For the past week it has been party preparation time around here. I had great helpers. BB took the lead of theme and I finished off the details with the help of some great party planners. EG did actually pick her theme. It came from the book Brown Bear, Brown Bear...half way in, you see a Goldfish looking at you. EG likes the fish.
My Mom and Dad came by to celebrate with EG as she turned two. The following are some photos of the party. Now, mind you, the only guests in attendance were the ones who did the planning and work...a very funny experience.
The baking begins.
Goldfish cookies...the cookie traditions lives on. Check back to BB's birthday in December 2009 for links to the cookie recipe.
The cake...awe, the cake. It took on a color all its own. Blue is a pretty ugly cake color, but blue was the color BB requested demanded the cake to be. As the day went on, it became more green...we just assumed the fish swam deeper into the ocean bottom.
My Mom made the eyes for the fish. In the Eric Carle book, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, the goldfish's eyes are green.
Jello jiggles fish were a late addition to the menu. Again, you can guess who came up with the idea.
The table is set.
Placemats were placed.
This is something EG actually requested: goldfish crackers.
From The Pionner Woman, I tried her fancy mac and cheese. My Dad actually did the hard part and stired while I threw ingredients in and managed the heat level. (grin) He and I have made two meals together in the last four years...it is a hoot to watch and listen to us.
I really liked it. Very rich. EG had requested noodles and cheese for her menu. I thought this might be more classy than Kraft Mac and Cheese...but the kids didn't each much of it. Sigh.
Happy Birthday, EG! You are the best two year old in the whole wide world. We love you so.
This little Corduroy-esque bear has lived with us for four years. Bought for BB by his aunt, I doubted the purpose of said bear (who comes in a removable bunny outfit) when it was given to me at a baby shower.
True to forum, BB took my disbelief and turned it in to his best friend. What do I know? The two have been inseparable ever since BB was about six months old. You'll note how well loved he (she?) is. We call the bear Bunny Bear. (or my name, The Cross Dressing Bear--which isn't as child appropriate.) They were inseparable until one morning about a month or more ago. Bunny Bear disappeared. Poof. He (she?) was gone. Vanished before our very eyes. All of our searching couldn't bring him (her?) out of hiding. Most of us, frankly, suspected that EG had done something with the bear, but we couldn't prove it, so we let it go. But we wondered. We searched. We torn open drawers and doors. Boxes of toys were tossed and turned in vain. Sheets were stripped, the pillow searched. We even turned over the dog's bed in the basement---far away from the last known whereabouts of Bunny Bear. But he (she?) was gone. And we began to live with that reality.
Sadder for me, was the fact my BB seemed ok. Once the initial tears passed, Bunny Bear was only mentioned once or twice a week, at bedtime. Part of me was hoping for more tears. More in consolable grief and pain. I wanted my son to be, well, more of a baby about the whole matter. I wasn't ready for my first born baby to give up his friend so easily. I wasn't ready for my BB to be all grown up and ready to face the world sans security blanket/bear.
So, I don't know who was more happy when I gave the search one last effort tonight.
I lifted the mattress off from his bed frame and we pulled out the drawers that slide under the bed. That's when I saw it. As the second drawer was pulled out, I noticed the worn chocolate patch of Bunny Bear's paw. Just a hint of possibility peaked at me. Could it be? I reached down and grabbed the paw...thrilled and amazed that we found him (her?). I was nearly in tears, BB was giggling uncontrollably. He hugged Bunny Bear and immediately jumped into bed to snuggle. BB also began to share with Bunny Bear how he (she?) had missed Pajama Day at preschool today..."But its ok, you can come with me next year."
I don't know who is more happy tonight, my sleeping son, or myself? Both of us content that the world is back as it should be. Little boys remain just that, little boys. Whew. I don't know about him, but I'm not ready for a world without Bunny Bear.
What started in a flurry of ripped paper and shouts of joy, ended in disgrace and embarrassment. The story begins on Christmas eve, my friends. BB and EG ripped and torn and smiled and shouted out in joy over the many gifts they received from great-grandma, granparents, aunts, uncles, each other, mom and dad and yes, even Santa. I lost track.
I lost track of who gave what to whom. Then we got home and we had a week of vacation left. Routine didn't return to our house for 10 days. I kept putting it off. Then, I didn't want to make a mistake and leave something off or thank the wrong person for the wrong gift. Then a month passed, then two...and it was just too embarrassing to acknowledge my lapse in etiquette.
The task's size and scope just kept growing and growing in my mind. It grew and grew until I just gave up. Oh, I included some messages in the Valentine's Day cards and I am sure in an email or two I included words of thanks...but people, my confession today is this: I haven't finished my thank you notes from Christmas time.
Not that I think a blog is a very classy thank you note, but for those two or so readers who are among those I am hiding my face in shame from...Thank you. We so enjoyed the gifts. T-shirts and sweaters and cork trivets and mixers and books and pajamas...I could go on, but mostly I am thankful for people who will graciously chuckle at my sin and this confession, hoping I do better next time. People who in love allow me room to fail at my own standards, all the while encouraging me to be better. Whether it be thank you notes or life in general--I am blessed and thankful.
