The reason for the season....

I have been struggling with Christmas this year. Normally this is one of my favorite times of year. I love the lights, the music, the fun with family. I have really come to love playing Santa and looking for and finding the perfect gift for Brian. It's a wonderful time of year.
But this year...I'm not feeling it. The music is not bringing me joy, the season is not filling me with hope, and mostly I feel worried and stressed. And I would venture to say that 99.999% of it is my own fault. Here's why.
I can't be content with what we have. Most of the year I can deal with the fact that my husband and I are poor. We may have middle-class aspirations, ideals, and values...but let's face facts. We are poor. Paying bills every month is a balancing act...do we pay this one or that one? How long can we let this one go before it has to get paid? Throw necessities like paper towels or toilet paper, shampoo, etc. into the mix and it starts to get really interesting. Start adding in needed clothing and well...let's just say buying socks fills me with dread because I worry about all the other things we have to buy, too.
And now..Christmas. The time of presents. My oldest son is old enough to know all about Christmas and presents. And we have gotten him a few things. Nothing big or elaborate, but probably more than he needs anyway. But my husband and I are going on our 4th year of not buying each other gifts. And I don't think we'll be getting our newest little guy presents this year. There's just not room in the budget. And it hurts me to see all my friends and family talking about their Christmas shopping and their budgets and all the things they're going to be getting and buying and doing and hoping for. And I feel so woefully inadequate. What kind of parents are we that we can't buy our children and each other even simple gifts?
I know the platitudes. I know that gifts are not the reason for the season. I know that what we're celebrating is not financial security but the birth of Jesus Christ who came to save us from a lot more than an overdrawn bank account. It still hurts.
I am trying to remind myself that I am giving my children things that do matter. A home, electricity, running water, food, love. And by world standards my family is wealthy because we have all those things and more. And we have a wonderful family that cares for us and I know that my children will not want for anything this Christmas. But I wish I could do more for them. I wish I could give them everything, even though I know that what I am giving them is far more valuable.
I am giving them a marriage that is loving and stable. I am giving them a father who works hard and loves them. I am giving them a mother who is working so hard to finish school and provide an example of what determination and perseverance and education can get you. A mother who loves them. I am giving them healthy meals (most days of the week) and memories of baking and cleaning and playing.
I am giving them so much. But I worry that it won't be valued. That it will be disappointing. That it won't be enough.
We had an interesting sermon this Sunday about blessings. Most of us think of blessings as material things, or stuff that makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I know I tend to think of blessings that way. But here's what I've been thinking all week. God has blessed my family with poverty. We have enough. We do not have an overabundance, but we have enough...barely. Some months I swear we make it with not an inch of breathing room, but we do make it. And yet we still desire to give. We want to help those who are hurting, who have less, who are in far more need than us. Our poverty has given us compassion, empathy, kindness, generosity. We value our things less and each other more. God has blessed us. And when I think of it that way it makes not being able to have a big Christmas a little easier. God has blessed us. We are poor, but I do not believe we will always be so, although I have no aspirations for great wealth. I think we will always have what is sufficient, what is needed. And we will always have a greater strength of faith and generosity and compassion and hope because God blessed us with poverty.
I hope that God blesses you in ways that you do not expect, in ways that bring you closer to Him this Christmas season.
Merry Christmas!

Nostalgia...

Lst night as I was falling asleep I was remembering the day that my children  were born, Brian in particular. I had a difficult labor with Brian but what I was remembering was the moment he was placed in my arms.

We regarded each other for several minutes and I remember this look on his face. This sweet, wondering, trusting look...which gave way shortly to this face:

He really hated the shot and the eye ointment. I also remember that I began to love my husband in a whole new way that day. This remains my favorite picture of them:

What I remember most is how my life changed that day. I love my husband and if I lost him I would be heartbroken. But my children are part of me. They are part of the very essence of me. If I lost Brian or Teddy some essential part of my soul would be broken. Before I had children I had no idea that it was possible to love someone that much. But the very first minute that they put Brian into my arms some part of me changed forever.
I remember being afraid that I would not love Teddy as much, that there was no way I could love any other person as much as I love Brian. I was so wrong.

I remember the days my children were born. They were days that changed me in ways I could never have imagined. My children are vital to me. So even though Brian drives me crazy more often than not, and even though Teddy seems to think that the only time he can be happy is if I am around or holding him, they give me joy. They complete a part of me I didn't know was lacking. They fill me with wonder. Being their mother is one of the greatest privileges I have ever known. I am so grateful and so blessed.

Say what you need to say...

But of course sometimes you just can't bring yourself to open your mouth and say the words. That's why I thank God every day that I can write. It makes saying what I need to so much easier sometimes.
I need to say that watching someone you love die in front of you is hard. Losing someone you care about to disease is hard. When that person is choosing their disease and everyone around has to watch, that's worse. I'd almost rather they had cancer. At least with cancer it's not their fault. They didn't go out and pick up a bottle of cancer.
Watching the people around them try to cope with their sickness, especially when we all know they could be so much more, that's heartbreaking. You want to enjoy being around them, you want to remember the way they were, and instead you are constantly forced to confront the reality that the person you liked and loved and cared about isn't there anymore. It's like watching someone disappear into Alzheimer's or dementia except they're choosing to disappear. And you want nothing more than to make a different choice for them because you want the person you love back.
I don't want this person back just for me, either. I want this person back for all the people who love them. For my children, for my family. I want us all to have many many more years with them. I want Christmases, and birthdays, I want the joy of family dinner without the awkwardness of this giant, reeking elephant in the room. I want to stop being angry at the selfishness and disregard for the pain everyone else is suffering because of their actions. I want to trust them again. I want so many things. What I don't want is to keep watching them destroy their life.
And what I'm afraid of, what terrifies me more than anything else is the thought that the life they destroy might not be their own. Every time they choose to drive I am terrified that someone is going to pay a horrible price. I don't want to see them on the 10 o'clock news because they killed a family. Or a couple of teenagers. Or them self. I don't want my family to have to cope with the repercussions of vehicular homicide, or their own death, or an aggravated DUI. Part of me is furious that they can't see that we would all suffer because of their stupid, selfish choices. Most of me is just waiting for it to happen.
And a really big chunk of me is just angry. Angry that people I love have to be in so much pain while this person tries to figure out what the hell is wrong. Angry that they refuse to even acknowledge that what they are doing is wrong. Angry that they don't understand how many people and lives they endanger everyday. Angry that they refuse help. Angry that I am going to have to tell my son that someone he loves is gone and never coming back because they were selfish, and stupid, and stubborn. Because unless things change, and soon, they are going to die. Or they are going to kill someone else and end up in jail for a long time.
The saddest part is, the person we're all watching self-destruct doesn't really exist anymore. They're a shadow of who they used to be, so in a way they've already died. Or that person is buried so deep that they may as well have. We're all left with a person who is really just a pathetic shell of the person they were. It is heartbreaking and all of us are heartbroken about it. Because we've lost someone we love so much and I don't know if we'll ever get them back.

Another of my favorite things...

Where I live! As I was driving to class tonight I had the pleasure of watching the sun set. At first the clouds were just faintly pink with a lavender tint to the surrounding clouds. Slowly they became bright orange until it seemed as though all the clouds were on fire. It was truly spectacular. But then, we have pictures and memories of many spectacular sunsets. It is just part of the reason I love living here.

