckle- how about the scripture we had read at our wedding? When we were married, the scripture from 1 Corinthians chapter 13 was read. This scripture speaks of the attributes of love: love is patient, kind, not irritable, etc. At the wedding ceremony these attributes are often nice, sweet reminders of what love is to be like. We celebrated our 5 year anniversary in January and now there is some meat on the bones of this scripture when we mention patience! Ha. But when I read that love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things and endures all things... I understand that I am just at the beginning of understanding the miraculous truth in that. I can read those words now and be even more thankful, even more in awe of this gift of love that I have. There is value to the time that separates us from the first experience and reading. There is value to that space we are given for ideas and emotions to grow in our minds. To revisit old truths to see how much more true they are today.

Whether we like it or not, a lot of things take time. Big, important things take a lot of time. The disciples in this story were given the space and even command to take time to process who this person Jesus really was. Some of the most drastic changes in our lives have a built in time frame. The things that happen suddenly or out of time are often the most disturbing and unsettling. Right now I am very familiar with the 9 month process of pregnancy. I have had friends and relatives who just can’t wait for the baby to come, to be here, to see their face. I don’t hesitate to admit that I need the 9 months. I’ll take a few extra days, even. It is something so drastic and so life-altering- I need all 40 weeks to really process what it means to add a human child to my life, my family, the world. I recently received my March of Dimes packet of fundraising letters. March of Dimes funds research to prevent babies from being born too early, or in the case of those who are premature- research for medicine and practices to save their lives. This organization also provides support for the families of these babies. There is a certain physical trauma that happens for babies that are born prematurely- and that looks different in every situation. With that there are emotional traumas that happen to their families. A very close friend of mine was pregnant at the same time I was with Hunter. We were due 4 days apart. Her child was born on June 21st. My son was born September 16th. Her child is the tiniest surviving baby in Tennessee and the 16th tiniest surviving baby in the world. This child is a miracle. There is definite joy in her life. However, my friend Nancy still mourns those measly three months. She mourns all that comes with that time of missed preparation. She wishes she could have complained about weight gain and sore bones and uncomfortable sleeping. Instead she was faced with the reality of a fragile, born-too-soon daughter whose life was on the line indefinitely. We need time for all things. Time is something we need in grief and in joy. Perspective is something we need in chaos and in calm.

In this story of Jesus’ transfiguration, I believe that God is calling us today to take time. Wait. Process. Take this Lenten season and wrestle through the weary winter that refuses to step aside completely. Wait for spring. Prepare for Easter. Look at your life through the lens of time. Allow those things that give you joy and sorrow to have the gift of time and silence. Glance at God not from the mountain top experience only- when everything is shiny, confusing and new, but also from the valley. Allow the distant view to be a view that you value. Give yourself permission to pause. Hear Jesus’ command to wait. Be still. Don’t speak. Then one day the spring sun will rise with no more winter. Then one day Easter will come with its hallelujahs and resurrected assurance. Then one day you will be back on the mountaintop seeing shiny Jesus- and on that day you will understand all the more because you waited, you listened.... and God gave you time. Amen.

I'm still alive... if anyone noticed

2011-02-15T14:48:00.002-05:00

Yea. So I jumped really far off the blog wagon. No apologies- life happened and I had to deal with it rather than the blog. Good good things. Time is now measured and sifted. The positive things that are happening: good pregnancy, healthy eating (still doing the vegan thing), CPE in session (chaplain internship) and 5 years of marriage under my belt. All very good things. The unsteadying things: time is no longer mine, sleep is inconsistent, money is tight, and I get to feeling a little overwhelmed at times.

why am I writing now? Sort of forcing myself to put on paper (screen) what is bothering me/blessing me. Gain a little perspective in the writing... show the occasional blog visitor that I did not disappear.

I am struggling to prioritize my emotions, my needs, my wants, my time, my energy, my things to do list and my motivations right now. Sleep and dull glassy eyes tend to take over.

I am attempting to do 20-30 hours a week of pastoral care to satisfy my CPE hours required. The tricky part is that I have an indeterminate amount of time before and after the baby is born - yea- I'm having a baby in the middle of my CPE unit. Because I'm crazy. The unit was shortened by a month three days prior to the unit beginning- which squished my carefully plotted schedule to a pen scratched mess on my calendar. I'm in the "every second counts" mentality while also trying to take care of myself and be present as a minister to those I am with in ministry...as the clock is ticking. I also am faced with "learning" by reading, writing, logging time and experiences- all of these things take time- extra time.

I feel a sense of responsibility to multiple parties. I feel responsible for my family's financial health- not only because I'm the one who checks the bank statements and makes sure the bills get paid, but also because I'm the one who makes it a point to check and care. My husband is no over-spender or impulse buyer (well- sometimes I might say he is- but on a level far lower than the general overspending population)... but I often wonder if he really understands just how much money we don't have. He keeps wanting to have a budget or talk about it or whatever- but we keep not having the time or space for such discussions. So in the meantime- I tell him what I know, and he has access to all the same information. I am just the only one keeping tabs on it. I both take on the responsibility willingly and get it placed on me by non-action. It's no one's fault, just a system that we haven't gotten quite straight yet.

So the finances are the foundation for unsteadiness. When you can't spring for take-out or babysitters or massages in times of stress- it makes stress that much more annoyingly present. Or harder to avoid/reduce. Making dinner is a big deal. I can't just order pizza every night. That's the other responsibility. I make meal plans, I do the groceries and I make the meals. Jason offers to help- but when the rubber hits the road, with his night meetings and the extra prep it takes to make a vegan meal- Jason just can't help as much as he desires to. He also doesn't have the ever present reality of our finances facing him head on- so when the road gets tough- he calls for take out. I fall into this trap a handful of times because I'm pregnant, tired, and hungry. This ultimately makes me feel guilty about falling into it, not making the dinner, and worried about finances.

grr.

Then there is this whole mess about a baby. That's a huge responsibility that I haven't even come to terms with! There is something I've learned about baby #2 (and I'm guessing it continues if you have more)..... nobody really gives a shit. I'm serious! They are happy you're having a baby. They support you with kind cards (if you're lucky) and maybe a weekend babysitter to get the room ready. But there's no baby shower- because supposedly you have everything you need (luckily we have most of what we need bc baby #2 happens to be a boy). There's no restaurant gift card or check or gift card to Target. Don't misunderstand- we were SPOILED with the arrival of Hunter- and we still have a few odd dollars on some of those gift cards to spend. The fact I'm pointing out is the absolute contrast. And if there was ever a time we could use a gift card or a check- it's now when we need to pay for 2 kids instead of one! So yea- I'm feeling the financial strain of preparing for the second child, and even more so- the time constraint. The nursery is "done" but needs a good solid spring cleaning (oh and moving out of all of Hunter's things and moving in of cleaned and found baby items long stored in the attic).... and we need to prepare Hunter's room (and buy stuff for it)... and then have him sleep in it without a problem. That is not going to be easy. We are transitioning a 2.5 year old to a new room, to make room for a new PERSON in his life, only to see if maybe he wouldn't mind sleeping in a big boy bed and maybe even potty training in the process. The poor kid. In the meantime- I'm pregnant. This means I don't move fast, I can't sleep that amazingly and I can't skip meals or ignore my body when it's tired. And I'm a mother. Which means I have a 2.5 year old who still very much needs me and daddy- and depends on us- and does not understand the terms "busy" or "stressed." He barely can wrap his head around the fact that he can't sit straight on my lap.

Let's talk about the baby book- not started. The wedding album- pictures not printed. The old letters found in Grandmother's office- not copied and organized. Let's talk about the laundry room- junk to be pitched and/or sold. The taxes- not filed. The house- hazardously dirty. It's one thing to say to someone- oh let these things go- in the end what matters is XYZ, not the clean house and a home cooked meal. That's all fine and good- but someday somebody needs to clean the damn house and make dinner- in fact- if you aren't rich- this should happen fairly regularly. I'm not talking spotless- that waved goodbye to me a loong time ago. I'm talking livable. SO yea- it has to be done.

Let's talk about my career. I'm in the middle of discerning what I want to do with the rest of my life. I finally feel like I'm getting a handle on it- but it seems like the worse timing ever. I'm happier since I've started the path towards chaplaincy- but the doubt and fear keep trickling in. Do I really want to work full time in a residency when I have a 4 month old? This is the glaring question for me right now- and there are a hundred voices answering it. My feminist says- damn right I do- it's the best opportunity in a location that would help me grow and be in the field I want to be in. The mother in me (my own mothering voice and an echo of my mother's voice) says- how can I bear to miss all this time with my infant child? Do I really want to pump breastmilk at work every 3 hours? How will I have the energy to put towards a career and a new child (much less 2 kids)- who will never be able to promise me a full night's rest? The minister in me that keeps being put on hold says- when will I do it if not now? Can I trust myself to continue on the path towards God's call? What does God want me to do? When does God want me to do? The fearful part of me asks- will I fall into depression with no purpose or fall into chaos with no rest? How will I manage the different roles and needs and wants? Will I fail?

Then there is just me- wanting a garden. Wanting a family vacation. Wanting a purpose and call. Wanting time with my baby and time away. Wanting it all and wondering if it was or will ever be possible to find balance. This is a struggle I believe many women face and try to answer in different ways- do any of us "succeed?"

Hurry up and wait

2010-11-29T15:43:00.002-05:00

I'm nearly positive I've posted about this concept before- but if not- it's about time.

Time is weird. Time is perception. My sister's due date is today. I don't feel a heavy sense of expectation because in my mind- she'll be at least a week late. I lack the social and physical pressures following my sister's every move. I remember it though- you go into a public place and people tell you it should be any minute because you look like you're going to "pop"- something someone's mother forgot to mention is the most idiotic thing to say to a pregnant woman (that and asking if they're sure they aren't having twins- yes they are sure and thanks for calling them fat). My sister is reminded with every step she takes that there is a baby resting on her pelvis- so she feels a very heavy sense of expectation.

I am locked in never-land with no job, no current leads, no plans to do anything about it until the baby is born and I'm able to do something. That could be as much as a year. For others who have careers or have been through this in a distant past- this seems inconsequential- of no annoyance. I maintain that perspective occassionally- but every now and then I have a panicked state of "I'm never going to find a calling" that sends me into a remission of self-doubt and never-land feeling.

Often we find ourselves hurrying up to wait. We don't manage the success of hurrying up and going- or the patience of waiting and then going without the urgency.

I just realized this is all very advent-y. The whole concept of advent (the season before Christmas in the Christian calendar)- is that we hurry up and wait. These four weeks we have set aside to practice waiting. We are waiting for the coming of Christ- which happens *hopefully* anew each year. What we (I) often neglect to remember is that this whole advent season is just a charade of the real thing. The real wait was on for thousands of years- Jesus came as a baby and still confounded all. The wait continues for all of humanity as our souls anxiously pray for the kingdom to come. So - we have arrived, and we are not yet there. We have hurried and we have sluggishly strolled. We have received and rejected. The climax has come and gone and many of us wanted to feel the chill in our bones, but instead felt a whiplash in our ideas.

I'm still waiting... and watching... and hoping.

Advice Jar: Full

2010-11-29T15:29:00.002-05:00

Everyone likes to give advice. I'll try to be positive by saying that everyone enjoys the feeling of helping another, or having that perfect solution that makes life easier for someone else.

I rarely experience advice in that form. Occassionally- someone will tell me something I hadn't thought of before, or it will hit me in a way the rings more true than when I told it to myself. But most of the time if you can imagine a large coin jar suspended above my head- I hear advice and shove it in the jar... as another penny that might help one day, but feels pretty useless today.

I would like to now officially declare my advice jar: Full. I have no more room and no ability to cash the coins in it. They're like european coins- no use to me here. I would like to try to be humble and accept the sage advice from others- but frankly- I'm tired of it. If you aren't convinced that what you have to say is earth-shattering, keep it. Extra advice wears on me like adding lead to the lining of your clothes. If it doesn't work for me- than either in your opinion I am insufficient, or in my opinion- I am alone in my problem. It is best if you hold my hand and ask me what I think is best. Or simply acknowledge that it is a tough spot.

Why do we all assume we know better than other people? I'm just as guilty of this as anyone else (hence my advice veto). But if I let the cynical side of me peek out for a minute- I think a large reason why many of us enjoy giving advice is the joy and conviction that we are right and can show others how right we are with our sound advice.

Maybe, just maybe we all need to learn to listen and ask better. My sister-in-law mentioned the other day that it was national listening day- as a part of the NPR's movement to get people to share and record their stories. I think the problem is not getting people to share the story, but getting people to listen. I was trying not to chuckle- because all I could think about was how I just wanted everyone in the world to listen- and not talk- for a full day. Listen to silence.

Listening could take on other forms too. We could listen to a person's body language or even facial cues that they are uncomfortable, unhappy, bored even- listen and respond! Don't always respond with words- respond with what is needed. Someone is bored - shut up, ask a question. That kind of thing.

Listen and respond. That feels better than advice any day.

Thanks-giving

2010-11-29T15:13:00.002-05:00

My experience on Thanksgiving day was surprisingly of thanks-giving. I think sometimes the hoop and holler of holidays can mask what we originally wanted to celebrate. This is cliche to say - but still true. Think about it: on the day that we are to give thanks, we expect a feast and to be with family. If we do not bloat ourselves with carbs, watch the Macy's Day parade and drink wine with family- then all is lost and we have nothing. I didn't experience the blues this year (except the no wine part)- because I had everything I expected.

Thanks-giving is a time to rejoice in the plenty because the memory of scarcity and struggle is still very alive and real. It's a time where we actually shouldbe feasting with strangers and trying out new recipes- sharing what is sacred to us and honoring what is sacred to others.

This year - a strange bump in the Thanksgiving day parade actually gave me space to be thankful. My son, a two year old who doesn't like to miss out, was not keen on taking his afternoon nap. Some days this happens and we let it go- but this day I was not interested in having a cranky toddler at the turkey table. So I cut corners, bribed and begged- anything to get this kid to sleep. Ultimately the "trick" was for Jason and I to lie down in the bed (he usually sleeps in the crib) and go to sleep with him. Jason rubbed his tired belly and he drifted to sleep. Jason wasn't comfortable with all of us crammed on the bed and felt he should help with the meal preparations. I didn't want to leave Hunter alone on a big bed and wasn't all too shy about resting for a little bit. I assumed Hunter would only sleep an hour and figured I could hang out for it. Jason slipped out of bed and I stayed to rest and watch Hunter.

I fully expected to fall asleep- but I never could. I kept watching Hunter sleeping there- sweet- breathing heavy sleep-breaths. He would muss his own hair every now and then and move his arms or switch breathing patterns. At about an hour into the nap- he woke up and asked about Dada and Grammy- I told him they were downstairs and asked if he wanted to go. He said yes, and promptly snuggled up against me and fell back to sleep. For another hour. They started Thanksgiving without us- and I was fine with that. I rested and watched for 2 hours - my son sleeping. I thought about how healthy and happy he was. How sweet and funny he was. How cheeky and pushy he could be. I was thankful for all of it. I wasn't really worried about our food getting cold or missing the big turkey prayer. I was having my own prayer of most sincere thanksgiving right there.

Emotionally schizophrenic

2010-11-29T15:09:00.002-05:00

Yea, I know- it's been like a decade since I posted. I'm going to try to make it up to you (5 people). I have felt as many pregnant women do: emotionally schizophrenic. What I mean by this is that I have experienced the entire person-hood of each emotion fully within the span of a few hours or a few days- depending on how quickly the pendulum is swinging.

So instead of being confusing and putting all of this in one post... I shall try to separate them out and post on each individual.

Next up: thanksgiving (the act, not the meal).

Dirty Dog

2010-11-17T15:45:00.002-05:00

I brought the dirty dog in after toying with the idea of leaving him outside until his grooming appointment next Tuesday. You read right- I am splurging (literally from savings) to have my big dog groomed. 2 reasons: he really needs it, we're taking him to my in-laws over Thanksgiving. And yea- it's not good manners to bring a disgustingly dirty dog to a party. Bringing a 120 lb tub of hair and slight drool is pushing it enough as it is.

So I am waiting for the clumps of dirt to fall off onto my freshly (as of last week) cleaned basement floors. Awesome. I get why people buy those funky shed-free hypoallergenic dogs... except most of them are a little crazy in the head after all the weird breeding (the dogs, not the owners).

Hunter is napping and I'm too tired/lazy to do any real housework today. Call it what you will- I blame pregnancy and 2 yr olds and this weird back/sciatic nerve thing I've got going on. Wish I had a chiropractic friend. Oh well.

I'm hoping to get something done later today- Hunter and I are basically on our own for the day- Jason is working literally all day long- like won't come home til 930-10pm. We did grab a 30 minute lunch. I keep being tempted to track his hours, because I doubt even he realizes how much he works. But, alas, I feel like it isn't supportive to beat a dead horse like that.

I know I have it much easier than many- I am not claiming the prize of the wife of the most workaholic husband. Far from it. But I am airing my feelings about the amorphous time that gets spent unseen while doing ministry. Every long day or long week or long month or long season is always dubbed "special circumstances." But when you get out from under the cloak of ministry- you see clearly that it should just be dubbed "regular ministry stuff." Same stuff- every year. Sure, there are rises and falls, ebbs and flows... definite perks to combat the crap. However- there doesn't go by a week when I don't long for the well-paid 9-5 that has the occassional business trip and no baggage at home. Maybe this doesn't exist- at least I know it is a rare species- but I don't stop wondering about what it might be like to have a schedule and a weekend.

Updates on my life: none. No substituting calls, no chaplain steps forward. My church is wonderfully supplying me with opportunities to work childcare so that I can feel a little like I'm pulling some weight here. My house looks less like a hurricane zone- but it's tough to keep it that way (especially with Dirty Dog). My attitude is improving (really, it is)... and I do get to see Harry Potter Friday night at the IMAX theatre. Always a good time! : )

My sister (older) is due November 29th- so in my mind I don't worry until then and if it's early- fun surprise! I kind of can't wrap my head around the fact that she is having another child. I feel like we just started this baby #2 round and didn't realize she was that far ahead of me. I find out what our baby #2 will be November 30th- and am super excited about that! My hope for my sister is that this birthing experience will be a positive one, and her baby healthy and happy. I can't wait to meet Ella Marie in December when my family convenes in Tennessee for our Christmas vacation! It'll be really sweet to pass around this little one for a whole week.

What else? I think that's it... I'm tired of writing even!

Blank

2010-11-15T15:26:00.002-05:00

So if my blog had empty pages for each day- I would have some serious blanks over the last week. I think these blanks resemble my blank face these days. Not blank... I just don't feel like I have much new to write about (in terms of life happenings) and I'm nt sure I'm ready to delve into the stuff I do have to write about (in terms of soul happenings)- so I come up blank. Maybe this is a unique form of writer's block... Not that I have nothing to say- but I'm avoiding it.

Jason and I had a nice talk last night- the kind that isnt emotionally upsetting- but emotionally revealing... the kind that isn't centered on church stuff- but open to some hopeful thoughts on it.... the kind that was just a nice genuine conversation.

Some things that came out of it: I'm frustrated to be put on hold for working toward my new sense of calling (chaplaincy) and from the bowels of my own self-doubt and distrust- I fear that the fire will be gone from this moment when/if I get a chance to pursue it. I'm apathetic about writing. Have always wanted to write/get published at some point- and even though people tell me I'm a good writer- I don't believe them. I know I'm not a bad writer. I see many pieces of crap published (and selling!) everyday. But I also see the good stuff- and I'm so not there. Of course my stupid mind says it's all or nothing. I either write the next great american novel (if that exists anymore) or I sit around and putz away on my blog and not worry about it.

The place where dwell dreams, callings, confidence, ability and timing is a cosmic mess. Who is there to iron it out for us? Who is there to help us navigate the chaos and pull strings when we need to? I hope God- I expect God- I need God. But I can't see the mess- I just know it's there and I'm floating in what feels like the wrong corner of it.

Hormones?