Someone in our house is 37 today. Ok, now there are two of us.
Apparently, I started a tradition back with BB's birthday cookies. I asked if BB wanted to help me make oatmeal cookies for his dad today and he informed me that we needed to make Number Cookies. The Birthday Boy choose to celebrate his big day on Saturday instead of a "school night," so I hadn't really planned much for today. But BB had other plans. Always game for a tradition, EG and I went to the store and bought pre-made cookie dough (yuck-ola) while BB was in school. I will be making number 2's next week and didn't feel like making the delicious cookie dough two weeks in a row. Of course, had I been thinking a head I could have made two batches and froze cookies for next week...anyway, I improvised.
Happy Birthday, my Love! Celebrate well and enjoy all that the year to come brings you! We love you so much. (I'll get you some oatmeal cookies soon...I promise.)
These certainly didn't turn out very pretty but it satisfied BB's new found tradition and we had fun.
(blue is my husband's favorite color and green is BB's.)
BB wakes up one morning, and on his way to the bathroom, calls out to me (in the kitchen), "Hey Mom, is it too early for Lindsey Vonn to be skiing?"
BB creates a gold medal for his sister. She won it for snow boarding. She breaks it (it was made of legos) and he takes it from her, reporting back that he'll have it done for her before they play "her song." "It'll take 10 or 40 mins."
EG is trying to spin. She wears socks and then walks in a small circle, all the while shaking her head back and forth. She is trying to imitate the spinning hair/head of an ice skater.
BB and EG lined up the kitchen chairs and went bobsledding at lunch on Saturday.
I own the cd and play it every once in awhile for myself and my kids.
I appreciate the message. I know it was needed, and what seems dorky and dated to our eyes and ears was revolutionary in its day. But some days I would like to turn it off. I wish I hadn't enjoyed it quite so much.
Songs deriding housework, assuming that I'll be happy (every flippin day) and that I don't need to change; really get in the way some days.
The realty for the kids to whom Marlo sang to isn't as clear cut as she may have thought it would be. Freeing us to be the best we can be, is all well and good, but there are still jobs to do and roles to take on. There's a realty to how much any one person can do at any one time in their life. Degree programs and biological clocks and Churchwide leave policies and unexpected events and human frailty all tend to make the soundtrack skip a beat from time to time.
Some of what we heard as young girls was freeing. It was needed. I thank God for the women who stood up against the system and prevailing attitudes. I cry at the battles they fought, and won, so that I could whine and be snarky about my plethora of options.
But I also need to say this:
Ms. Thomas, some of what we were taught just piled on more #@*& to our already long list of how to be in this world. And, I'm still trying to figure out what songs to cut off the album.
During Lent I thought it might be fun to bring you a confession each Friday. I anticipate a range of areas and depth. None too painfully personal or serious...this I promise.
Friday Confession: Take 1
Remember the event on Valentine's day? Well, each table was covered with a white plastic table cloth. This particular church reuses the table coverings each and every time. They have them stored in various bins in a closet. I set up the room, and so had to rummage through the various bins to find coverings for each table. Two of the longest tables did not have a covering long enough. So, after many, many attempts to find the correct one, I used two and made it work.
Let's cut to the end of the day. Adrenaline was wearing off. Youth were in high drama. Most, to all, of the tables coverings were clear of food, confetti, table decorations, etc. My feet hurt like that of a middle aged woman with too much weight on her body, wearing shoes that don't fit since her feet widened during pregnancy...which fits my description to a tee. I was tired.
It was at this point I turned around only to see we had forgotten--The Longest Table. The one with two coverings, the one that had held the chocolate fountain and all the dessert options. It was smearing with chocolate. It had wrappings and left over candy on it. It was the table where we put the most heart glitter. It was a big mess that I just didn't want to deal with.
One look around the gym confirmed that I was alone. Everyone else was in the kitchen. So, instead of cleaning off the covering and saving the glitter (as we had been doing), I grabbed the whole covering, wrapped it up on itself until it was the size of a volleyball and thought of a place to put it. I didn't want my 'crime' to be found out. I was too tired to ask for grace or plead my case to the women in the kitchen. I didn't want anyone clucking after I was gone when they saw it in the garbage can. So...
I held it close to my body, and walked as fast as I could to my office. I closed the door and shoved the ball into my bottom desk drawer.
I love restaurants. Almost, in any form. I prefer to have a server who takes our order and delivers the food back to us. I also enjoy the drive up kind, where everyone is secure and unable to roam about while eating.
In its highest form, I love to dress up. I love a fully set table...I even know how to set the "proper" table and which 'what' to use, when. I love the atmosphere and hushed quiet of a fine restaurant. And then the food...ohhhh.
Panera is my most frequented spot these days.
I go to enjoy the people. The community. The overheard story and the ones I create about people as they type away on laptops or sip their coffee.