I also love the openness of our landscape. You can see for miles and miles. I love watching storms roll in during the summer. I love looking out across the landscape and finding small details that I haven't seen before. I love watching the shift of colors from season to season.
I also love our mountains. Not only does it help give me a great sense of direction, but I love how big they are. They tower over the city and give it a depth and a contrast that I haven't found anywhere else. I love the pinkness of them when the sun sets, and they way they look as though they've been dusted with powdered sugar when it snows.

I love our seasons, our food, and the people who live here. I love that I live in a city but it feels like a smaller town. I love all of our quirks, the richness of our history and our culture. I love laughing at stories of people who think we're part of Mexico and all the crazy misconceptions people have about New Mexico.
Where I live is not perfect. There are some things about my state that I would change. But its beauty, its heritage, and its openness are things I give thanks for everyday.

My favorite things...Music

I am going to be doing a series on my favorite things...at least until I run out of favorite things, which may never happen. Anyway, first up in the series is

MUSIC!

I love music. I listen to music almost every day, and I love all different kinds of music. There are some exceptions, I'm not a huge fan of country (there are some exceptions, mostly just individual songs) and I really don't care for opera. That being said, the rest of the musical world is pretty awesome.
Music is where I go when I lack the words to express something, it is often reflective of my mood, and I have a song for every occasion!
Right at this very minute I'm listening to a play list I put together for Brian, my oldest. It has songs from his favorite cartoon show (Phineas and Ferb), Disney songs, songs from Sandra Boynton, and songs from a folk group called Trout Fishing in America. I love all these songs because they're all intelligent. I'm not generally a fan of music specifically for kids because it tends to dumb things down. These songs manage to be age appropriate, fun, and not stupid. Big win in my book.
One of my few splurges during the year is a Pandora membership. For $36/year I can create as many different radio stations as I like, so I really have a station for every mood! I have classical-one more geared for symphonic/orchestral music and one for more piano music. I have a jazz station that incorporates modern jazz as well as early jazz and everything that came in the middle (good station for rainy days). I have a pop music station (Brian loves to dance), several rock stations (indie, pop, punk, mixed, heavy, classic) a Christmas music station, a Broadway music station, an Enya station (I can't think of how else to describe that kind of music) a toddler music, Disney music, and a lullaby station. Each has a place and I may listen to several throughout the day, it just depends on how I feel. I just realized that I do not have a big band/swing station and I need to fix that!

I also have favorite artists, songs, and genres. I love rock music, then classical. The rest is sort of equally distributed. My all-time favorite group is Green Day. I never get tired of their music. I love anything I can sing along with, anything with great lyrics, but I also love a piece of music that says something without a single word ever being spoken. My favorite is Beethoven's symphony #7. One of the best dates I've ever been on with my husband is the one we went on last year to see the NMSO play this. So much emotion in one piece of music, it is fabulous. The right piece of music can do so much, help me write, help me think, help me clean, help me relax!

Now, I am not by any means a music geek. My mom is, her husband is, but you start getting into theory and all that and I'm out. I can read music and I enjoy singing and I used to kind of sort of be able to play a couple of instruments, but that's about it. And that's enough. I love listening to music, I love being around music, and at times I enjoy helping make music. But I don't need to be able to analyze it.
So to sum up. Music=Awesome. Definitely one of my most favorite things.

Following the call

When I think back to being a small child and the inevitable "What do you want to be when you grow up?" question, I invariably remember telling whoever asked that I wanted to either teach or help people. As I grew older I decided that I had no idea what I really wanted to do, but I have always had a strong desire to help people who were suffering. Eventually this became an unmistakable call to work in social services. I'm not sure in what capacity that will be yet, but I know that's where I belong. The first class I took that was directly related to the program, I opened my text book and read the description of a social worker and went "Yep! That is me!"
I believe that all people are given skills and abilities that are unique and fit them uniquely to do certain things in life. Some of us are called to be number crunchers (not me!), some of us are called to be doctors or nurses, some to teach. I know that I am called to help others. But that doesn't mean that I do not on occasion doubt myself.
Sometimes I am afraid I am wrong. Maybe I'm arrogant to believe that I have anything to offer anyone. When my classes are difficult, or I look ahead to my Master's program or the state licensing requirements and feel small and inadequate, I think that perhaps I was wrong. Maybe I'm not cut out for this. Maybe all I'm good for is pushing paper and answering phones (horrors! I hate to answer my own phone for people I know half the time...I can't imagine doing it everyday for complete strangers!). Sometimes I nearly drown in a sea of doubt and fear.
But then I remember. I am God's unique creation. I am the only me ever to be, and no matter how many people came before or will come after, there will never ever be another me. That's pretty special. And nobody would ever make anything so special if it didn't have a purpose. I cannot imagine doing anything else with my life. So despite all my fear and doubt and insecurity I know the call of my heart. I have to let go of my limited vision, and my limited understanding and have faith that the caller and the call are true. Because really, faith is the only cure for fear.
So, when I think about my future and what I am working toward and I feel that incredible sense of peace and rightness, I know: this is my direction. I may not know exactly how it's all going to work out, but I know that I am heading the right way to get there.

Scars

Most people have at least one or two scars. I have several. I have a few on my hands from horsing around. I have one on my left forearm I got in a fight when I was a kid. I have 3 part scar on my stomach from an appendectomy. I think stretch marks count as scars and boy did my kids give me plenty of those! I have four on my right ankle/leg. One I got when I was a little girl, the other 3 are the result of surgeries to repair a broken leg/ankle. I have scars on both my shoulders and one on my right arm. All of my scars have a story.
But I also have scars that you can't see from the outside. Places where things have been broken and have healed. I've been seeing something go around Facebook the last couple of days about "invisible illnesses." This is really about invisible scars.
For most of my life I have struggled with an invisible illness and it has left many scars on me and those around me. When I was a teenager I was diagnosed with depression. When I was 18 I was given an official diagnosis of dysthymic disorder (http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001916/) and major depression. I went to therapy for a little while, took anti-depressants, and none of it really helped (funny, since I now want to be a therapist). When I was 19 I attempted suicide and spent several days in a mental hospital. There's a fairly large scar there and I can honestly say I don't remember a whole lot of what went on. I can recall one incident from the ER when they were going to put a tube into my stomach to get the charcoal in and they were talking about restraining me and my mom said no, that I would hold still and I was strong enough to do that. I had never felt so weak and my mom was saying that I was strong enough, that I was stronger than this. I have never forgotten that. Even now when I feel overwhelmed I remember that even at my weakest, I was strong enough.
The funny thing about this scar is that in the long run is has done a lot more good than harm. It was an ugly, terrible, awful thing. I hurt a lot of people, and I hurt myself. But it has given me a passion. I am driven to help people who feel as helpless, hopeless, lost, hurt, angry, confused as I was then. I have never once since woken up and felt that the world would be a better place without me in it. I used to wake up every day and wish I hadn't. I appreciate my blessings more. I am kinder. I have more compassion for people who are hurting. It was a true blessing in disguise.
I will never be entirely free from depression. I may not struggle day to day anymore, but I was told that I will likely suffer at least one more major episode during my lifetime. Maybe I won't, but I could. The day to day depression is gone, although I do occasionally still feel a little blue, particularly when I am overly stressed. But I have learned to listen to myself better, to know my limits and what I can and cannot do and to respect that.
And why have I written about this? Because depression is an invisible illness. Because the person sitting next to you might be depressed, or the guy who made your coffee. You don't know. But like any other illness it can kill you if it isn't treated, and so few people get the treatment they need. Societal stigma, lack of resources, fear, shame. I always avoided talking about my depression because I was afraid of being judged, because I was ashamed. I am not anymore and while I don't intend to take out a billboard next to the freeway about it, neither will I hide it away. It is simply one of many scars and it has a story like all the others. The real takeaway from this is, for me anyway, be kind. You don't know what people are going through. So spend a little more effort and be kind to those around you. Even when you don't want to, you never know when you might make a difference.

