| Your Candy Heart Says "Get Real" |
 You're a bit of a cynic when it comes to love. You don't lose your head, and hardly anyone penetrates your heart. Your ideal Valentine's Day date: is all about the person you're seeing (with no mentions of v-day!) Your flirting style: honest and even slightly sarcastic What turns you off: romantic expectations and "greeting card" holidays Why you're hot: you don't just play hard to get - you are hard to get |
Monday, February 11, 2008
For what it's worth
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Hmmm. . .
Three days ago I bought a pair of (dirt cheap) cross country skis. I wonder if this means that subliminally I'm pulling for Wisconsin in the race of where do we go next? Can't imagine they'll get much use in Arizona.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
What's in a name?
So one of our first orders of business for this Chrismation business is "Christian" names for nearly all of us. This is to be the name of an Orthodox saint and it is what will always be used when receiving Holy Communion. (You also will then have a "name" day at which time you may receive cards, well wishes, or a special lunch, but that's just a bonus.) For those who are born Orthodox, the name is given at that time but for us converts, well, we get to choose our own which is kinda cool, I think. Technically, I don't need one because my middle name is Ruth and short of someone like Jezebel, if it's in scripture you are good to go. However, I feel like I want to explore what options are out there and see if there might be someone that suits me better.
There are no hard and fast rules on the criteria for choosing a saint name. Many of the "cradle orthodox" names given at birth are chosen simply because they are the ones commemorated on or near the child's birth date. Quincy's friend Nikki has a birthday in December and the St. Nicholas feast day is Dec. 6th. Or one could choose a name based on meaning much like we already do when choosing birth names. It could be someone you feel some sort of kindred connection to or perhaps admire or aspire to emulate. Lots to consider.
The boys names are coming along nicely. Erik is drawn to a few of the Alaskan saints after completing his Masters thesis on the Orthodox missions there. Quincy has shown a certain propensity towards academic pursuits, so I think we are going to let him choose from a short list of early church fathers/theologians. Milo's middle name is Jude which was actually chosen
for the saint so he has been all set since birth. Which brings us to me and Adelaide. Instead of narrowing down the choices, the list just seems to be growing longer each day. I've been digging all over the internet and brought home 3 or 4 books from church today. My hope is to find someone who either I identify with on a personal level or aspire to. The desert mothers are impressive, but the whole hermit/reclusive live in a cave type doesn't really resonate with me nor suit my daughter's personality. I'm also weird about martyrs. Not totally against it, but I would just like for there to be more to the story than that. I mean no disrespect. And of course my totally lame considerations would be when their feast day is and what the icon looks like. I'm just being honest.
Here's what we have so far. Feel free to weigh in.
Helen - my maternal grandmother's name that I sometimes regret not using when Adelaide was born. Saint wise, there are more than one, but the most commonly known is Helena, the mother of Constantine who was a fairly strong woman known for building many churches in the Roman empire as well as seeking out the relics of the "true" cross. Feast day is May 21 and shared with her son.
Brigid - a.) she's Irish. I may not have the red hair and porcelain skin, but there is a fair amount of Irish in my family tree so that is meaningful to me. b.) she was incredibly generous which is a trait I can respect and aspire to. c.) she's got her own cross -- shallow reason, I know, but ya gotta admit it's pretty cool especially since I have a small collection of cross pendants as well as several on our dining room wall. Feast day is Feb. 1.
Hilda -- also Irish and known throughout western Europe for her wisdom. Started a well known monastery for both monks and nuns. Died peacefully. She comes across to me as strong, bold, yet humble and gracious at the same time. Then again, do I really want to hear the name Hilda every Sunday? Feast day is Nov. 17.
Susanna - one of the Myrrh-bearing women - those who were present at the cross. I have grown to love the fact that as my friend Lyn always said, "women were the last at the cross and the first at the tomb". There is very little info available about Susanna, but I have great admiration for all of these women and just can't bring myself to choose "Mary". Feast day is second Sunday after Pascha.
Sophia - the name means "wisdom" which is something I desperately need every day of my life. Again, as with many of these names there are more than one. Today I was reading about Sophia "Our Holy Mother" and here are a few things that really caught my attention. "Sophia lived the busy life of an ordinary woman. She was the mistress of a household, a wife, and the mother of six children. . . . Nevertheless, the noise and confusion of the world around Sophia did not prevent her from living a life which was 'pleasing to God'. Hers was at the same time an ordinary life and holy." Although she was widowed and saw all of her children die, she went on to become an incredibly generous woman. Feast day is June 4.
I'm sure I will find more as I read through some books over the next few days. Say a prayer for clarity of mind as I muddle through this over the next few days/weeks.
There are no hard and fast rules on the criteria for choosing a saint name. Many of the "cradle orthodox" names given at birth are chosen simply because they are the ones commemorated on or near the child's birth date. Quincy's friend Nikki has a birthday in December and the St. Nicholas feast day is Dec. 6th. Or one could choose a name based on meaning much like we already do when choosing birth names. It could be someone you feel some sort of kindred connection to or perhaps admire or aspire to emulate. Lots to consider.
The boys names are coming along nicely. Erik is drawn to a few of the Alaskan saints after completing his Masters thesis on the Orthodox missions there. Quincy has shown a certain propensity towards academic pursuits, so I think we are going to let him choose from a short list of early church fathers/theologians. Milo's middle name is Jude which was actually chosen
for the saint so he has been all set since birth. Which brings us to me and Adelaide. Instead of narrowing down the choices, the list just seems to be growing longer each day. I've been digging all over the internet and brought home 3 or 4 books from church today. My hope is to find someone who either I identify with on a personal level or aspire to. The desert mothers are impressive, but the whole hermit/reclusive live in a cave type doesn't really resonate with me nor suit my daughter's personality. I'm also weird about martyrs. Not totally against it, but I would just like for there to be more to the story than that. I mean no disrespect. And of course my totally lame considerations would be when their feast day is and what the icon looks like. I'm just being honest.
Here's what we have so far. Feel free to weigh in.
Helen - my maternal grandmother's name that I sometimes regret not using when Adelaide was born. Saint wise, there are more than one, but the most commonly known is Helena, the mother of Constantine who was a fairly strong woman known for building many churches in the Roman empire as well as seeking out the relics of the "true" cross. Feast day is May 21 and shared with her son.
Brigid - a.) she's Irish. I may not have the red hair and porcelain skin, but there is a fair amount of Irish in my family tree so that is meaningful to me. b.) she was incredibly generous which is a trait I can respect and aspire to. c.) she's got her own cross -- shallow reason, I know, but ya gotta admit it's pretty cool especially since I have a small collection of cross pendants as well as several on our dining room wall. Feast day is Feb. 1.
Hilda -- also Irish and known throughout western Europe for her wisdom. Started a well known monastery for both monks and nuns. Died peacefully. She comes across to me as strong, bold, yet humble and gracious at the same time. Then again, do I really want to hear the name Hilda every Sunday? Feast day is Nov. 17.
Susanna - one of the Myrrh-bearing women - those who were present at the cross. I have grown to love the fact that as my friend Lyn always said, "women were the last at the cross and the first at the tomb". There is very little info available about Susanna, but I have great admiration for all of these women and just can't bring myself to choose "Mary". Feast day is second Sunday after Pascha.
Sophia - the name means "wisdom" which is something I desperately need every day of my life. Again, as with many of these names there are more than one. Today I was reading about Sophia "Our Holy Mother" and here are a few things that really caught my attention. "Sophia lived the busy life of an ordinary woman. She was the mistress of a household, a wife, and the mother of six children. . . . Nevertheless, the noise and confusion of the world around Sophia did not prevent her from living a life which was 'pleasing to God'. Hers was at the same time an ordinary life and holy." Although she was widowed and saw all of her children die, she went on to become an incredibly generous woman. Feast day is June 4.
I'm sure I will find more as I read through some books over the next few days. Say a prayer for clarity of mind as I muddle through this over the next few days/weeks.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Diving in
Well, after 3 years of should we or shouldn't we, we have finally made the decision to officially convert to Orthodoxy. So this year our Lenten/Pascha (Easter) season will end with our entire family being baptized, chrismated, and received into holy communion at St. Nicholas Orthodox Church where we have been "inquirers" since shortly after our arrival here in Portland. It is truly a beautiful community of people who we have grown to love and appreciate. They have brought healing to our hearts without even knowing that we needed it. It just seemed right this year that we become a full part of this community even though we may be leaving come fall.
There are a number of little things to be done along the way so stay tuned. I promise to do my very best at keeping this more updated. First up - saints and sponsors. More to come . . . .
There are a number of little things to be done along the way so stay tuned. I promise to do my very best at keeping this more updated. First up - saints and sponsors. More to come . . . .
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
It Is Finished . . . sort of
When we began this journey to the MA, it was actually an MDiv and it was at Southern Methodist University in Dallas, TX. Erik was a full time associate pastor, and I was an event coordinator at an office building downtown. Shortly after enrolling, we found out that we were pregnant with our 2nd child. About the same time we learned that I was about to be laid off. Fortunately, I was able to line something else up right away so we did not miss a paycheck beat. Unfortunately, while I was on maternity leave they decided they did not want me back. We tightened the belt strap and soldiered on. At the beginning of the new year, Erik's job - how shall we say - went away. School was put on hold. We dragged our sorry butts back to retail and began to explore our options outside of Texas which landed us in our current location. And then we had another kid. So 2 pregnancies, 5 jobs, and 1 relocation later, we finally have degree in hand. Until I looked back, I didn't really realize what a long road this has been. Can't wait to see what happens in the course of the next one.
Sorry the picture is sideways. I'll have to sort that one out later.
Sorry the picture is sideways. I'll have to sort that one out later.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Greetings from Illinois
Ahhhh, here we are vacationing in scenic Kankakee, IL. It just doesn't get more exotic than that, does it? Yes, I know you are fighting a jealous rage right now, but try to gain some control. Actually, we are in Bourbonnais, but Kankakee is just down the road and it's much more fun to say. And just in case it matters, that is about 60 miles south of Chicago.