The other joy I have about restaurants is that my kids love them, too. They have been learning how to eat out all of their lives. BB first joined us at Panera after two or three days home from the hospital. They are pretty good at it, and actually, behave better in public than at home. All three of us are very observant people. Especially BB, he and I can sit and just watch the other people for a good two-three cups of coffee.
But, in recent weeks we have been eating lunch out every week day--plus our Saturday breakfast treat while their dad is exercising. The special-ness of the occasion has worn off. BB is almost bored by our usual choices. And, then I did the math. The kids eat more now and it is beginning to add up well beyond a sippy cup from home and a muffin. Ouch.
So, for Lent, I am giving up lunches out. Today was already an adjustment for us all. More free time to trash the house and fight with each other. It required me to parent a bit more and engage in new ways. I have not given up morning coffees or the Saturday breakfast--although, we might this week just to reinforce my point.
Today is a sad day. I have no cognitive reason why. I just woke up, sad.
~I had a wonderful coffee meet up with friends. But towards the end my dear friend and I both nearly teared up over the emotions our kids bring out in us. Feeling so much of what they are going through...probably more so, because they are so much like us. Amazing how someone, (me), who can't remember facts and stories from childhood can remember the feeling of not being understood as a kid or that isolated 'lonely' that comes from trying to make friends when young (or middle aged, as the case may be.)
~20 years ago I was receiving medals and accolades for my hard work as an athlete. Just read my hometown paper...under What Was Happening...20, 30, 40, 50 Years Ago--I am now old enough to make the history page. As the USA Nordic Combined team won silver at the Olympics there as has been a lot of reminiscing going on amongst my HS/College teammates, my family and within my own head. It makes me cry to see people ski. There has to be something behind that grief.
~Yesterday was my Grandpa's 88 birthday. Or it would have been. Our son is named after him. He is one of those people whose spirit is woven in to my daily activities. Mostly under the category of "Grandpa would have been kinder, more loving, more patient, more generous...than I was just then." He is missed. Deeply. Still.
~And, today is Ash Wednesday. Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.
I think my heart remembers all of this, and just woke up sad.
Yesterday, was a luncheon at my church. The Youth Director and I, the Family Life Minister, had been working on this cross generational celebration of love for a few months. We intentionally wanted to celebrate love in all the various relationships God has given us--as well as highlight God's love for us. A wonderful woman took care of all the food and even found her own kitchen helpers. The youth helped serve and we seated at least one of them at each table to mix up the tables. I was in charge of--guess, what?--decoration and the "program." We went with a mixture of church-gym-cheesy-valentine-fun and classy luncheon. I think we pulled it off.
I put together the boxes as "prizes" during the program. The Sunday School aged children made valentines for the tables and then there was a questionnaire to get conversation going. I gave boxes for various "winners:" Most Friends on facebook, Most Christmas Card List, Longest Marriage, Most Recent Baptism...and so on. Various members also brought in photos from their weddings, family reunions, college friends, pets, various other gatherings. We placed these on a table and people really enjoyed looking them over...and seeing how we had all aged.
A delicious table of goodies, just made to be dipped into a chocolate fountain, finished off the meal.
But my favorite moment came at the beginning. The sixty or so guests were just getting seated and the youth were in the kitchen getting orders on how to serve their tables. The kitchen cookers and serves were on high alert, getting everything out of the ovens, salads out, bread warmed. Imagine the chaos. I was running through what I needed to do, say and was experiencing a bit of hostess anxiety as I thought through how I wanted to "run" the day.
Into this chaotic party, walks Jesus.
A woman in her mid thirties came quietly into the gym, pushing her two year old daughter in a stroller. I noticed her and welcomed her to the meal but she said she only came looking for extra large diapers. I ran off to the nursery to see what diapers we had to offer. As I headed down the hallway to the nursery, I was honestly viewing her as a task to get out of the way before I had to start presenting at the luncheon. Once in the nursery, I paused long enough to ponder what it must feel like to walk into a strange place and ask/beg for anything--let alone diapers for my child.
We, of course, had nothing large enough. When I returned to offer her the largest ones we had, she began to tell me about her family and wondered if we could help in any other ways. I found the Sr. Pastor, figuring he had an account for assistance and knew what services our congregation usually offered. He got up from his meal and dashed off to his office, coming back with some cash. Meanwhile, I was painfully aware of our sit down, plated meal going on in the back ground. I began to look for to-go boxes to send a meal with the woman. As I searched, the Sr. Pastor grabbed some cereal and other easily carried food items from the pantry. The to-go boxes ended up being found in the basement storage closet and the youth director ran to get them...and finding it locked she had to run up and down the stairs a few times to fetch keys.
All in all, you should have the image of three staff people running around, a lovely plated meal being served behind them and glorious aroma of meatloaf and cheese potatoes hanging in the air. In the middle of it stands this woman who is humbly confessing her needs and putting herself out there with a vulnerability that I have never experienced.
When she left, the youth director and I paused for a moment to regroup and I smiled and said, "I love it when Jesus shows up like that..." and without missing a beat she said, "Yeah, me too....and then we all run around like we don't have a clue about what to do."