Big Weekend

This is a big weekend for us. My son, Teddy, is six months old today! It has really flown by. I feel like it was just yesterday he was a bitty baby just home from the hospital. Brian had his first full week of Pre-K and his first bug from school. Tomorrow is my husband James and I's first wedding anniversary.

Teddy celebrated his birthday by getting shots, which was not his favorite activity, but he is doing great. He is meeting or exceeding all of his milestones and has doubled his weight and grown 4 3/4".
Brian still doesn't tell us what's going on at school but thankfully his teacher includes a "what we did this week" notice every Friday. They worked on writing their names this week and Brian is doing really well. They also worked on science and had chapel and music. I'm sure Brian enjoyed all of it. He really loves to go.
James and I are celebrating by having a kid-free night. We're going out to dinner, and then I have no idea what we'll do. Something fun, I'm sure.

All-in-all this year has been very full. New baby, lots more responsibility for me at school, and the on-going issues with James's job. It will be nice to relax tonight and really take some time to be grateful for all the blessings and gifts that this year has brought us.

Have a great weekend everyone!!

Remembering 9/11/01

Everyone who was alive 10 years ago remembers where they were today. Many of us will spend the day in reflection about where we were, who we were with, what we remember.
I remember 9/11 as one of the most difficult days I've ever lived through. I was home when the towers were hit, and home when they fell. My ankle was broken and I didn't feel like going to school. I remember getting up and seeing the news on TV. I remember asking my mother what was happening and she said we didn't know. I watched as the second plane flew into the tower, I watched as people jumped from the windows and smoke poured into the sky, I watched as the towers collapsed. I watched them re-run the footage over and over. I remember Peter Jennings, tired, disheveled, weary, and just as confused as the rest of us, but remaining calm, remaining reassuring, even as we began to make sense of what had happened. I miss him.
I will always remember that day. My heart broke to see people jump. I have never been so afraid of what tomorrow would bring.
Ten years later we live in a world I don't think many of us could have imagined. In some ways I think this is a world we would not have wanted to imagine. We live in a world of terror threats, terrorist actions, extreme fear. There is great unrest in many places and we remain at war. We live in uncertain times.
However, I remain convinced that in spite of all the unrest, all the uncertainty, some things do remain constant. Love is constant, hope is constant. We may not know what tomorrow brings, but we can hang on to love and hope.
For me I choose love. Not hate. I choose hope. Not fear. I have no control over what tomorrow, or even today, will bring. But I have control over how I will approach it. I have control over what I will do. I have control over my reactions.
I will remember this day with sadness for the rest of my life. So many were lost on this day. So many have been lost since then keeping this country safe. We may lose many more in the future. But I hope that it will not be in vain. I hope that one day we can build a world at peace. I hope that one day we may honor those we have lost by creating a world where no one is lost in such a needless way.
Remember 9/11. Remember those who were lost. Build a future they can be proud of.

Time flies

It's been a busy week for us. We all had Labor Day off and we spent the day doing things together as a family. Tuesday was fairly quiet, but Wednesday was Brian's first day of pre-K.
I think it went well. He didn't cry, didn't cling, didn't fuss. In fact, he acted like he's been going to preschool or daycare his whole life (he's never gone). His teacher had to make him come back out and say good-bye to me. Watching him walk into his classroom and begin this whole new phase of his life was bittersweet for me. On the one hand, I am so proud of him and how confident and open and friendly he is. And on the other I wish that he weren't growing up quite so fast. I've tried to raise him to be self-sufficient in a lot of ways, and he is. And really that's a good thing. But sometimes, just sometimes, I just wish he needed me a little more than he does.
His second day of school was today and went just as well as his first day. And it was a little easier on me. He wanted to stay longer when it was time to leave, but I am glad he is enjoying it so much. He is growing up so fast and while part of me wishes he could stay a little boy forever, most of me is just excited to see who he's growing up to be!

Hope

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

-Emily Dickinson

Friday night was an exciting night for my husband and I. I was getting the baby to sleep, he was carting our old bed out to the dumpster to make space for the new bed we were getting on Saturday. He had gotten the mattress downstairs and was taking the box spring out when I heard a *pop* sound. Now, in our neighborhood we often have people setting off fireworks at all times of the year, so I at first told myself that it was a firework. But then *pop,pop,pop*. No. Not a firework. The very distinctive sound of gunfire. And my husband was outside.
I live in a nice part of town. It's quiet, we live near a police substation. So gunfire is not typical. In the two years that we've lived here we have never ever had an incident like this.
I sat on the couch, frozen, trying to decide if it was safe to go outside and check on James or if I should stay where I was. After all, I was holding the baby. Finally I could stand it no longer and I went outside to make sure James was OK. And thankfully he was fine. He had seen the whole thing though and it appeared that one car was chasing another and firing shots at it. I was just glad he was safe.
Several of our neighbors came outside to see what had happened and to make sure no stray shots had injured anyone around us. Luckily, nobody appears to have been injured in the incident.

We all chatted for a bit, compared notes, and we even met a couple of new neighbors who had moved in recently. We all went back inside and back to whatever we had been doing. Maybe a bit shaken up, but safe all the same.
A friend of mine, remarking on the incident, said it seemed at times as though the world must be coming to an end. After all, in the last week there were several earthquakes, a hurricane was bearing down on the East coast, the economy is struggling, people are out of work, and it seems as though the news can report on nothing but murder, kidnapping, bombings, war, death, famine and so on.

I agree that the times seem bleak. They are dreadful and awful things happening everywhere. Murder, riots, war-the world can be a scary place. And it certainly seems there is nothing good to report or surely it would make the news. Reasons to be afraid, reasons to hide, to despair, are everywhere. Fear is screaming in our faces every day.

And yet, I have hope. We did not cower in our homes in fear. We came out to make sure that we were safe. We began new connections. Our lives go on. My son made two new friends at church today. Apparently he isn't the only one who loves to run around the sanctuary after services. Our baby has learned to sit up by himself and is beginning to crawl. My geranium is finally recovering from the mauling it took last month.
All of these things are small. They are quiet. They almost escape notice. They do not make the news. They do not cry out for attention.

And this is why. Hope does not require our attention to exist. Hope simply exists. Hope is there, waiting quietly, for us to notice. It does not need our regard in order to be. So Hope is a quiet thing. It is a thing told in whispers, in hugs, in laughter, in concern for another. Hope exists in moments of compassion and forgiveness, in moments of grace. Hope exists in peace, and Hope exists in war. In times of plenty or in famine, Hope is there.