The purpose of our stay here is a.) to visit the grandparents who returned to this city of my husband's birth after 20 some odd years away and 2.) it happens to be homecoming at Olivet Nazarene University where Erik graduated from in '94. Not a reunion year for him, but hopefully we will run into a few old friends while here.
The bonus is that this is also where Erik and I actually met so it actually holds a good amount of sentimentality for me as well. Yesterday we took the kids to the mall and into the store where I was the manager and Erik was one of my first employees. We drove by what used to be "John's Pub", the dive where we would shoot pool many a night while Erik slowly worked up the nerve to share his true feelings for me. Then over to the house on Monroe Street to show the kids where Daddy lived when he was their age and down to the river where he would ride his bike and go exploring all day long in a more innocent time. And of course to the University where Dad and Grandma and Grandpa all graduated. The weather has been gorgeous and it has been a lovely time so far.
I told Erik yesterday that I really am grateful to have our families in such wonderful places to take our kids to visit. My parents, of course, have the farm in Arkansas. While I wouldn't consider my kids 'city' by any means, true farm life is not something that many of their friends will ever experience or understand. I'm glad that my children get a chance to know a much slower pace and visit somewhere where they can go outside first thing in the morning and not have to tell me where they are going, what they'll be doing, or when they will be back. They don't need to look at a clock because there is no schedule or agenda.
When my in-laws were still in Dallas, we did not go back to visit at all. And to be honest, I can't imagine my kids having nearly as much fun there. As we walked down the trail that begins practically from my in-laws back deck and winds through a meadow by the river and to a little playground, I told Erik I feel like I'm in a John Mellencamp video. The houses in the neighborhood are older but incredibly well kept. Most of the people are unpretentious with a style that has hints of late 80's and early 90's. At the same time there is a good sized University just down the street so it's not like some back woods intellectual black hole or anything. In fact, I feel like it is just what one would think of when we reference a "good Midwestern upbringing". There is a comfort that I feel here that I didn't really expect, but think I deeply needed.
Perhaps in some ways, you actually can go back.
The purpose of our stay here is a.) to visit the grandparents who returned to this city of my husband's birth after 20 some odd years away and 2.) it happens to be homecoming at Olivet Nazarene University where Erik graduated from in '94. Not a reunion year for him, but hopefully we will run into a few old friends while here.
The bonus is that this is also where Erik and I actually met so it actually holds a good amount of sentimentality for me as well. Yesterday we took the kids to the mall and into the store where I was the manager and Erik was one of my first employees. We drove by what used to be "John's Pub", the dive where we would shoot pool many a night while Erik slowly worked up the nerve to share his true feelings for me. Then over to the house on Monroe Street to show the kids where Daddy lived when he was their age and down to the river where he would ride his bike and go exploring all day long in a more innocent time. And of course to the University where Dad and Grandma and Grandpa all graduated. The weather has been gorgeous and it has been a lovely time so far.
I told Erik yesterday that I really am grateful to have our families in such wonderful places to take our kids to visit. My parents, of course, have the farm in Arkansas. While I wouldn't consider my kids 'city' by any means, true farm life is not something that many of their friends will ever experience or understand. I'm glad that my children get a chance to know a much slower pace and visit somewhere where they can go outside first thing in the morning and not have to tell me where they are going, what they'll be doing, or when they will be back. They don't need to look at a clock because there is no schedule or agenda.
When my in-laws were still in Dallas, we did not go back to visit at all. And to be honest, I can't imagine my kids having nearly as much fun there. As we walked down the trail that begins practically from my in-laws back deck and winds through a meadow by the river and to a little playground, I told Erik I feel like I'm in a John Mellencamp video. The houses in the neighborhood are older but incredibly well kept. Most of the people are unpretentious with a style that has hints of late 80's and early 90's. At the same time there is a good sized University just down the street so it's not like some back woods intellectual black hole or anything. In fact, I feel like it is just what one would think of when we reference a "good Midwestern upbringing". There is a comfort that I feel here that I didn't really expect, but think I deeply needed.
Perhaps in some ways, you actually can go back.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
HELP!
Okay all of you professionally trained elementary educators, and mothers of small children who are older than mine. I have a 6 year old who can not tie his shoes and I have no idea where to even begin. I am soliciting any and all tips, tricks, rhymes, songs, whatever you've got to help us accomplish this goal.
Baby cryin'. Gotta go.
Baby cryin'. Gotta go.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Like winning the freakin' lottery . . .
That's pretty much how I feel every time I go grocery shopping these days. I go to any grocery store I please. If I'm doing the full blown shopping, (including my fancy pants Rachael Ray ingredients)I head to New Seasons where they specialize in not only organic products, but local as well. If it's a short list or I just don't have much time, I head just down the street to Safeway. Or if I want to just grab something I can just heat up at home, we swing by Trader Joesfor something like Buffalo Burgers. I don't give more than a fleeting thought to price, and I honestly can't remember my last trip to Winco. Almost everything is organic, from potatoes to cereal to packaged taco seasoning. This weekend I purchased a 2lb. flank steak for about $25.00. Holy cow!! I feel so gashed darn high falutin'.
And then it's time to pay. With as much confidence as I can muster I present my "Oregon Trail" card . . . . which is what food stamps look like these days. It kind of allows you to maintain some sort of dignity since it processes like a credit card. But you do have to specify to the cashier how you are paying so they can push their special little button so I always feel just a little bit awkward. And then I am often overcome with this urge to start explaining. First, I think I should explain/defend my clothing. I wonder if people think I am cheating the system because they see that I have a Timbuk2 diaper bag, Prana clothing, and Chaco sandals. I feel like I should explain that I'm able to score some massive deals where I work and that I promise I didn't pay anywhere near full price for any of it. I want to tell them that I do have a job as does my husband (while a full time grad student) and that I promise I did not have this child to get more money. I want to explain that this is temporary and that sometimes we all just need a little help. Most of the time I hope they respect my choice to spend my "government handout" on healthier choices for me and my family. I had no control over what our monthly amount to spend would be and it can only be spent on food. Because it affords me the opportunity to frequent the higher end grocers does that mean that we have been awarded too much? Or does it mean that everyone should at least have the option to make these choices? I want to explain so much even though I know I don't have to just like no one has to explain themselves to me.
I have learned a lot over the past few years about what "poverty" can look like (according to the federal government I live in it although I am still not convinced) and that you truly never know what anyone's situation is despite outward appearances. Maybe someday I will actually learn see the world around me the way I hope that they see me.
And then it's time to pay. With as much confidence as I can muster I present my "Oregon Trail" card . . . . which is what food stamps look like these days. It kind of allows you to maintain some sort of dignity since it processes like a credit card. But you do have to specify to the cashier how you are paying so they can push their special little button so I always feel just a little bit awkward. And then I am often overcome with this urge to start explaining. First, I think I should explain/defend my clothing. I wonder if people think I am cheating the system because they see that I have a Timbuk2 diaper bag, Prana clothing, and Chaco sandals. I feel like I should explain that I'm able to score some massive deals where I work and that I promise I didn't pay anywhere near full price for any of it. I want to tell them that I do have a job as does my husband (while a full time grad student) and that I promise I did not have this child to get more money. I want to explain that this is temporary and that sometimes we all just need a little help. Most of the time I hope they respect my choice to spend my "government handout" on healthier choices for me and my family. I had no control over what our monthly amount to spend would be and it can only be spent on food. Because it affords me the opportunity to frequent the higher end grocers does that mean that we have been awarded too much? Or does it mean that everyone should at least have the option to make these choices? I want to explain so much even though I know I don't have to just like no one has to explain themselves to me.
I have learned a lot over the past few years about what "poverty" can look like (according to the federal government I live in it although I am still not convinced) and that you truly never know what anyone's situation is despite outward appearances. Maybe someday I will actually learn see the world around me the way I hope that they see me.
Hello First Grade
Wow. A first grader. Wierd.
I have to admit this year was actually harder than Kindergarten last year, at least for me. Although Quincy is having challenges of his own since Oregon is one of the few states I believe who still offer half day kindergarten. That means that this is our first year of being at school all day. Quincy is not that thrilled with that fact as it is really cutting into his playin' around time.
It's been hard on mom because the last few weeks have been a little bumpy for Q and I. It would seem that I am already losing my little boy and I'm just not ready for that. But that's not what this post is about. It's about my boy's brave first day in the first grade.
We had an orientation night the week before so he had already met his teacher, knew where the classroom was as well as his desk. Once he got his jacket off, backpack put away and started on his coloring, he looked up and with a wave said "bye mom, see ya later". He has never been one to cling too much although he is usually nervous in new situations. At the end of the day, we went with our neighbor Izzy - who just started Kindergarten - to Cold Stone Creamery for some first day celebratory ice cream.
All in all, a pretty good start.
Here are a few obligatory photos.
I have to admit this year was actually harder than Kindergarten last year, at least for me. Although Quincy is having challenges of his own since Oregon is one of the few states I believe who still offer half day kindergarten. That means that this is our first year of being at school all day. Quincy is not that thrilled with that fact as it is really cutting into his playin' around time.
It's been hard on mom because the last few weeks have been a little bumpy for Q and I. It would seem that I am already losing my little boy and I'm just not ready for that. But that's not what this post is about. It's about my boy's brave first day in the first grade.
We had an orientation night the week before so he had already met his teacher, knew where the classroom was as well as his desk. Once he got his jacket off, backpack put away and started on his coloring, he looked up and with a wave said "bye mom, see ya later". He has never been one to cling too much although he is usually nervous in new situations. At the end of the day, we went with our neighbor Izzy - who just started Kindergarten - to Cold Stone Creamery for some first day celebratory ice cream.
All in all, a pretty good start.
Here are a few obligatory photos.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Farewell Summer
I like living in a place where school starts after Labor Day. I also like living in a place that experiences 4 distinct seasons that largely correspond with their start and end dates on the calendar. There seems to be this large communal deep breath as we all take in the last bits of summer over Labor Day weekend. Even the folks without kids are winding down their summer travels, camping trips, etc. And those of us with (school age) kids are of course enjoying our last hurrah before going back to that educational grind. The days here are growing a little milder and a little breezier and a lot shorter. Some of the leaves are even starting to change. So instead of just one more sweltering day, Labor Day was actually a perfect day for a family trip to the zoo. The only condition we imposed on ourselves was that we would go first thing in the morning since lots of other people would have the same idea. We arrived around 9:15am and had a really nice time. By 12:30 or 1:00, the kids had had their fill and we headed out just as it began to really get crowded and a little warmer. The timing really was perfect.