I've got a vision, my friends. Has anyone seen a tree similar to this out and about? This one is from Pottery Barn and a bit more than I want to spend....but I imagine would be on sale soon enough for next year's Lent/Easter event.
BB began work on his Valentine's cards yesterday. They are pretty simple but he loves stickers. I am going to write something on them and then we'll see if he can write his name on them. He only chooses to write three letters of his name. He claims he can't write the other letters. Hummm. And yes, his real name is 'stubborn'.
My family and I have shared along with the Livesay family for years now. We have other connections to Haiti as well, hso learning about the Livesay's life gave some further insight into the work of our friends and family there. Our "connection" to all of them took a more heartfelt turn with the earthquake in Haiti. I check the blog everyday and today is a particularly touching entry.
They are back home, and feeling guilty about it. On a very small level I understand this. Years ago, I went to work with Habitat for Humanity International in SW Georgia. I spent a few months in West Virginia as well.
Shortly after arriving back from West Virginia I joined my family on a vacation at a resort in the one of the Carolinas. (I don't remember exactly where--Hilton Head?) The juxtaposition was too much for me. I felt guilty and overwhelmed by my life in comparison to the lives others live...in many cases by the sheer randomness of who they were born to. In typical 20-something behavior I took out this guilt on my family with rage and snarky pouting. They didn't, and probably still don't, understand and the trip goes into the story book of "remember when H did."
I have no idea what the Livesays must feel like today. But part of me thinks we should all feel like that a bit as we go about our daily lives. The three part mixture of thankfulness and awareness of how good we have it and a longing to make the life of another better seems to be a worthwhile way to live.
Guilt isn't the most helpful of emotions or reactions...it tends to be debilitating. But we should feel something beyond ambivalence.
I love snow. Love, love, love it. Didn't I wax on about how it is grace falling...or some such phrase? Well, here it comes again.
5 to 8 inches are expected over the next few days. My love for snow developed in regions of the country that are use to snow. Can handle it. Enjoy it. 5 to 8 inches is a typical event...not a "stock up, shut down school, cancel meetings, panic" type of event. Here, roads aren't cleared and people can't drive. Schools are canceled and the kids are home. (my biggest concern, frankly.)
Yesterday, a young woman canceled a meeting with me in anticipation of the possibility of snow. Ok, points for honesty...but it was hard not to (pastorally, of course) laugh at her.
I love to see falling snow. I don't love it where I am. We do Spring really well here...let's get on with that.
Awe, the joy of Saturday morning. It has been a good week...highlighted by the fact I am no longer experiencing life though the lens of thyroid induced exhaustion. Wow, does that feel good? I can't believe how tired I felt and how energized I feel now.
The other piece that makes my week much easier is that I haven't preached in a while. A few weeks ago I did two weeks in a row. I am always amazing at how much pressure a sermon adds to my overall week. The constant, internal hum of sermon prep wears me down. Everywhere I go and everything I do is done with my wondering, "Can I get something out of this?" Or the scripture ( and often my lack of direction on what to do with it) runs through my mind. The phrase, "I should be..." is said over and over. "I should be working on my sermon." It makes me snap at my kids and feel way too anxious at other times, neither is exactly what scripture was meant to do, right? My hat is off to those of you preaching each week.
While I've enjoyed the free time, I am back at it for next week...
Just for fun, here is a week in review: a few movies, tv shows and products we saw and used, that I wanted to share.
First up is a hair product by Aveda. My favorite for smells and pure bliss. My hair texture has changed just a bit with each pregnancy. If you didn't study my hair with rap attention you'd probably miss its subtle frizziness. I gave these products , Smooth Infusion shampoo and conditioner a try (with a sample...) and I loved it. It really smoothed out my hair. To the point that my dear husband noticed after I had blow dried it. I don't know how it would be for every shampoo...will it weigh it down? These are the serious issues I will ponder as I think over Luke 5:1-11 this week. But I liked it, so, I'm sharing.
Next up is a movie we watched last night on Nexflix. If you have Netflix you can watch online--FYI. We haven't seen a movie set in a foreign country for a while and it felt good to leave America for two hours. Helped enhance the 'escape' we were looking for.
And then, my latest...sigh...addiction. I flew through the first season of Mad Men during nap time the past two weeks.
A scene from the pilot. It took me 5 or so episodes to really want to keep watching. In the early episodes the misogyny was just too painful. (just so you know, there is no violence towards women, just verbal and cultural sexism. And there isn't the nudity or language of SATC/Weeds/Big Love) By mid season though, the characters fill out a bit and I was really curious as to how they would all develop. Here's a clip with the slimiest of men (eww, eww, eww) and the career minded woman.
I may not start season two for a while...I am trying to work on the Mayo Clinic Diet 5 Habits to Keep and Break.
Add five habits
-- Eat a healthy breakfast, but don't eat too much. (Check)
-- Eat at least 3 to 4 servings of vegetables and fruits a day. (eh....maybe?)
-- Eat whole grains, such as whole-grain bread. (Check)
-- Eat healthy fats, such as olive oil and nuts. (Check)
-- Walk or exercise for at least 30 minutes a day. (Nope)
Break five habits
-- Don't watch TV while eating, and spend no more time watching TV than you do exercising. (Nope!!!!!!!)