2010-11-08T14:08:00.002-05:00

This is the only explanation I have for what has been going on with me emotionally over the last few months (or decades)... I feel like a ping-pong ball: back and forth, up and down. Give it a rest! I feel significantly better about life today and yesterday than I did, say the last time I posted. Nothing other than a nice day at home with the hubby and a good cry Sunday to get me all sorted out.

I am wondering if this is the main difference between this pregnancy and the last one (other than the fact that I still haven't ballooned up and Hunter definitely got me fat quick)... maybe it's the hormones. My last pregnancy I felt fairly stable. This one- stability is an illusion. Who knows.

Sunday was All Saints day at our church - a time to recognize the saints who have gone before us, particularly those who have died in the last year. It struck me that Memaush died almost exactly a year ago. It'll be a year on November 21st. I have the paradoxical feeling of nearness and distance to that time and those emotions. When we were encouraged to think of our "saints" during the service- it was too painful for me to bring Memaush in full color. I could only stand a brief glimpse, hardly was able to write her name on the index card. She was such a presence in my life. During communion- I got to do one of my favorite things- help serve- and it about broke my heart. This church has grieved over the years- but particularly this year, we lost some foundational people. I could hardly bring myself to look at the faces and eyes of those grieving, some who I knew had a fresh grief, some who were grieving deaths that happened years ago and still feel just as unfair and untimely today. I got through the entire congregation before nearly losing it on the last one... then I fumbled my way to the altar with my little index card with the name Memaush scribbled on it. Jason and Tim offered me communion (seems I ran away before they could get it to me). I tasted juice, bread and tears. I conveniently needed to go to the bathroom and let myself choke in a few sobs before I collected myself to go back out. I had no idea my grief was still so whole.

The strange part was that later, I felt a little lighter. Jason and I got to go on an impromptu dessert date when a college kid was in town and staying with us. Afterwards we let our friend's dogs out and watched the tail end of a movie as the dogs meandered around outside. The end of the movie came with credits and a fun song- and Jason jumped up and started dancing. I laughed. A real laugh. It was fresh and new.

I'm teaching a class on the beatitudes, and I do believe I'll get more out of it than anyone else. I couldn't help but remember the promise from Jesus: blessed are you who mourn, for you shall laugh.

So with my hormones unpredictable, my grief still raw, my purpose questionable, I've decided maybe it's time to start being practical about it. I do better when I have a plan- even if it falls through- it guides me for a short time. I have a meal plan for the next week and a half and a grocery list. I even have a working chore list. Already some of it has been altered- but I have felt better having something. SO for my attitude? Maybe I need some infusion of truth, infusion of good. So, I'm going to try to at least bring one verse or quote to mind every day. I'm accepting all good things from others- give me your favorite verse. Give me your favorite short story. Give me your favorite quote. Remind me of the light. Warm my heart.

So What's Going On?

2010-11-05T13:54:00.005-04:00

Nothing. That's what's going on. Absolutely freakin nothing. I have been avoiding this blog - or at least writing much meaningful in it, because I don't have much light in the front of my mind.

I am a little ridiculous, but just hear me out. I feel purposeless these days. I have nothing that I "do." I know intellectually that "doing" something professionally does not make or break a person's worth. I can find the silver lining in every one else's cloud. Except mine. I seem to have a large black hole hovering over my head where all my silver lining goes. I am ridiculous.

I've been progressively making little self-discoveries about myself. Most of it has not been pleasant... like looking in a mirror and realizing that half your teeth are missing because you never flossed. Or something like that. And I do hardly floss- but luckily I have good teeth and gums to withstand the neglect. I brush often... My point is this: I have been given way too much interrupted time. Time enough to find the nasty stuff, but no time to find the silver, no time to look for the rainbow much less a pot of gold. So I keep interrupting myself with horrible self-image statements that are in isolation- true, but in the big gigantic scheme of things- not the end of the world. But my world is troubled.

Here are some of those self-discoveries: I am not content to be a stay-at-home-Mom indefinitely. This should not seem bad or drastic, but when coupled with the reality that I have no real alternative at least for another year- it makes me feel a little desperate and stuck. I also mix in to this discovery a nice pinch (make it a full cup and a half) of guilt for not appreciating the luxury (I get that it can be) and delight that comes with being a stay-at-home-mom. I got up one morning and realized I had absolutely nothing to look forward to that day. Now that sounds a little fatalistic, but what I understood in my soul was that I had no plan, nothing different other than live- help Hunter live, and try to enjoy it. It still sounds bad- but I had no purpose. Helping Hunter through the day didn't fill my void. Growing baby number 2 did not fill the void. Cooking dinner and failing at cleaning the house were not tasks I saw with purpose. I felt like it was another day, doing whatever.

This was not a moment of regret but rather a moment of recognition. I saw that I needed something. That need has filled me with guilt and anxiety because I don't know how to fill it in the near-future, and I wish that I wasn't going to be pissy about that. But I am. I already am. I am being impatient. I feel like I have been waiting all my life to have purpose. I get dangling opportunities, dangling promises, dangling ego strokes, but ultimately I don't close a deal.

I went to college, changed my major to philosophy and religious studies (yea- not the greatest career move)- but I was happy. I found my people. I found my niche. I loved my classes- I actually got into little competitions to see who could get the best grades. I did well- and this felt magnificent after failing and not caring about Chemistry and Calculus. What kills me is I could have done well in those classes- I just didn't care enough to do it. Slacker.

I went to seminary, a choice completely mine, completely revolutionary and completely God-lead. It was one of the best things I ever did- a fantastic place, a fantastic group of friends and classes I wish I could take again since I feel like I didn't pay enough attention the first time around. I didn't have all sunshine and daisies during seminary- there were bumps in the road- but I was in the right place, on the right track.

I got married to the best man in the world (no bias- it's just true). I got a part time job at his church as a youth director because seminary was too short and I hadn't quite figured out my track (or my denomination for that matter). Thus begins the search for purpose. My search seems to be starred with failures. I resigned from the youth job because it turned out I wasn't all that great at it, and it was more painful to stay on and do a shitty job than it was to pretend like everyone stroking my ego was right. The church had an opening for a part time job as a Coordinator of Congregational Care. This was something that actually suited me- but after two years, some unsaid drama and factors in my personal life- it was time to step back and take care of Hunter and my Grandmother. This was a great blessing for me, but extremely difficult at times. The hardest times throughout the two years I was a combination SAHM and caregiver to my Grandmother were actually the most rewarding times. Though it took therapy to get through to the other side (literally). I endured some very stressful and dark moments when Memaush died and Grandmother went to the hospital and rehab, and even when I was playing a large role in orchestrating Grandmother's move to Florida. Grandmother might be the only "job" I had that feels like it wasn't a failure. I had purpose.

I promised childcare to one family and then backed out when the timing wasn't right, I did childcare for another family and now I'm done with that- because a 2 year old, an infant and a pregnancy seemed a little much. Plus I was miserable - felt purposeless again.

I started looking for jobs in the worse economy since the depression (I don't know that for a fact- but it's close enough to reality)... and was still naive enough to be disappointed when nothing seemed to open up. I gave up. I picked substitute teaching because it seemed like a sure-fire way to get income, have flexibility and be able to be home with baby number 2 as long as I need to. Now that we are tight financially and I am sitting around at home waiting for the school system to call me for their next training, I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life.

I got into the whole chaplain kick- started looking at churches to be (eventually) ordained, started looking into CPE (internships)- of which there is only one in Northern Virginia. I basically missed the boat for the most ideal internship before baby #2 is born. This puts me back about a year. When you keep in mind I've been searching for about 10 years- it seems like another brick wall.

Here's where I am in all this: deeply frustrated. I can't seem to catch a break. Not that I "deserve" a break- but rather I just want one. I am not destitute, I am not being yelled at by anyone for not living up to expectations- this is all internal. And I am about to combust.

I grew up smart. I was in gifted classes, told how awesome I was for achieving at the level I did "despite" my hearing impairedment. I had surgeries in 10th grade and the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college. Again- I was so "smart" and capable that none of that set me back. I graduated a semester early from undergrad- worked full time for 3 months (my only venture in the full-time world) and lived at home while working a part time job until fall came and back to school I went. People congratulated and blessed me the whole way to seminary. Thinking back- even one of my earliest church memories was of a young couple who volunteered with the youth group who told me I had amazing potential. In seminary I did well. I was praised for my deep thoughts, my complex hold of theology, my ability to reason and wonder and my ability to minister. I was given no opportunity to preach at my home church, no indication that they intended to ordain me, and no welcome mat for my educated services. I soon learned that as progressive as some Baptist churches were- the denomination as a whole had a long way to go in their acceptance of women in the pulpit. So I decided I didn't need to be a trail-blazer, I just wanted to be a minister- what my calling asked of me. SO I looked at other churches.

Then I graduated (a semester early from seminary too), got married, you heard about those jobs. I was given the opportunity to preach, teach, and plan some worship. I was praised for all of it. Told by someone who does not stick his neck out to compliment that I "had the gift of preaching and with that gift came responsibilities." Yet, somehow I felt like a failure in each job I did. I watched friends of mine excel in everything or something. Co-classmates from seminary who were published, ministers, mothers and probably even had a clean house. I watched as female friends started having families and learning what to do with those new responsibilities. Some remained in the work world- balancing their lives as gracefully as a ballerina. Some chose to stay at home and blossomed with crafts and more children and clean homes. Some went (and still go through) major trauma and even in the most weird and selfish way- I envy their sense of purpose and fight. I don't belittle their struggle, but I am in awe of them- and feel still more useless.

Then there's me. Full of potential. With nothing to do. Don't cut it as a stay at home mom, certainly not cutting it as a chef or maid. Hardly manage to chaffeur. I volunteer at the church but not amazingly so. I just sit around and complain and worry and fester. I'm driving myself crazy.

And this is the longest post ever. But that's what's in my head. I *know* all the reasons it shouldn't be- and I frankly don't want to hear them from anyone while I'm in this crabby moment in my journey. God alone can save me from myself. I know God will. In the meantime- this is me, raw and simple.

Random Thoughts

2010-11-03T14:17:00.002-04:00

So I was feeling tired and a little nauseated today (hello, haven't I finished the first trimester?)- so what did I do? I went and got Chick Fil A chicken nuggets, waffle fries and a peppermint shake. Seriously. I have got to be a moron. A) Chick Fil A is not supposed to be the place I financially contribute to (as much as their food is super yummy) B) I'm not supposed to eat out at all, C) I'm certainly not supposed to stuff my belly with food that could survive a nuclear explosion (an exaggeration, but you fast-food haters know what I mean). And of course I am now more tired, although I haven't felt too nauseated. So it's win-lose.

Hunter has been hilarious lately. Some brief shennanigans:
1) When playing around with Jason, he realized that he could see his reflection in Jason's eyes- and said "That's Hunter in there." verbatim- awesome. Then he inspected Jason's eyes further by lifting Jason's eyeids with his thumbs and exclaimed: "balls in your eyes!" Also ridiculously genius in my humble opinion.
2) When playing in the bath tub, Hunter is always excited about the end when we let the water out and he can watch the draining water swirl. Once the water was gone, he was focused upward on the spout- saying: "water in there." I said "yes- that's right." he asked me "when's the water coming?"
3) Hunter is obsessed with pumpkins still, and luckily the fall does not wave goodbye to pumpkins as soon as Halloween is past. We did put away some of our Halloween pumpkin decorations- when Hunter tried to save them all by claiming: "That's Hunter's" and hoarding them so they wouldn't go in the box. Hunter is big into claiming things these days- like my milkshake today was apparently Hunter's. Clever game.
4) I can't remember the other story but there is one.... he has just been talking so much- and in sentences! Amazing. Love it. And now he's napping and I kind of want to as well.

On that note. with my belly full of really awful-for-you food and of course and nice greased baby, I shall take a nap. Because I can. And because I seem to be doing my 1st trimester in the 2nd one.

PS- I'm so glad elections are over. Our phone rang 20 times a day. Jason kept running to answer it. I left it as far out of reach as possible. I'm awful.

It's November, People

2010-11-01T13:48:00.002-04:00

I'm pretty sure yesterday was July. I'm sort of in disbelief we've already done the Halloween thing and that Thanksgiving is coming. That's when my older sister, Kelly is supposed to have her baby- then it's Christmas, then I'm fat, then I have a baby in April with Easter. It's going to be that quick.

Is it bad that with my pregnancies (this one and Hunters)- I have never had the urge for the baby to "get here already." Many of my friends, family members, and others have expressed this sentiment. I was thrilled to go 6 days late with Hunter. I just needed more time. The blessing inside this is that I haven't had some physical reason why I would need or want such baby to evacuate. So that's nice. I'm speaking more of the emotional readiness. Many people who plan and get pregnant are ready ready ready. Jason and I both need every minute of the 9 months we are allotted. I should say want. Like. Desire. Appreciate. We are realists I guess. I want this baby- but I know that Hunter probably won't. So on top of the nice sleepless nights when we've gotten used to Hunter's 11-12 hour nights- we'll have a 2.5 yr old with a fist some days. Those kind of things. I think I dread all transitions- no matter how joyful. Once it's here- it's here and you deal and you joy and you sorrow. The preparation... a beast emotionally.

Ooh- speaking of preparations. I need to make my appointment for my 20 week ultrasound. Hold please.

Ok, left a message. Kind of anti-climactic.

So. It's November, people. I am still on hold for subbing, on nearly a year's hold for CPE, and even semi-on hold for a doctor's appointment. I'm teaching a class on the beatitudes at our church for the next 3 weeks, which I'm nervous/excited about. It's good stuff- Jesus has some seriously kickin ideas. Question is- I can't compete with the sermon on the mount- so God's going to need to give me some wisdom on how to "re-present" this info here. I get to go back to yoga Thursday nights for the next few weeks- also exciting. I am working lots of childcare hours at the church- so trying to bring home some bacon (or veggie-sausages). I keep feeling the itch to preach- so maybe I'll get the chance. I keep dropping hints that it's been a dream of mine to preach in advent pregnant. We'll see. I have Lily today and tomorrow and then she's off to a real day care.

There is a very high chance thatt I am going to dip into savings and treat myself to some fall cleaning. The following things need to be scrubbed: my house, my dog, my son's carpet, my car, my hubby's truck. I just really feel like if all those were professionally scrubbed, I'll feel a little better about the Christmas clutter.

OK- I'm going to go think about the beatitudes.

Just Kidding

2010-10-29T13:57:00.002-04:00

So- I stayed up til midnight last night almost finishing the application for the chaplain internship (all but one fairly easy question) and also had the notion to email the director of the program to inform him of my progress and make sure he was still accepting applications.

His helpfully quick response went a little something like this: yadda yadda, interviewing someone today and will most likely fill the spot with them, yadda yadda, if you're interested in future sessions let me know and email me next Friday in the off-chance that the person today bombs, yadda yadda.

So his response was actually much appreciated (he saved me $35 application fee) and was worded nicely enough. However- my knee-jerk reaction was to send him a tongue-in-cheek email about how helpful it was that he gave me false hope about this application and I lost sleep doing it. Or maybe about how much I *loved* writing deeply emotional and vulnerable things about myself while 15 weeks pregnant. Alas- I knew that this was not the right way and he had no idea that all the cards would fall as they did. My hope is that the work I've done will stand for the next time I apply- so all I'll have to do is edit and update.

SO, back to the drawing board. Kind of. More like back to waiting. Have I mentioned I hate waiting? I am patient with grocery lines and traffic- but when I have a vision for the future- I want to run to it. Not walk, certainly not crawl. Run. And I hate to run- so when I feel the urge- it's a big deal.

I can come up with a hundred reasons why this will work out for the best, but it doesn't fix the disappointment. Alas alas.

So now I guess I can go back to trying to make more money. When/if I hear from the substitute teaching people- I'd like to get this show on the road. Ok- going to go plan my life.

Application Land

2010-10-28T14:16:00.002-04:00

So I haven't blogged in a few days, 1) because I'm trying to get my shit together, 2) because I'm working on my CPE application. CPE is a program that acts like a chaplain internship for people who are interested in chaplaincy (like I am) or hoping to go into ministry in other fields and need this program to fulfill some ordination requirements. I'm kinda going with both- I need to be ordained to be a chaplain, and need this program to become a chaplain. (actually, I need to take 4 units- this is my first).

Here is the deal. I am applying for this internship knowing that there is only 1 spot left to be filled and I am due to have a baby on the last day of this internship. So. I'm pushing it a little, but I'd really like to get one unit under my belt before the world of new baby comes and steals me for a year. However, this pushing the deadline (in more ways than one) and limited opening is making me nervous (my reaction rather than the "go get 'im tiger"), and my focus on this application has waivered.

Let me give you an example of what I'm dealing with: Question #1- Give a reasonably full account of your life. Thank God I'm only 29! Question #2- Give a description of your spiritual growth and development.

And there's no page limit or even ballpark figure to give me an idea of what "reasonably full" means to them. I am trying to write well, write comprehensively and yet stay concise and to the point. So a full, concise answer. This is hard. About me, nonetheless. It's easy to wax eloquent about the daily stuff on a blog- but writing fully in a concise, yet "pick me" way about my deepest life stories and struggles.... challenging. Tiring. Easily avoided by snack breaks and toddler needs.

Hunter is napping now- so I must go and write some more about me. And about me. And more me. I'm a bit tired of me- but I have to remember these people have never met me.

Go get 'im tiger! Right?

PS- still haven't heard from the schools, but giving 2-3 weeks as instructed. (Internal voice asks if that's in business days or normal weeks)

Women and such

2010-10-25T13:39:00.002-04:00

I wrote this entire blog last night in my head before going to bed. That is how much this topic has bothered me. Beware- I am in a grumpy mood today- so where the edges might have been buttered or rounded- expect razors.

I am sad, disgusted, annoyed, mostly angry with my entire gender these days. It's hard enough to be a woman- but to have oher women completely shit on all the hard work that it has taken to get us to this place, well it's infuriating.

Lately I have been inundated with the little ways that women still have SO far to go before we have reached true equality with our male counterparts. Forget all the racial, class and disability issues that get piled on top of that. Woman have earned a good chunk of power and respect. These past few weeks I have noticed all the ways many of us are throwing it away.

Let's open a metaphorical newspaper: go to the back insert section with all the Halloween advertisements. What do you find? Yes- you see it too. There are the baby costumes- so sweet and cute with pumpkins and puppies. Move into the children's section and things start to change a little- the boys are pirates and superheros and the girls are fairies and princesses, nothing too wrong with that- but some of the princess outfits might be a little short or a little wonky on cleavage. Get to the teenager section and the wonky is completed with the girls in short skirts and tiny tops disguised as witches and princesses. Go ahead and finish the job by skipping to the adult section and you have your pick: a woman whore dressed like.... well fill in the blank: maid, witch, farmer, whatever. What are the boys wearing? Still superheros, goblins and pirates- so fully dressed they may as well be mummies. The women must all live in tropical places to be able to go out in so few clothes. Seriously?

Flip back a few pages in the politics pages. Think about the images that some prominent women in politics are putting out there- the doe-faced "I'm not sure but aren't I hot?" platform. Women like Hillary Clinton aren't being voted into office because they are scary, appear to be bitchy and not sexy. I'm sure there are other reasons- but really- Hillary scares me a little- and I'm a woman democrat!

Don't read too much into this- because I have enough evidence other places. Go to facebook- click on your friend's photo album of her fun time at the boat party. There you will find about 5 guys, 4 of whom are lanky and not overly attractive- 1 who is actually pretty attractive- but almost too well put together. His parents own the boat and he has invited 25 of his closest female friends. It is the tropics- so they have done their best to find the tiniest bikinis they can- sparkles and cleavage and butt cheeks are a must-have. So much so that the boy who is taking the pictures enjoys the candor with which these 20 odd young females show off their sparkles, cleavage and butt cheeks. Seriously? What the hell are you girls doing?

I'm no prude- I love to feel sexy, sex is fun and a good and beautiful thing. The sad part about all this is that (I was under this disillusion before)- we women are lead to believe that sexy = our bodies. We have to do everything imaginable to sculpt and display our bodiess so that others may see our sexy. We're taught to downplay our minds and our will so that nothing will get in the way of "them" seeing our body = sexy. Thank God I'm out from under that spell.