Here are some pics to commemorate the Young family's last 'unofficial' day of summer 2007.
The sea lions and sea otters at "Stellar Cove" are a mandatory stop for me.
Betcha didn't know how important it is to keep your volcanic peaks adequately hydrated.
Yeah, when the kids faces look like that, it's time to go.
It's an eagle's nest. Get it? They're being eagles. Humor them.
Here are some pics to commemorate the Young family's last 'unofficial' day of summer 2007.
The sea lions and sea otters at "Stellar Cove" are a mandatory stop for me.
Betcha didn't know how important it is to keep your volcanic peaks adequately hydrated.
Yeah, when the kids faces look like that, it's time to go. 
It's an eagle's nest. Get it? They're being eagles. Humor them.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Triple Onion Soup with Triple Cheese Toast
I adore French Onion soup, so I was anxious to try this one. At least until I read through the ingredients list and discovered leeks and shallots. I'm guessing I can find these things in produce, but outside of that I have no clue. Fortunately, Erik did the shopping that day and he was able to track them down.
I have accepted the fact that I can not do what Rachael Ray does in 30 minutes, which is how long every recipe in this book is supposed to take including all the slicing and dicing. Whatever. I began chopping at 5:00. I believe we sat down to eat around 6:45.
What Rachael fails to take into consideration is how many times the 4 year old will stand outside your 2nd floor apartment window calling out "mo-om!" or how many times the baby will drop his plug out of his mouth and begin wailing in distress.
I did not get off to a good start when I thought it would be fine to just go ahead and drop the butter into the soup pot first. As my butter began to burn, I realized that she actually had a reason for telling me to put the olive oil in first and then "add" the butter. Point taken.
And then there were the leeks. I have begun to allow additional time to look up further info on the internet and this was one of those times. The instructions said simply to cut into "half moons", wash, and drain. Huh???? I tried to find pictures or further instruction online but to no avail. I will say this in hindsight. It would be fine without the silly leeks. Double onion is just fine with me.
Oh yeah, the prep time was also extended when I realized that my crusty bread purchased a few days ago had become far too crusty and my husband had eaten most of it anyway, so I had to place a quick call to him at work that he would be dashing out to the store for more bread as soon as he got home.
So overall, not what one would call smooth, but it did taste pretty good even with the 2 extra cups of broth I added. I won't even go into that.
Just thought I'd share a little bit of the comic stylings of Heather in the kitchen. Believe it or not, I'm making progress.
I have accepted the fact that I can not do what Rachael Ray does in 30 minutes, which is how long every recipe in this book is supposed to take including all the slicing and dicing. Whatever. I began chopping at 5:00. I believe we sat down to eat around 6:45.
What Rachael fails to take into consideration is how many times the 4 year old will stand outside your 2nd floor apartment window calling out "mo-om!" or how many times the baby will drop his plug out of his mouth and begin wailing in distress.
I did not get off to a good start when I thought it would be fine to just go ahead and drop the butter into the soup pot first. As my butter began to burn, I realized that she actually had a reason for telling me to put the olive oil in first and then "add" the butter. Point taken.
And then there were the leeks. I have begun to allow additional time to look up further info on the internet and this was one of those times. The instructions said simply to cut into "half moons", wash, and drain. Huh???? I tried to find pictures or further instruction online but to no avail. I will say this in hindsight. It would be fine without the silly leeks. Double onion is just fine with me.
Oh yeah, the prep time was also extended when I realized that my crusty bread purchased a few days ago had become far too crusty and my husband had eaten most of it anyway, so I had to place a quick call to him at work that he would be dashing out to the store for more bread as soon as he got home.
So overall, not what one would call smooth, but it did taste pretty good even with the 2 extra cups of broth I added. I won't even go into that.
Just thought I'd share a little bit of the comic stylings of Heather in the kitchen. Believe it or not, I'm making progress.
When God was handing out taste in feminine literature, I must have gone to pee. . . .
I have a confession to make. I am not proud of it and must admit it makes me feel somewhat incomplete as a woman.
I have never read a Jane Austen novel.
I haven't even seen any of the movies. I tried to once in my mid 20's but honestly I can't even remember which book it was. That's how disinterested I was. I just feel so inadequate and just generally unhip whenever people start talking all Mr. Darcy and Emma and whatnot.
But recently while at our public library, I actually left the children's area and wandered into adult fiction where I stumbled across Miss Jane's portion of the shelf. I thought to myself that perhaps I should give it another go, but I really don't know where to start.
This is where you come in dear readers. I know there aren't many of you, but I do know that you are primarily well read women. Where should a Jane Austen virgin begin? Maybe something without too many characters to keep up with? Should I brush up on English propriety of that era? (See, I don't even know what era she wrote in.) Or have I passed my Jane Austen prime now that I am solidly in my late 30's and rapidly approaching the next decade?
Any and all comments/advice are appreciated.
p.s. I did come home with an Elizabeth Berg tome, so I am not completely hopeless. Just lacking when it comes to the classics.
I have never read a Jane Austen novel.
I haven't even seen any of the movies. I tried to once in my mid 20's but honestly I can't even remember which book it was. That's how disinterested I was. I just feel so inadequate and just generally unhip whenever people start talking all Mr. Darcy and Emma and whatnot.
But recently while at our public library, I actually left the children's area and wandered into adult fiction where I stumbled across Miss Jane's portion of the shelf. I thought to myself that perhaps I should give it another go, but I really don't know where to start.
This is where you come in dear readers. I know there aren't many of you, but I do know that you are primarily well read women. Where should a Jane Austen virgin begin? Maybe something without too many characters to keep up with? Should I brush up on English propriety of that era? (See, I don't even know what era she wrote in.) Or have I passed my Jane Austen prime now that I am solidly in my late 30's and rapidly approaching the next decade?
Any and all comments/advice are appreciated.
p.s. I did come home with an Elizabeth Berg tome, so I am not completely hopeless. Just lacking when it comes to the classics.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
My new friend . . . and future enemy
Since being on maternity leave (not vacation as some of my co-workers believe) I have indulged a bit in one of my guilty pleasures. Daytime TV. I believe it was with my first child that I discovered "Trading Spaces" and with my second there was my afternoon getaway with Samantha Brown on "Great Hotels". Now we are back to basic cable so my options have been a bit limited. But I decided to give this little Rachael Ray gal a go and see what the big deal was and if she could help at all with my, ummmm, disorder. Well, I was sucked in enough to track down one of her cookbooks at the library and let me tell you, it has been quite a good time. I have prepared a meal for my family at least twice and sometimes 3 times a week. Even had friends over to join us. Erik has even taken seconds of a few things, which is one of my measures of true success.
I think what I like is that Rachael comes the closest to presenting a recipe in a manner that doesn't make me start twitching before it's all done. She does throw in random ingredients that I have no idea what they actually are, much less where to find them. (I have yet to locate a can of smoked paprika anywhere.) She also tends to rather high end ingredients. I think I've made 3 recipes with Gruyere cheese, which I do love, but it does not come cheap. The good news is that our grocery budget has recently been expanded - I may do a separate post about that - but it is a temporary situation. Eventually, the carriage will turn back into a pumpkin and I won't be able to afford her anymore, which means I will have no option but to hate her.
But until then, we're eatin' gooooood!
I think what I like is that Rachael comes the closest to presenting a recipe in a manner that doesn't make me start twitching before it's all done. She does throw in random ingredients that I have no idea what they actually are, much less where to find them. (I have yet to locate a can of smoked paprika anywhere.) She also tends to rather high end ingredients. I think I've made 3 recipes with Gruyere cheese, which I do love, but it does not come cheap. The good news is that our grocery budget has recently been expanded - I may do a separate post about that - but it is a temporary situation. Eventually, the carriage will turn back into a pumpkin and I won't be able to afford her anymore, which means I will have no option but to hate her.
But until then, we're eatin' gooooood!
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Prayer and perspective
Sometimes, folks will ask what is so different about Orthodoxy or what it is that I get out of it. I often find myself using the word "perspective". It is not that it has changed my beliefs, but rather has taken me on this walk to view and experience my faith from a different angle. I have this mental picture of actually walking around the perimeter of something and then stopping to look and realizing that from that particular vantage point the same thing looks very different. The object doesn't change, but my perspective does.
Case in point, prayer. Most of the praying I have known in my life involved claiming God's promises, speaking boldly (and sometimes loudly)about your requests and needs as well as your worship and adoration. It wasn't necessarily greedy self-centered prayers just very direct and audible and "me" based.
Now for a little different perspective. These are some excerpts from a series of books by Fr. Thomas Hopko entitled "The Orthodox Faith" specifically regarding prayer.
"Sometimes prayer is defined as a dialogue with God."
So far so good. This is just what I have always been taught and believed. But it goes on with the following.
"This definition is sufficient if we remember that it is a dialogue of silence, carried on in the silence of our hearts."
Whoah, there's a twist. A couple of paragraphs later it even says that
"Saying prayers is not the same as praying. Prayer should be done secretly, briefly, regularly, without many words, with trust in God that he hears, and with the willingness to do what God shows us to do."
Now that is almost a world apart from what I have known . . . up to now at least. But the thing is, it's still prayer as communicating with God, but it is a different way to look at the purpose and practice of it. I don't feel like it invalidates what I have known in the past, but it does fill out and give a much broader meaning to what prayer is. Here is the really tough part that to me truly alters the perspective of my motivation to pray. Quite frankly, it rings true in my heart while scaring the bujeezers out of me.
"The purpose of prayer is to have communion with God and to be capable of accomplishing His will. Christians pray to enable themselves to know God and to do His commandments. Unless a person is willing to change himself and to conform himself to Christ in the fulfillment of his commandments, he has no reason or purpose to pray. According to the saints, it is even spiritually dangerous to pray to God without the intention of responding and moving along the path that prayer will take us."
See it? Prayer becomes about changing me and not the world around me. It becomes about what I can be transformed to, by and for God and not what He can make happen.