Fear, on the other hand, requires a lot. It needs our attention. In needs our anger, our mistrust, our ignorance. It must clamor and shout because if we stop paying attention, if we stop feeding it, it will cease to exist. The more we fear, the bigger it becomes. We have more and more things to be afraid of. Soon anything can be a source of fear. We become paralyzed. We cannot act. And yet...

Hope can be found here as well. Because we have a choice. We can choose to turn away from fear. We can choose Hope. And Hope will always be there for us. Waiting quietly and patiently for us to forget our fear.

Deep cleaning

I will admit now that I am not the world's best housekeeper. I'm not the worst but I struggle with keeping a tidy house. My grandmother's house always looks immaculate to me (I'm sure it has cluttered and messy days, but I've never seen it.). I know how she does it but it just seems to be beyond me to keep my house that way. Oh well, I do the best I can.
However, every few months I feel compelled to clean. I mean really clean. I clean out closets, I clean out cabinets, I scrub everything, I rearrange my furniture. And for a few days my house looks great. And then it goes back to looking like two small kids and a slightly messy husband live here. And I spend a lot of my time just trying to contain all the chaos.
I think some of our problem is the sheer amount of stuff we have. We have clothes for 4 people, we have a couch, a loveseat, a TV and coffee table, DVD cabinets, an end table, Brian's little table and chairs, two beds, a bassinet, 3 dressers, some shelves, a desk for Brian, and that's just the big stuff. I keep trying to downsize, to get rid of things that we don't need or use but it seems never ending. I swear this stuff is breeding behind my back.
I did manage to purge a lot of kitchen stuff and give it away to a neighbor who is just starting a household with her boyfriend. I thought it was fitting since most of it was stuff that James and I had when we first set up house together.
I donated 6 13 gallon trash bags of clothes yesterday. I bet I find more but I still have to go through Brian's closet, again.
It really feels never ending. But as I clean and get rid of the old I feel lighter. And I realized, this is how life is too. Periodically we go through and clean out all the junk. All the relationships that aren't healthy, or we mend the ones that can be saved. We make space for new relationships, new people, new places, new experiences. If we just keep carrying around all our baggage we never have room for anything new. We stay the same.
For the record this cleaning spree was prompted by the imminent arrival of a new bed for James and me. We've had the same bed for almost 10 years and a new one is long overdue. So I've been cleaning and making space. Something new, something good, is coming. It's worth letting go of a few old things we're never going to use again.
So are the things in life that no longer serve a purpose. Old hurts, old anger, old prejudices, old fear. It's time to let those go too. Time for fresh starts all around. I can't wait to see what new and good things come to take their place.

The Thunder Rolls...

And the lightning strikes..oh wait, that's a Garth Brooks song. Never mind.  Anyway,

We have had a couple of days of thunder and lightning with a touch of rain mixed in for good measure. We have a storm rolling over now, although it remains to be seen if it will do more than growl at us. Last night my husband and I sat outside for almost an hour just watching the various storms around the city and enjoying the weather.

When we got home the air was perfectly still. The city was surrounded on all sides by different storms and farther away we could see still more storms. And yet where we were was so still and quiet. Not far from us the weather was raging, lightning every few seconds, and no doubt rain and wind, but where we were not a leaf was stirring.
And then came a light breeze. Every so often just a breath of air, enough to slightly rustle the leaves on the trees but no more. And still the lightning in the distance.
Then the breeze became stronger and constant. Still not much more than just a breath of air. And it became just a little stronger as we kept watching and just a little cooler.
And then suddenly it got gusty. Still one second followed by a blast of cold air from the storm as it breathed out. I can imagine on the other side people were experiencing something similar as it took in warm air and breathed out cold air on us. And then the wind was constant, cold, and strong. Still no rain, no thunder. Just this cold, cold wind and lightning everywhere.
A truly awesome display of nature. I could have done without the encore presentation in the middle of the night while I was sleeping though.

The Pursuit of Happiness

I think at one point we took the Declaration of Independence seriously. We believed that ALL men were created equal. That ALL men were deserving of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But I think at some point we decided that well, maybe not all of us were equal. Maybe some of us were less deserving. So now it's some of us are deserving and some of us well...
To be fair, I think most people would say that in terms of race and gender we're starting to think we might all be equal. Of course, if your race happens to be Mexican or you happen to come from an Islamic country..maybe not. But hey, at least we don't hate Black people anymore. Most of us. And you know, women have come a long way. Now we get to do all the cooking, cleaning, raising of children AND hold a full time job. (Some of us are lucky enough to have spouses who help.)
OK so I really think equality is still a nice idea. I don't see a lot of it floating around in actuality though. The rich are still rich, the poor are still poor. And hey...guess who's running the government? The rich. And guess who they're interested in helping? The rich.
I am not saying that the rich should give up all their money and live in rags or be punished in some way for being rich. But I am also not saying that the poor should suffer needlessly because they are poor. The honest truth is that no matter what we do there will always be those who have less than others. There will always be the wealthy. There will always be the poor. There will sometimes be a middle class.
Our DoI says that we are entitled, by our Creator, with certain inalienable (that means they can't be taken away from us) rights. The right to life. The right to liberty. The right to pursue happiness. Let's start with the first.
The poor live shorter lives. They work harder, they have more stress. I know some people would disagree and say that if you're poor it's because you're too lazy, you aren't working hard enough, blah blah blah. I'm not arguing that right now, but for the record I think it's a load of crap. Anyway, all the studies show that over the last 20 years or so the life expectancy between those people of lower and higher incomes has increased with people of lower income living shorter lives.
There are many reasons for this. Stress is one of them, poor access to healthy and quality food, and the biggie, less access to affordable, competent medical care. Most poor people are too poor to see a doctor if they don't feel well, and often conditions like cancer or heart disease go untreated simply because the person doesn't have access to preventative care. And so they die younger than someone who can go in for a check up when they need to.
Now, I may be alone in this, but this seems an infringement on one of our inalienable rights. If we are all equal, in the eyes of our government and in the eyes of God (I believe the latter statement more than the former), then we are all entitled to equal care of that life. Meaning, if we get sick or hurt, we have a right to be treated competently and well until we are better. It is a protection of the life that we are entitled to.
On to liberty. Liberty is a tricky thing. It is defined as follows:
lib·er·ty/ˈlibərtē/Noun

1. The state of being free within society from oppressive restrictions imposed by authority on one's way of life.

I think the key word here is "oppressive" restrictions. Like it or not, there are restrictions on freedom. I hear a lot of: "It's a free country, I can do what I want." Well, no. Not actually. Nothing in this country is free. Except air, and just wait, I bet they figure out how to charge for that eventually. We have laws governing everything from how fast we can drive to interactions with the people around us. We have to pay taxes. (Yes, we do. Taxation is necessary. See above statement about things that are free.) We have to follow the laws. If we don't, there are consequences. So we may be free to say what we like, think what we like, believe what we like, wear what we like, read what we like, buy what we like, go where we like (mostly), but all that freedom comes with a pretty hefty price. Responsibility.
You must use your liberty responsibly. Participate in your government at a local, state and federal level. I hate nothing more than people who bitch about the state of things and then say they don't vote. Your vote is your voice. And while I agree that some very significant changes must happen in our government, that doesn't change your responsibility. Vote. Follow the rules, even the ones you think are stupid. Don't infringe on someones rights just because you don't like what they believe. They have the same liberties you do no matter who they are or where they're from. We throw liberty around like it's an easy thing, an easy word, or a free pass. It is none of those things. Respect it. Be responsible with it. Cherish it. Not everyone is lucky enough to be able to speak their mind.