Here's the thing. I want to blame men and judge them- but women- it's our fault!! Why are you posing like that? Why are you buying that outfit? Why are you acting demure when you have the will of an ass? Why are you playing dumb when you've got multiple degrees? Why are you buying into this shit? We have power- use it! The best power we have is the ability to not give it away!

Then I turn the finger on myself. I feel like a failure for being a stay at home Mom. I look at my two framed diplomas and feel ashamed that nothing has come of them. I resent people who have careers they love and get paid well to do them. I resent stay at home moms who are content and able to do that well. I believe that anything we do is a choice- that we can work, we can stay home, we can do part time, we can travel with the circus- whatever. The issue is- I feel like I keep not getting to choose. I feel like for every sacrifice I make, an option gets taken away. For every selfish choice I make, an opportunity disappears. I feel like a failure. I'm sulking during my son's nap when I should be doing something about it. Stop listening to the bullshit of today's culture and start listening to my heart.

Here's the problem- my heart is conflicted. My God has given me a call and no road map. My brain has left me in confusion. My soul is searching.

And all I know how to do is eat fudge and sulk.

Get your shit together

2010-10-21T14:04:00.003-04:00

This is my inner voice speaking. Today I woke up grumpy, was telling Jason my woes and how I know I should not be woeful, etc- but I just feel so damn useless! He told me I needed to give myself some grace. To which I replied:

"I've been giving myself grace for 5 years, it's time for me to get my shit together!" Jason laughed. A lot. Seems my comment tickled his funny bone. But I'm serious! Jason said- oh yea- that's how God works, a time-limit on grace, then it's time to get your shit together. We both thought of the prophets and how they were essentially God's voice of reason saying: get your shit together! God's grace continued- but God really does want us to get our shit together. So what do I do?

Anyone out there who was not born with their shit together and got it together? I'm not talking about people like my older sister who spent time working hard in other professions before they found their passion and put themselves through grad school to do such calling (with a child and hubby and house not neglected) in such an efficient and wonderful way as to make the rest of us feel like we're missing a few days in the week. Yea- you people don't count. I'm talking about the people with dog hair clumps under the couch, dust on everything, toilets with stains in them, kitchens with yesterday's dishes and laundry baskets full of laundry. Is it possible to get my shit together? Do I really have a chance? Is there a formula? A system? A path? A way?? Help me!

It also doesn't help that my husband and child and dog are the collective archetype of Pig Pen from Peanuts.(I even got this character wrong in the first "publication!") It doesn't help that although I can see the end of my first trimester- I still don't seem to have a large storage tank of energy. It doesn't help that I still haven't heard from the school district and am feeling very nervous and defeated. It doesn't help that I was born without my shit together and the whole world around me seems to have gotten that gene.

My system of making it work last year was paying someone to do my least fun shit (cleaning)- I said it was my therapy- turns out it was avoidance. But some people get to avoid their entire lives. Hardly seems fair. I also had another person (Grandmother) for whom I was solely responsible for having had said shit together for. Now it's just Jason and Hunter and the dog and me. I guess they don't merit my energy rising to the occassion.

Feeling defeatist.

Anyone who has gotten their shit togther out there? Share your secrets!

Dreams

2010-10-20T14:27:00.002-04:00

Last night I had the following dream and snippets of dreams. When Hunter woke me up at 745am, I was still in deep sleep and in the middle of one dream I can't remember.

I dreamt that somehow I was stuck in traffic- or maybe there were cars stopped, and people were hanging outside of their cars. My purse was on the ground and somehow I caught these two men looking suspicious around it- and I realized my wallet was outside the purse-a sure sign they had stolen stuff. I promptly told them toreturn everything to me. Then suddenly we're in some room and I'm having this "give it back" conversation with one guy. He slowly but cheekily starts giving me stuff back. I have to name the things I'm missing, and I keep discovering things and telling him to fork it over. It was all very amiable and light. I went away realizing that he did still have one of my restaurant gift cards but oh well. It was so funny! No fear. No animosity. Just- oh come on- give me my stuff back. Weird. Oh- and in a few other dreams I had long, straight hair that felt very sexy. Inconvenient- but sexy.

So I don't have a lot of clarity today. It's one of those fuzzy rainy days. I'm still waiting to hear back from the school system and I'm getting a little nervous. I'm supposed to hear back within 5-7 business days. According to my calculations I am on day 6. Still nothing. If I "failed" I really don't have a back-up plan. I have my dreams for the future- but dreams don't pay in the present! I don't like waiting. Not knowing. It makes me nervous. And everyone else feels like this too at one time or another.

So one more comment before I grab a snack and then put laundry away (my only accomplishment so far this week it feels like)... Remember that whole thing about "everything happens for a reason" and how I don't really dig it? Well- I've sort of fought that theology because I feel like it is damaging and I've seen it bruise already tender hearts. There's nothing like an innocent bystander telling a couple whose child died- "everything happens for a reason." It's a slap in the face. But here's the deal- that's how I feel. If someone in grief believes it, stands by it and seems to be getting (or is trying to get) comfort from it- do I agree? I know I can't do that- but should I stay quiet- not offer alternatives? Not share that it's a hard concept for me and I don't know what the right answer is? What do you do when someone is dealing with tragedy- or even just every day life- and they're trying to fit it into a box that you feel is just a trap? Where is the line of care and careless crossed?

Bills, Bills, Bills

2010-10-18T15:02:00.003-04:00

That song by Destiny's Child is in my head... which is sort of hilarious. It's a ridiculous song. But I have officially entered adult life- I am complaining about bills. See- I don't mind the consistent, every month bills that I neatly set up automatic payment online for. The bills I'm starting to be annoyed by are the sneaky surprise attack ones. The 20% of the medical bill we are now responsible for. The way our health plan works- we start with a certain amount that covers everything covered 100%. We have been blessed to be healthy. So we haven't seen real medical bills until this year. This month really. Which is also a blessing, because the new year brings a newly replenished health plan. But it bites because it is coming at our absolute tightest financial time.

Alas I can't really complain because I do not pay an inch of some of the astronomical medical (and other) bills that other people pay- plus I have the fortunate benefit of being healthy. I mean seriously- being sick AND paying all those bills- it's a wonder why some people can stay so positive. I for one, have only truly been sick when it was on my parents bill, and ever since I've been on my own (slash married) I've been predominantly healthy. So- I complain- but I know how very shallow this complaint and issue is for me. I guess I have a new appreciation for what people go through when they go to the hospital (or not) and worry- not about getting healthy- but about paying for it.

To the people who hate the heath care reform: I don't know enough to make a sound argument for it logistically- but I do know friends who will be insured and have a fraction of the stress and worry removed because of it- and that's enough for me.

But anyway. Bruno (my St Bernard who we think is gaining weight), is breathing heavily and whining at the door. No folks, I'm not neglecting him. I just tricked him into coming inside. What he wants more than anything else in the world to do right this minute is go outside and bark at anything that moves or makes noise. Movement suffices. He is also lazy enough to lie down and whine. Sometimes I wonder- if they could measure dog IQ- would Bruno be special? I love him. But I think he is a bit slower than the average dog.

What else did I want to talk about? Oh yes, the cleaning queens never made an appearance at my house (I'm refering to the fictional characters in a movie I hoped to appear in my house)- so I've made a cleaning plan for this week. Don't get too proud of me yet. I haven't even gotten as far as unloading the dishwasher yet. One load of laundry has been run. This is not stellar progress- but it's something. I'm going to finish this blog, grab something to eat (food is fuel) and throw on a movie and fold laundry. Maybe I'll even get to the dishwasher.

The Moms fighting

2010-10-14T14:07:00.002-04:00

Ok- this has been on my radar lately- and after seeing a few blatant examples of it- I decided I wanted to write about it.

Moms fighting. What I am addressing is this weird little war between stay-at-home Moms, working Moms, and everyone in between. There is this competition over who has it the hardest. Who is the most neglected? Who is the least recognized? Who is the biggest martyr?

Can't we just all get along?

In all seriousness- I can see why there is a little fight here. SAHMs (stay-at-home Moms) envy the daily adult interaction and feeling of having something tangible to report when writing in the "productive and worthy" column. They hate the perception that they do nothing but bathe and exercise all day. They try to describe what it feels like to "work" all day and get nothing done and have nothing (certainly not money) to show for it.

Then you have the working mother. She can't understand why she's not the clear winner- in her mind, she does it all: mom and work. She has pressures at work, pressures at home and no time to herself. She feels that SAHMs are oblivious to the luxury that allows them to stay at home and not have to work. She envies the Mom's that drop off their kids at preschool in their cute work-out clothes that flatters their every curve and muscle.

Here's what I think: we are wasting a lot of energy competing when we should be listening and helping each other out! Being a woman is hard. Being a Mom is hard. Being a mom who happens to be a woman who used to think she could do it all and now is trying to figure out how to make her definition of "all" work- is really, really hard. As a woman who has been in varying shades of this spectrum- I feel like I can offer some perspective. And that is that we really have NO idea what other mothers do on a day-to-day basis or why or how or even how easily.

Take a few examples from my circle of friends... My good friend who is a SAHM and often wears work-out clothes because they are comfortable, not because she has a large chunk of time to work-out. She has a child that has seen the doctor in 2 years and had more procedures and blood work done than some people do in 100 years of living. This child is actually doing pretty well considering she was born weighing less than 1 lb. My friend Nancy takes her to therapy, doctors, fun things, not fun things, etc. Nancy also tries to exist as her own person by selling usborne books and interviewing for jobs that may or may not be a possibility depending on her daughter's needs. She actually might NOT get a job because then they'll be too "rich" for the state insurance that covers the rest of what little their primary insurance covers. In this situation- working would actually be the luxury if they had more money or miraculous insurance. My friend and her husband both have masters degrees and are highly intelligent people. They both felt called into ministry- and we all know how lucrative that can be (wink). My point? On the outside- Nancy looks like a Mom with a particularly small child who goes in and out of Target for fun. What she really is, is a Mom who has more stamina and willpower than a greek goddess and she fights tooth and nail for every good thing her daughter needs- all while trying to navigate the complexity that is her own life and calling and wants. Oh- and when she shops at target- she's got coupons and that's the cheapest therapy she can find.

Ok- now my other friend. She is a working mother who has a well-paying job and is respected professionally. Her husband also has a good job, and everyone is nice and financially stable. She has a 4 month old. My friend has been sick for the last two weeks- and even a few times before that- and she has taken this long to recover because she has literally run herself into the ground. She is trying to meet (her own and others) expectations of what it means to be an excellent professional worker, an excellent mother, and an excellent wife. She has been somehow trained to think that perfection is not only a goal- but the only outcome available to her. She has someone clean her house and someone watches her baby- but she's no pansy. She is up in the wee hours of the night, at work on the weekends to "set an example" and in the meantime trying to make a hundred friends by planning social events so that she can feel like she's getting some personal time. Meanwhile, her father-in-law just died. She looks like a woman who has it all: the cute kid, the nice hubby and the stable income. What she is, is a woman who is never resting, hardly giving herself a moment to stop being sick and plagued with a great sense of guilt and failure for every pleasure or seeming short-cut she allows herelf.

These are just two people I know. I have been a part-time worker Mom, a caregiver of my grandmother and child Mom, a nanny to another baby with my own child and in my first trimester, and soon a part-time worker Mom again. I looked for full-time work- it's hard to find. I realized that I wouldn't get maternity benefits, and I probably wouldn't get paid enough to balance childcare costs. So I'm stay at home. We're tight. And I don't have work out clothes because I'm pregnant and just fattening. But we have family support, we have a loving church, and we have faith that "all will be well, and all shall be well and all will be well." (thank you Julian of Norwich)

Hopefully I've made my point. We are all complicated, delicate, strong, multi-layered and multi-issued people. For Moms out there to get into the martyr wars and the one-up stories and the crazy competition just makes me sad. First of all- yes- some people have it better than others. But seriously- who are we to judge? Do we really know? And once we take the time to find out how someone is really struggling (or not)- are we not going to then be compelled to sorrow with them (or have joy with them!)? Could we pool our blessings? Work out the kinks in struggle with strong, massaging support... Can we stop being so ridiculous and start providing what is needed: community, love, help, resources, kindness. I know this seems a little deep for the Mom wars- but I have just seen it so much- it's really a weird touchy subject for a lot of Moms! I get it. But let's let go.

That's it for now. May God bless all Mothers, single, married, working, searching employment- even the well-built ones who have a spotless house. Bless us all so that we may be a blessing.

Fattening the lazy

2010-10-13T15:07:00.002-04:00

My belly is protruding. Simply out. Just enough to look like I'm a college beer guzzler. Not quite the cute stage of pregnancy yet.

I'm getting fatter. Not hugely, but visibly nonetheless. I'm also feeling lazy. I credited myself today with not napping, but maybe I should have done that rather than this productive line of events:
check email
call doctor about TB test school district wants you to have
email connection in school district to see how important TB test is
gmail chat with a friend
check facebook
check the weather
go back to facebook
check bank online
go back to facebook and read blog linked there
blog.

No laundry. I did dishes after lunch- but rinsing and putting them in the dishwasher hardly counts as a chore- it's one of those zero-credit activities. You just have to do it, no one applauds this task done.

I didn't pick up, clean, exercise, write a book, bathe the dog, clean the car, clean the toilet, put away laundry, or even check the mail (we usually get it late). Lazy ass am I. I may as well but some sweatpants on and pop in Harry Potter. This is the thing- most laziness happens as a direct result of apathy. If I could choose and plan to be happily lazy- like watching Harry Potter or reading a nice book, then it may not feel so much like I've been sucked into the twilight zone.

That is how I feel. Twilight zone. Fuzzy head, glazed eyes, protruding belly.

People will say- oh but you're pregnant and blah blah. True- but I'm also able to walk, and even trot if I try. I shouldn't be sitting around. I can even fold laundry while sitting.

I need a plan. A path- a goal. Maybe once I start teaching (subbing) I'll get into a routine.

So now- here's what I'm going to do. Fold laundry and do laundry while Harry Potter moves around enough on the screen to make me feel inspired to fly upstairs and put folded laundry away.

On hold

2010-10-12T11:13:00.002-04:00

Yes, with the DMV. Isn't that classic? Thank goodness for speaker phone. My approximate wait time was 10 mins. We'll see how this goes. Bruno is barking outside, but I don't want to miss anything- so I'm letting him terrorize the neighborhood.

I put in my application to become a substitute for the local school district. I had to complete an online interview that took about 30 minutes (maybe less) and had some good questions, but some that were very difficult to choose from the various answers. It was also kind of weird because it seemed geared toward people who have long-time teaching experience. So when the question said: I am really good at encouraging difficult students to learn... I thought - well- I could see that happening- sure. I like the oddball kids, so that should help. No experience. None in a structured classroom. Sunday School is a little different. Although I love my 5th graders that I'm teaching at church. They are super cute. Things are still cool and fun when you're in 5th grade, and I don't need to hold your hand. It's a fun age.

Still on hold. I'm trying to get my registration renewed. Apparently I got the inspection but didn't bother to finish the job.

And back from my DMV call. I got an inspection, but not emissions. I think that all of these things are a good idea. It just gets a little annoying. We should just do everything at once. How hard is that? Ok. Going to get my emissions done today. Should be fun. Something else to put on the tab.

Back to teaching. So I need to wait around for them to call me to come in for training, fingerprinting, and such. I have to bring all sorts of identification and also a clear TB test. Which means I have to set up an appointment to get one. I wonder if my GYN can do that? Putting it ALL on the tab.

Last night Jason and I watched a movie on netflix instant (fabulous invention btw)... and it was kinda cute. "Carolina" was the movie- with Julia Stiles and Shirley MacLaine (hilarious lady). Anyhow... in the movie- the "best friend" (boy) gave a gift to the girl that just hosted a dinner party- it was the "Cleaning Queens" a pair of gay men dressed in tights with red plastic gloves- singing and dancing and ready to clean her house.

I want me some cleaning queens.

Death and Grief

2010-10-11T12:12:00.003-04:00

Yes, yes, I know. I disappear for a week and then return on this note: death. I truly am sorry. My friend's father died in a kayaking accident this weekend. It so happens that my friend is Lily's father (you know- the precious baby that I watch who doesn't like to sleep). Jeremy lived with us for a few months before Amanda (his wife) came and they bought a house a mile down the road. We did a good impression of communal living until Amanda got a job and couldn't cook for us anymore. Amanda got pregnant and I was able to witness Lily's birth just 4 months ago. I have been watching Lily and have continued to be a major part of this family.

Last night I hugged my friends, did some of their dishes and occupied the baby while they walked around doing things, anything.

So many things struck me about this situation. One was that when I found out about Jeremy's Dad- my immediate reaction was shock, and then I moved to a state of rejection. I suppose that's denial- but it felt different. It wasn't that I didn't believe it to be true, but rather I wished to reject the truth. I thought- no- this is not the way this should go, this is not what we choose. I reject it. I choose another path. I choose another outcome. I reject it. Obviously that didn't work- but the feeling was so strong that for a split second I thought the story might change.

It is amazing how normal and not normal death is. I don't know the statistics- but death is a constant and ever-present reality. Every second of the day- not one but many people are dying around the world. This is not unusual. But it doesn't make it hurt less or less strange to the ones it happens closely to. We have an amazing capacity to be completely unaware of death until it strikes close to home. I wonder what that is...why that is.

Something I have learned through the process of grief and watching others grieve is that grief is a very organic thing. I mean that every person, every situation, every instance and timing of grief is shaped and changed by countless variables. We all grieve differently. We grieve in different volumes, different timing, different coping mechanisms. Sometimes we are not healthy- but it's so hard to even discount that grief. When my Memaush died- I fell into depression. I had no idea that it even was an outpouring of my grief. There were countless reasons why I fell into that ditch- but I didn't see them- all I saw was the black hole I'd fallen into. When I started climbing out and sort of had an epiphany moment- I realized (with some help from my counselor) that I wasn't experiencing the same kind of depression that others have experienced- at least not exactly. I was grieving. Time helped. Support helped. Sunlight helped. Joy came in the morning. That doesn't come as quickly or as easily for others. I had no idea how deeply death had carved a hole into my heart. Luckily love was able to fill it back up. Was my depression healthy? No. Could I have avoided it? Maybe. But I learned a lot. My husband and I learned a lot. It was my way.

Now I watch my friends grieve. It is amazing to watch how closely their personalities match their grief. How all the little things about them turn up in their coping. I hope to be a presence with them- supporting them and allowing them to grieve.

Many people say that everything happens for a reason. I understand why they say that, and I understand that it is very comforting to many people. I don't agree with this statement though. At least not in faith and philosophy. Logically- yes everything happens for a reason. There is cause and effect. But what most people are really saying when they say this is that God has a purpose/reason for all of these things happening. That somehow God caused or wanted these things to happen so that the reasons/results may come about. I disagree. I have learned from experience.... well maybe the word learned is too strong- I have discerned from my experiences that God may not be in complete control of all that happens.