Perspective is a good thing.
Case in point, prayer. Most of the praying I have known in my life involved claiming God's promises, speaking boldly (and sometimes loudly)about your requests and needs as well as your worship and adoration. It wasn't necessarily greedy self-centered prayers just very direct and audible and "me" based.
Now for a little different perspective. These are some excerpts from a series of books by Fr. Thomas Hopko entitled "The Orthodox Faith" specifically regarding prayer.
"Sometimes prayer is defined as a dialogue with God."
So far so good. This is just what I have always been taught and believed. But it goes on with the following.
"This definition is sufficient if we remember that it is a dialogue of silence, carried on in the silence of our hearts."
Whoah, there's a twist. A couple of paragraphs later it even says that
"Saying prayers is not the same as praying. Prayer should be done secretly, briefly, regularly, without many words, with trust in God that he hears, and with the willingness to do what God shows us to do."
Now that is almost a world apart from what I have known . . . up to now at least. But the thing is, it's still prayer as communicating with God, but it is a different way to look at the purpose and practice of it. I don't feel like it invalidates what I have known in the past, but it does fill out and give a much broader meaning to what prayer is. Here is the really tough part that to me truly alters the perspective of my motivation to pray. Quite frankly, it rings true in my heart while scaring the bujeezers out of me.
"The purpose of prayer is to have communion with God and to be capable of accomplishing His will. Christians pray to enable themselves to know God and to do His commandments. Unless a person is willing to change himself and to conform himself to Christ in the fulfillment of his commandments, he has no reason or purpose to pray. According to the saints, it is even spiritually dangerous to pray to God without the intention of responding and moving along the path that prayer will take us."
See it? Prayer becomes about changing me and not the world around me. It becomes about what I can be transformed to, by and for God and not what He can make happen.
Perspective is a good thing.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Sweet Oregon goodness
It is that time of year again. I have said it before and I'll say it again. If you have never had an Oregon berry of any sort then you have no idea what that humble little fruit is capable of. Not to mention how many freaking varieties there are. Aside from your basic straw, rasp, and blue, we've got your marion, logan, tay, huckle, sylvan, olallie . . . the list goes on and on.
Now you have to understand that I grew up in Arkansas, where narry a berry ever crossed my lips. While it is an agricultural area and we had a large garden for many years, I guess the climate and such is not conducive to fruit as much as veggies and I just wasn't interested in the stuff from the produce department much less in a can. My mom and sister were always quite passionate about strawberries, but I could never figure out why they always added about 2 cups of sugar to a bowl of them to get them down. Even though I wasn't a fan, that still seemed like some sort of desecration to me.
Until 2 years ago, I thought all strawberries were quite firm and always white in the center. And then I moved here. Holy flippin cow.And the very best thing is that almost anywhere you live here in the Portland area, you can get to a "pick your own" farm in about 15 minutes. Unfortunately, the strawberry season is a short one, so both this year and last we were only able to make one trip. These pictures were taken the week before I went into labor when I still thought I had a month left in my pregnancy. In the 3 weeks it took me to recover, the strawberries disappeared.
After the strawberries are gone it's time for raspberries, blackberries and all of their relatives. This week was about marionberries, and no we're not talking about the former mayor of Washington D.C. It's a blackberry hybrid that I have been told you can only get in this area, but I'm not convinced that is true. This here bucket o' berries cost us all of 5 bucks.
Oh, did I mention that at U-pick farms, the prices run about $1.25 a pound. And are you catching the blackness of these blackberries? You are looking at a big bucket of YUM! We made a crisp that night and the rest are frozen for smoothies and ice cream toppings and so on. Ah yes, it's one of those things that make all that rain worth it.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Thank you SSA
Well, thanks to those stellar employees at the Social Security Administration, my new son has a new middle name. For those who may not know, we chose "Jude". The U.S. government, however, felt this would be more appropriate.
A new record
I actually prepared an evening meal for my family 3 nights in a row. AAANND, they were all edible. Didn't have to order emergency pizza or anything. One of the recipes was even worth saving for future use. You may laugh, but for me that is pure success. There may be a homemaker in me yet.
Stupid Upgrade
Yeah, so I finally upgraded my template so I could take advantage of all the wonderful improvements since Google took over Blogger. Now my name doesn't fit in the "about me" portion and my widgets are gone and for all its simplicity I can't figure out how to get them back. Not that any of you care about what is in my personal library, but it makes me happy and now it's gone. Oh, and I hate the font of my header, but I have absolutely no idea how to change that. Grrrr.....
I'll try to blog something of more note soon.
I'll try to blog something of more note soon.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
The Perfect Storm
On May 30th Erik received an email from a prof at George Fox who was looking to hire a student or 2 for a project he would be working on in southern Oregon for about 4-5 days. It is work that Erik has done before with this prof and he enjoys it. To get paid for it would be a bonus particularly considering it would be about the same amount that he would make in a month of work at REI. Seems like a no brainer, right? Here's the catch. The trip is to take place June 10 - 14. I believe it was just the day before when Erik and I had been discussing how huge my belly was and how neither of believed I would make it to week 40. When we agreed to select a date, he actually chose the 13th. I went more conservative with the 17th thinking how charming it would be to give birth on Father's Day. The overall point being, we both were confident the baby would come early, so how much of a risk would we be taking with him being gone for 5 days this late in the game. But we also knew that if he didn't go, and the baby did not arrive we would totally be kicking ourselves for passing up the opportunity not to mention the $$ right before I start maternity leave. So we discuss and agree that he will take the trip and if the baby comes, it comes and lots of fathers miss it, but life goes on.
The following week on June 4th, I have my regular weekly appointment and when the nurse takes my blood pressure, she looks at me and says "you're not usually high, are you?" To which I promptly reply "no, never". She takes it again and again I am in the 140/90 range which is not horrible, but for someone who hangs around the 120/60 area, it puts up this big waving red flag. Great. So in a nutshell, they send me home with this jug to collect a 24 hour urine sample, tell me to take the next 2 days off of work and come back on Wednesday the 6th to check the bp again. I have never missed a day of work for anything pregnancy related so I don't like this one bit, but I follow the orders. Let me just say though, how difficulat it is to go home with the instruction that 'we have some concerns, so we need you to go home and relax'. Sure, no problem. I'll just relax. Go back on Wednesday and the bp is now 167 or 176 over something ridiculous. They take it again and it drops down to 158 over something - still too high. Oh yeah, I failed to mention that Erik also had a retreat coming up on Friday and Saturday for the class he had been teaching. Not as far away as the other trip, but 2 full days of class regardless. So I of course then burst into tears over the fact that we have one day until he is gone for a full week and I am now considered a moderate to high risk pregnancy. I have never been any risk, in fact, I tend to be a downright boring pregnancy! This is not right at all! They start talking preeclampsia and induction and all kinds things that terrify me. Ultimately, the decision made was to admit me for 24 hours of monitering and then determine what the risk factor truly is at this point. I'm a little relieved though none too happy about spending the night in the hospital. They get me all set up in my room and Erik goes to make arrangements for the kids and work and such so he can spend the night with me. Meanwhile, they hook me up to the monitor to take my bp every 10 minutes and lo and behold it begins to drop down to the 130's range. Amidst the variety of folks talking to me we go from checking to see if I am "favorable" for an induction to the possibilty of being sent home. Finally, I was discharged with instruction to once again 'take it easy', no more work, and twice a week visits to the clinic for bp and urine checks. I promise Erik that I get the message and I will not worry one bit about any of the dishes in the kitchen or laundry to be done. I will absolutely chill out until he gets back from his trip, and then I will breathe a huge sigh of relief and probably have the baby soon after he gets home once all the stress is gone.
So we decide to leave Q and A at the neighbors place overnight so we can just get a good night's rest. The next morning I get up and decide to do a little of my prenatal yoga to help me start the day nice and relaxed. It was working just fine until my water broke. And we're off again! Only this time we know we will not leave the hospital again without a baby. What I did not expect was that my labor would never really get started on it's own despite the water breaking. I called the midwife just to let her know we would probably be in sometime, but she quickly corrected me and let me know that under my current circumstances they wanted me to head right in to the hospital so I could be monitored there. Lovely. Again we do as we're told all the while waiting for some kind of regular contractions to kick in which they never do. That monster Pitocin is there just around the corner lying in wait for me, I just know it. My midwife checks in with me, we talk again of what some of the risks are that we are looking at with my water already broken and my bp still running on the high end of the spectrum. She said she would give it about 12 hours before she really starts getting pushy about moving things along. After she leaves, Erik and I talk and agree that if we end up with Pitocin, we really don't want to start the process at 8:00pm just as I'm really starting to get tired. So we set 2:00pm as the deadline.
Again, because of the stupid bp, I have to be - at the very least - hooked up to a fetal monitor along with periodic bp checks so I am not allowed to leave the room and wander the halls in an effort to get things moving.
They were kind enough to let me have some kind of wireless fetal monitor so I could at least pace around my room and we did have windows with a halfway decent view. Still nothing. 2:00 comes and goes. Around 2:30 Maggie - my midwife - and her student show up to discuss. It still takes me awhile, but Erik and I both know this is what needs to happen. We all have our vision of what our birth experience should look like, but I really did not want to be foolish either. So we give the green light to get the pit drip started. It takes awhile to actually get all that stuff going I guess, so it was actually around 4:30pm when they actually got me hooked up and they did still allow me to have some mobility instead of making me stay in the bed. I have to give a big kudos also to my L&D nurse whose name actually escapes me now, or Maggie who wrote the orders, but the Pitocin was not nearly as horrible as I had prepared myself for it to be. For the most part I still got breaks to rest a little in between contractions and to be honest the pain of my first 2 kids is lost in the fog of the past so I can not really say that the pain of these was significantly worse. Labor is labor. It hurts. Period. Finally, though, at 9:17pm, our second son was born.
So all of that to say we are pleased to introduce you to Milo Jude Young.
After a few minor issues that kept him in the NICU for about 4-5 hours we were finally all together by about 3:00am on Friday morning.