-- Eat no sugar except what is naturally found in fruit. (Nope)
-- Eat no snacks except vegetables and fruits. (Nope)
-- Limit the amount of meat and low-fat dairy that you eat. (Check)
-- Eat no restaurant food unless it fits in the diet program. (Nope)
Add five bonus habits
-- Keep records of what you eat. (Nope)
-- Keep records of your physical activity. (Nope)
-- Walk or exercise at least 60 minutes a day. (Nope)
-- Eat mostly fresh foods and healthy frozen or canned foods. (Check)
-- Write down your daily goals. (Nope---unless you mean a To Do List??)
I don't think anyone would ever describe me as rebellious. Never. No one. I am nearly as square, boring, bland, vanilla, earnest, conscientious, as they come. Put a people pleasing cherry on top of this stunning descriptive sundae and you'll see my junior high and high school years flash before you. I have never smoked...anything. I didn't drink until I was 21. By then I was a pretty dedicated athlete and in turn my real drinking (ha, ha) didn't start up until seminary. I can count on one hand how many times anyone would have even thought I might be intoxicated. BORING...I know.
So I make up for it with my colorful language. Again, this really took off in seminary. I blame it on a certain classmate, now senior pastor who can/could drop the 'f' bomb like sailor. I think my casual use of many swear words still startles people. Good...something about me should.
But since having kids, I have tried to calm it down a bit. I've done pretty well. I still realize I say plenty of things I don't want my kids to say...BB's favorite, "What the heck." has made me even more aware of this.
So, my friends...a bit of conversational homework.
Head over to The Mommy Revolution and tell me what you think of this conversation. It is a conversation over what words are 'ok' in your house. Or if you don't have little people in your house on a regular basis, what is your impression of a kid's language. When you hear a wee one saying he has to piss...what's your reaction? (beside laughing)
Stupid is on my list of 'no-no's'. As is heck, shut up, butt, crap, piss...and all the obvious ones. My kids are 4 and 1.10 months...so still pretty young to understand nuance.
First off, I'm sorry. While I blog a with a thin veil of anonymity, I don't mean to be exclusive or to create a clique of 'insiders.' I hope you understand me to be open and inviting. This entry isn't one of those times. This photo is an inside joke.
I have had this blog for two years. Amazing to me that time has passed that fast. I am really thankful to have this collection of thoughts and stories to mark the passing of time--the fact some of you read and comment, is just a huge bonus. Thanks!!
I made these for my niece's second birthday. I have a friend who has made felt cookies for her kids to play with and her mom made a tea bag for a party--they inspired me. When you search the topic of felt play foods you come up with quite a few websites. Great ideas and inspiration!
For some reason I needed the project to be as easy as possible. So, I ordered a few kits from Lilly Bean. I found her off of Martha Stewart. It wasn't super expensive and arrived at my door with ease. I ended up hand sewing these instead of breaking out my machine. I blanket stitched the edges. They would have been cuter with embroidery thread on the edges, but I kept it simple.
BB loved them and wants some of his own. I have a few more kits from Lilly Bean to make and I also bought felt from Michaels to make simple round cookies next week. They were quick, fun and pretty cute.
It was an odd day. I woke to an email announcing the separation of a friend's marriage. Stunned and saddened, I continued to scan my emails and face book pages, all full of news, reflection and calls to action in Haiti.
At some point in the day, the news broke across the ELCA community that a seminarian was killed in the earthquake. Friend after friend posted a call for prayers for his family. It happens that he is the son of two pastors, his mother a former bishop. It isn't that this makes it more sad, or this death more important than the 100,000 (gasp) of other people mourning or searching, but it does mean I can see the faces of those wracked in pain tonight. I know who is suffering in grief and those sitting stunned by how this tragedy has come to sit in their living room.
What makes this day more odd is that I am happy. The months of thyroid induced malaise has passed. Our little family, quirks and all, is about as good as it has been in years. We sit in our house (ok, it is still the same house...but that is another post) all cuddled up reading books and chatting around the table. We smile and snuggle and kiss and talk. I even have a date tomorrow night. As I type I am listing to my husband and BB chat and laugh in the quiet rhythm that is uniquely theirs.
Like any good addict I know that as I type, I am missing two tv shows, but I choose to leave them off for now. The books on my nightstand and my pajamas are calling me. Baby steps.
I did all I could do today. I wrote an email back to my friend expressing my sorrow and support. I said prayers for the thousands of mothers and fathers whose arms are empty tonight. I sent money to the Lutheran World Relief. I offered countless prayers with my friends. And, I gave thanks.
It was a day buoyed by unbelievable joy at new life, and simultaneously covered in sorrow at the vulnerability of humanity.
We await tomorrow, fully of grace and with strength enough to do what we can.
This morning my husband left the house at 7am. Those of you who know him and his morning routine, can get up off the floor and close your mouths. Needless to say this change in habits threw us off a bit.