You need life. I'm not saying an easy life devoid of hardship, but life. And a life free from worrying about how you'll protect that life from things like disease, illness, and injury.
You need liberty. You need to be able to explore and have opportunities to learn and grow and develop. You still have to follow the rules, but those rules should not prevent you from living your life.

And finally, the pursuit. All of us, as equal individuals, should have the right to pursue what makes us happy. If that means that we want to work hard in school and get an education then all of us, from the wealthiest to the poorest, should have the right to that education. (The actual earning of knowledge should not be easy. Easy knowledge is cheap knowledge and by definition, worth little.) If you want to spend your life working hard with your hands building and creating, then go for it. You like painting? Find a way to make that work for you. Just be prepared for a lot of hardship no matter what you choose. Nobody ever promised that life would be an easy thing, and I'm not saying it should be. We value that which we work hard for, we do not value what is free.

What I am saying is that the opportunities in life should be available equally to everyone, the care of that life should be available equally to everyone,  and everyone should be prepared to care responsibly for their burden of liberty.

 

Letting go

I have to confess something. I hold grudges. Not over small things like the jerk who cuts you off in traffic, but if you truly hurt me or do something to really tick me off...well, chances are I'm still going to be mad about it in a few months. Or maybe years later. You never know and it could well depend on the severity of the offense. I may never get over it.
As an example, a few years ago my sister-in-law said something to me and I have never forgiven her for it. I can be polite and civil to her, but I don't like her. I spend as little time as possible with her. I dislike her very intensely.
There are other examples but this one has been weighing on me. When my husband and I first started dating I resolved to like his family. When his sister and I were both pregnant I thought we'd be friends. Maybe not best buddies, but at least friends. And now I have no interest in doing any such thing. If I never had to see her that would suit me fine. I don't mind Brian going and developing a relationship with his aunt. Family is, after all, very important. But I don't want anything to do with her.
On the flip side of this is my belief that we should forgive each other. Holding on to anger is a bad thing. It's not healthy (you can look up the studies), it serves no useful purpose, and generally is just a big waste of energy. And most times I can forgive people, and depending on the person I can forgive just about anything. I don't think I'd be married were that not the case. Love is a big factor there, and maybe I didn't have enough time to get to know my sister-in-law well enough to love her enough to really forgive her. I don't really know.
I do know that if some disaster happened and she desperately needed my help then I would give it. I might grumble, but I would help her as much as I could in whatever way I could. But I will never forget what she said to me.
For the record, I have gotten better about letting go of offenses from those nearest and dearest to me. But I'm sure that forgiving someone else has a lot more to do with this unconditional love thing. I'm not so good at that for everyone else yet. Like just about everyone else I have a problem with being a little self-centered. It's hard to put myself in other people's shoes. I want everyone to understand me and my problems and forgive me for my screw ups, but I have a harder time doing that for them. So my project for the foreseeable future, unconditional love. Even for the people I don't like. So that I can start forgiving them.

All the infinite wonders of the universe....

Maybe I'm alone in this, but I really doubt it. I find the way the universe works fascinating. The complexity and harmony is astonishing. Things come into being, they pass away. I don't always understand this process. For instance, quantum mechanics or string theory or physics of almost any kind tend to baffle me. The only person who was sufficiently able to explain black holes to me was Neil DeGrasse Tyson. (You can google him if you don't know who he is.)
But still, the universe fascinates me.
For starters, just here in our own solar system and our own planet we have a phenomenon that I just love. When I was young I always thought that the reason our little planet was safe from the Sun was because of how far away it is. Which is part of it. However, our planet also has an intrinsic magnetic field, which helps deflect solar radiation. It looks something like this:

We should all be grateful for this because it really is what allows life to exist on Earth (besides the atmosphere). The interaction of the magnetosphere and the solar wind is also what gives us the beautiful aurora borealis and the aurora australis (northern and southern lights, respectively). I think that's pretty remarkable.
Also, the next time you happen to be out and about in someplace quite dark, look up. Really look at the skies. See the stars, and planets, and galaxies. What you're seeing is time. The light from our Sun takes 8 minutes to get to us. Some of the lights we see in the sky may no longer exist, it took their light thousands, if not millions, of years to reach our little planet. Some of those stars may have burned out, exploded, turned into black holes...who knows. Astrophysicists might, but I don't. See previous statement on physics. It gives me an odd feeling of reassurance to look up into the sky and see all those celestial bodies. Looking at them is a moment of connection to a vast universe of which I am a small part.
The very last thing that fascinates me (at least for now) is a little closer to home. Life, itself.
I was not always sure I believed there was a God. And when I did I was never sure what I believed about God. (To be honest, some days I'm still not sure. It's an ongoing process.) What changed that, beyond stars, galaxies, magnetosphere, and the infinite wonder and complexity of the universe was something a little simpler. Having a child.
Think about it. For a child to come into the world, hundreds of things have to go exactly right. The right egg and the right sperm have to meet up in the right place. They then have to start splitting and creating new cells, all of which eventually make up the different parts of the body. They have to reach the uterus and implant successfully. They have to continue to develop properly. (Sometimes they don't, but that's one of those things I don't understand.) This process continues and in 5 short weeks you have something that is starting to resemble something alive. In 8 weeks you can see a heartbeat and movement. At 12 weeks the baby begins to look like a human being. And in a very short (although not to a woman who is pregnant) 9 months, you have a person. And this is all very simplified. I'm not writing a text book. Of course, for all this to be successful, labor must be successful. And that is another process where so many things can go terribly wrong. But they rarely do. So in 9 months you go from two separate entities combining to form something smaller than a period (.) to a living, breathing, human (or cheetah, or whatever. Life is pretty miraculous no matter which species you are.)
Every single moment of gestation is a moment in which something can go horribly wrong, or wonderfully right. And when it goes right, and you are holding this person who came from you and is of you...there are no words. But it is a profound moment when all those stars and all those galaxies and all the planets come down to Earth and are held in your arms. All the potential, all the joy, all the wonder, and all the love in the universe is right there in the room.
And that is why I believe in God. Because I have held the stars, I have beheld the true wonder of the universe. I have known perfect love, if only for that moment. I have held my child, a true miracle if ever there was one. Even if he did destroy my geranium.
So tomorrow I'll forgive him. I can always get another geranium if this one doesn't survive the mauling. But I can never recapture the miracle that is my son.

My Son is Home!