It truly did feel like one of those situations where a lot of undesirable factors and events came together all at once just to make things more complicated to navigate, but ultimately it worked out for the best as it removed the stress of trying to spend a week NOT having a baby. Erik did miss the first day of the retreat, but was able to be there on Saturday to wrap up as well as make the trip to southern Oregon and earn some money. Yeah, it wasn't entirely easy to be home without him, but I definitely felt far more confident doing that than the thought of going through the whole delivery without him there especially with the various decisions to be made. It is so true that every birth experience is just completely different, but it just helps to remind me that so are each of my children. I can't wait to see what new dynamic and joy and surprise Milo will bring to our family. Stay tuned . . . .
The following week on June 4th, I have my regular weekly appointment and when the nurse takes my blood pressure, she looks at me and says "you're not usually high, are you?" To which I promptly reply "no, never". She takes it again and again I am in the 140/90 range which is not horrible, but for someone who hangs around the 120/60 area, it puts up this big waving red flag. Great. So in a nutshell, they send me home with this jug to collect a 24 hour urine sample, tell me to take the next 2 days off of work and come back on Wednesday the 6th to check the bp again. I have never missed a day of work for anything pregnancy related so I don't like this one bit, but I follow the orders. Let me just say though, how difficulat it is to go home with the instruction that 'we have some concerns, so we need you to go home and relax'. Sure, no problem. I'll just relax. Go back on Wednesday and the bp is now 167 or 176 over something ridiculous. They take it again and it drops down to 158 over something - still too high. Oh yeah, I failed to mention that Erik also had a retreat coming up on Friday and Saturday for the class he had been teaching. Not as far away as the other trip, but 2 full days of class regardless. So I of course then burst into tears over the fact that we have one day until he is gone for a full week and I am now considered a moderate to high risk pregnancy. I have never been any risk, in fact, I tend to be a downright boring pregnancy! This is not right at all! They start talking preeclampsia and induction and all kinds things that terrify me. Ultimately, the decision made was to admit me for 24 hours of monitering and then determine what the risk factor truly is at this point. I'm a little relieved though none too happy about spending the night in the hospital. They get me all set up in my room and Erik goes to make arrangements for the kids and work and such so he can spend the night with me. Meanwhile, they hook me up to the monitor to take my bp every 10 minutes and lo and behold it begins to drop down to the 130's range. Amidst the variety of folks talking to me we go from checking to see if I am "favorable" for an induction to the possibilty of being sent home. Finally, I was discharged with instruction to once again 'take it easy', no more work, and twice a week visits to the clinic for bp and urine checks. I promise Erik that I get the message and I will not worry one bit about any of the dishes in the kitchen or laundry to be done. I will absolutely chill out until he gets back from his trip, and then I will breathe a huge sigh of relief and probably have the baby soon after he gets home once all the stress is gone.
So we decide to leave Q and A at the neighbors place overnight so we can just get a good night's rest. The next morning I get up and decide to do a little of my prenatal yoga to help me start the day nice and relaxed. It was working just fine until my water broke. And we're off again! Only this time we know we will not leave the hospital again without a baby. What I did not expect was that my labor would never really get started on it's own despite the water breaking. I called the midwife just to let her know we would probably be in sometime, but she quickly corrected me and let me know that under my current circumstances they wanted me to head right in to the hospital so I could be monitored there. Lovely. Again we do as we're told all the while waiting for some kind of regular contractions to kick in which they never do. That monster Pitocin is there just around the corner lying in wait for me, I just know it. My midwife checks in with me, we talk again of what some of the risks are that we are looking at with my water already broken and my bp still running on the high end of the spectrum. She said she would give it about 12 hours before she really starts getting pushy about moving things along. After she leaves, Erik and I talk and agree that if we end up with Pitocin, we really don't want to start the process at 8:00pm just as I'm really starting to get tired. So we set 2:00pm as the deadline.
Again, because of the stupid bp, I have to be - at the very least - hooked up to a fetal monitor along with periodic bp checks so I am not allowed to leave the room and wander the halls in an effort to get things moving.
They were kind enough to let me have some kind of wireless fetal monitor so I could at least pace around my room and we did have windows with a halfway decent view. Still nothing. 2:00 comes and goes. Around 2:30 Maggie - my midwife - and her student show up to discuss. It still takes me awhile, but Erik and I both know this is what needs to happen. We all have our vision of what our birth experience should look like, but I really did not want to be foolish either. So we give the green light to get the pit drip started. It takes awhile to actually get all that stuff going I guess, so it was actually around 4:30pm when they actually got me hooked up and they did still allow me to have some mobility instead of making me stay in the bed. I have to give a big kudos also to my L&D nurse whose name actually escapes me now, or Maggie who wrote the orders, but the Pitocin was not nearly as horrible as I had prepared myself for it to be. For the most part I still got breaks to rest a little in between contractions and to be honest the pain of my first 2 kids is lost in the fog of the past so I can not really say that the pain of these was significantly worse. Labor is labor. It hurts. Period. Finally, though, at 9:17pm, our second son was born.
So all of that to say we are pleased to introduce you to Milo Jude Young.
After a few minor issues that kept him in the NICU for about 4-5 hours we were finally all together by about 3:00am on Friday morning.
It truly did feel like one of those situations where a lot of undesirable factors and events came together all at once just to make things more complicated to navigate, but ultimately it worked out for the best as it removed the stress of trying to spend a week NOT having a baby. Erik did miss the first day of the retreat, but was able to be there on Saturday to wrap up as well as make the trip to southern Oregon and earn some money. Yeah, it wasn't entirely easy to be home without him, but I definitely felt far more confident doing that than the thought of going through the whole delivery without him there especially with the various decisions to be made. It is so true that every birth experience is just completely different, but it just helps to remind me that so are each of my children. I can't wait to see what new dynamic and joy and surprise Milo will bring to our family. Stay tuned . . . .
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Awwww . . . . .
In case you can't quite make it out, that very succinct title is "Missionary Schools and the Enlightenment of the Alaskan Natives: A Theological and Sociological Survey of Russian Orthodox and Protestant Missionary Efforts Among the Natives of the Aleutian Islands and Southeastern Alaska". Yes, I know it may not be the Great American Novel, but to me it is one of the greatest pieces of literature ever written.
Some would say that our decision to move out here was absolutely crazy and if I were being honest I would probably have to admit there are some days they may be right. The last year has been particularly stressful as Erik spent much of it buried in this thesis business. But in March he turned in the final draft and in April he successfully defended it. It wasn't until all was said and done and it had already been turned in for binding that he showed me the dedication page. (Who knew a thesis had a dedication page?) Anyway, it won't mean much to anyone else who may read it, but it means the world to me.
You want me to do WHAT???
So I hit the 36 week mark of my pregnancy and went in for the first of my now weekly checkups. Being that this is my 3rd time around I knew that we would be doing the Group B strep test which means the end of external only exams. I've had 2 kids already so it's not like I'm particularly modest or uncomfortable when it comes to this point. What I did not expect, though, was that I would be asked to do the test MYSELF! I mean, come on, just because I prefer a natural approach to birth (which by the way I find to be a bit of a misnomer because in my opinion, unless the child comes out your nostril, it is a "natural" birth) does not mean that I am really that in touch with my body and would prefer to just do all of the work myself. I won't go into graphic detail, but suffice it to say that this is not a blood test. It involves a rather long q-tip looking thing and the nurse actually used the words "swish it around".
Now, I have actually been strip searched at a South American border crossing before and I would say that this was almost as awkward a moment in my life. And aside from the "do I really want to get to know myself this well?" factor, let me draw your attention back to the first sentence. 36 weeks. That's 9 months kids. My ever expanding belly is at a point where even my husband has told me it looks fake. Just managing to catch the urine sample each visit is getting a little dicey much less a feat like this. I'm still not sure I even did it right, but we'll just trust all will be fine at the delivery.
I am actually very happy to be with this particular practice and I specifically chose this hospital because of its' great reputation. I guess I'll just say that I never realized prenatal care would vary so significantly from one state to another and it's been a bit of an adjustment. Hopefully, there won't be too many more surprises.
Now, I have actually been strip searched at a South American border crossing before and I would say that this was almost as awkward a moment in my life. And aside from the "do I really want to get to know myself this well?" factor, let me draw your attention back to the first sentence. 36 weeks. That's 9 months kids. My ever expanding belly is at a point where even my husband has told me it looks fake. Just managing to catch the urine sample each visit is getting a little dicey much less a feat like this. I'm still not sure I even did it right, but we'll just trust all will be fine at the delivery.
I am actually very happy to be with this particular practice and I specifically chose this hospital because of its' great reputation. I guess I'll just say that I never realized prenatal care would vary so significantly from one state to another and it's been a bit of an adjustment. Hopefully, there won't be too many more surprises.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Fear of Change
Strangely, this is not like me at all. My basic personality is one that rolls with, embraces, sometimes even thrives on change. But this whole blogger update has me hesitating. They would have me believe that blogging will be even easier and I'll have more flexibility and be able to do lots of new cool tricks. But the problem is that I just really like my template. When I set this whole thing up, I knew that was the one (like ya know with a good melon). ; ) And now I'm just afraid that if I take the plunge and update to the new blogger I will lose my template forever. Silly, I know but I'm just telling you how I feel. Weird where we sometimes find security.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Sisterly love
Not too long ago Erik and Quincy were talking a bit of trash to one another about how their wrestling match planned for the next day was going to go. At one point Erik says, "well, maybe I'll string you up by your toes like a pinata". To which Adelaide - who had been sitting quietly on Erik's lap the whole time - pipes up with "YEAH! And get some CANDY out of him!!
Nice to know the girl has her priorities straight.
Nice to know the girl has her priorities straight.
Pascha
I don't know that I will ever be able to successfully capture the experience that is Pascha (Orthodox Easter). For one, you can't just jump in to Pascha without prefacing with the entire season of Great Lent and the journey that that is. This is only our second time around and while we did not participate to the same extent as we did last year - specifically in the area of fasting, but also with the myriad other services that take place - it was still an impactful (is that a word?) experience. At the very least, the kids were content to go and sleep in the parish hall during the Divine Liturgy allowing us to take more of it in. By the time it was over some of the the older kids had joined them so all were actually awake and a bit giddy with anticipation of the banquet to come as well as the fact that it was the middle of the night and they were in their sleeping bags in their Sunday School classroom. If that is all they take from it, it's actually fine with me because at least they got some sense of the excitement and joy that surrounds this holiday. The transition to the Orthodox Church has been kind of rough on them because they are not "entertained" as was the case in most other churches we have attended. This was exciting and different and I believe it is something they will look forward to with eagerness next year.