EG was dressed and BB had the "wrong" pants on. (they were dirty and didn't match his top so I told him to change.) He was fussing and ignoring me and playing. EG got her socks on, her shoes on and had her coat on when I used a more...powerful...voice with BB.
"Mom. (calm, with hands out, palms up, shaking them) What is all the fussing about? You aren't ready."
"Please do not use that tone with me. Change your pants and come get your socks and shoes on."
He turns away and goes to his room to get his pants changed and on the way back to me checks out how his imaginary cake is doing in the play kitchen.
"BB, get over here. We are going to be late for your school. Here are your socks and shoes. EG and I are going to get into the car."
He turns around as an absolute look of HORROR comes over his face.
"MOM! MOM!! You can not wear your pajamas to school."
I look down at myself and internally giggle. No, no, it hasn't come to that, I had changed from my pjs. But, my jeans and usual 'work' pants were dirty so I was wearing a tracksuit --not my proudest moment, but I was going to let others think I was off to the gym.
"BB, I am dressed."
"No you aren't. Those look like your pajamas."
Every once in awhile I catch my son singing a song from his preschool religious education time. The program is called Godly Play and I love it. When I hear him sing, I have to be careful not to look directly at him, least he stop. He also won't sing upon request unless he is VERY confident that he knows the song.
On his own I can tell he is working on a song that has these lines...."alone we are one little light, but together we shine bright." He won't tell me the final line and I have forgotten it. From google, I think it might be from a Jewish folk song.
I think too many of us have lost sight of the finite limits of our individual light and the infinite wattage of our united luminary. I'm thinking in general terms, as well as specifically to the my denomination, and membership congregation.
Withholding funds, directing money, withholding attendance or quitting all together...the sum of these actions is making me so sad. I am physically pained when I am in certain groups of people. And, yet again, I leave large gatherings feeling completely and utterly alone. Isolated by my theology, politics and philosophy. I have a certain expectation and comfort when I feel this way among strangers or a "new/different" group...but to feel it amongst "my own," it cuts closer to my quick.
I guess we can add stewardship, and the understanding of The Body of Christ, and the work of the larger church to the growing list of topics we need to cover in more theological depth.
"alone we are one little light, but together we shine bright."
If you are a reader of this blog, you know that for months...years...I have been trying to get "back on track." The following things might be part of the derailment issue:
email
facebook
blogs
writing my blog
twitter
and then there are my television shows...
Desperate Housewives
Castle
Greys Anatomy
Private Practice
Brothers and Sisters
Modern Family
CougarTown (can. not. believe. that I just wrote that down.)
Biggest Loser
And on Netflix:
Big Love
Weeds
along with various other tv shows that can only be watched via cable (which, thank goodness, we don't have.) and older ones I remember from my childhood.
Cagney and Lacey
30Something
et cetera, et cetera...
Now mind you many of these tv shows are watched over the internet and at my own time. But still, this is a bit ridiculous.
So, you should all clap and offer well wishes for my strength over the weekend.
1. I didn't log on to facebook from Friday night (ish) until Sunday night (ish)
2. When Desperate Housewives began to bore me on Sunday night, I turned it off.
Over the past six months our doll collection has gone from two (BB's) to eight. EG is given dolls with the same frequency as BB was given trucks. On most days I find comfort in the fact she loves to drive the trucks around and he stops to check on the odd baby when he has a moment. I can also admit that she is drawn more to the dolls than he was at her age. I admit they play with the toys a bit differently. I can chalk that up to gender and accept it.
But in the back of my mind the phrase, "they are different people" plays over and over. We aren't just boys and girls. We are people and each of us approaches the world differently...because of our skin color, hair color, ethnic culture, education, parenting and yes, our gender.
Why is this such a radical concept? Why must we reduce everything to blue and pink? Trucks and dolls?
When I say I am a feminist, it comes from one simple phrase from a NOW poster: Feminism is that radical notion that women are people.
BB has been in preschool for four months now. The big, bad, outside world is creeping into my home. He's play acting super heroes and talking about Star Wars and punching the couch and pretending to use his finger as a gun. All things that my head explode and my heart crumble. "NOOOOOOO!!!!" my whole being cries out.
He wasn't allowed to look at a tv until he was three and even now he only watches a few dvds, mostly the Mighty Machine series. He's a smart kid, so he knows how to get a charge out of Mommy. He also knows and respects that "we don't do" certain things...like pirates and guns and that physical fighting isn't tolerated.
I'm a smart kid, too. I know that each of these issues in nuanced and that my fellow parents are doing their best. Every family has different goals and styles. I need to have a talk with the preschool teachers and I have been putting it off because I don't want to be "that parent." The whiny, self righteous, "it is all about my kid" type of parent. I don't want to come off as judgmental.
But the reality is, parenting is always a judgment call. With each move you make you are making a judgment. The balance is, to maintain your values without tearing apart the other person. Sometimes, we aren't as mindful about our decisions. "What's the harm in a Batman movie?" "His Dad hunts." "They are just playing." "I did that all the time as a kid." and my favorite..."Boys will be boys."