He's actually been home since Sunday afternoon but I've been busy. He was gone for 10 days. So for 10 days my house was quiet. It was just me and Teddy during the day, and in the evenings it was just me, James and Teddy. I got a lot of laundry done. Cleaned house. Cooked some really amazingly delicious food. Did errands, got my school-work done in a timely manner and napped when I felt like it. It was wonderful. And awful.
Brian has spent the night away from me before, he's even gone camping with his Gramma and Papa Andy before and been gone for several days. But this was the longest trip he's ever taken. I didn't see him or talk to him while he was gone. It was too quiet. It was too peaceful. I'm too used to his constant chatter, the sound of him running around outside. Even when he is sleeping the house is a little louder just because he's in it.
So now he's home. And it's back to normal. He's talking all the time, even when you tell him to hush. He is in a state of constant motion. I have a steady stream of status updates, plans, intentions, thoughts, questions and giggles. It's loud. I almost never get to sit down. He doesn't nap, but if I'm lucky I can get him to play quietly in his room for a while so Teddy and I can lay down. I haven't even thought about homework since he got home. It's only been 2 days and I'm already exhausted. But I love every second.
Absence truly makes the heart grow fonder. I am so glad to have my boy home.

So annoyed!

I woke up this morning to an email account I could no longer access. So I tried to reset it by having it send an email to my backup email address. Only to find myself locked out of the backup as well. Luckily I was able to get tech support to help me unlock the secondary email and get access to the reset email from my primary email address. The fallout from this 40 minute project is as follows:

Creating a new email address
Informing all my contacts of my new email address
3 1/2 hours resetting passwords on all of my accounts
Changing my email address on all of my accounts
Severe frustration on my part and a desire to strangle the person responsible

So now I have created a new email account. But I still want to know why someone would bother to hack into my email and change my password. What possible purpose could that serve? How can it be fun to cause someone so much inconvenience and frustration? And perhaps the best question of all...what kind of society do we live in where people think it's OK to treat other people this way?
Hopefully this will be the last of the drama associated with this and the switch will be finalized ASAP! Way to waste my morning though.

Scary movies

Many years ago (or a few, depending on your perspective) I enjoyed scary movies. I don't know why. Looking back I can't see what the appeal was. Maybe they were sillier and easier to laugh off when I was younger?
Honestly I think some of it had to do with the depression I struggled with during my late teens and early 20's. I was in such a dark place that maybe the darkness on the screen was just par for the course. I think my devaluation of my self and everyone else around me, of the whole human experience really, made me sort of indifferent to the very graphic depictions of pain and suffering on the screen.
I can't watch those kinds of movies anymore. Time was something like Final Destination was just a good laugh. Now the idea of watching those pretty young actors be dismembered, maimed, eviscerated, and mutilated just hurts something inside of me.
Don't get me wrong. I still enjoy a good thriller or suspense. But slasher movies and their red-headed step-children, the torture porn, I can't do those anymore. The callous disregard for life and the apparent pleasure some people take in watching them die screaming in horrible pain upsets me in a way that I can't describe.
It disturbs me so much that if I watch one I end up having nightmares for weeks.
So I'm not sure what happened. If maybe the lightening of my inner world made it impossible for me to handle the intentional darkness of a scary movie, or maybe having kids made me see their faces on all those screaming actors. I'm not sure, but I don't think I'll miss them. Life is too beautiful and amazing to spend it intentionally looking for the darkness.

Onions and Garlic

It's amazing how much can change over the course of a couple of years. I'll explain.

Two years ago I hated to cook. I hated the mess, I hated the clean-up and I wasn't very good at it. Well, I was passable, and certainly better at it than some people I could name. I wasn't as good as I am now.
Two years ago I could make a limited repertoire of dishes and I was hesitant to try new ingredients and flavors. However, budget dictated that I learn to make the things I love to eat because we couldn't really afford to go out for them all the time. So I started expanding.
I learned to make stir fry, braises, stews, roasts, curry, seafood, and steak. I learned to use all the different pans in my kitchen, and I learned the uses for all the many kitchen gadgets out there. (I still need some more of those. I'm addicted to kitchen stuff!)
Of course I'm still learning. There are things I'm afraid to do, like pastry. But I'm working on it. I made an absolutely incredible cake for my mom's birthday. It was outstanding. But I had ideas for how I could make it even better and I actually want to try! If I want something specific for dinner I find a recipe and go to work. I am not intimidated by my kitchen anymore.
So this morning when I went in there to prep chili for the crock pot and one of the first things I had to do was chop onion and garlic and then cook until fragrant, I not only felt comfortable, I felt happy. Onion and garlic cooking is one of my favorite smells. I enjoyed what I was doing and I am looking forward to eating it for dinner later after it has cooked for 7 hours and gotten even more delicious.
I love sharing what I'm cooking, and I love cooking for other people. I love watching cooking shows to get ideas and learn new techniques. I am slowly becoming a "foodie." But no matter how good I get and how fancy the food gets, I will always love the humble smell of onions and garlic cooking. It is the base on which all my other skills have been built. So many thanks to onion and garlic for all they have done for me and my family. You are forever appreciated!

My To-Do List

Every night I think of all the things I want to get accomplished the following day. Then I wake up in the morning and I accomplish maybe two of them. I used to accomplish more but somehow my time seems to just get away from me. Maybe it's all the facebooking. Maybe it's the two kids who never seem to be able to go longer than 10 or so minutes without needing something from me. Either way. I never seem to get much done. But tonight, as usual I am thinking about all the things I want to get done tomorrow. Here they are, in order of importance:

• Clean the kitchen
• Make carrots into baby food
• Pick up the living room
• Put Brian's clothes into a suitcase for his camping trip next week
• Keep Brian out of the food he's taking with him for his camping trip next week

I think that's it...we'll see how it goes!

RIP Spot-nik







Our family lost a member this week. Spot came to us around 16 years ago. She was part of a litter of kittens that our neighbors cat had and I got to pick one. I can't remember now what it was about her that I liked, but I think she was the prettiest of the bunch. I remember that she was eating and I took her from her mom, and I'm not sure she ever forgave me.
She was a feisty thing in her youth, probably also courtesy of yours truly. I used to like to play "zoo" with her and an overturned laundry basket. She made an excellent lion. She was particular about who she liked and didn't. If she didn't and you tried to pet her, well...you might have lost a finger, or a limb. I fondly recall a story in which I was attempting to do laundry and she had fallen asleep in the dryer on a pile of clothes. Which needed to be moved so I could put another load in. And she tried to take my arm off. So I threatened to turn on the dryer.
She was also an extraordinarily tough beastie. We thought we'd lost her once when she'd been gone for four days. But home she came, limping, but home. That leg wasn't ever really the same ever again. Once she came home and she'd obviously been bitten by a snake. But she slept it off. For one of her litters of kittens she brought home a bunny for them to practice hunting on. That was less than fun. She was an excellent hunter though and our house was never without a dead mouse or two while she was young.
She mellowed much in her old age, allowing strangers to pet her and would actually deign to share your lap on occasion. And finally she passed, in the garden, which is where she would have wanted to go.
RIP Spot...you will be missed!

An "innie" and proud of it!