We heard Jim Gully speak last week. Jim was trapped in a crushed hotel lobby for 55 hours following the earthquake in Haiti. He was trapped with 4 others, 2 who later died due to injuries and medical complications following the ordeal. Jim's talk was surprisingly humble and non-dramatic. I think these are the kinds of situations when it is ok to feel or speak dramtically- it is a dramatic event. But Jim Gully kept the focus on the event- not himself. He kept the focus on Haiti and the rubble they are still slowly digging through. He has been back to Haiti 6 times since his rescue and plans to continue his deep relationship with the Haitian people. He didn't even glorify the reason he was there in the first place: he was there for a conference that was to discuss whether his group would continue financially supporting a charitable organization that was no longer functioning as well as they hoped it would. His two friends who died- he didn't agonize over the guilt or sorrow he must have felt. Jim kept it simple and honest. It felt very real because it was told so matter-of-factly. He talked about pulling out his laptop to try to get a signal. Singing songs when they got angry or worn out. The most dramatic moment of his story was when he spoke of the rescue- when they heard the workers coming and digging for them- the group broke out into song, the doxology: Praise God from whom all blessings flow, praise God all creatures here below.... It was a beautiful moment in his story. Jim said something about what he learned from his experience - and it surprised me. He said that he realized God was not in control of everything. What a powerful and strong statement! I can only imagine the toes he was stepping on to make that statement in a room full of church-goers. I was proud of him. Of course no one made any statement against him in that setting- because who can argue with his experience? He felt the chaos and randomness of nature. He felt the non-judging walls crumbling down on Haitians and Americans, rich and poor- paying no attention to class or race or intelligence. When he said that God does not control everything- I think in his statement he was saying the opposite of what people mean when they say God is in control, or everything happens for a reason. He was saying- we were on a fault line. At that particular time, the earth moved. Shabby walls fell and no one could buy their way out. It just happened. He was safe- because he was at the right place at the right time, although ultimately he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Jim did say that God was with them the whole time, that God was with all of them.

Chaos might be the most frightening thing for humans to embrace. Death is chaotic- random and untimed. Nature often moves with a certain measure of chaos- no matter how well we try to predict it. Life can be very chaotic - and yet it is part of every day, every hour, every second. We just don't know when our slice of chaos will happen. Maybe this is a little bit of the thief in the night that Jesus refers to.

Life is precious. Our time is precious. God is with us all the time, but as scary as it seems- I believe God may not always be in control of what happens to us. The hope I pray for is that God is able, as we read in scriptures, to cause all things to work together for good. Does that mean that all things do? Not necessarily- I think we work together with God in that, and sometimes we are not able or willing to do our part- or that perhaps it will be a long long time before we can. Does that mean that God caused the accident to happen? Not in my opinion- but I do believe that God is able to perform miracles by drawing light out of even the darkest corners.

Shopping

2010-10-05T12:10:00.002-04:00

I just read a blog by a friend of mine who is reading the shopaholic books and feeling the twinge of her own slight addictions to the impulse buys.

I hate shopping. I've known this, but I don't think I realized how much I hated it (or thought about it) until recently when Jason and I decided to use Hunter's refusal to take a nap anywhere but in the car to our advantage. We gathered up all our gift cards (we still have a bunch from when Hunter was born and the occasional birthday present) and we went shopping. One parent would drive a sleeping baby, the other would hop in and shop with free money. Sounds like fun, right? Wrong. I even hate shopping with free money.

We had $50 to spend at Nordstrom's. $50! I wandered the store aimlessly for several minutes before I realized I wasn't actually looking at anything and I needed a plan. I decided to get leggings and tops to go with them (my new go-to style for a bulging belly). I asked a worker where the leggings were- found them and was immediately overwhelmed by the variety of colors and styles. Then I ventured to the tops section where I was completely lost in a world of fuzz. My brain just fuzzed over. I couldn't focus, I couldn't decide, I couldn't even figure out what colors or size I should be looking at. I got the two pairs of leggings and made a run for it. Back in the car, Jason asked if I spent the whole card- I ashamedly said no. What a poor excuse for a shopper.

Next stop- Barnes and Noble. I was forced to go in again. But this time I had hope- a bookstore- I love books- surely we could work this out. Again- dizzy with options. Fuzzy brain, needing focus and fresh air. An epiphany hits and I think of a vegan cookbook that a friend recommended. I have to text her for the title- but I found it (after another sales clerk showed me where it was). Then I saw a book by Anita Diamant- the same author who wrote the Red Tent. Bought it even though I knew I could get it cheaper on Amazon- very hard to do. I actually went $4 over the gift card- which annoyed me but whatever.

Next stop- the pits of hell. DSW shoe shop. I got this gift certificate from a friend who inherited all the clothes that were too itty for me. Such a nice gesture- but I dreaded using it. Shoe shopping is the center of hell for me. I often feel an overwhelming need to sit down when I enter a shoe shop. I have a little experience this day- so I head straight to the back where the clearance is and start looking. I don't "need" any shoes at this point - that I know of, so I am just aimless. But at least I've narrowed myself down to clearance and size 10 (yea- some shoes just don't look cute in this size). What do I buy? Galoshes. Rain boots. Plastic shoes. I am that girl on what not to wear. It was practical, I ruined the super cute ones my Mom bought me by leaving them outside in the sun to shrink. It'll work for winter snow and our yard becomes a mud-pit, so it really is a necessity. That's what I walked out of there with- of course owing about $4 over the gift card as well... also annoying.

Then Jason meets me in Target with an awake Hunter and I give him the 15 minute warning before I collapse onto the floor. We managed to buy two or three toys for Hunter and spend that card with only $2 over.

Anyone in my family knows that I am the worse person to shop with. I suck at it. I whine. I have to stop and rest. I usually require ice cream. I am the world's most ridiculous shopper ever. This is why my Mother still buys my clothes. This is why my sisters tend to provide most of my accessories over Christmas and birthday presents.

The only exception to the shopping rule is antique shopping- I love it.

And that makes absolutely no sense.

Nap today

2010-10-04T15:07:00.002-04:00

The babies are both napping. Through some serious skill of mine I might add. Whew. I just turned the heater on because it is actually cold in the house- and outside. I realized when I put my sweater on Lily and 2 blankets on Hunter that maybe it's time to stop saving energy and start saving babies. :) I will turn it off in a day when the weather gets back up to 70s in the day time- so I won't worry too much. : )

Things happening in my life: hmm... I weighed myself the other day and I was back to what I weighed at the beginning of my pregnancy- which I think means that I am simultaneously losing and gaining weight. I know for a fact I am gaining as I glance down at this bulging belly- I can't hide this pooch from anyone anymore. In fact- someone actually said to me in church- it's a good thing you told us when you did- you wouldn't have been able to hide it long! Thanks, friend. But she's right. I wasn't wearing an oversized shirt- in fact - I'm embracing the belly and snugging it with my shirts that aren't too small but still pre-maternity stuff. On the other hand, I'm losing- my ass is still the same size if not smaller. And I remember distinctly an ass-enlarging period during my first trimester with Hunter- so maybe I'm delaying that just a little. I'm not trying to lose weight- I'm just eating healthier- remember? I'm also more flexitarian now- not choosing meat and dairy- but not eliminating it either. In fact- I just made myself a hot chocolate with some skim milk- thought baby buddha might need a little milk today. : ) I'm trying to get some milk in me each day (even soy milk is fine, says my Dr.) and I'm going to try to incorporate some fish... somehow. I think this is why I feel as good as I do. And check me out- still in my pre-pregnancy clothes! At the end of the day I need my belly band- definitely. But for Hunter- I was in maternity clothes on week 10! I'll be 12 weeks tomorrow! Wow. I can't believe I'm almost out of my 1st trimester (people go between 12-14 weeks on that calculation). I ate a burger and a hot dog last night and burped the burger all night long- not sure it was worth it. I like being vegetarian!

Hmm, what else. Oh- I got pulled over by a cop yesterday- which I was super confused by because it was night time and raining AND I saw him- so I was going like- 5 below the speed limit. He pulls beside me and says- I've got another call but your plates are expired. Well- in short- we've done the work, we just forgot we didn't get the stickers- so we'll have to check into that- but I was like- hey- thanks. Seriously- he was nice about it- like- just fyi- you need to check that. I'm fairly convinced he wouldn't have given me a ticket even if he didn't get called away- but either way- I have to admit- Fairfax City Police are all right. I have been pulled over twice by them- and both of them were nice, informative and helpful. I can't remember if I got a ticket the first time- I think I actually did. They also helped my friend find her lost dog. Maybe I should write them a letter. I hate cops usually- but my fairfax cop experience- surprisingly pleasant. Another reason to live here. Ha.

In other news- my Mom is coming to visit on Wednesday- Monday. I'm super excited because it is always good to have Mom in town. The weather is going to be gorgeous and there are some fun things to do this time of year- so we should have a good time! I also think she needs a little break from the caregiving of Grandmother- and since she was a haven for me during that time- it'll be nice to return the favor. Although- as those with good moms know- they almost always take care of you. I'm going to cook her some of the best vegan recipes we've come up with and try one on her and see how she likes it. Hopefully that works out ok!

It's a dreary day outside, but the kind that changes the weather, welcomes a crisp, blue fall day. I'll deal with these days. The house is getting cleaner- Jason is feeling better- and I'm moving a little better and less sluggish than the past couple of weeks. Today is good, yesterday was good, and tomorrow is hopeful. I like this space.

Yesterday our pastor preached too long- but it was good stuff so it didn't feel too bad. He talked about the difference between perceived reality and envisioned reality. This is the kind of sermon every preacher needs to preach- we just all have different ways to approach it. The perceived reality is basically what we believe to be the real deal- today with all its limits, fears, and constraints. The envisioned reality is when we think kingdom of God and look beyond our limits, fears and abilities. It sort of hit me all over again that "kingdom" thinking is really dependent on God. This seems silly- but in the moment when Tim (the pastor) was painting a picture of envisioned reality- I was doing something that I was completely unaware of. I was picturing "us" (humanity, my church, my husband and I even) doing more, doing better, dreaming bigger. This isn't bad- but then Tim said these words: the envisioned reality is dependent on the presence of God. Dependent on God's help. Dependent on God. Period. Meaning- some of it is going to have to happen outside of our hard work and creativity. Some of it will happen beyond our abilities. This should not have blown my mind - as a Christian this should be an obvious answer- an obvious point. But it blew my mind. It is SO hard for me to think in terms and especially act in ways that are beyond my scope of ability and work. I don't know that I have ever been brave enough to trust God to be not only a part- but a necessity for some plan to work.

just my thoughts on that for today. : ) got to run and do other things before all babies wake up! : )

Funny Things

2010-10-03T15:42:00.002-04:00

So you may wonder what happened to me... Lily is back, therefore- no naps by Hunter, except the 3 hour one he took the other day. So I am tired, cranky and annoyed with Hunter's nap strike. But whatever.

Here are some funny things that make me less annoyed with Hunter:

Yesterday we went to the coolest playground ever. It is in Mclean, Va- called Clemyjontri Park and is one of the only handicapped accessible playgrounds around. It was huge- with a foam ground, vibrant colors, tons of things for Hunter to play with and a carousel right in the middle of it. Awesomeness.

Hunter's response to awesomeness as he ran up and down the structures and around the playground: "Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh!" I couldn't agree more.

Today we started the work of cleaning our floors- we have a robotic vaccuum/mop that I got for Christmas last year. Jason told the robot named Scooba: "Good job, scooba!" Hunter now says: "G'job cooba!"

Another thing Hunter has learned to do recently: a new brand of manipulation. We are teaching Hunter the art of manners, among those to say please and thank you. You know how it goes- say please for what you want. Now when we ask Hunter to do something he doesn't want to do, or when he isn't being allowed to do what he wants- he'll say in this pitiful plaintive voice: "No! PleeASE!" And if we're actively attempting to stop or start his behavior- he adds: "Please! Stop Do That!" Sounds like us, only he's wrong and we're right. But he doesn't know that.

That's it for now- I have to save him from catapulting himself off the bed.

Sleeping babies

2010-09-28T15:04:00.002-04:00

Hunter is sleeping, and now that I'm back on Lily duty- I've got her snoozing away in the swing too. She was a little nutso today- not wanting her bottle and expressing that to the best of her tiny giganitic lungs' ability.

Hoping for a calmer afternoon.

Right now I'm resting on the bed with no pants on because I'm hot(weather- pick a season! I pick fall). And I just consumed a bag of buttered popcorn. Because I didn't have the fruit and yogurt smoothie option. Naturally. I have a coupon for a free McDonald's smoothie- might get one of those after Lily gets picked up.

I swear I've only gained 3-4 lbs. Maybe more now that I've eaten that bag of popcorn.

Jason cleaned the kitchen last night. I put new sheets on our bed and made the bed this morning. Baby steps toward a clean, livable house. Today was mother's day out again for Hunter- yea for us. I made the bad Mom mistake and packed him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich- for a peanut-free facility. Oops. I will say no one ever gave me the damn welcome packet- so how was I supposed to know? I have it now. The offender.

Tomorrow is a day off and I am looking forward to doing something fun with Jason and Hunter... or just cleaning the house- whatever. I think the weather is supposed to be cooler tomorrow. Looking forward to that!

Something I thought of today while on the pot. (yes) I thought- wasn't it funny the first pregnancy when I was nervous that if I tried to poop too hard, I would poop the baby out? Then I thought, seriously- this came right to my head: You can't poop a baby out when you're pregnant, but when the baby is coming out, you'll probably poop! For 10 seconds I thought it was a worthy catch phrase for my up and coming pregnancy book that I'm not writing. Then I realized it was just really weird.

I feel like I should lie down while the babies are sleeping. I'm not that tired- but I could rest and stop having to stretch my back because I'm propped up by two flimsy pillows.

I'm going to do that.

I'm pregnant

2010-09-27T16:12:00.002-04:00

We're going to make this quick because Hunter just woke up from his nap.

I'm pregnant.
I'm tired.
My husband's awesome.
My husband's busy.
I'm more vegetarian with the occasional tuna and chicken now per Dr's suggestion.
I'm tired.
If you want to know what you can do for a woman in her first trimester- pay for someone to clean her house, if you can't afford that- get some friends together and surprise her with it. Not that I'm making any blatent requests- just saying if I had that many friends or that much money- I'd totally sponsor a clean house. Good to know for when I'm rich and famous. Or just rich.
I'm pregnant.
I'm loving the facebook blow up when I announce I'm pregnant. Facebook is the perfect way for an introvert to get some attention without the limelight. : )
um- my house is disgusting.

But I look cute. Other than this not-so-cute pudge I'm rocking. I haven't gained much weight but apparently people can "tell" I'm pregnant.

Never tell a pregnant woman that you were wondering if she was pregnant. It implies all sorts of bad things.

I never glowed- but it's sweet of people to say so.

OK- going to pee and get Hunter.

And I'm pregnant. : )

Church

2010-09-26T14:50:00.002-04:00

Yes- such an original title. I went to church today- of course that's not exciting details coming from the pastor's wife who "goes" to church nearly every day. But I'm cheating on my church. I am attending other local churches during the 11 o clock hour to try and find a UCC (united church of christ, remember?) church that strikes my fancy. You know, so I can join and get ordained and be a chaplain- 12 years down the road.

I went to a church this morning that was a little bit of a drive, but a little more established than the one I went to last week. I was late getting off (more about that later) so I drove up to the church about 10-15 after 11. This wouldn't have been so bad if I knew where I was going. The church had no parking lot. I repeat- zero off street parking. Would have been nice to know. So I drove another 2 minutes looking for legal parking options. Mind you- I also am not entirely convinced of where the entrance is- so I take a guess, take a breath and hope I'm not running face first into the baptistry or something. Lucky me- I enter through the back of the church during the "passing of the peace" which is a friendly time for late-comers to find a seat- oh and for people to greet one another in peace. I find my friend who was meeting me there- all the way up in the 3rd row- which is totally where I would have sat if I wasn't 20 minutes late. We all sit, stand, sing, read, and have a nice time. The general atmosphere is nice- the congregation is not surprisingly very vanilla (maybe 4 people of ethnicity other than white in the group of 200). The reason why I say not surprisingly is because of the neighborhood that this little church is nestled in: niiice. I mean uppity nice. Nice uppity- no lion sculptures at the entrance to the mansion- but nice. So yea- when driving to the church, I'm passing the lexus' and the obama stickers and feeling pretty much like I've pegged the place- and I kinda did.

The sermon was... interesting. Let me back up. The entire service and the entire experience was interesting. It was one of those few times in my church experiences that I could say I agreed with nearly everything spoken and written. And I felt really weird. If you don't get it- neither did I. How could I be in a place with sound theology and well-crafted words and not feel like I was home? Well- I think I kinda missed the crazies. Wait- let me rephrase- I missed the poles. I missed the liberals sitting next to the conservatives. I missed the obamas sitting next to the palins, I missed the rich sitting next to the poor. This rarely happens in one church setting- but sometimes if that church is open and authentic enough- there is space for a far wider range than one might expect.

This is what was weird about this church- it was a bunch of white people with great ideals and theologies who believed in social justice. And it felt a little stale. Maybe I'm passing judgment too quickly- I probably am- but even the sermon felt this way. I'll explain. The title of the sermon was "Is Liberation Theology Christian?" Wow- let me tell you- it was stock full of historical and theological information- much of which I learned in my seminary classes- none of which I ever expected to hear, at least in this format, from the pulpit. I couldn't remember whether I was in church or class, at seminary chapel or a local congregation. It was weird. The content of the sermon itself was well articulated, good stuff, and way over the heads of a lot of people. The preacher made a lot of assumptions with her presentation: everyone here is highly intelligent, everyone here is interested in theological concepts, everyone here is liberal, everyone here is social justice oriented. It was weird- I felt like it was too much. She lost my friend- not because she isn't smart- but because she didn't connect with her.

I came home to talk with Jason about this weird experience- not knowing exactly why I didn't connect with this church that had everything "right." We both agreed that the pulpit provides many teaching moments- but the point of the sermon is to present scripture in a way that comes alive for the congregation- to include visitors!

So yea- next week I go back to the tiny, yet authentic church and weigh my options. The following week I will give rich church another chance- the Senior Pastor didn't preach this week- so I'd like to see how her flavor goes.

In my opinion (I won't fake it and call it humble) church is not about agreeing, unified theology, or even unified action. It's about a community of believers who are working together to be the church, in diverse, unified, and complicated ways.

Church is also the place where it is super fun to spread the news that we are pregnant! Jason announced today that we are expecting our 2nd baby child April 19th! :) (don't you love how I snuck that in). I am feeling pretty decent- the tiredness is definitely there and I feel fat already. Nothing like a church community where news travels fast and joy spreads! More on this tomorrow!

PS- getting love from church members is why I was late to the other church. :)

breaking down

2010-09-25T16:54:00.003-04:00

So no one broke down- but my resolve is breaking a little bit. I am so overwhelmed by the house at this point that I don't know where to start. I'm nearing the point that drives Jason crazy, when I start talking in ultimatum terms of extreme conditions. I say things like: "we have too much shit." "You need to get rid of half your stuff." "We need to donate half of everything we own." "The house is disgusting." "Why do you have so much of your work shit lying around?"

These are apparently not helpful comments. I tend to get a little crazy and military brat on him. I call this the military brat syndrome, where if you haven't moved in the last 3.5 years- you suddenly feel the urge to purge your stuff- and if you let it go too far- you can start purging friends too. Luckily for Jason, the military brat syndrom includes a fierce loyalty to family- so he and Hunter are safe from the purge.

Hunter took a short nap today because he's got a cold- poor thing. I got a nap too- thankfully. Jason has a wedding tonight, so I'm writing this blog as Hunter dreams up ways to be crazy. Fun times. On that note- and with Hunter crawling on me. I'm going to sign off for today.

done and done

2010-09-24T14:57:00.003-04:00

There's nothing like getting those pesky items at the bottom of your to do list done. I saved myself $16.90 today and cancelled any chances of being overcharged in the future by two companies. Nice. I paid a speeding ticket online (bastard speed trap), I deposited a check (thank you church for paying me to do childcare), and I recently viewed the latest Harry Potter trailer (near tears of happiness over that one).

Today Hunter took a 1.5 hr nap, yesterday he took a nearly 3 hr nap. And I got way more done today- go figure.

I'm wiped now and Jason is off to do a wedding rehearsal in DC. This week has been insane for him (and likewise for me) and I'm really looking forward to a poptentially calmer week next week. At this point all I want to do is sleep in one day- and nothing- nada. He's getting up to do mulch delivery with the United Methodist men tomorrow, Sunday is church and then we're back to the grind again. The good news is that I might get to sleep in on Wednesday.

I sent off for my transcript from Auburn yesterday (all part of the substitute teaching process)- hopefully they will do a quick turn around. They are ancient in their dealings with this stuff- I had to print out and mail the form- and they will mail me the transcript. Seriously- what happened to electronic processing? The good news is that it's free- which was nice of them to do. I guess they want all Auburn grads to get jobs if they can!