Soooo, since I am not willing to take the necessary time to describe the whole thing I will just say that it is all just dripping with tradition and symbolism and a sense of eternal community. And regardlesss of your faith tradition, if you have never taken part in Lent (Eastern or Western) I would highly recommend it. Most of my life it always seemed that Easter just kind of snuck up on me, but that is no longer the case. Try it out next year and see if I don't speak the truth.
Finally, what post about Easter would be complete without at least a couple of pictures of kids hunting eggs. Unfortunately, mine were so intent on the search, I couldn't seem to catch a photo with them looking at ME. They most certainly were not interested in the distraction of mom with her camera and posterity and what not. Till next year . . . . Christ is Risen!
Soooo, since I am not willing to take the necessary time to describe the whole thing I will just say that it is all just dripping with tradition and symbolism and a sense of eternal community. And regardlesss of your faith tradition, if you have never taken part in Lent (Eastern or Western) I would highly recommend it. Most of my life it always seemed that Easter just kind of snuck up on me, but that is no longer the case. Try it out next year and see if I don't speak the truth.
Finally, what post about Easter would be complete without at least a couple of pictures of kids hunting eggs. Unfortunately, mine were so intent on the search, I couldn't seem to catch a photo with them looking at ME. They most certainly were not interested in the distraction of mom with her camera and posterity and what not. Till next year . . . . Christ is Risen!
Sunday, May 13, 2007
For my friend Cori (the climber)
Maybe if they made this kind of harness for grown ups, you would feel braver . . . . or maybe not. If it's any consolation, I'm certain that you made it much higher than Adelaide and that she would be terribly envious of the matching pink hat and belt. = )
Oh yeah, and be glad Chuck doesn't work for REI because this was at our Christmas party.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Spring Break
Fortunately, Erik and Quincy's spring breaks fell on the same week so, miracle of miracles, we had one day where none of us had to be anywhere. So we took off for the coast, this time to Astoria. For you movie folks, this is the charming seaside community that was the location for 2 80's favorites, "Goonies" and "Short Circuit". We didn't spend much time actually in town except to eat lunch, but Erik did promise that next time we go he will be doing the 'Truffle Shuffle' in front of the Goonies house. But for this visit we headed out to Ft. Stevens to play in the sand and taunt the sea. I look forward to the time when we can spend more days like this . . . . .
Friday, April 27, 2007
Another year older . . . times 2
And then we had birthdays. The kids are 2 years and 12 days apart and this is the first year that we did a joint birthday party. I kind of hate to do that, but there were circumstances - one being duplicate guest lists - that made it seem just more practical. I gave them the option, and after a little thought they decided it was okay to have one shared party. Fortunately, since the advent of Belleville Lego sets, they were also able to agree on a single "theme".
I hesitate to post pictures just in case Gayla still checks in here. My efforts seem just a little less than pitiful when compared to the pirate extravaganza she put together. Oh well, we all work with the skills we have right? The kids seemed to have fun.
So here's a little bit of what it looked like . . . .
The kids hung the streamers themselves.
And yes, I know he needs a haircut. . . . .
I hesitate to post pictures just in case Gayla still checks in here. My efforts seem just a little less than pitiful when compared to the pirate extravaganza she put together. Oh well, we all work with the skills we have right? The kids seemed to have fun.
So here's a little bit of what it looked like . . . .
The kids hung the streamers themselves.
And yes, I know he needs a haircut. . . . .
Thursday, April 26, 2007
pictorial catch up
Back in March, we were able to go in with 2 other families on a cabin at Lake Odell in the Cascade mountains for a couple of days of playing in the snow. I actually was a little stressed with work and Erik was probably a lot stressed with his thesis, but we still had a really good time. And we were actually able to get the rare photo of all 4 (or technically 5 as you can tell by my bulging belly) of us together.
The night before we left we decided to go ahead and buy a sled. Huge hit! The only drawback was that after they experienced the sled, we couldn't get them to go more than 30 yards on the snowshoes and forget the skis. Maybe next year. It was still a ball to watch their faces as they sped down the hill again and again.
I'm Ba-ack
So yeah, it's been ohhhh . . . 3 1/2 months since I last posted. So long in fact, that my blog account was taken over by Google and I didn't even know it and besides that I could not remember the proper username and password to log in anyway. But my kids are at the neighbors house and my husband is at work and I decided I would sit down and figure this darn thing out. I have to admit, I'm also embarrassed that the last thing I did actually post was a silly rant. So hopefully I haven't lost the few readers that I did have and I will be providing something for your perusal soon. That doesn't mean it will be good, but it'll be something with which to waste a few moments of your day.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
A long overdue rant
www.traveltheroad.com (Yeah, I still don't know how to post links, but in this case it's just as well, since I don't actually recommend this website or the program.)
Sorry, but these guys really annoy me. I have only seen this show a handful of times, but for some reason I keep coming across the same episode and it absolutely makes me crazy! They visit Tibet and witness a sky burial and their portrayal of it is one of the most culturally insensitive, not to mention completely ignorant, things I have ever seen. They know nothing of the Tibetan culture nor the Bhuddist religion. Two things one would think they would have researched just the tiniest bit before heading out to bring the 'light of Jesus' to these seemingly 'hopeless barbarians'. Not to mention educating yourself on something as simple as the weather. No lie, they head for the mountains of Tibet with nothing more than a lightweight rain jacket. I was appalled both as a Christian and as an REI employee.
Oh and the drama of the narraration. It's just ridiculous. And besides all that, what truly called and compassionate missionary takes a camera man with them as they flit through various volatile locations for, oh I don't know, 3-5 days at a time? Now that's certainly making an impact (she said rolling her eyes). I suppose I should watch the series for a while to truly give them a fair shake, but I find it just far too painful and it always puts me in this cranky state. And I don't like being cranky with folks who deep down probably believe the same core things that I do.
You would think I would have learned by now to stay away from TBN. I'm far happier with Globetrekker on OPB.
Rant complete . . . for now.
Sorry, but these guys really annoy me. I have only seen this show a handful of times, but for some reason I keep coming across the same episode and it absolutely makes me crazy! They visit Tibet and witness a sky burial and their portrayal of it is one of the most culturally insensitive, not to mention completely ignorant, things I have ever seen. They know nothing of the Tibetan culture nor the Bhuddist religion. Two things one would think they would have researched just the tiniest bit before heading out to bring the 'light of Jesus' to these seemingly 'hopeless barbarians'. Not to mention educating yourself on something as simple as the weather. No lie, they head for the mountains of Tibet with nothing more than a lightweight rain jacket. I was appalled both as a Christian and as an REI employee.
Oh and the drama of the narraration. It's just ridiculous. And besides all that, what truly called and compassionate missionary takes a camera man with them as they flit through various volatile locations for, oh I don't know, 3-5 days at a time? Now that's certainly making an impact (she said rolling her eyes). I suppose I should watch the series for a while to truly give them a fair shake, but I find it just far too painful and it always puts me in this cranky state. And I don't like being cranky with folks who deep down probably believe the same core things that I do.
You would think I would have learned by now to stay away from TBN. I'm far happier with Globetrekker on OPB.
Rant complete . . . for now.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Something I still miss
Okay, so I have been attending an Orthodox Church fairly regularly for almost a year now and there is much that I love about it. Many of my lifelong paradigms - yeah, I hate that word too, but it's all I could think of - have been altered and many things I held tightly over the years have been released. I don't think there is anything I would change about the way they express their faith. But I have to admit there is one thing that I miss. For lack of a better term, it is contemporary worship. But not just any upbeat guitar and drums with pretty back up singers and a state of the art sound system. And not a bunch of 'Jesus is my boyfriend/girlfriend' type lyrics.
There are a few folks who read this who have had the opportunity to participate in a time of worship with Bob Thomas leading. Bob is one of those rare finds -- talented and humble with this amazing desire to just find and then rest in God's presence. If you would like to come along, he's glad to have you join him. I miss that. I miss the occasional unstructured time in a small group just rolling with wherever the worship takes you. And now that I think a little more about it, I don't think it's necessarily being in the Orthodox church that makes me miss it. I visited other churches when I first moved here that were closer to what I was accustomed to and even they left me feeling a little . . . . I don't know . . . unfulfilled. I know, I know, it is not the purpose of a Sunday service to fulfill me. I just have this little selfish desire inside to find some place or group that gathers maybe once a month or a quarter or something and just goes with it.
It's interesting to me how we all have different ways of being drawn into the presence of God or maybe just sensing that closeness that happens every so often. For some it can only be found in the classical styles of traditional or liturgical churches and this contemporary worship band stuff is just silliness while others feel quite the opposite. I guess there is really no right or wrong. I've tried to convince myself that the whole modernization of the worship was a bad idea, but then I remember a quiet Saturday night in Plano, TX singing "Resting" or "I Love Your Presence" or "I Receive" and I really miss it. I really, really do.
There are a few folks who read this who have had the opportunity to participate in a time of worship with Bob Thomas leading. Bob is one of those rare finds -- talented and humble with this amazing desire to just find and then rest in God's presence. If you would like to come along, he's glad to have you join him. I miss that. I miss the occasional unstructured time in a small group just rolling with wherever the worship takes you. And now that I think a little more about it, I don't think it's necessarily being in the Orthodox church that makes me miss it. I visited other churches when I first moved here that were closer to what I was accustomed to and even they left me feeling a little . . . . I don't know . . . unfulfilled. I know, I know, it is not the purpose of a Sunday service to fulfill me. I just have this little selfish desire inside to find some place or group that gathers maybe once a month or a quarter or something and just goes with it.