It is that last one I can't accept. That is the one that holds no shred of weight in my mind. It is the one that gets people crossed off my list of possible kindred spirits. (horrible, I know, and I confess.)
This post was inspired by BB. As I was placing my latest book order, he came in to ask for help putting on EG's latest doll's clothes. "I want her to wear this, but I can't quite get it on. Can you do it?" I gave a bit of guidance and told him to try again. I realized what great small motor skills it was developing and what eye hand coordination it required.
And, as he left, I had to smile at the person he is becoming.
We had a snow day today. We received a pretty large amount of snow (for where we live) and it has made things very, very beautiful. Snow does that. Someone described it as grace dancing. I described it as wonder and awe. Some see frozen rain...they aren't the poets among us.
The photos in this entry are from the Winter Wonderland where I grew up. We took them over Christmas. It was a great week to watch snow fall and fall. We stayed warm inside baking and talking and watching the kids run around. (Oh, and work on those Christmas cards.) We headed out to downhill ski, make snowpeople and snow forts. Some went ice skating and sledding and skiing.
The people I live among right now are good people. On most any given day I enjoy many of them. They can not, however, drive a snow plow or drive a car with more than a light freezing rain.
So, we stayed home and enjoyed the falling grace.
(and to those who have wondered: yes, that is 'snow' falling on my page right now. No need to have your vision checked.)
My friend Jennie, who walks over at The Emmaus Road, wrote something in an entry on her new years resolutions that I just loved..."As a recovering perfectionist who has found a life-source in grace..." It holds the tension inherent in all resolutions. I rarely make them. Every so often I feel a need to start over...to repent or to do better.
In 37 years I have learned that I lack will power. I am strong. I am stubborn. I am dependable. Just not when it comes to doing anything consistently.
Most nights I don't wash my face, I forget to brush my teeth, I take vitamins randomly. I apply all the expensive creams I buy on a very erratic basis. If my whole being wouldn't shut down, I wouldn't get out of bed each morning to take my thyroid meds.
So you see why a resolution might be out of the realm of possibilities with me. I mean, really, why bring more guilt upon oneself?
But I have hopes. So here are some hopes for the next year...
I hope...
to take better care of myself.
to not take better care of myself with sugar cookies and baked goods.
to work on developing deeper relationships...with people who share my interests. Interests beyond motherhood.
to find space (physical and time) to be creative.
to hang out with my husband more.
to get a better grasp on what I actually have control over and then excerise said control when applicable.
As a recovering perfectionist myself, I would love to put concrete goals out there...but I think I will stick to 'hopes.' Here's hopin' that works out for me.
The package to the distant sibling has been sent.
Gifts for children of all ages have arrived.
BB and my DH are out shopping for me as I type.
We have snow and the kids have been out sledding.
I have pants that will fit me.
FB accounts has been signed off of for the remainder of the year.
Snacks are purchased for trip north.
Christmas with inlaws has been scheduled for tomorrow.
Christmas cards are all that are left...best get to it.
This has been a difficult season for me. I have been internally fighting the secular 'to do list' and the manic drive to spend and decorate and celebrate in all the ways the culture desires of us. Mentally, I have written many a blog post on all the ways we try to cram celebration into these four weeks. Why don't we spread out gifts, cards, parties, coffees, brunches...Why, oh WHY do we do this to ourselves?
In the end I did what I wanted to...told my internal drive 'to do more' to "shut up" ( and I don't say that phrase very often, to anyone.) and went along doing the best I could.
I have written many a judgmental post as well. Wondering why adults are so obnoxious at preschool programs and why we can't hang up our damn cell phones. I have even judged people's holiday decorations and Christmas cards. I have judged myself for how my son is approaching the season...gimme, gimme, gimme.
But none of them will really benefit anyone, so I hit the delete key in my mind and moved on. Your Christmas will be all the brighter for not having to read my rants.
Clearing out some of the chaotic mental frustration and holiday angst, helped Bethlehem come in to view.
It isn't a mirage after all! There, off in the distance is the place Jesus was born, is born, will be born. I caught sight of it in my rear-view mirror and in the grocery lines and in the eyes of those who dance around my house. In the end, in spite of all my judgment, and concern, and fear that society is completely lost, devote of any true compass, I catch a glimpse of the place where God came to us. God's humility, vulnerability and acceptance, strengthens my faith once again. And I remember, that it is for people such as this...such as myself: judgmental, proud, and self centered...that God put on human flesh and lived among us.
For myself and for you, I wish these final days of Advent to be full of the holy. Holy waiting in line, holy cooking, holy cleaning (and painting) and preparing. Holy days. I also wish you the most blessed Christmas season...all 12 days of it. Enjoy. Savor. Wonder. Take your time in Bethlehem. New babies are something to behold and this one is not to be missed.
If you are anxiously awaiting photos of my home, decorated for the Advent and Christmas seasons, you can see what it looked like last year, here. As BB reminds me nearly every hour, we have not decorated as much this year. And, we won't be.