Jason and I are doing well and horribly on our new budget. We've probably spent about 3/4 of our budget already, but we're also getting in more money. We're sticking to our guns about eating out- both of us have only eaten out once in the last two weeks- and both for "business" reasons. Jason has his wedding this weekend- so that should bring in about $200 hopefully. We've been good about eating leftovers, etc- and I think (hope) our food will last longer. So we may have spent a fortune at the grocery store, but it might last us a while and my hope is that some of the "base ingredients" will last for a long while and our first grocery trip can be seen as an investment... a large one. : )

Ok- so this was a first: Hunter came up to me and said "poopy," then started walking towards his room and saying "change a diaper!" Wow. So I hopped to it! Maybe potty training isn't that far away! : )

One last thing, then I'm signing off... My house is disgusting. Dirty. Messy. Gross. This is the shittiest thing about our new budget: no cleaning folks. Unfortunately we really are bare bones, or I'd skip a meal or something to get them back. I told my older sister Kelly that I envied her cleaning gene. I didn't get it. Jason didn't get it- so here we are living in our mess with little skill and motivation to deal with it. We will- but in the meantime I'm going to whine about it and fantasize about winning just enough money to justify getting that crew back in here.

School

2010-09-23T14:23:00.002-04:00

I love school. Not just for myself- but now for my son. No- he's not in kindergarten- he's just wearing their clothes. He's part of a mother's day out program that is freaking fantastic. He goes on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 930-130 and eats lunch there! He loves it. Here's how I know why: this morning I told him he was going to school- and he seemed glad, but the true excitement showed up in his actions. After I got him dressed- I ran and put on some jeans and a tshirt (no shower yet) to be presentable enough to drop him off. I figured he would run and play with his train table- but I didn't hear him, so I went to look for him before I made his lunch. There he was- at the door- one hand on the door and one hand on his backback. It was so so cute. Of course he stood there the whole time I was making his lunch- so we left early and played around at the entrance before we could go in. He strolled right into his classroom- with his rolly-bag backback rolling behind him (he loves pulling his backpack around). No turning back- no goodbye - certainly no tears. Love it.

Ah. Another random note- inspired by a church friend- I am going to plant a winter garden! Kale, collards, lettuce, spinach- exciting! Then maybe we can eat fresh from our garden! How much better does it get? Hopefully I can succeed. I'm going to do it this Saturday- maybe Hunter will enjoy it.

Oh yea- so during Hunter's morning out- I had a mother's morning in. I got absolutely nothing done, but I feel like a human being. Worth every wasted second. I took a bath (I haven't done that in months). I shaved my legs (let's just say I was due). I washed and did my hair (blowdry, straighten- with more than 15 minutes- I made myself look nice!) I even read a chapter and a half of The Wealthy Barber. This is an actually enjoyable financial planning book- on loan from my father. : ) I put on a dress that didn't make me feel fat and put a little make up on and voila- human. Attractive even!

Now I'm going to mail for my college transcript so that I can be a substitute! And I'm going to send my Grandmother a letter- Thursday is my day! : )

Life Plan

2010-09-22T15:11:00.004-04:00

Yes, so I have one. Sort of. I don't know about other people, but I have an innate need to plan my life out. I know for a fact that 95% of these plans are changed or altered or completely ignored. I don't care. I just need a path, a plan, an idea.

So here's my current road: I'm doing the vegan thing for food. That's going ok- I have cheated but I'll write more about that later when I unpack this whole vegan process. Needless to say- it has shifted my focus onto much better food- and that is successful enough for now. I did feel horrible when I screwed up the timing of dinner and forgot that I was working childcare at the church last night- so basically no dinner was made and we did a quicky soup heat up. Jason was starving and ran out and got "vegan" popsicles (with no nutritional value) and "vegan" cookies (although upon a closer look they weren't) and we ate our "vegan" weight in both. So yea- make dinner filling. Another day another try.

So we've covered food. Job- this is kind of huge and I owe my recent revelation to my good friend Nancy who has an uncanny way of seeing truth, logic, and the "duh" and is happy to share it if you give her room. So she did- and it really was a "duh" moment for me. I was telling her how I had a contact in the working world and was holding off on applying to be a substitute (in the local school system, of which half the administration and teaching faculty seem to attend our church). Nancy said the first logical thing, which was essentially "why are you holding back on an open door? You have to chase every lead!" She was right. Then even she discovered just how right she was. I mentioned that 2 things were in my mind: 1) We could be pregnant at any point now, and 2) We could move. In my mind- I wanted a job that would give me some benefits through paid maternity leave and also one that wouldn't be totally mad if I moved. Nancy then pointed out the obvious: most places don't pay your maternity leave until you work there at least a year, if that, so don't count on that benefit ever- AND if I do have a baby AND move within the year- why am I trying to get a "real" job? Do I really want to go back to work when the baby is 4 weeks old?

Good point.

And here's what made me able to hear this logic: A) Jason and I recently reworked our budget and are trying to see if we can live on his salary- it'll be really tight, but if we know we can do that- than anything I make is insurance! B) I really really really don't want to leave a 4 week old baby at home. C) I have a long-term goal- so we can make the short term work to get what I want.

What do I want? (other than to be rich and not worry about this at all- and happily pay more taxes) I want to be home with my newborn- whenever that is. I want to have the flexibility to take a sick day or a vacation without it counting against me. I want to have the ability to make some money and feel like I am contributing to my family and my community. I want to be able to work towards a long-term goal without exhausting myself with the short-term survival method. Substituting just might be the ultimate answer! So there's that.

What's my long term goal? Other than being a famous author (yea- I should make a plan for that)... I am looking into chaplaincy. I hesitate even to say I want to be one, because I don't know if I can give myself that much credit yet. Chaplaincy is hard! In order to become a chaplain- I basically have to do 2 major things: Get ordained and take 4 units of CPE. Translation for those who are not surrounded my seminarians (ppl who went to divinity school)- I need to do a boatload of hours as an intern as a hospital chaplain (by boatload I mean maybe up to 4 years!). I need to pick a denomination, then attend, then join, then start the process of ordination- and this could take 2-4 years as well.

I have: attended a UCC church (United church of Christ- the cool progressive people who don't hate gay people and believe that God is still speaking in this world). I chose this denomination because I've been infatuated with them since I was in seminary. Some cool facts: they were the first denomination to ordain women, african-americans, gay people, and they have often been in the front of the line of churches when figuring out social justice issues (for example, they figured out that slavery was bad long before many other denominations). I was inspired to become a part of a group that seems to have a knack for getting it.

So last week I went to a teeny tiny church with maybe 15 people and it was totally great and scary. The tiny part makes me nervous- because to be involved means to be completely visible and not able to hide. Cool points: there were at least 4 different races, all ages and gay and straight- this diverse demographic represented in just 15-20 people! Our church of 2000 barely accomplishes that! This week I'm going to another UCC church that is a little more established and big- so I'll let you know how that goes.

Ok- I'm exhausted and I'm sure you're bored. There's my life plan. Soon I will tell you how I feel about it. ; )

Success and Rest

2010-09-21T11:47:00.003-04:00

Today Hunter has his first day of Mother's Day Out- I'm trying to call it school so he gets used to the idea and connects the positive experiences to the term. Hunter didn't even bother to say goodbye. I dropped him off and the teacher said "Hi Hunter, are you going to play with us today?" He promptly responded "Yesth." and ran right in. Love it. I am also taking this week off of nannying because Lily's grandma is in town and Jason and I are trying to live under his salary alone (at least in budget) to see if it's possible. I believe it is possible- but what we have to discern is if it is worth it. The job search is on and I will take what comes along if it works.

In other news, my first true new vegan recipe last night was a success! I may have overdone the garlic (is that possible?) because I woke up this morning with a garlic taste in my mouth. Vampires, away! Here are the ingredients: brown rice, asparagus, garbanzo beans (or chickpeas is another name for it), onions, olive oil, garlic, sea salt, a homemade tahini sauce with tahini, garlic, lemon zest and juice (I threw the exhausted lemons down the garbage disposal which took care of some weird smell that was lingering), and... olive oil. Super yummy- have enough to feed the whole family two more times. Jason enjoyed it minus the tahini sauce plus soy sauce, I enjoyed it much, Hunter even grabbed a couple finger fulls of rice and even stomached a couple pieces of asparagus by accident! It was a success! And I was full for the entire evening.

It's almost time for me to turn around and head back to get Hunter. I'll close with this thought: IT IS REALLY NICE OUTSIDE! love love love fall.

Starve

2010-09-19T14:37:00.002-04:00

No, Jason and I are not starving with our new vegan diet- although we've barely begun. Instead- we (I should say Jason, since I'm outside blogging) are putting up decorations for the fall. Jason and I enjoy our seasonal decorations. Jason puts them up most of the time because it overwhelms me to think of all the stuff we have in our attic. Anyway- we purchase things on clearance if we really like them (so much for simplifying- which I really do want to do)- so each year there is usually one thing to add to the mix, and we kind of rediscover it as we unpack the boxes. This year's surprise was a collection of blocks in the autumn motif that spelled what we thought was "give thanks." We ran out of letters and then came up with an extra that didn't fit- so we had "--ve tha--s" then the superfluous R that really threw us off. I kept looking for more letters and when I looked up- Jason had arranged the letters to spell "starve"- which really really made us laugh. He had the "h" in his hand and I said- "Harvest!" Which made starve even funnier. Then we made it "stharve" for the lisp. Then at last we changed it to harvest- but entertained the idea of leaving it "starve."

It's good to have a belly, tears rolling laugh every now and then!

Ok, for real this time

2010-09-18T13:06:00.002-04:00

I'm going to get back in he saddle again. Remember when I wasn't travelling anymore? Well I meant after the trip to Florida. So- we went to Florida for the last free flight for Hunter. He turned 2 on September 16th- wow! And we will no longer be flying anywhere- because it's too damn expensive.

So- we went to Florida and did all the Florida things: boat ride, beach trip, walk on the pier, ate seafood, pool time, sun time, you name it. It was so nice and relaxing. It was also so different from most of my recent trips to Florida. I didn't realize how many times Hunter and I had made the trek to Florida by ourselves. Until of course Jason noticed all the updates my parents had made on the house, starting 3 years ago. We have all seen each other multiple times, but Jason had not physically been inside my parents house in nearly 3 years. That is pathetic- and it made for such a nice difference this time around. It's nice to vacation with your husband.

Hunter celebrated his 2nd birthday in two places: Palmyra, Va and Palm City, Florida. Not a bad life! The whole Snow family joined together for a labor day weekend birthday celebration- which was super nice. Then my family (parents and Grandmother) joined on Hunter's actual birthday to celebrate. You know what is really nice about all this? It was all very low key. Just a couple presents- no big icing cake (my Mom made almond cake which is super yummy, and Jason's Mom put candles on muffins because we needed to celebrate in the morning before Uncle Mikey left). It was just really chill and nice. Jason and I still need to make our "big purchase" which is simply our fun gift idea for Hunter: a fish. Hunter is obsessed with Nemo lately, and no- we're not getting a clown fish, we're going to get one of those big, pretty beta fishes that require very little care. : )

In other news: Jason and I are going vegan. You read right - V e g a n. Why? Well- why the hell not? But really- it sort of solves a lot of our issues. For example: cholesterol- we both have fairly high cholesterol for young adults- not dangerous medicine high, but it could get that way if we stay on our current path. So apparently cholesterol is only found in animal products/byproducts. So it seems simple enough- avoid that and you'll be in good shape cholesterol-wise. Ok, we need to have more energy- according to almost everything we see and hear- a healthy diet comprised mostly of grains, fruits and vegetables will do that for us. So- ok- these are good to eat. We have been trying to be more environmentally savvy- to include the concept of being good stewards (and consumers) of the earth. So- we all know that the meat industry is a little sketchy with what they feed animals, the antibiotics and all that jazz. I'm not getting preachy- I'm just a little sketched out by the practices. So what should I do if I'm sketched out and want to be a good steward? Either I buy organic/free range meat or I avoid meat altogether. The cheaper option- avoid meat. So- we're going to try it out. We'll cheat, we'll eat a burger at a friend's house, but we're going to try to just set some clear guidelines for how we want to eat. I think it might be easier than we think it will be. Jason will miss milk. I will miss cheese. Those will be our points of cheating occassionally I bet. Better to cheat with milk and cheese than soda and chips! The hardest part: learning new recipes and handling the sure to come ridicule from our families. We're going oh so hippy. But if we lose weight- feel freakin awesome and raise a kid on fruits and veggies- it may not be such a bad thing!

Ok- So Hunter has continued to be back to normal on napping - even with the vacation. So grateful.

I'm still looking for jobs. I have some leads though. I'm still wishing someone else could clean my house (that was the first luxury to go- as much as I talked about it being my sanity and therapy all wrapped up in one... I may want the job mostly so I can go back to this therapy.) I am feeling good about life even though everything is sort of up in the air.

And hopefully I will get back to blogging everyday. Because now I have 10 followers! : )

Gawgeius

2010-09-11T15:18:00.002-04:00

That's what the weather is. Gorgeous is too plain. Hunter and I spent nearly two hours playing with cars and balls in the church courtyard. Actually- I did not do much else but sit there and watch the boy play with his own imagination- really fun to see.

And where is the boy now? Sleeping. Like a champ. Another day, another nap, another blog. I'm feeling better today too- so I got all sorts of things done. Deposited a check, looked for jobs, freshened the resume, emailed some contacts etc.

It's really weird being in a place of no power. Let me rephrase that- it's weird being in a place where I need something, rather than where I am offering or giving something. I am emailing these people who are friends, members of the church- letting them know of my job search and asking them to let me know if they know of anything I should be applying for. It feels weird. I'm "networking" with friends and it feels awkward. I really view it as- hey- these people are in positions that give them better knowledge about things that may be helpful to me, I would do the same if the roles were reversed. Not- these people are high up and I need them to get my foot in the door. Awkward- because those two statements could mean the same thing- but I've never seen myself in need of networking to get my foot in the door. What happened to the good old days when you applied for a job- were qualified- they liked you in the interview and so you were hired? You know what happened- nothing. Those days never existed. It's always been about who you know- sometimes it's just a little more subtle. You get into the family business, your church hires you, you move up and down in the company that gave you the first break, you know a friend who lets you know about a certain job opening... you see where I'm going. I guess I just have to remind myself that being aware and reaching out to my social network does not make me a job moocher- it makes me normal. I was just lucky that it was always more subtle for me.

So another day in the life of a mother, nanny, preacher's wife, and most recently- Job seeker.

The spell is broken

2010-09-10T14:39:00.004-04:00

The nap strike is tentatively over. Hunter went to sleep today with no complaints, no extra work on my part- like the good ol times. I am simply elated- with my fingers crossed that this doesn't go away.

Here is my unfortunate discovery/worry. I believe the no-nap thing is all about the competition. Let me illustrate. The napping strike began when a certain little someone started coming to my house (Lily)...it continued when Jason and Hunter travelled to his parent's house for a week (and slowly worsened) where... Annie (cousin 3 months his elder) was. Then it peaked at home (back to Lily) and still was a struggle in Nashville (Lucy this time, cousin 4 months younger)...then back to home (lily), back to Jason's parents (annie again). The last 2 days when I have had the easiest time getting the boy to nap- guess who was here? That's right- just Mama. I haven't been feeling awesome and Lily's grandma is in town- so these past couple of days have been just the boy and mama. I've uncovered his secret. He won't sleep if there's someone else who could be getting my attention while he's sleeping. Or something like that. Ridiculous boy.

So the weather. Swift change (of subject and weather)- it is freakin gorgeous outside and I am so excited to go outside and enjoy it (once I feel better). Fall is coming. I am reminded that 2 years ago today was my due date for Hunter- he was a full 6 days late- but I think the weather was getting nicer then too- and I was a full grown whale at that point- grateful for a breeze.

My train of thought is really weird today. Did you know that I am still looking for a job? Yes- shameless plug. I'm seriously going to call my Dad today and see if he's got any fancy work from home jobs in his company (he just got promoted- he should be important enough by now, right?). Not that working from home is a requirement- he just happens to live and work in Florida- and I'd kind of like to continue living in the church parsonage for free up here in Virginia. And stay with my husband, but free house first people.

So- I'm trying to get back into blogging- and now I'm realizing how often I blogged during Hunter's nap. Without it- I've been sort of awful at keeping this up.

I just realized I let Bruno out a while ago and haven't heard his barking in a while. That silence usually means about the same thing it does from any grouping of children from 2-22. Hoping he's still out there and just enjoying the weather...

take care- and keep me in mind when you see the words "hiring" or "paid position" or things like that. : )

I am not missing...

2010-09-08T21:28:00.002-04:00

Just not in action... Whew. So to give a few examples of what I've been up to: driving to Nashville and back, driving to the in-laws and back, nannying, nannying, and sleeping. When I can. Hunter took a nap at home today for the first time in 3.5 weeks. He was on a nap strike. He was tricked into napping at my sisters (singing, rocking, total darkness and a bathroom fan were involved) and he was tricked at Grammy's house (Grammy magic). We tried Grammy magic yesterday- no work. Today by miracle of God and to my greatest pleasure- it worked.

Jason is transitioning back into the fall schedule, which means meetings nearly every night. Joy. On the plus side - I think Hunter is starting to like me. This may seem strange to say- but Jason has been the obvious favorite for quite some time- to the extent that I was really starting to worry about (to steal a word of my older sister's) my attachment to Hunter. Well- lately it's all me at night, and I've been trying to be intentional with the other baby around- although there are definite moments that to me feel like I am totally neglecting the boy- but he has surprised me by being more "mama" oriented. He asks both mama and dada to read, climbs up in both of our laps, etc. Seriously- before- he would be blind to me if Dada were in the room. So I'm feeling encouraged by that.

Quick recap on the job search: shitty. I have been so exhausted with everything and not motivated to look back onine at the big black hole of jobs that are not viable- that the job search is pretty pitiful right now. I know it will turn around, or at least I will get motivated to get back in the saddle again- but at this current second I'm planning ways to become independently wealthy. Not a sure-fire plan, but the most positive one I've come up with. I have a whole week's worth of blogs to write about concerning wants and needs and fears and hopes and dreams and ... yea- when it comes to becoming a working mom. The ideal of somehow having the benefits of being a stay at home mom and having a rewarding career - well- it almost doesn't exist. Now that Hunter likes me- I hate to leave him for 8 hours a day. I do envy my sister, who I am convinced has it perfect. She works 2 days a week as a therapist- she works other hours from home during her daughter's nap and her husband has the baby for one of the days she works. So basically Lucy is in childcare with a Grammy-type lady for 1 day a week. Stay at home meets career. Of course Kelly would have figured it out.

OK- jason's home from his meeting. We're going to go watch an episode of arrested development on netflix instant - because it's fun. : )

Support vs. Investment

2010-09-04T23:14:00.002-04:00

My husband and I had a "discussion" on the way home from his parents house tonight (a nice two hour drive). It involved my defining the difference between support and investment. Let's just say I'm getting a little crazy about the job search and general life plans. I go through these phases (not the job search- that is very specific to now, but the life plans)... when I come up with the "now", "5 year plan" "10 year plan" and "fantasy never going to happen but wouldn't it be nice plan." My husband is only starting to catch on to my weird ways. With my "help" he will soon learn how to respond. But- I felt this particular distinction between support and investment was something worth mentioning to the general public.

My main frustration occured when a plan I had conversed with my husband about was for lack of better terms- kind of forgotten. It was not completely on purpose or ill-meaning, but it opened the door to this talk. I made the point that support is the general and easy affirmation in the moment of whatever it is that I am saying- that requires no real conversation or memory afterwards. Investment is asking questions, making plans, and remembering to mention them later- hopefully with excitement.

It's simple- but kind of a big deal.

Ok- I need to go to bed, but thought I'd send a little word out there before I get too delinquent in my blogging.

I am Job

2010-09-02T08:32:00.002-04:00

I may have titled a blog entry this before- but who cares- this scene from Mrs. Doubtfire still makes me laugh.