It's interesting to me how we all have different ways of being drawn into the presence of God or maybe just sensing that closeness that happens every so often. For some it can only be found in the classical styles of traditional or liturgical churches and this contemporary worship band stuff is just silliness while others feel quite the opposite. I guess there is really no right or wrong. I've tried to convince myself that the whole modernization of the worship was a bad idea, but then I remember a quiet Saturday night in Plano, TX singing "Resting" or "I Love Your Presence" or "I Receive" and I really miss it. I really, really do.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Now this is nice
It is 2:00 in the afternoon. Quincy is at school, Adelaide is taking a nap, and Cameron - the 5 year old who usually spends Mondays with us - is home with his mom today. I've got a nice big cup of hot chocolate and it is snowing outside my window. (I live in the "no stick" zone below 500 ft, but it's still fun to watch.) This morning I finished copying most of my favorite Christmas tunes onto my new and improved holiday itunes playlist. Yes, I'm still a sucker for Christmas music, and though there are still some gaps in my collection, I currently have 119 songs and 6.4 hours. That should do for awhile.
Here's to a cozy afternoon.
Here's to a cozy afternoon.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
I have no title for this, but it ain't pretty
Oh Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted, Ted. Look what you have done to me. I know that really all the opinions have been voiced, and honestly I have nothing to add to the conversation. This is really about me.
When my husband first read the news story to me, I will openly admit that my reaction was one of disappointment, frustration, annoyance, very little hope that any of it would prove to be false, and zero compassion. I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. (Or maybe more of a groan.) This stuff makes me crazy, partly because anymore it comes as absolutely no surprise. I listened as the discussion unfolded on one of my yahoo groups about the political motivation of the accuser and how it was just a ridiculous attack. And then I watched the tone change - not in a bad way, just less "it can't be true" to more "we all sin" - as the truth trickled out. I truly admire all of the folks out there who immediately took the high road and pointed out that we are all indeed sinners. Yes, it's true that there but for God's grace, go I. I am also impressed by the grace and wisdom by which his church has handled the situation.
But here is what pisses me off. The only reason this even came out was because he basically got caught, and then it all played out like a political scandal. It was spun like anything else straight out of the beltway. Step one: deny, deny, deny. (I did not have sexual relations with that woman.) Step two: admit a little, just enough that people will accept, maybe be a little understanding, but not turn on you. (Yeah, I tried it, but I didn't inhale) You see where I'm going with this. A little bit at a time, until we reach full disclosure. Maybe. We never really know, do we? And ya know what, I really don't even care about the alleged homosexual relationship or the drugs. I can get past that pretty easily. What I am having a hard time getting past is the postions of power in which these men find themselves be it by their own doing or that of their "followers" that seems to make it even more difficult to have human failings. (And don't kid yourself by saying that we're all just following Jesus. Many of us have been known to follow a man. I know I have.) I'm also left wondering how this was even kept a secret for so long. Was there really no one close enough to realize that something was amiss? Was there absolutely no one that he felt safe enough to confide in or confess to? How have we as a church come to this? What I'm wondering is this. All of these sins that we all know we have, that are no worse than that of Ted Haggard, nor are they any more hidden from God -- are they still hidden from everyone around us? Even those who love us most? I suspect that as Mr. Haggard struggled with these things, he was repenting and praying and seeking "deliverance" along the way. I'm doubtful that he was basking in it, but that he was likely trying to get a handle on it with God's help. Meanwhile, there was probably help to be had and things might not have gotten so ugly had he felt there was a safe place to confess.
Confession. That is a tough one. That is probably one of the biggest obstacles to me being chrismated into the Orthodox Church. It is not optional there. I'm not sure how it plays out during the rest of the year, but come Pascha (Easter), if you have not been to see the priest for confession, you do not partake in communion. In her book Mudhouse Sabbath, Lauren Winner does a whole chapter on confession and how she began the practice. I remember reading it and thinking "there is no freaking way I could ever do that". I can confess and ask forgiveness when I have wronged my husband. Apologize and take responsibility when I've wounded a friend. But to share with anyone my deep dark ugly secret stuff? That is something else entirely. Especially when it is a sin against God alone. Why burden anyone else with that? And who knows when it might come back to bite you on the butt. It's probably best to just handle it on your own.
So maybe this is where Ted teaches me a lesson. Maybe this is where I can find some common ground and maybe even a little compassion. I have plenty of my own little secrets and isn't that, along with my judgement every bit as repulsive as anything he's ever done? I have always been 'the good one' so any shortcoming at all is utter failure in my eyes. The dark part inside of me that sizes up everyone I meet before letting them show me who they really are. That sees all of their flaws and none of my own. And that's just one of my more regular sins. There are plenty more that probably don't need to be on a blog. But I'm really starting to believe that they do belong out in the open somewhere, as terrifying as that is to me. How can we ever be the whole and unified body of Christ as long as we hold onto our secret sins?
"I believe, O Lord, and I confess that you are truly the Christ, the Son of the living God, who did come into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the greatest. . . . "
"Forgive me of my sins, brothers and sisters."
"May God forgive us all."
When my husband first read the news story to me, I will openly admit that my reaction was one of disappointment, frustration, annoyance, very little hope that any of it would prove to be false, and zero compassion. I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. (Or maybe more of a groan.) This stuff makes me crazy, partly because anymore it comes as absolutely no surprise. I listened as the discussion unfolded on one of my yahoo groups about the political motivation of the accuser and how it was just a ridiculous attack. And then I watched the tone change - not in a bad way, just less "it can't be true" to more "we all sin" - as the truth trickled out. I truly admire all of the folks out there who immediately took the high road and pointed out that we are all indeed sinners. Yes, it's true that there but for God's grace, go I. I am also impressed by the grace and wisdom by which his church has handled the situation.
But here is what pisses me off. The only reason this even came out was because he basically got caught, and then it all played out like a political scandal. It was spun like anything else straight out of the beltway. Step one: deny, deny, deny. (I did not have sexual relations with that woman.) Step two: admit a little, just enough that people will accept, maybe be a little understanding, but not turn on you. (Yeah, I tried it, but I didn't inhale) You see where I'm going with this. A little bit at a time, until we reach full disclosure. Maybe. We never really know, do we? And ya know what, I really don't even care about the alleged homosexual relationship or the drugs. I can get past that pretty easily. What I am having a hard time getting past is the postions of power in which these men find themselves be it by their own doing or that of their "followers" that seems to make it even more difficult to have human failings. (And don't kid yourself by saying that we're all just following Jesus. Many of us have been known to follow a man. I know I have.) I'm also left wondering how this was even kept a secret for so long. Was there really no one close enough to realize that something was amiss? Was there absolutely no one that he felt safe enough to confide in or confess to? How have we as a church come to this? What I'm wondering is this. All of these sins that we all know we have, that are no worse than that of Ted Haggard, nor are they any more hidden from God -- are they still hidden from everyone around us? Even those who love us most? I suspect that as Mr. Haggard struggled with these things, he was repenting and praying and seeking "deliverance" along the way. I'm doubtful that he was basking in it, but that he was likely trying to get a handle on it with God's help. Meanwhile, there was probably help to be had and things might not have gotten so ugly had he felt there was a safe place to confess.
Confession. That is a tough one. That is probably one of the biggest obstacles to me being chrismated into the Orthodox Church. It is not optional there. I'm not sure how it plays out during the rest of the year, but come Pascha (Easter), if you have not been to see the priest for confession, you do not partake in communion. In her book Mudhouse Sabbath, Lauren Winner does a whole chapter on confession and how she began the practice. I remember reading it and thinking "there is no freaking way I could ever do that". I can confess and ask forgiveness when I have wronged my husband. Apologize and take responsibility when I've wounded a friend. But to share with anyone my deep dark ugly secret stuff? That is something else entirely. Especially when it is a sin against God alone. Why burden anyone else with that? And who knows when it might come back to bite you on the butt. It's probably best to just handle it on your own.
So maybe this is where Ted teaches me a lesson. Maybe this is where I can find some common ground and maybe even a little compassion. I have plenty of my own little secrets and isn't that, along with my judgement every bit as repulsive as anything he's ever done? I have always been 'the good one' so any shortcoming at all is utter failure in my eyes. The dark part inside of me that sizes up everyone I meet before letting them show me who they really are. That sees all of their flaws and none of my own. And that's just one of my more regular sins. There are plenty more that probably don't need to be on a blog. But I'm really starting to believe that they do belong out in the open somewhere, as terrifying as that is to me. How can we ever be the whole and unified body of Christ as long as we hold onto our secret sins?
"I believe, O Lord, and I confess that you are truly the Christ, the Son of the living God, who did come into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the greatest. . . . "
"Forgive me of my sins, brothers and sisters."
"May God forgive us all."
What goes around . . .
When I was a little girl, one of my favorite things in the whole wide world was when I would fall asleep while watching TV and my dad would have to put me to bed. I can remember being carried through the house when everything was silent, and him checking all the lights and locks to make sure his family was safe. Funny thing is that I don't really recall actually being put in bed as much as I remember being held in his arms. I loved this feeling to the point that I would either try to intentionally stay up past my bedtime or, more often, I would fake being asleep. At the time, I don't think I could explain why I liked this so much, but as an adult, I now recognize that amazing sense of security and safety of being held in my father's arms.
Fast forward 30 some-odd years. I now have a daughter who will be chatting away, fidgeting with a toy, or just squirming around under her blanket when we let her stay up to watch a movie or TV show with us. But when it is actually time for bed, all of a sudden her eyes are closed and she is perfectly still. . . . save the semi grin on her lips. As you go to pick her up, she actually helps you and puts her arms around your neck all by herself. She's a pretty bad faker, but the effort is just adorable. She's not to particular about whether it is Mom or Dad who carries her to her room, but I have to say that knowing what I know now, I really love it when it's Dad.
I'm sure there are some lovely devotional thoughts I could pull from this, but really I just wanted to draw the picture of something that seems to be inside us all.
Fast forward 30 some-odd years. I now have a daughter who will be chatting away, fidgeting with a toy, or just squirming around under her blanket when we let her stay up to watch a movie or TV show with us. But when it is actually time for bed, all of a sudden her eyes are closed and she is perfectly still. . . . save the semi grin on her lips. As you go to pick her up, she actually helps you and puts her arms around your neck all by herself. She's a pretty bad faker, but the effort is just adorable. She's not to particular about whether it is Mom or Dad who carries her to her room, but I have to say that knowing what I know now, I really love it when it's Dad.