Here is final paragraph from my sermon on Sunday. It was a soft sermon. That is being kind. Although, I knew it was. I knew I wasn't getting into the text as much as I could have and I made peace with that...I told my stories about children and setting expectations...I got my laughs and had some fun. Fun. Huh, fun, with Luke's version of John the Baptist...well, never thought I'd write that sentence.
But, considering I was having a delightful text study in Chicago at 3:30pm...I did pretty well.
"So what then should we do?
We wait. We wait in hope. We wait in Joy. We return again and again to the expectations God lays out for us. We wait for the day when it will all be second nature…loving our neighbor, kindness, forgiveness, joy, gratitude…when all our responses to the gift of God in the flesh, come as easy as breathing. We wait for Jesus to come again. We wait..opening the gift God gave us in Christ, one layer of grace and expectation at a time."
What I wish I could have put together is here. Hang with her past the horror movie stuff...because the last 6 paragraphs are worth it.
Here is a photo of the t-shirt. BB loved wearing it to school and for his party. I imagine he'll have it on a few more times this year.
I made this banner out of paper (can't go into the scrapbook store without buying SOMETHING) that matched the table decorations.
I frosted cookies...had enough cut out 'fours' to feed the neighborhood.
Here is the beginning of the cake. When BB saw the crack in it, he wanted his excavators to be digging a foundation large enough to build a skyscraper. So, I dug out a hole...chocolate cake looks just like dirt.
Here is the final cake.
Easiest one yet.
Green frosting. Crushed Oreo cookies and my royal icing boulders.
And, what else would make a construction party complete? Why, an excavator, of course!
(and some soil...)
Thanks to everyone who made it a great weekend. We love you!!!
It is a beautiful sunny day here. We sent the kids out to play after breakfast so that party preparations could begin. BB dressed himself in his firefighter uniform, along with a winter hat and mittens. EG came running in hot pursuit, dressed as a bumble bee in tennis shoes. The bee costume has a hood so she saw no need for a hat.
The sunshine streamed into our kitchen as I sipped tea and my husband ate his cereal. We planned the day and occasionally looked out the window at our bee and firefighter. After my husband took off for errands, I began to bake the cake (second cake...longer story). Sunshine. Smell of chocolate cake powder in the air. And the sight of our kids out the window. Joy.
At one point I looked out to see both of them laying on their stomachs under the ball catching net (probably feels like a tent to them). Their young heads are close together, while their feet kick in crisp air. The dog bounced around them, her breath forming clouds around them. Every once in awhile they would pop up and run around then come back to the same spot and snuggle back up together. Something about the scene amazed me. My babies. Out there, together in the world. There they were.
What on earth were they up to?
It hit me that as much as I wanted to go out to see what they were talking about, playing, creating, my presence would have ruined it for everyone. They were out in our small yard becoming their own selves...and today, I watched their relationship develop. She can talk. He can listen. They can take turns. Together, they can plan and plot and dream. I know they were sharing the beginnings of what it means to have siblings.
It is siblings that know your story from the beginning...in the best conditions they have your back like no one else in your life ever will. From my experience, the honesty, loyalty and love that comes from your sister or brother can not be matched, or recreated. While you can have a full, rich and productive life without one, I wouldn't have wanted to go it alone.
Increasingly, I realize that we aren't just raising children, we are creating a family. And today I realized something else, I live with a brother and sister...young people who have their own relationship...just them, together.
I didn't go out to the yard. Hours later, I haven't even asked what they were up to. It wasn't about me. It was their moment and I am just so blessed to have caught a glimpse of it.
To my own brother and sister...thanks for it all, and I love you.
Today after preschool the three of us went to lunch and then to a neighborhood bakery to pick out cookies for BB to take to class tomorrow. So many to pick from. So many. Eventually, he choose two kinds and we got a dozen of each. The teacher will probably not enjoy the fact the kids can choose between two decorating styles, but so be it.
In the car afterward, BB began to plan. He first secured that there were enough cookies for him to try one today. Then he said, "Mom, are we going to put each cookie in a little bag and tie it with a ribbon and put my friends names on each one?" While I was delighted that he thought of this very cute idea, the part of me that has been running around getting ready for tomorrow and Sunday, groaned internally--NO!!!---we aren't. What I said was, "That is a great idea, and sometimes we do that don't we? I don't think we will tomorrow." To which he graciously offered, "I'm not sure how to spell anyway...and you don't even know some of their faces."
He also reported back today that his class will be studying Advent all of December. "The color is blue."
See, my work is done. What more can I teach him beyond liturgical colors and putting cookies in bags with ribbon for a party?
(They also got the H1N1 shot and we picked up pottery from the local 'paint it yourself' shop. Tomorrow, some surprises go up and a couple gifts get opened.)
The baking begins. 
The cake...awe, the cake. It took on a color all its own. Blue is a pretty ugly cake color, but blue was the color BB 
The table is set.
Placemats were placed. 
This is something EG actually requested: goldfish crackers. 
From The Pionner Woman, I tried her fancy mac and cheese. My Dad actually did the hard part and stired while I threw ingredients in and managed the heat level. (grin) He and I have made two meals together in the last four years...it is a hoot to watch and listen to us. 