SO- the truth is out of the bag, I am looking for a job. Yes, I currently work as a nanny for my dear friend, but I am learning (with the rest of the world) that it just isn't enough. It's not enough pay (not that my friend doesn't love me enough- nanny rates just aren't lucrative), it's pretty tiring and unfortunately, the skills I have from it are lost on the business world. SO- I need to get back in the saddle again- be employed in the great American business system again and get a salary I can count on to pay for the basics and let me make the selfish decision to eat out every now and then without wondering if it means peanut butter and jelly for the next month.

I am realizing a few things. I am really blessed- I know this is odd to say in light of what I just said- but when I feel "poor" and turn my nose up at possibilities like working two wage jobs to fill in the gaps- I realize even then that I am spoiled to even think I have the ability to choose. I may not- but many people focus on survival, when I am hoping to be able to be free from heavy financial stress.

That said- I'm also learning a thing or two about the job market. It really does suck, it really is all who you know, and the unemployment rate probably does not take into account all those looking for jobs that have been stay at home moms or didn't have to work for whatever reason. I need to work. I want to work. I am not alone- and that's actually less comforting.

I am smart, friendly, have many gifts and skills. Most of this does not translate well on paper. I have served as a caregiver for an 88 year old, an infant, and a 2 year old. These don't look that impressive- but I have learned more in those experiences than I ever imagined I could. I can navigate hospital red tape, advocate for patients, have patience, purchase medical equipment, participate in forming a care plan and solve very difficult puzzles. I can do it all and take you out to ice cream.

I have also had "real" jobs- from which I have learned very much. Unfortunately for me- it seems I left the world of responsibility 2 years ago to disappear into a hole (motherhood and companion for Grandmother- which requires no responsibility of course). I was the youth director when a former youth died of leukemia, I assisted two pastors in pastoral care for nearly two years and developed several wonderful caring relationships. I can preach. I can't sing. I can write. I can learn anything on the computer and am willing to try. I don't lie. I don't cheat. It is difficult for me to do something or represent something I'm not proud of - the things that I do care about- I will walk through fire for. I hope for respectful colleagues and supervisors with integrity.

I read (skimmed in the doctor's office) an article that talked about how to create jobs without depending on taxpayer's money. I don't know the politics of that statement- but I'd like to think it was just a grouping of cheap ideas to jumpstart some corners of the economy. One was talking about supporting entrepreneurs. I have to say- I agree with that a bit. I heard from someone how hard it was to get a business loan. I don't know if I have what it takes to be a true entrepreneur- but I've had some good ideas and it would be nice if I felt like it was worth working at least one of them out.

OK- about time for Lily to have a bottle. Back to my day job. : )

So all you folks out there- job seekers, job havers, job givers- let me know how it's treating you. And if you're hiring- be sure to let me know!

Stubborn =

2010-08-31T14:45:00.002-04:00

Hunter. So stubborn is he that instead of napping, after crying himself exhausted- he is sleeping standing up. Arms folded over the crib's edge, blanket under his cheek- dozing off while standing. When he jerks awake, he grabs a different soft thing to rest his head on. Does he lie down so he can take a real nap? No, God forbid it.

These are the moments when I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I mean really. Lie down and go to sleep. Why am I the only one in the house that understands this simple concept? If I was given the chance to lie down and go to sleep- I would take it in a heartbeat. But no- I get to watch two babies who seem to hate sleep- one must be vibrated and swung to stay asleep- the other just refuses to put his head down- like the mattress is made of crusty vomit.

I am in what I like to call a "I hate everyone" mood. No one in particular- just kind of want to take a vacation all by myself to a cave. I got a speeding ticket on the way home from Nashville. This is where the mood started. I was supposedly going 78 in a 65, which confused me because I usually only set my cruise for about 8 over the limit- so I thought the cop clocked me wrong- then I realized it must have been a speed trap and the speed limit must have just changed from 70 (which it was more the majority of our 13 hour drive) to 65. No warning- just a ticket. Why? Because the state needs money and cops are just another version of tax collectors. At least it feels like that. I cried. SO angry. SO tired. Of course I didn't let the cop see that- but it wouldn't have made any difference if I was Mother Theresa with a 2 year old. I swore off driving and people after that- and so far it hasn't been successful. I haven't driven since then- but apparently we're making a trip to the in-laws this weekend. I really hope I'm nice to them. I don't feel nice.

Even in the midst of my I hate everyone mood- I managed to think of a fun non-profit idea... called "Making Cents" - where I'll figure out a way for people to donate their gift cards with a stupid amount of money left on it (29 cents) and with companies' help- I'll turn those cents into dollars and cash and donate them to charities. Was thinking of starting small- like with Children's Hospital or something, then going further. Here's the problem- I've got all sorts of great ideas. I just don't know how to make them happen.

OK- while Hunter is "resting" and so is Lily- I'm going to at least rest. I hope I'll get my act back together, start liking ppl and write more in my blog about happy things.

Going Home

2010-08-28T23:14:00.002-04:00

Starting my homeward trek tomorrow- kind of excited about being home- but really sad to leave Nashville. I think if I didn't live in Fairfax- I would have to live here. Can't write much tonight because I need my sleep before the long haul... but I've got good stuff to write about so stay tuned! Sorry to be such a loser about this whole blog this week! : )

Oh my Lord

2010-08-26T20:36:00.002-04:00

I haven't blogged in 6 days, was just about to sit down (well, I am sitting down) to write a blog finally (well, I am doing it) when Hunter decided to start crying- after I put him to bed- for no reason- at ALL. I am in Nashville because I'm obsessive about seeing my family when I get a chance and the last time I saw my niece Lucy was May and the next time I would see her is December. So I'm here because my nannying gig was given a wed-sunday hiatus.

And Hunter is crying. He didn't take a nap today (scratch that- he slept a measly 30 minutes in the car on the way back from the library and ice cream stop). So USUALLY that means night time is a done deal easy peasy. Unless of course I am by myself in parenting and 10 hours from home and tired. Then of course Hunter will decide to cry. For freaking real.

I am ignoring.

So. What's been keeping me from blogging? A couple days where the babies (Lily and Hunter) didn't coordinate their schedules for me, so naturally they didn't sleep for two seconds at the same time. I was at the in-laws for the weekend, and there isn't a whole lot of time to say "hey- I'm going to go blog while you guys bond." Then I was driving back and forth to a few things...like an impromptu Nashville visit... Then there is the tiredness that comes will all of the mentioned things that causes it to be less motivating to go blog.

OK- he's still crying. I'm going to check it out. Arg. There's my blog. That's what I've been up to. Managing crying babies.

The child that never sleeps

2010-08-20T14:55:00.002-04:00

This is the child
this is the child
this is the child that never sleeps

Seriously. This child is a very good baby- but has a knack for not allowing herself to sleep. Example (keep in mind she is 2.5 months old- and can roll over already btw)... she has been here since 11am, she has slept a total of 30 minutes. It is now 3pm. I guess you can add 20 minutes if you count the sleepy state she drank her bottle in. I usually don't count that- she does. Right now she is in a vibrating swing that seems to be losing its magic and she is really trying hard not to sleep. I think he just might sleep- but wow. Even if you include the sleepy drinking time- that is 40 minutes in the span of 4 hours. For those of you not familiar with infants- this is a little strange. For those of you who had a baby like mine- it borders on alien. She's doing what I like to call the 7 mile stare right now... there is hope that she'll sleep!

heavy eyes...

Stare...

well I'll move on and let you know when I have success. So I had breakfast this morning with the "lead" pastor (he prefers that to senior- which is fine, but it's semantics to me)... it was nice. He's a bit ADHD but in the friendly I still actually remember your name way. It's so different for me to feel comfortable talking to my pastor much less making fun of him.

She's crying... fussing really- because this is the child that never sleeps. She's pissed because she's so damn tired. GO TO SLEEP.

Staring again...

Heavy eyes...

Back to the lead pastor... so I talked to him too much about the whole struggle of my calling/jobs/meaning that seems to circle me like a gnat on a hot summer day. It just won't leave me alone. I can't forget about it and for some reason I feel compelled to tell every listening soul about it at one point or another. Obnoxious.

droopy eyes...

So the lead pastor tells me the obvious stuff- get what you need to be ordained/become a chaplain/ whatever. This isn't particularly helpful because if it were that easy- I'd be on it. But instead I am a woman- who went to grad school too young- got married - had a baby- got invested in her husband's church and is completely invested in this methodist community that I want nothing to do with as far as careers go (meaning- I don't want to be ordained in the methodist church- I don't fit). And I have no current denomination or money or time. So that makes things a bit difficult. Not impossible- but difficult.

Asleep. Fi-na-lly.

So I tried to explain to a motivated white male in his 50s what it was like to be a scared responsbility-laden woman in her 20s (for at least this last year until I enter the more responsible 30s). He didn't completely get it- but they never do- but he did change his MO. This makes me sound a littlel immature- I don't mean to say that this man does not have family responsibilities or has no fear of risk-taking. I do mean to say that the tracks are generally much more clear for the men in this world (forget about ministry) and they don't have to physically give up their bodies for nearly 2 years to accomplish having a baby. Oh and they don't have to regain their body after those 2 years and think about doing it all over again (don't get me wrong- pregnant is one of the best I've ever felt- but it takes its toll).

OK- back to the conversation- he basically said (this is condensing a bit): create your own job in the church. He was thinking more hodpodge I believe (start a yoga cass, start a respite care program)... but it got me thinking. And now I have a google document (don't you just love gmail?) that is basically my lead pastor inspired, coffee high driven proposal for myself as an outreach coordinator for the church. I've worked myself up to full time now. I actually have staffing needs.

Here's the deal. I'm excited and feeling ridiculous at the same time. Do I really think I can accomplish all of this (or at least coordinate others to accomplish things)? I mean seriously- my list is a revolution. It's kind of like I assume that having created this job for myself suddenly gives me motivation and sure success. Success in things that people in the church have tried- maybe not hard- but tried. I'm banking on volunteers in my revolutionary list... and I had the hardest time recruiting volunteers when I was on staff before. I'm assuming to know more than I do, to have more energy than I do- and to meet with unconditional success. And meanwhile I'm going to start a spanish-speaking service that will be so wildly successful that we have a spanish-speaking pastor appointed here and buy the used car lot below us on rt. 50 to start a sister church. This is what I'm talking about- these are the galaxies I am shooting for- and while I know it is possible- I have an almost impossible time believing it is possible with me. And yes I know- all things are possible with God- blah blah blah- no disrespecting- what I mean is- God uses us- and sure- God is awesome at it and great things have been accomplished. I'm just not sure my drain-pipe plan for a self-made career to do all the things I think the church should do is necessarily going to be completely ordained or supported by God. And even if it is supported by God (which at least on the level of the vision I have- I hope so)- then I still find it impossible to believe I am the one to carry it out.

So there ya have it. I have a hugemongous fear of failure. Self-sabotaging fear. And that's that.

Still sleeping. Thank God. At least I can do this.

Harry Potter

2010-08-19T20:37:00.002-04:00

How do I love thee. I just got done watching the latest movie (I borrowed it from a friend a while ago and was delighted to see that I had not returned it). Now I kind of want to watch another one. The only justification that I have is that I quite possibly might do laundry. I was supposed to during the last one but dinner and the plot got in the way. I really really really love Harry Potter. I mean- I'm not one to be obsessive- but this book series is like an awakening for literature. Seriously. I stand by this comment.

So- today I had Lily again and she was pretty good- she still needs a lot of help sleeping, but hey- that's what vibrating swings are for. I need to make sure I have battery back-up. : ) We went outside and organized my sun room a little bit. Nothing like some fresh air, plants and a broom to improve the mood. The day before yesterday I was kind of in a funk- actually- maybe it was yesterday- either way- it continued until today when my Husband and Harry helped snap me out of it. I'm not saying I won't slip back- but let's just say that a little Harry goes a long way. That and an encouraging phone call from my husband.

I'm trying to be good and pick up and organize more- but my steam is kind of out. I did our room. And it looks good. But that's basically it. I need to pick up a little bit before the cleaning people get here tomorrow (that's right- remember- my sanity?) but other than that I'm done.

Two thoughts: 1) I'm going to have to kiss my sanity goodbye (the cleaning people) because although many of you out there probably made the assumption that my husband and I as a pastor and nanny are rolling in the dough- strangely we aren't. And now that my Grandmother isn't nearby and I'm not getting paid to take care of her- I'm going to have to cut back.... a lot. Granted- we are not frivolous people. We do not have cable. I don't make it a habit to get my nails done or hair cut unless I'm at my parent's house or looking like rag doll. I cut Jason's hair. We own our cars- so no payments there. We don't pay rent because we live in the church-owned parsonage. Our main luxuries are eating out occasionally and movies or date night with the nice expense of babysitters. In a moment of insanity (or sanity depending on how you look at it) I told Jason that we would have to never go out to eat or the movies, and stop eating meat every meal. How I came up with the meat part I'm not sure. But yea- in comes sensible Jason calming me down and encouraging me. Here's the kicker- I can probably give up most of our "luxuries" - but I am super duper bummed about the cleaning. This to me is my therapy bill. I did not inherit the same clean-gene that my older sister got, nor the energy level that my little sister got. And I married a.... well.... moderate slob. He's not bad- but he's no neat freak either.

So yea. I'm going to go watch some more Harry Potter. Drown all my worries in Potter. Who's with me?

I just realized I was supposed to have a second thought. Um. The economy sucks and Northern Virginia is freakin expensive. Ok- that's 3 total thoughts for you there.

The H was L

2010-08-18T11:36:00.004-04:00

So- I had lukewarm heat yesterday. It was fine- I got some stuff done, but two things got in the way of full on ON: 1) Baby- of course, 2) The AC was broken upstairs, which means the heat was actually steadily rising- but not in my ablity to get stuff done, but rather I experienced the slow-down effect that happens when it is muggy hot in your house. I moved in slow motion... which is probably why all schools waste a gazillion dollars a year on the most frigid setting in air conditioning... cold also has the same effect on me- so they lost me either way.

Right now I'm watching Lily in the monitor as she is DEtermined NOT to sleep. She isn't crying (yet) but she's jerking her body around- flailing her feet and knocking her head against the mattress- just in case she may be fooled into going to sleep. These are the times when I wish rational conversation worked on infants: "Sweetheart- you're 2.5 months old- you're supposed to sleep a lot- now would be one of those optimal times to try it out." Or maybe peer pressure: "Lily, dear- every other 2.5 month old is sleeping right now." But no- she has to do it her way- which is very like her mother (it's true, Amanda!). So yea- here I am to coax her into doing the right thing, and writing a blog until she has decided once and for all whether she will listen or not.

Meanwhile the air conditioner was indeed fixed this morning- so the AC is back on upstairs (yea), giving me no excuse to be slow. I was supposed to do dinner with a friend at 5 this afternoon, but she called sick and is taking a rain-check. So now I have the evening (at least until Liz comes over) and no excuses. GOT to get stuff done.

Seriously, she's still squirming. persistent little bugger.

So- the reason I am so determined to get things done is because A) I'm all by myself and it is SO much easier to get things accomplished this way and B) Jason is always Mr. Accomplishment when I leave (of course he gets weekends- but still)... so I feel like I have to live up to these weird expectations that no real person except myself has put on me.

So I think she's asleep. I'm calling it at 11:45. She better sleep longer than 20 minutes. We're in sleep training mood. Well- I am.

So I had a lovely dinner with a friend of mine last night- and it reminded me how simple friendships are really kind of nice and should be nurtured. That seems weird to say- but I grew up in the military so my theory on friendship was/is a little skewed. Basically friends are there in each place and are nice to hang out with and enjoy. When (not if, when) you move- there's a significant chance that you'll lose touch with most of your friends- so it's not really wise to be heavily invested in them. The investment time needs to go towards your family. This is what I was taught- through experience and my parent's repetition that we'll always have our family (sometimes this was seen as a threat). So- I was bad at investing in friendships. I still am. I enjoy hanging out with people- but as an introvert, military brat whose best friends are her husband and two sisters- it's kind of like I have my quota for friends satisfied. BUT- then again- I have those handful of friends that somehow I decided was worth keeping in touch with- and they have been treasures. I have maybe 2-3 friends from college and 2-3 friends from seminary that I am still invested in. And they really are wonderful- and I forget that too easily. So- friendships are worth the time. I won't say that I'm going to go try to invest in 700 new friendships- but it's a perspective I need to hang on to.

My older sister wrote a post on her new blog about attachment (she's a therapist) about this whole concept of the human need to be delighted in. As basic as the need for air and water. I never really thought about it that way before. At the end of her post, she posed the question to her readers: when was the last time you asked to be delighted in, felt delighted in? I think this goes beyond the obvious sexual answer (although that is not a bad answer)- but it made me think about how sometimes we take our family's delight in us for granted. Or maybe we are so used to it that we don't recognize it anymore. Perhaps this is something that friendships can kindle in you- a renewed sense of being delighted it- a different perspective. All your jokes are new to a new friend. : )

So there ya go- enjoy your friendships - appreciate the delight- and... I'm going to go fix lunch while the baby's sleeping. : )

The H is O

2010-08-17T10:36:00.002-04:00

Today is the day I shall clean with fury. Lily is coming over and I will entertain her by dancing around and organizing in each room. Hopefully this will work. If not- the H is Off. But- I will have tried. I'm really thinking it will work though- so I'm trying to gear myself up- put on a little "eye of the tiger" and get ready to rumble. Yea.

So I talked to Jason this morning and a funny thing happened last night- Hunter climbed out of his pack and play and took a few steps down the stairs before Jason woke up to see our little almost 2 yr old staring at him from the top of the stairs at 2:30 in the morning. (remember- they are at Jason's parent's house) Not what he expected. So basically the rest of the night was spent with Jason finally convincing him to go back to sleep in the bed with him. I'm a little nervous that our crib/pack n play days are nearing their end. If I remember correctly, my parents had to put a lock on the outside of my door to keep me from leaving my bedroom at night. I was that persistent... A little worried that we've been enjoying the calm of regular schedule too much and forgot that there is a next challenge. My intuition says that as long as Hunter is going to sleep in the crib at home- we need to enforce that everywhere (so- Jason letting him sleep in the bed needs to be a one-hit-wonder)... and eventually we need to transfer Hunter to a bed- but seriously- he's not even 2 yet! How long are you allowed to leave them in the crib? Craziness.

OK- Lily will be here soon so I need to go grab some yogurt and granola so I can be energized for the day! woot woot!

The H is O.

All By MYself, really love being...All BY MYSeeelf

2010-08-16T17:44:00.002-04:00

Ok- so here I am. In my house. With no baby. I kind of love it. My hubby and son went to his parent's house for the week while I stay at home and continue my nanny gig during the day and takin care of BUSINESS during the night. By that I mean organizing the shit out of everything I see. Or throwing stuff away. That kind of business. I'm also privy to quite the social plans for the week. I can't go and be by myself for real people!

Here is the honest truth. I have not been by myself in .. at least two years. Seriously. Jason and I have gone away a couple of times for the weekend, Hunter and I have gone away a few times for a week or two. But this is my debut as the bachelorette in her pad- with no one. I don't know how to celebrate best: loud music, bathtime with no definite end, sleep in a little, watch Harry Potter, hang out with friends, go see a movie whenever I want... so fun. The problem is that this "week" is really 5 days with a job in it. I'm going to meet up at Jason's parents' this weekend, so really it's not that long of a freedom march. But I will take it and run with it. or walk, very slowly.

I feel bad about how good this feels. But- what are you going to do really- lie about it? No. I feel awesome. So awesome, that I wish it was longer. I wish I didn't have yoga tonight so I could enjoy my long night even more... ooh- maybe I'll skip yoga- I can do whatever I want! HA!