I'm sure there are some lovely devotional thoughts I could pull from this, but really I just wanted to draw the picture of something that seems to be inside us all.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Aaahhhh, winter in Oregon
9:00 this morning. This is across the street from our building and then looking around the corner down the street.
3:45 this afternoon. Fog has lifted, but not much else has changed. This is what many days will look like over the next few months. It takes a bit of adjustment, but overall I really like it. Especially since very soon (hopefully) the rain down here will mean snow on the mountain. Snow park days can not be too far off.
3:45 this afternoon. Fog has lifted, but not much else has changed. This is what many days will look like over the next few months. It takes a bit of adjustment, but overall I really like it. Especially since very soon (hopefully) the rain down here will mean snow on the mountain. Snow park days can not be too far off.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Greetings from the road
Probably won't post much over the next week (I say that as if I post regularly) since we are currently in the land of country and Christian music for a wedding, followed by a road trip to NW Arkansas for a long overdue visit with my family. I have been away from the south long enough to forget how weddings are done around these parts. The bride is Alabama born and bred and sweet as can be. But man, I live in a totally different world. There are actually lots of things I would change about my own wedding if I ever got the chance for a do-over, but I think that with all the money and time in the world it would never be this perfect. I'm a fairly organized person, but way too type B for that. I think that's why Oregon suits me better. The first time I visited Portland, I noticed how many women had unstyled hair and no makeup. Then it occurred to me, what's the point since the rain just makes your face run and your hair frizzy. Here, I am definitely out of my element. The good news -- it really doesn't bother me so much anymore. As Adelaide said to me recently after one of her successful trips to the potty, "Look! I'm growing!"
Here's to getting a little more comfortable in my very own skin.
Here's to getting a little more comfortable in my very own skin.
Friday, October 13, 2006
The Wonderful World of Poo
Warning: there is absolutely no redeeming value in the following post. In fact, it's kind of gross. Consider yourself warned.
She weighs 25 pounds soaking wet.
She has an affinity for all things pink.
She fancies herself a "ballerina princess".
And this petite, delicate, wisp of a girl can - and has, on more than one occasion - clog a toilet with a single bowel movement. I kid you not. The reason is that as adorable as she is, the child can be stubborn as an ox, and has taken to "withholding". (Last December, she gave herself a serious bladder infection, doing the same thing with "#1). It has been over a year since we began the "toileting" journey, and let me just say that all of those people and books and so called experts who would have one believe that girls learn faster than boys are just full of crap. No pun intended.
I think that most of us had these grand images in our minds of how we would do things just right when we had kids of our own. And then the kids get here, and they have their own little personalities and haven't read the same play book we have and it all becomes quite interesting.
Quincy's 'potty training' was really pretty easy. It seems like he was in his Spiderman underpants in no time and in the course of his life, I have washed out one pair of soiled pants. This daughter of mine is an entirely different story. First, let me assure you that she was NOT constipated. She just really hated pooping. I know that this is not an unusual thing for kids to go through, but let me tell you, it is absolutely maddening. We just kept thinking, she can't keep it in there forever. That is true enough, however, she is able to keep it in for up to 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS!!! Like I said, she weighs 25 pounds. How big could her colon possibly be?! Hence the clogged toilet over and over again. We would sit with her and hold her hand. We would leave her alone to work it out, so to speak, on her own. It just seemed to be getting worse. We could always see the tell-tale signs that something was brewing, when she would stop whatever she was doing, sit down, and just wiggle, wiggle, wiggle. When asked if there was anything the matter, the response was usually something like, "I DON"T need to go poop!"
We realized we needed to seek professional help, when her general distress began to turn to anger and just absolute frustration . . . for all of us. So we got a prescription stool softener/laxative. The doctor says she wants this to be as low stress as possible so we should probably go back to pull ups, because things would likely get messier before they got better. Okay. We will do our best. Just to show what she is capable of, she continued to hold it in. Well, not all of it, of course. After all, she is taking a daily laxative. So what began to happen instead was about every hour or so - sometimes every 15 minutes - we would hear, "I need to wipe my bottom and change my diaper". In one week we went through 29 pull ups. I'd be an absolute liar if I said we remained calm and low stress the entire time.
Then one night, the poo would wait no more. Unfortunately, (or perhaps for the best) she was in the bathtub at the time. Did you ever sing that song when you were younger about Jesus love is bubblin' over? Remember, it went "bubu-bu-bubblin". Evidently, that is what began to happen. Kind of like the tar pits or muddy hot springs. At least that's how Erik described it. I happened to be on the phone, but by the time I had to hand the call off to Erik, the poo had let loose. Not everywhere, but it was enough. It was in the tub, on the toilet, on the floor. You get the picture. And there stands Adelaide in the tub, just wailing while Erik is pouring bucket after bucket of water over her butt. I took over the clean up duties and tried to decipher what she was saying as she cried. "What? It's on your foot?" After a few more guesses I finally figured it out. My sweet, precious, and exceedingly obstinate little girl was weeping and saying "It's all my fault!" Broke my heart. We assurred her over and over that everything was alright and it was absolutely not her fault and no big deal at all. Got everything cleaned up and went on with our evening.
The next day we had a breakthrough. I honestly do not know what clicked. All I know is that she was beginning the wiggle and I carried her to the toilet despite her protestations. And then she accidentally pushed. And then she realized that it wasn't going to hurt. And then she remembered that we had a bag of treats for when she pooped without crying. And then she found the Dora fruit snacks. It was like the planets had aligned. We spent the next 2 days unloading what she had been saving up for the past 2 weeks.
I wouldn't say we are done yet with the process, but we finally seem to be heading the right direction. Now I think she's a little disappointed when we go to 'see if there is any poop that needs to come out of my bottom' and nothing happens. However, she also seems to lose interest when the treats in the surprise bag are not her favorites. But we will stick with it and probably have a little more compassion on those parents whose kids may seem a little delayed in their "toileting" or various other skills. I have said many times that I don't care how many books there are out there telling us how to do this parenting thing right, ultimately we're all just guessing and doing the best we can. God bless us all.
She weighs 25 pounds soaking wet.
She has an affinity for all things pink.
She fancies herself a "ballerina princess".
And this petite, delicate, wisp of a girl can - and has, on more than one occasion - clog a toilet with a single bowel movement. I kid you not. The reason is that as adorable as she is, the child can be stubborn as an ox, and has taken to "withholding". (Last December, she gave herself a serious bladder infection, doing the same thing with "#1). It has been over a year since we began the "toileting" journey, and let me just say that all of those people and books and so called experts who would have one believe that girls learn faster than boys are just full of crap. No pun intended.
I think that most of us had these grand images in our minds of how we would do things just right when we had kids of our own. And then the kids get here, and they have their own little personalities and haven't read the same play book we have and it all becomes quite interesting.
Quincy's 'potty training' was really pretty easy. It seems like he was in his Spiderman underpants in no time and in the course of his life, I have washed out one pair of soiled pants. This daughter of mine is an entirely different story. First, let me assure you that she was NOT constipated. She just really hated pooping. I know that this is not an unusual thing for kids to go through, but let me tell you, it is absolutely maddening. We just kept thinking, she can't keep it in there forever. That is true enough, however, she is able to keep it in for up to 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS!!! Like I said, she weighs 25 pounds. How big could her colon possibly be?! Hence the clogged toilet over and over again. We would sit with her and hold her hand. We would leave her alone to work it out, so to speak, on her own. It just seemed to be getting worse. We could always see the tell-tale signs that something was brewing, when she would stop whatever she was doing, sit down, and just wiggle, wiggle, wiggle. When asked if there was anything the matter, the response was usually something like, "I DON"T need to go poop!"
We realized we needed to seek professional help, when her general distress began to turn to anger and just absolute frustration . . . for all of us. So we got a prescription stool softener/laxative. The doctor says she wants this to be as low stress as possible so we should probably go back to pull ups, because things would likely get messier before they got better. Okay. We will do our best. Just to show what she is capable of, she continued to hold it in. Well, not all of it, of course. After all, she is taking a daily laxative. So what began to happen instead was about every hour or so - sometimes every 15 minutes - we would hear, "I need to wipe my bottom and change my diaper". In one week we went through 29 pull ups. I'd be an absolute liar if I said we remained calm and low stress the entire time.
Then one night, the poo would wait no more. Unfortunately, (or perhaps for the best) she was in the bathtub at the time. Did you ever sing that song when you were younger about Jesus love is bubblin' over? Remember, it went "bubu-bu-bubblin". Evidently, that is what began to happen. Kind of like the tar pits or muddy hot springs. At least that's how Erik described it. I happened to be on the phone, but by the time I had to hand the call off to Erik, the poo had let loose. Not everywhere, but it was enough. It was in the tub, on the toilet, on the floor. You get the picture. And there stands Adelaide in the tub, just wailing while Erik is pouring bucket after bucket of water over her butt. I took over the clean up duties and tried to decipher what she was saying as she cried. "What? It's on your foot?" After a few more guesses I finally figured it out. My sweet, precious, and exceedingly obstinate little girl was weeping and saying "It's all my fault!" Broke my heart. We assurred her over and over that everything was alright and it was absolutely not her fault and no big deal at all. Got everything cleaned up and went on with our evening.
The next day we had a breakthrough. I honestly do not know what clicked. All I know is that she was beginning the wiggle and I carried her to the toilet despite her protestations. And then she accidentally pushed. And then she realized that it wasn't going to hurt. And then she remembered that we had a bag of treats for when she pooped without crying. And then she found the Dora fruit snacks. It was like the planets had aligned. We spent the next 2 days unloading what she had been saving up for the past 2 weeks.
I wouldn't say we are done yet with the process, but we finally seem to be heading the right direction. Now I think she's a little disappointed when we go to 'see if there is any poop that needs to come out of my bottom' and nothing happens. However, she also seems to lose interest when the treats in the surprise bag are not her favorites. But we will stick with it and probably have a little more compassion on those parents whose kids may seem a little delayed in their "toileting" or various other skills. I have said many times that I don't care how many books there are out there telling us how to do this parenting thing right, ultimately we're all just guessing and doing the best we can. God bless us all.
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