I am an introvert. As far as I know, I always have been. Nothing "happened" to me to make me this way, I just came like this. And I'm good with that.
As an introvert, I don't depend on the outside world for contentment. I don't need to be out there to be happy. In fact, I'm pretty dang happy just hanging out in my own head. It's kind of exciting in here. I have lots of thoughts, I crack myself up, I ponder the mysteries of the universe.
That's not to say I don't like people. I do. I just don't like a lot of people all at once. And if I don't know them, then I like it less. I don't mind meeting new people, but one at a time is good for me. And you have to be pretty interesting for me to decide I want to actually get to know you. I'm pretty selective.
There's a good reason for that though. Even if I know you, and you're lucky enough to call yourself my friend (and you should count yourself lucky, I'm awesome), it still uses a lot of my energy to spend time with you. So if I'm going to spend the energy, you better be worth it.
Now I love humanity as a whole. I think people have lots of potential and can do some wonderful and amazing things. I just don't want the whole of humanity beating down my door. I love from a distance.
I've had a lot of people tell me that if I just went out more, or spent time with people, or whatever, more often then I would learn to be an extrovert. I'm here to tell ya, that's not happening. I am a dyed in the wool introvert and proud of it. There's nothing wrong with that. It just means I relate to the world in a slightly different way from most of the rest of you. So you all go on, have fun, live it up. I'll be watching from over here.

I just needed a bath...

It was a rough day. I don't know exactly why, but I know that I was edgy, stressed and cranky from the time I woke up this morning. Brian tends to get the short end of that stick. Whenever I get stressed like that I have next to no patience with a kid who requires an awful lot of it.
I don't know what it is, it just seems like when I already feel stressed and over-taxed he comes along with a bundle of NEED. It seems like all day long it's just: I want, I need, MOM MOM MOM MOM!!! And it's simple stuff. He needs more water. He wants a snack. He wants to show me something. He got his head stuck in the armhole of his shirt and needs me to un-stick him. He's going outside again. He's coming inside because the leaf guys are here. Sometimes I love his constant status updates. They are often funny or interesting, but today. Oi.
And of course there's Teddy, who really is just a bundle of need. The last couple of days have been hard on him. It's been hot, even with the air on high most of the day. And he's got a little cold which has given him a stuffy nose which makes eating difficult. Plus the heat, so he gets fussy.
And then James gets home. And everyone needs me to make dinner. And James "needs" me to rub his feet and ankles, which I'm sure hurt from being on them all day. But after a day of being needed by everyone else in this house I just don't have a whole lot of energy to deal with his needs, too.
And I'm annoyed that nobody seems to be very interested in what I might need. After all, I did spend the day with two small children. That doesn't lend itself to individual pursuits very often. So after dinner, after my mother in law had left, after Brian was in bed and Teddy had been fed, I handed him off to his daddy and I took a trashy romance novel and I had a bath.
I'm not a big bath person. I think most of the time it's fairly silly to lay around in a tub and do nothing. I don't own bubble bath, or bath salts, or any of those things. I don't have the best tub in the world. But I have found that if I want to read or spend time undisturbed a bath is a great place to do it. So I took my trashy book and I laid there and relaxed. I read a few chapters, and when I got out Teddy was sleeping. And I feel a whole lot better.
I think maybe I can face tomorrow with a better attitude. All I really needed was a bath.

And here we are again...

Middle of the night...and I'm cleaning my house (well, ok..I'm blogging, but I was cleaning).
I find myself pondering some of life's great mysteries. I don't sleep too well, or often. The hazard of two kids I guess.
So I wonder:
Why do terrible things happen to people who can do nothing to stop them? (The verdict on the Casey Anthony case came in today.)
Why, in a society with such abundance, are the people so incredibly stingy and self-centered?
Why does the sight of my oldest child snuggled up to his dinosaur pillow with his sun-browned legs sticking out from under the sheet bring tears to my eyes?
How can such beautiful and amazing things exist in a world with such awful things at the same time?

I guess I'm not going to get any answers to these any time soon. And I should probably be getting to bed since morning comes early with two small kids in the house. It's a beautiful world though.

Happy (almost) 4th of July!

Today was the second annual St. Stephen's UMC 4th of July church picnic. (Wow, what a mouthful...) It was also Vacation Bible School celebration Sunday. Lots going on this morning. The youth led worship and gave all us boring parents who didn't actually go with their kids to VBS a glimpse of what went on last week. We heard a great sermon from our new pastor. And then the picnic!
We had a band, we had a jumper, water slides, and a dunk tank in which to dunk the aforementioned pastor, as well as the associate pastor, assorted youth AND my mother. And food. Hamburgers, hot dogs, and lots of delicious homemade side-dishes and desserts. We have a great church. We had a great time.
I realized though, I don't go to church for the sermons (although I enjoy them), I go because I love seeing this community of people have fun together and reach out to their community at the same time. It's wonderful that we all have faith, that we all have common ground, but it's more wonderful to see how that doesn't matter. You could have been walking by and decided to come up and you would have been just as included and important as someone who goes every Sunday.
We may not get to have fireworks this year, too dry. And maybe our city doesn't do a big parade (too liberal?). But I can thank God for the freedom I have to gather together with people of faith, in His name, and just have a great time. That freedom I wish for all people, of all faiths, all over the world.
Happy 4th of July! Remember all the freedoms you have, remember that there are people who are oppressed and hurting the world over, and be thankful for the blessings you have been given!

You never get used to it

I had a really strange dream this morning. Not the usual brain processing what happened the day before, but something that really had nothing at all to do with anything going on. It was really weird.
To be fair, I usually have some pretty weird dreams, you could say my subconscious really puts an interesting spin on the day's events. Every once in a while though, I get one that just seems out of left field.
I don't know how many of you think dreams mean something other than the scientific explanation. I do think that on occasion, dreams can be messages, flashes of insight into things that are clouded and confused. Many times I have awoken from a particularly dream-filled night to find that I understand a situation better or a solution to a problem has been made clear. Other times it seems like the message is cloudy, or garbled. This dream was one of those.
Once upon a time I had an aunt who was really good at deciphering dreams. Whenever I had one that I just couldn't understand she would help me make sense of it. She didn't even have to know everything going on in my life. She would just know what it all meant.
She died this year.
So when I woke up this morning and went: "Aunt Beth will know what that meant," and then a minute later, "Oh, right. She can't give me the answers anymore."  And my heart sank. And I had a moment of loss, all over again. I know many of my family are struggling with her loss. I'm sure many of her friends are, too.
I didn't live near my aunt. She wasn't part of my everyday life. But I knew she was there.  She shared pictures and achievements from my cousin. Once I had kids I shared pictures and stories with her. I always thought we would have time, time to visit, time to email, time to share.  And then rather suddenly it seems that time was up.  So every once in a while, something pops up and I think of Beth. And then I remember she's gone.
It still hasn't really sunk in I guess. Or maybe, you never get used to losing someone. The hole they leave never really gets filled in. You just learn to walk around it.
I miss my aunt.

Sometimes I wonder...