So my post needs to be more than this, yes, I need to wax eloquent about something.

like solitude.
like silence.
like rest.
like baths.
like not cooking dinner.
like not coaxing food.
like ...

hmmm. I'm in a purging mood. I see thingss I want to get rid of. Jason is a closet hoarder. He'll hoard as long as it fits in a closet. (hilarious- I know it- I am HIlarious) So- maybe this is my chance, take a truck load to goodwill so that when he gets back we live a simple life with half the shit and everything has a place and a half. Maybe not that much- but I do think I should take advantage of this mood- go fix myself a salad with waluts, turkey, goat cheese, feta cheese (can you have too much cheese?) and dried peppers and rock this house! Or throw away junk we don' need.

By the way- I saw something the other day that I think is a slap in the face: volunteer jobs listed under real job listings- like you scroll along the jobs advertised and you see a job that's unpaid. Really? Does anyone look for volunteers in the help wanted ads? I guess it's a way to sneak it in- but wow- these people need money. My current thought on that matter.

Grandmother's Birthday

2010-08-14T17:37:00.002-04:00

Today my Grandmother is 88 yrs old! I called to wish her happy birthday and that was just about all she could hear- but she did hear that. Wow- 88. I'm impressed with her. All that transition seems to be going well. Grandmother seems to be happy, she's spending lots of time with my parents and she getting adjusted to her new place. I talked to a couple of her friends and they mentioned that she seemed a little confused- but mainly because she had no concept of distance and was eager for Norah and Audry to come see her new apartment. This did not worry me because she hasn't understood distance for a while. She was never that surprised when family came to visit- in fact I think she always wondered why they didn't pop in more often. So- if that's the most of our worries- then I am happy. Happy Birthday, Grandmother!

So- in other news... the ants are dead. Courtesy of Jason and by way of Jeremy's ant spray. Dead, dead, dead. I am supremely excited about that.

OK...and we're going to dinner tonight at a couple's house. This couple is from church snd their daughter is our go-to for babysitting, except she goes to college in the fall and gets a camp job in the summer. But when Grandmother was in the hospital and rehab- Kelly was with Hunter all day every day and she still loves him. We love her. So I'm excited about dinner just because it's a night out with people I like. You know the feeling. : ) I even spritzed a little perfume.

And... what else. I just saw an ant. An ant had the balls to show up. I just killed it with an entire paper towel. Seems like overkill, but he's dead.

So- another note and I will close... I wrote out a note for the babysitter and realized that all of us mothers do this. We write a note and then we tell the babysitter everything that we put on the note. It's kinda ridiculous- but it's unavoidable. OK- bye!

Borrowed Time

2010-08-12T14:48:00.002-04:00

Both babies are asleep- mine and the borrowed one (the one I nanny) and it's such a miracle that I hate to even utter the words because as soon as I say- whew- one will wake up.

So I'm writing this blog on borrowed time... which it seems is what every mother does with her time once they have more than one child- or a needy 1st one. Either way- it's kind of a crappy way to view it- but there it is- I'm stealing time. That feels more rebellious. :)

I don't know what to write about- the time is so precious, the clock is audibly ticking. I did talk to my good friend Nancy- which was nice- we both had to steal time for it- but it'd been a while since we talked and was totally worth the punishment- although Becca definitely was the harsher judge- Nancy's daughter Becca screamed for the last 2 minutes of the car ride home before she abruptly stopped- leading Nancy to believe she must have stabbed herself. But no- she just decided she was over it. Or maybe she recognized the street home.

Ah- Hunter is awake. Nice 2 hour nap though! Lily is swinging in the chair- which put her back to sleep 3 times- but she really needed a good nap. So she's sleeping a little over an hour now- which is huge. It beats today's previous record of a 20 minute nap and last time's 45 minutes. It feels like cheating- but I think when you have an almost 2 year old and you're nannying for a 2.5 month old- you're allowed to cheat. So cheat I will with the vibrating swing. : )

OK- I'm going to stop stealing time. Maybe I'll write later tonight- but most likely not. : )

Ants

2010-08-11T20:57:00.003-04:00

There are ants on my kitchen counter- those little sugar ants. And it makes me literally want to dismantle the kitchen. Never mind the fact that these little critters are simply heading towards a food source, telling their friends and enjoying a ready-supply survival kit. Never mind that I am a gazillion times their size. Never mind that I can simply contain their food source and spray some stuff into their nooks and crannies and be rid of them. I feel personally attacked. We never had ant problems before- why now? We don't always immediately clean the dishes- why is it discovered now? What bothers me is that these little ants are like fleas in my shirt- I will feel them imaginarily on me until they are gone- but if I do the deed- then I will really feel them- even dream about them for much longer.

So I'm going to make Jason do it.

Now that that's off my chest. So- a little note to my readers- I am trying to get pregnant- for many good reasons, none of them entirely logical (is it ever?) and I have discovered something about this getting pregnant game. It's just that- a weird game. And depending on how invested or aloof you are- it can drive you crazy or you can be totally unaware that you're playing. When we got pregnant with Hunter (on the second try)- we were surprised- shocked- thought it would take at least 6 months so we weren't even thinking about it. The game was the surprise.

This time around, because we know what we are "capable" of- and because both my sister and sister-in-law are pregnant- there's a little more of an edge... a little competition. The game is no longer surprise- but what the hell does a woman's body do after she has already had a baby- had an IUD and then goes "all natural" except that nothing is the same or feels natural? Let me tell you- and all you men and women need to know this: Having a baby alters the woman's body. One of the coolest things I ever did was have a baby- and it came with a price. Don't let any woman fool you- she is messed up inside if she had a baby... For a good amount of time, our hormones for one thing are completely out of our control- and I never thought I would say this- but we really lose it. The whole birth control thing is a chemical dodging of cliffs and daggers- trying to find the right balance between insanity and sanity- which doesn't exist (remember my post on crazy mothers). All birth control is really about is having a normal head- with the bonus of preventing conception. So- when you want to get pregnant again for said illogical reasons, and you relieve yourself from whatever form of birth control you were on- the "natural" woman comes out. She's freakin insane. There is nothing natural about it. Something about having a baby makes the woman's body absolutely PISSED when she has a period. It takes at least another two or three months for things to start averaging out- unless you get pregnant. If you don't- then you get to enjoy the game of "when do I start." And again- apologies to the male audience- but this is good to know- I promise. Because here's the most hilarious part of the game. God decided to make the symptoms for pregnancy and for periods to be virtually identical. Basically so that you can go crazy before you just start testing- you get to feel stupid, hopeful, cynical, and stupid in one big merry go round. All of this while waiting to bleed. Sorry to be graphic- but how strikingly simple and crude is that? That's the game. Do I or don't I. Will I or won't I. If I do- is it for real? If I don't- should I wait a little longer? And your body is like a black hole for secrets- she isn't telling you a damn thing.

So you take 2-3 pregnancy tests a month, you forget you were trying, you calculate sex days, you get pregnant on accident, you take drugs to get pregnant, you take drugs not to get pregnant- and none of it ultimately guarantees you one single thing.

God is soooo funny.

Let's see what else. Oh- the author of that book American Savior is Roland Merullo- no wonder I couldn't remember it.

I really am antsy tonight.

Such a slacker

2010-08-10T22:42:00.002-04:00

That is me. I don't have great excuses- except that I started a nannying job yesterday, my son woke up coughing this morning- and I'm exhausted and trying not to come down with anything myself (again).

Nannying- not so bad, although it reminds me of how easy we had it with Hunter. Don't get me wrong- this baby is freakin awesome and VERY easy to read. She basically hates having a dirty diaper. That's pretty much the only reason she cries- that and hungry, but I try not to push that envelope too much. The thing that is different about her is that she stays awake. Like- she eats and then is awake- for like an hour or more. If you look through the first three months of Hunter's life- you'll see him sleeping. Through it all. I woke him up to feed him. (On many occasions, so that it became almost a joke- someone in the family would say: "Nehvah wake a sleeeeping BayBee!") Well- I don't have to worry about that with Lily. And with Hunter running around- I'm kind of wondering why people have more than 2 children. It seems physically impossible.

I just finished reading a very interesting book- American Savior- oh and I can't think of the author- I'll get it to you later. It is based on a very clever idea that Jesus comes back as an American and runs for president. His mother is a navajo indian and his dad is some random coal miner. I loved it- probably because I could imagine myself writing the same book. The author did a good job at riding the line between absurd and believable- for minutes it seemed very normal for me that Jesus Christ was running for president and that I should vote for him. The story is "told" by an ex-reporter with insecurity issues who was hand-picked by Jesus to be in charge of security detail. It's just a clever book. I wouldn't lean on it theologically, but I will say it could hold a lot of weight. I kinda wish I had written it. Thanks Jeremy who recommended it!

And... let's see. It's almost 11pm and I really should go to bed.

There is more stuff in my head, but I'm too pooped to write it out. How's that for slackin!?

yea. ok. good night all. The Jesus in my book says love one another- actually- all the Jesus books say that. : )

Trains and Tracks!

2010-08-07T12:03:00.002-04:00

Hunter says these two words on a regular, repetitive and loud basis. Trains and TRAACKS!

Just now Hunter opened the seat of his big, ridable train and pulled out a toothbrush and toothpaste. We've been looking for those. : )

It's the day after my birthday. Jason and I went to dinner and a movie at the drive-in, which was super fun and super-late. We got in around 2am. We can't do that anymore. My amazingly giving husband woke up this morning to a crying baby at 6:30AM (his diaper was a little awry and he was soaked- he usually sleeps an hour later). Not only did husband let me sleep through that- but when I woke up at 8 and then fell back to sleep- he let me. I woke up at 1030am! Jason took Hunter to the playground, put bananas in the dehydrator, and now he's resting... as he should. Hunter is playing with his trains and tracks! We'll do lunch and then I'll put him down and go get the truck that we left at the dealership.

So there's the day in boring detail.

SO- I started this blog yesterday and finished it yesterday- and lost it yesterday. So- it was fun and now it's gone. And now I've lost my train of thought. I am watching a very strange movie now and not folding laundry.

SO I'll call it a rest day- and sorry about the boring post. : )

Today is my birthday!

2010-08-06T16:56:00.001-04:00

da na na na na na....

Or some version of that song. Ok- i have to write quick because I am going on a birthday date soon (yea!).

Quick recap of my birthday:

Bruno pooped on the floor, but...

I had a good morning with Hunter, took the truck to get its oil changed (yes- I'm excited about that), had great conversations with members of my family - I freakin love my family. I get to see my bro and sister in-laws, I am going to a drive-in movie theatre tonight (fun!), I'm drinking a glass of wine (because I can), I got some laundry done (yes- good moods make for efficient Sarah) and.... I think that's it- but it's been a good day! I've been sick so when I woke up this morning and it only took one nose blow to breathe somewhat normally- I was kinda pumped.

Yea for birthdays!

Yea for me!

Thank you God for creating me. Seriously. :)

All Mothers are Crazy

2010-08-04T13:46:00.002-04:00

This is something my sisters and I discovered this past weekend. I revisited the concept yesterday to a critical Jason, but I still stand by it. My sisters and I were sharing in a story about a friend of mine whose mother is crazy. Then we ventured into other crazy mother stories. At last we realized- no one is unaffected. Even now, the crazy mother disease grips my older sister and me. You cannot escape. Think of one mother in your life that you would not be able to assign the words "a little crazy" to. I'll bet you have a hard time coming up with one. Being a mother seems to be the presenting condition for crazy. Name one completely normal mother. You can't.

I'm sick for the second day in a row- but much less so today than yesterday. I can sit up and even blog. Quite an improvement from yesterday. I hate being sick. I feel so useless and on top of that sick. The American culture does not leave much room for being sick- we don't know how to do it. Not that we should want to do it- but I think a lot of us suck at being sick. I'm not horrible at it, but I know a few less guilty thoughts would be appropriate.

I'm trying to put my calendar in place, follow up on emails, check about my finances and make sure all is in order. It could be the sickness or culture shock- but I'm just not feeling so motivated. I'm still caught in la-la land of vocational discernment that I forget that there is a present reality that I need to come to grips with.

In other more positive news, Jason, my husband, is a rock star. He grilled a super-yummy chicken meal yesterday- with bacon and a side salad. He grilled some more meat for tonight and all we'll have to do is microwave it. He made me a yummy sandwich today with asiago cheese on turkey and a side salad. Hunter ate his weight in blueberries and watermelon, and managed to shovel down a good amount of sandwich too. Jason has always been shy about cooking- not because he thinks I should do it, but more because he isn't confident in his ability. He got himself a book on grilling and now has vowed to do dinner twice a week so he can experiment! I think Greg rubbed off on him. Greg and Bronwyn lived here for a month with their cutie Henry (15 month old baby). Greg was chef/waiter/maid for most of the time- he just does it. Joyfully so. Not too shabby. So- Jason learned a few things. Also not too shabby. I like it when Jason gets a kick and runs with it. He's also been using our dehydrator to make stuff like banana chips, dried peppers, etc. This makes for healthy snacks and super flavorful salads. What a man. Meanwhile, he's massaging my head because it hurts. And I did nothing for his birthday. Got to rectify that. I sent him to work during Hunter's nap- hopefully he'll be able to catch up a little (he took yesterday off and this morning bc of my sick). I'm hoping by tomorrow I'll be 100% again. Colds in August are silly.

I have a sweet picture of Lucy in my calendar now- Kelly gave me a wallet-sized, although I think it's a little longer than wallet - either way it is perfect and precious and I love looking at it. I need to get one of Hunter and Annie- then I'll have the three sweet faces on my calendar. I can see Kelly in Lucy's eyes. And it isn't a resemblance thing- it's a spirit thing.

Apparently I'm in the rambling mood. I am missing Jessa much too- wishing we could bond some more- like we need to make up for all the years she was a baby sister. Jessa is awesome.

OK- it's time to get back to this present reality I'm avoiding. In the meantime- try to think of a mother that isn't crazy... and I think the disease is easiest to detect in over 45-year olds.

Home, for real

2010-08-02T14:05:00.002-04:00

I'm home. And solidly so this time. No big trip in the near future. No exotic plans, no parties, nothing. And I'm kind of ok with that. Even right now I feel a little peace. Hunter is napping and the house is quiet. Our Grandfather's clock that Grandmother gave me is chiming the hour and things are busy outside. But in here, quietness save the soothing clock chimes.

Our guests of the month left today- they were wonderful guests- I'm sure they're ready to be home. We'll miss their fabulous tendency to do all the dishes for us. I will admit though- I'm excited about not having to worry about walking down the hall naked. : )

Sister weekend was nice and therapeutic. Lots of bonding and eating. I'm going to have to skip a week's worth of meals to make up for the eating we did. I won't- but it would be nice if that worked. It was funny for me, because I would have been content if we stayed huddled on the bed all weekend, talking, laughing, analyzing, giggling, and drinking wine. We kind of did that all weekend- with a few trips out to eat and shop. I think Kelly and Jessa needed to get out of the hotel room- and I probably did too- but I didn't need to get out that badly. :) It is fun to be three sisters- each very different and yet with so man similarities. The best part of this trip was that we were more connected, on the same plane. Jessa is an adult, and of course she is- but this might have been the first sister gathering where she felt like one.

I need to take the truck for a oil change, clean up the house a bit, organize the finances (I haven't really looked at everything since before the Florida trip) and figure out the little projects Jason and I want to work on over the next couple of months. I need to get the baby stuff out, fill my calendar with new dates and put Hunter's birthday party on the calendar. I need to read my sister's loaned 1-2-3 magic book so I can get Hunter's but in gear. I need to plan out when to go to the make-up yoga sessions.

But right now- Hunter is fussing. He didn't take a very long nap- so I'm not quite sure what woke him up... and he is crying- which means he didn't get the kind of sleep he needed. Life with a toddler is no walk in the park. ok- gotta go.

Sister Weekend

2010-07-31T19:24:00.002-04:00

So, I am in Auburn for sister weekend. We are covering all topics from hairy legs to spouses and babies. We are having a fabulous time and I am dreading reality. Auburn is this little hub of a hiatus. It houses the church that I discovered my voice in, the classes that I dreamt my dreams in, and the places of friendship that formed me into an adult. It seems appropriate that I should be here with my sisters in this time of my life when I am transitioning yet again to a new phase in my life.

Florida and Grandmother seems like decades ago, my house and my husband and my child seem distant and strange as I reminisce in the Auburn context. My sisters have been with me through all the transitions- maybe not as close and as intentional as now- but present. So it does feel like a little island in the middle of a journey. I stopped over to take a break. It isn't productive like I thought it would be, but it is meaningful and a rest.

Jessa and Kelly helped me celebrate my birthday early with a cupcake shaped cake, wine, presents and all! SO nice. It made me feel worse about not doing anything for Jason for his birthday. I need to do something- man I suck.

Tonight we're going to the chocolate bar in the hotel- that should be fun.

Yea- I just don't know what to do with myself. I think I'm at one of those places in life where time and opportunity and my own action are just going to have to get slapped together at the same time. And then I'll have to run with it- and just keep running or I'll give up, let go, fear the risk and fear the failure. I have actually an idea of what to do- but it will take a while to make it work. I don't know if I have the guts to do it.

It has something to do with an assessment/training/approval/certificate for assisted living places to make them better. More on that later and why this non-entrepreneur is scared shitless about taking on an endeavor like this. We shall see.

Ok- time to rejoin my sisters. : )

stay over

2010-07-30T00:42:00.002-04:00

I'm staying with my good friend Cliff and his boyfriend Jeremy tonight on the way to Auburn. They greeted me with wine and then fed me cheese. That put together with a good conversation made my night!

but it's way past my bed time. so- more on them later.

goodnight all. :)

Home

2010-07-28T09:23:00.002-04:00

It is amazing how quickly I got home. I'm here. I slept last night, although I admit even though we went to bed early, 730am still came too soon. The anxious feeling in my stomach ebbs and flows. I need to call my Grandmother, call my Mom, etc. Check in. Still not completely gone from what is going on in Florida either. I am going to see my sisters this weekend- which will be another form of therapy for me. I am going to drive forever to get there- because I'm not the world's best planner.

The house looks great- Jason has been doing and overseeing some big projects. Among them are the new wall and paint in the basement (heavenly), the back walkway has been cleaned out and powerwashed, the yard shrubs have been trimmed and cut back where needed, the lawn was mowed although thanks to rain it looks like it needs it again, the house was clean, the files were moved to more convenient spots, the laundry room was back to its original form. I'm sure there's more- but this was pretty amazing enough. We have more inherited things distributed throughout the house.

So now here I am. Sitting in Hunter's room blogging while he plays with all his toys that feel new to him. And I'm back. Same routine, same morning, and I bet same afternoon. Weird how we fall right back into place. The only thing is- instead of taking comfort in the familiarity of all these things- I am slightly disoriented by the sameness. My life has completely changed and I have nothing to show for it. How do you show absence? How do you ritualize a loss that isn't really gone, just moved? How do you represent a career change when you never really had a career to begin with? How do you search for your next sacred call when you just discovered you were follwing your last one?

Mourning absence and change is really weird.

A friend wants me to eat breakfast with her. On the double! I'll save processing for later.

Wide Readership and Stomach Problems

2010-07-27T10:54:00.002-04:00

So apparently I have a wide readership. And by wide I mean more than 3. Apparently my aunt and sister's father-in-law occassionally read. It's scary and exciting at the same time. The kind of "ooh- have I said anything I didn't need to say" scary. But my promise to myself was that I would be vulnerable- open- honest. There are some things that are easier if not the whole world knows it about you- but these are also the things that make me the most passionate, the things I want to write about. These are the things that I feel indeed write light in dark corners. I will be careful not to invade my family's privacy- but I will invade my own so that the dark corners in other worlds can be illumined maybe by a simple recognition that someone else feels the same. Someone else has been in the pit, someone else has yelled in anger, someone else has been overwhelmed with joy, someone else doesn't know the answers, someone else gets anxious, someone else cares about her family too much, someone else feels very strongly about something. So- there's my purpose in writing and my risk in writing.

Stomach problems. I hate flying. I'm worried about leaving my parents now and my Grandmother. So- I got some stomach churning issues. Oh well.

So- pray for peace. Pray that the demon called confusion leaves my Grandmother well alone. Pray that I sleep soundly in my own bed tonight with the soothing arms of my husband around me. Pray that my parents get a chance to rest and gather themselves together into a cocoon of peace. They'll need the respite- the next few weeks will be challenging. Pray for the courage to be vulnerable.

Tired tonight

2010-07-26T23:51:00.002-04:00

Today was day 1 of the real deal transition. I am exhausted. I'm leaving tomorrow and going home. I have too many emotions. I'm most likely going to bed.

I am going home. The prevailing emotion following that sentence is excitement. I kinda miss my husband.

So tomorrow I will tell you about my idea for a consulting business where I can tell assisted living places why they suck and get paid to tell them how not to suck.

Focused but not Present

2010-07-24T22:23:00.004-04:00

At church this morning I had another one of my lovely experiences of being focused but not present. I was fully participating and paying attention to many details of the service, just none of the ones I was supposed to. This happens to me from time to time- too often in my parents' church, but whatever. So today as I waxed feminist and critical, I came up with all sorts of details to focus on. And I thought about them. Meanwhile, everyone else enjoyed a nice service.

I forgot how historically male and bloody Baptists are. All of the hymns we sang had only and very male images for God, and most of the references to Jesus involved something with blood or refering to the cross. I think that long ago I thought this was just something a lot of churches did, now I'm thinking it might be more a Baptist flavor. There is nothing wrong with male imagery for God or bloody images from the scene of Jesus on the cross- all these things are apprropriate. But now I know a little better about why I am so done with it. Because my whole life in the church has been nothing but this. Many other churches include other imagery, you might go a whole Sunday without blood, and the word "he" may not necessarily be capitalized (which the language nut in me is so annoyed by - he is a pronoun, no matter who it describes and grammatically shouldn't be capitalized- although I get the respect thing, it doesn't make it less annoying). Anyway. Our church in Virginia, for example- is not the golden goose for inclusivity, but I'm realizing that the language is already more diverse just by having Methodist Hymns. It's too bad they aren't as lively or catchy as the Baptist ones.

OK- so I noticed the whole HE HIM BLOOD JESUS CROSS thing. Then the ushers come up- almost military style, I swear one guy turned on his heel to go in front- all men. All men. To collect the offering, which is a weird signal to send anyway having military style men gather the offering. Give me a vagina up there, come on.

Then there was the children's sermon- not bad actually- but the question was posed to the kids "how many of you love coming to the church" - ha- some kids didn't raise their hands and I'm sure most people blew it off as shyness- but come on- not all kids are there by choice. Then she asked why they loved going to church. One kid said "to learn more about God." The woman was good- and even though she picked up on that answer as the "good" answer- she did mention seeing friends, etc and opened it up a little bit. But it made me think- it is possible that this child truly has nothing more fun than learning about God- and her Sunday school teachers might be kick-ass, but maybe just maybe she gave that answer because she thought it was the right one.

It made me think about how I sometimes judge people in church. Oh yes- I judge. SO bad, I am. But I see people- and you know them- that almost have this look of pride just being in the church. And not the good pride- but the preaching to the choir kind of pride. The kind where the minister says one thing and the proud shake their heads in obvious agreement. "Oh yes, we know what's right and wrong." That kind. They make my skin crawl. I try to let it go- but it's true. I'm putting it out there. They are also everywhere- in every church- in all variations of beliefs. They drive me crazy and I judge them. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't. My church experience would be less jaded if I would stop this. But I can't seem to help myself. Well- I don't try too hard. Anyway, so this pride thing. I thought about the kids and the right answer, the military men and their proud march, the whole thing. And I had a mini-epiphany. There are many churches whose congregations come to hear that they are right. They are right about who God is, they are right about what sin is, they are right about where they should go from here. Even when we talk about how we're wrong, it's about how we know we're wrong and need to do what we know is right. This is how many churches and preachers function. Shoot- it's how we all function before we get the rug swept out from our feet by life and realize we have no idea what the hell we're doing. The false illusion that we are right leads us to fall even harder when we are horrifyingly confronted with the fact that we were wrong, at least about a couple things. The strongest people go one of two ways: adapt and grow, or stay so stubbornly in belief of their rightness that nothing changes. What do the rest of us do? Fall apart at the seams until someone picks us up and whispers "I was wrong once too, my life fell apart and I made it, and God actually did help."

So when the little girl answered the children's sermon question- was she trying to be right? Or be real? When the men march down the aisle, are they proud of their role in the right place, or are they proud to give money to God, because they have nothing better to do with it? When we nod in agreement with the pastor- are we nodding because we know we're all right, or is it because we know we have something to learn here?

In my judging and bitterness, I know I don't have much more to hang on than these pride packs. I do have hope that I can be a part of a congregation that doesn't mind learning together. That will be wrong together. That will shout from the beginning of the hymns to the end: I HAVE NO IDEA! I'M LEARNING! SHOCK ME AGAIN!

The guest preacher for the next 6 weeks is good. And I don't mean necessarily amazing as a preacher- although he wasn't bad- but if I'm not mistaken- I think he's goood at what his role is: helping a church change and adjust to a new pastor. His sermon was talking of the inevitability of change. But better than that were the little details of his sermon. He mentioned each staff member by name. He mentioned the last pastor affectionately. He quoted several lines of scripture. He spoke of change in not so scary ways, but clearly change. He talked about our creation in Genesis- which if he ever heard the last preacher preach- was a part of nearly every one of his sermons. I don't think this was a coincidence. He quoted a female priest to appeal to the folks like me, scripture to appeal to the militia men, Genesis for the Pastor mourners and Staff names for the uneasy. This man was goood.

I've written a lot today. Hope I haven't annoyed too many people. Oh, real quick- a revelation from today: Grandmother will occassionally get into what I not-so-sensitively call suicidal moods. She'll say how she should jump in a lake, we'll be glad when she's gone, she's glad she had a shower because the mortician will appreciate it- not kidding - all quotes from my cutsy little grandmother. These comments are frequent enough that they just generally annoy me now. She does it when she's feeling like a burden or frustrated to not be able to do something for herself. All it really does is make the rest of us feel like shit for making her want to die. And you almost always have to respond- how can you leave a suicidal remark hanging? You can't. Well today Dad mentioned that the people at her new place were looking forward to her "checking in." This struck a memory for Grandmother and she proceeded to tell us about how her Dad used to say in times of annoyance or frustration: "I think I'll just check out." Verbatim, I've heard my Grandmother say this phrase. Now I know who to blame. Watch what you say folks, your great great grandchildren may be paying the price.

Alone Time

2010-07-24T22:23:00.002-04:00

So I got in the car today and realized that it was the first time in nearly two weeks that I have been truly alone. By myself. AAAAaaalone. Like the 80s song, only not sad- but more triumphant and rare. I've even been sharing a bed with my sister (until she left Thursday). I will say- I enjoyed the alone time. I made the best of it by calling Nancy and talking without worry that someone was waiting on me, needed me, heard me, etc. I am looking forward to going home, but I am also feeling good about what is going on here. Things in Grandmother's apartment look pretty good. The staff at the place seem pretty friendly. My parents are making plans and doing good things. Grandmother will see one or both of my parents 4 times a week. And it is not too much for anyone. This makes me happy.

And now I'm trying to think of what I really want to write about. It was interesting watching the interaction between my Grandmother and Dad as the past stories are brought up- particularly Dad's acceptance and journey through college at the Air Force Academy. I don't think I ever really thought very much about the fact that he really did not have a good time in college. It's kind of amazing that he let all three of us girls go and do the big ridiculous college thing. He could have reacted in the opposite way to his lacking of a real college experience. Instead- he was happy to watch us go- and enjoyed living slightly vicariously through us. It struck me that Dad has never been back to the academy. Not once since he graduated. That's intentional. Even as he was talking about it- I could hear something in his voice that was sort of cold and distant about the whole thing. He didn't sound resentful. It was more a disappointed acceptance that he just never got to experience a real college. Grandmother could pick up on his lack of enthusiasm for the school and kept saying how proud she was of him and how it was so good for his career and how he was going to make her feel guilty about letting him go there if he kept talking about how hard it was. It was a little tense- I even muttered under my breath to Dad that he may want to reassure her about the whole thing. He didn't. Not really. He deflected the topic a little- but he ever actually said it was a good thing, and when she asked if he regreted it- he didn't say yes, but he didn't say no. I think that Dad enjoyed and appreciated most of his military career- but he was always kind of on the fringe of the military mentality. As well as he can fit into that mold- he didn't buy the whole kit. I'm eternally grateful for that. He didn't turn into an asshole fighter-pilot. He retired in his flight suit. When Grandmother assumed he retired full colonel and he said no, it was just lt. colonel- and she was kind of like- oh well no matter. I could feel a little tension. It was strange. Then it sort of hit me. Dad has issues (had/has) with his parents. Opa was demanding and stubborn- his rank made it so that Dad was commissioned first in hs class and he made Dad memorize the commissioning speel. No one else did and Opa was disgusted. Grandmother expected you to do what was best and the way she showed it was by smothering you with her pride if you did one thing so that you felt awful to do another. At the same time- I can see her as a gentle and firm mother. Dad is closer to his mother than he was Opa... and I think Dad is surprisingly gentle and sweet with us considering how stoic both his parents were. I've never seen Grandmother cry. or my Dad. The closest I ever saw was when Grandmother went to the rehab place after her hospital stay (vicodin erases everything) and she realized she wasn't home yet. She was so scared. But no tears.

How can someone not ever cry?

Anyway. That was interesting - and there were more bits and pieces to that conversation tonight - but those were some of the more interesting parts. It's so funny how no matter how far you get into adulthood- there's still small pieces of you that believes your parents are perfect- or at least don't really recognize that they are who they are because of a whole host of reasons hidden from your eye- their past being a huge part of it. I'd never heard my Dad talk much about the academy- and tonight was the first time I really took notice of that.

by the way- my parent's house makes all sorts of funky noises that I don't know yet and it freaks me out. their AC for one is obnoxious.

ok- going to bed. with family history and wonky AC on the brain.

Good Enough Day

2010-07-23T23:20:00.002-04:00

So today was a pretty decent day. I went up and down on the rollercoaster of frustration between Hunter and Grandmother- but all in all the good moments outweighed the frustrating. Hunter is a genuine toddler- as in- nearly 2- as in totally a stinker. That can be "fun."

My favorite part of the day? Well maybe not my favorite, but certainly memorable... Grandmother and I sat in the same room reading (actively, no dozing) our respective books for an hour and a half. I think we both really enjoyed it- I could tell by her tone of conversation and contented reading that Grandmother really did enjoy reading. I think she needs some chill time (not sleeping time) as much as the rest of us. So it was rewarding. Except for the fact that I read a book given to me by Christina of aforementioned cool-dom who forgot to mention it was one in a series. So I was excited for the book to end, but rather it was just the beginning. Of a series. A little annoying. Now I have to read more intense books.

I'm pretty tired today- so I'm keeping it short.

My friends are out of control

2010-07-22T22:23:00.002-04:00

OK- so everyone wants a shout out. Apparently if you please one person you have to please them all. So here in no particular order are the various shout outs for my friends that may or may not read my blog and may or may not give a damn.

(by the way today was a good day, Hunter took a 2.5 hr nap, the movers came and Grandmother got new hearing aids- but let's get back to the shout outs.)

Jessica Elizabeth Kimbrough Wood Garrison. She is one of my best friends who is fiercely loyal. She and I met when I went across the hall from my freshman dorm to find someone with a TV so I could check the weather channel and see how my parents were faring in the latest hurricane. 30 minutes later I had an instant friend, but she realized she didn't have a TV. She is also OCD and has the ability to get more done than the energizer bunny, all while napping when the kids nap and making frequent trips home and beyond. I used to write smiley faces on her Chemistry notes in class just to watch her rewrite the whole page again without the unwanted accessory. She was insane enough to fly by herself to DC to visit me in her first trimester with a 3 yr old and 1 yr old. And we had a great time. She is the stay-at-home-super-mom that the rest of us decide doesn't really exist- except she does- and she likes to monogram, too. She loves people completely- like a fierce mother hen- and she's real southern about it too. She lets you know how she feels about things but dips it in sugar and honey before she forces it down your throat. She forgave me for many sins and holds me to my bond of friendship no matter how slack I might get. I love her- even if she specifically asked for this shout-out.

Nancy Speas Hill. I already changed my blog design to suit her geriatric eyeball needs. She has been grateful. She is someone that I absolutely love and want to live nearby and raise babies around. She is also one of the few friends I have let in close enough to get in a fight with. I can argue with Nancy like I do my sisters. I think that means we're close. She loves me despite the fact that my very existence as a mother with a gigantic child should piss her off. I am connected to her babies story in an intimate way as I felt at times that I wished I could give Becca a room in my womb if it would help. Nancy is the strongest person I know- even though she's got more issues than Freud. Freud drowned himself in crack- Nancy goes for ice cream- that's the healthiest alternative I could imagine. She and I bonded before babies- way back when she was cool in seminary and we spent many hours at the Snowhillbert (may it rest in peace). Nancy is the friend I could easily talk to on a daily basis.

Megan Schneider Gambrel. Megan is another good college friend, circa Jessica Garrison. Megan is also awesome- but in the "let's have some wine and laugh at this thing we call life and motherhood." Megan has always been on the same page as me as far as the whole expectations of women thing - she sort of had some plans but ultimately fell into motherhood and doubting herself all the way has become a true stay at home Mom- with every intention of getting a house on the lake and rowing out to the middle to meet me with a glass of wine. Megan is emotional and stoic, stubborn and flexible- she does her own thing and invites you to come along. Megan is the kind of friend you want to be neighbors with.

Let's see- Cliff Landis. Cliff is certifiably insane, but he makes his crazy work for him, dammit. He taught me more about God and life and gay people than media, church and Sunday School had to that point we met in college junior year. He is one of the most selfless selfish people I know. His whole world revolves around him, but at the same time he really wants you to follow your dreams and make them come true. And you have no excuse if you aren't working toward it. Cliff taught me that people who are "different" are really the best friends you'll ever find.

Amanda Landis-Hanna. Cliff's sister- she is also certifiably insane, but the more socially acceptable kind. She makes type A look like type Z and tells the hairs on your head which way to go. She also embraces you and your family and cooks for you even with a newborn sleeping or waking 5 feet away. She is worried about her abilities as a mother- but has been a mother all along- she is worried about her abilities as a professional vet but she is more professional and personal than even she can stand sometimes. She also constantly asks if Bruno wants to get his teeth cleaned. And maybe in 5 years we'll wish we had done it.

Tasha Rothwell. She is my soul mate in the friendship world. Our lives look polarly opposite- but really we are just an example of similar souls making a series of different choices. She embraces the passion and fear that comes with dreams. She and I share as much of a childhood as military brats can. She makes me think and dream and sometimes I wonder if I'm still all that interesting- not because she makes me feel that way, but because she is glowing so brightly- even with struggles she glows. She is one of the few friends my Grandmother remembers.

Ashley Brien. Speaking of glowing. Ashley is a friend I don't keep in close contact- but she is youth and spirit personified. I took her to a butterfly conservatory and I literally saw wonder erupting from her being. Ashley taught me joy and wonder.

OK- sisters- I'll save you for after sister weekend.

Christine- you got your blog.

Kelly Stewart- I talked about you- but a short shout out- you're like the pick-up close friend. The kind of friend I met twenty seconds ago and I'm convinced in twenty more seconds we're like soul mates friends.

hmmm...Katy Hinman. The most well-adjusted person I know. By far. One of the coolest people I know. Katy can be taken to any party, any crowd, any group and needs no help. She's so freakin sufficient you are in awe that she's your friend- because surely she can hang out with cooler people than you.

Erin Miller. She's another friend I haven't been as good about keeping in touch with. But suffice it to say that she is so intensely relational that it often gets her into deep trouble- and when it doesn't- it's very very rewarding. I still remember our trip to St Louis - it was so fun, and I remember driving early in the morning to witness the sunrise and the frozen ground. It was beautiful.

hmm- I'm sure I've left out glaring things- like my husband- but when he writes me a love letter- he'll get his shout-out.

otherwise - if i forgot you- i suck and i wont do it again. and family didn't count.

People pleasing time is over. Book closed. Door shut. It's all about me again.

Christina

2010-07-21T22:44:00.002-04:00

So I met a new friend the other day at the church softball game (which I did not watch). She's friends with my sister, my mother loves her, and she's going to seminary in the fall. We're now Facebook friends and she went to the movie with us last night (the movie btw was ok- I really wish they had cast someone other than Nicholas Cage- none of the romances were believable- oh well). Back to Christina- She's hilarious in the snarky cool like that way- and so of course when she joked that she was real hurt that I didn't mention her in my blog, I decided I would dedicate this blog to her. : ) I'm all about people pleasing- changing my blog design so my apparently blind best friend can read it and now name-dropping for a new friend.

Today went better. Hunter decided to return to his body and evict the demon that possessed him over the past three days. I far prefer Hunter to the crazy child that visited with us. SO- I'm glad he's back. He even slept in til 8 today- and since it was "my day" to get up with him- that was oh so very nice. We went swimming- a conquered temporary fear for Hunter (the demon child decided to be traumatized for no reason) so with Hunter back- we convinced him swimming was for the cool kids. Bath time - also a temporary fear induced by crazy child- was much better tonight. Think of today as a full day of successful therapy. Rock therapy actually. My mother convinced Hunter to do everything through the cunning use of rocks. No kidding. She's a little crazy awesome with creative methods of parenting. When Hunter was about to crawl out of my arms up the pool wall- Mom dashed to the yard to grab rocks and proceeded to thoroughly entertain and distract my son from his pretend fears by throwing and fetching the rocks from the bottom of the pool. Soon Hunter was throwing the rocks and my mother and sister took turns getting them and swimming between my legs to surface triumphantly with the victorious pebbles. Hunter was nipple-deep in the water before the end of the pool-time and actually agreed that the pool was fun. He didn't want to learn to float, but he thought it was cool that all of us could "sleep" face up on the pool water.

Again- with the bath- Hunter wouldn't sit down- so Mom grabbed a rock- and basically the same therapy worked. 20 minutes later and we were convincing Hunter bath time was over and he needed to brush his teeth. All these baby/toddler books leave out one very important tool you need: family. Help is so nice. Even though I'm ready to go home and a little stir-crazy here- it is so good to be with family. I really wish we lived closer.

So there ya go. Tomorrow we are expecting a tropical depression of some sort to head our way, the truck full of Grandmother's stuff, Grandmother's new hearing aids, and an ENT appt to boot. And Jessa's driving to Auburn for a wedding. I'm really going to miss her. I'll talk more about that later. Oh- and correction- Memaush did not coin the phrase "y'all stay up all night"- it was Grandmother! And now my Dad says it on occasion. Memaush would say before retiring to bed:

"It's been real."

10 minute nap

2010-07-20T14:29:00.002-04:00

Hunter is playing in his crib. The reason he is not napping: he slept a grand total of 10 minutes in the car. So naturally, it is preposterous to assume he would need futher sleep. I'm not sure why he remembers that he napped or feels he doesn't need additional sleep- but it's fine with me to leave him playing in his crib.

We're still in Florida. Jason is home with the dog and houseguests. My soul is floating somewhere above the gulf coast and wondering what to do with life. I feel like such a tool, because ultimately my thoughts keep resting back on "what am I going to do?" I'm presently concerned with others, but eternally concerned with myself it seems. Whatever- at least I own it. I keep thinking a week-long vacation to the beach would be nice- by myself. I feel bad for thinking that. I really do. But think it I do.

Tonight Jessa and I have a date to the movies- we're going to see the Sorceror's Apprentice - from what I hear it is fabulously mindless entertainment. Just what we need. Well, maybe not what we need so much as what we want. And sometimes what you want can be a little of what you need.

Usually being in Florida fills me with a sense of peace or prickles of joy, seeing water makes me happy... it seems this time the spell is broken. Sad.

The doctor called back to schedule Grandmother's appointment... September 16th. That's the earliest. Seriously. So now I need to call her old doctor and get her more Aricept sent down here so she can last. Good thing she doesn't take something more serious! How elderly people exist without family is beyond me.