Twelve years ago I had a very different idea of what my life would be like. Very different. Of course, 12 years ago I was still a teenager. But anyway.
I never wanted to get married. I thought marriage was old-fashioned, silly, and mostly doomed to failure. I didn't have good marriage models. As I've aged I've come to realize what a gift marriage can be, and what a privilege it is when so many in our society are denied the simple right to marry based on their choice of partner. (And aren't I funny? As I've aged. I'm really not that old...but moving on.) Anyway, here I am, married. Only recently though. We did cohabitate for quite a long time, and for a long time that was enough. But after a while I realized how much being married really meant to me, and so we went ahead with it.
I also never ever wanted to have children. I didn't like children. I didn't know what to do with them. They were strange, foreign little people that were mostly unintelligible, smelled, cried, and generally were kind of pointless. Or something like that. I really can't remember what it was about kids that put me off, but I know I didn't want them. When I was 18 I got a job working with kids and realized what fun they really were. They were so open, curious, funny, and best of all...they think you're really cool. At least for a while. So I decided I wanted kids. But I didn't want to start until I was 27. And now we have two. And I'm 27.
I thought I would be successful in some career, making decent money, maybe buying a house. Not pushing myself to finish a degree because it really did take me that long to figure out what I wanted to do. Don't get me wrong, I love being able to stay home with my kids while they're small, and I really love school. But this is not what I pictured. A small apartment, homework (mine, not theirs), a husband, being a housewife. It's just not what I imagined. And sometimes I wonder...
What would my life be like without my husband? My kids? If I had finished school when I was first out of high school? Life takes us funny places sometimes, and if I could go back in time, I would tell my 15-year-old self, it is so much better than I ever could have imagined. Maybe it's not what I thought it would be, but in so many ways, it's better.

I love my children, I love my children....repeat as necessary

My children are wonderful.
I love my oldest son. He is a bright, funny, curious child. He has never met a stranger. He loves everyone. He is highly active. Loves to run about, play outside, swim, climb, dig in the sand. His favorite food is any kind of pasta. He is a good kid.

I love my youngest son. He is sweet. And peaceful. And relaxed. So far he likes milk the best, but that's to be expected at 3 months. He is a good kid. A little more reserved. A little less extroverted. We're still learning about each other.

Brian has been a little bit of an extra handful this last couple of days. Not sure if it's normal 4 year old behavior or if he's just acting out on account of his big brother. I'm mighty tired of the whining, the stubborness, the outright refusal to do anything asked of him, and the newest one, "I hate you mom/dad/God". It's enough to drive anyone to drink, but I love my child.

Teddy has been his own special form of difficult the last two days. I get him to sleep, lay him down and he wakes up. Repeat several times. *sigh* He is currently asleep though, so I can't complain too much. And he's a pretty happy little guy when he is awake. So I guess I won't complain. Much.

I do love my children, I love them a lot. Right now they are driving me a little bit batty, but I do love them. Wonderful, sweet, fun, and giant pains in the rear!

Father's Day

Father's Day is coming up on Sunday. I see a lot of people asking what they should get the fathers in their lives, watches, sports tickets, big TVs, etc. What I wonder is, haven't these men already been given the greatest gift in the whole world?
That's not to say that we don't occasionally need a break from our children or that they don't drive us crazy, but they also give us something wonderful. Children give joy, a sense of being needed, of being important and necessary. Young children think their parents are cooler than anybody else in the whole world. We're funny, we know everything, we can do anything, we are awesome. What could be more awesome than to spend the day with these little people?
I think the heavy lifting (diapers, baths, etc.) should be the purview of mom so on Father's Day he just gets to enjoy all the fun parts of being a father and somebody makes him a good dinner. I know in some households this is just a normal day, but in ours James works hard at being a father.
I know a lot of fathers on Sunday will spend the day watching TV, or golfing, or napping and not being fathers, but I think it would be wonderful if more fathers would spend the day with the little people who made them fathers in the first place. After all, if you're looking to be celebrated, there's nobody better to do that than your children.

My children are lucky. Their father changes diapers, has water gun fights, reads stories, has tickle fights, laughs at their jokes, tells them they're awesome, that he loves them. He also plays the bad guy when he has to. He is a good dad and on Father's Day we will celebrate all the wonderful things he does as a father, and he will spend the day being one. We don't do anything more special than maybe a card and I make him something special for dinner. It's enough that he knows his children love him, his wife loves him, and he's doing a good job. It doesn't cost an arm and a leg, but it is priceles.

Three months in...no turning back.

Three months ago our second child, Teddy, was born. It's a few hours to his actual "birthday" but I'm going to write about it now because his older brother is occupied and Teddy is sleeping.

Three months ago I went in for a regular checkup, I was overdue, but didn't think I'd be having a baby that day for sure. Eight hours later (give or take) I was holding the newest member of our little family. Life changes pretty fast sometimes.
I was so excited to finally be holding Teddy, to finally meet this new little person and at the same time I felt a horrible guilt that I was taking something away from our older son, Brian. Brian himself showed some significant reticence towards his new brother. In the hospital he wouldn't look at him, hold him, nothing.
It's gotten better since we've been home. He has warmed up to his brother considerably since that first day in the hospital. He likes to play with him on the floor, give him his pacifier, and give me status updates on his moods and diapers. He also likes to translate Teddy's baby speech into actual words. For instance, something like "Ahhhhblpppt" might translate into "I think Teddy wants to watch Cars." Still not sure that's what Teddy says, but it's cute to watch Brian speak for him.
My guilt is mostly gone now. I can see most days that instead of taking something away from Brian, I had given him something wonderful. A relationship that will last his lifetime, a friend he can always turn to, someone to share the frustration of having James and I for parents with. I gave him a brother, a relationship I never had but always wanted. I am so excited to see how they grow together.
And Teddy himself. I don't know what I expected, but he has been so much more than anything I could have imagined. He has been patient beyond belief. Almost immediately after his birth I returned to school full-time and he didn't miss a trick. We never had problems nursing, never had trouble bonding. He is the sweetest, calmest child.
I can only really describe him in contrasts. When Brian was a baby he was always alert, awake, and wanting to be doing something with someone. He is the ultimate extrovert. He never minded being passed around and held by new people, he wasn't happy unless he was with someone, and even when he was mostly immobile you could tell it wouldn't be long until he was doing something.
Teddy is his opposite. He has been more sleepy, more relaxed, more calm. He slept for almost 14 hours after he was born and I had to work really hard to get him to wake up. He will only tolerate being handed around for a short time before he starts to get upset and fuss. He is totally happy playing  by himself for up to an hour. He loves to snuggle and doesn't much care what's going on around him. If you went by potential careers, Brian is my high powered executive, Teddy is my quiet artist.
We're slowly starting to get the hang of having another little person in the house. We're figuring out how his personality fits into our world. I love seeing him play with his dad. I love seeing Brian try to help him stop fussing. I love waking up to his gummy grin every morning. Equilibrium is slowly being restored.
This last three months has been exhausting, frustrating, challenging, and a revelation. I can't imagine our lives without our newest little boy, he is a gift.
So happy three months little man! Looking forward to the rest of your life!

Good news so it's a happy day!

Got the call today that our car was repaired! For any of you who may not have known, two weeks ago our car was hit while parked in the middle of the night. It has been in the shop since then while we fought with the insurance company to get everything fixed. And today it was finally done!

It is a good day!

An Open Letter to Politicians

Dear Politicians,

Get to work. Seriously. Stop taking pictures of you genitals, stop sexting your female interns, stop having extra-marital affairs that end up with love children and eventually all over the news.
Stop schmoozing with lobbyists. You have a job to do and that job is not get laid and make tons of money.
You are public servants. You know what that means? You serve the PUBLIC. Not yourself. We pay you, and I think most of us are getting mighty sick of your shenanigans.
So stop giving yourself payraises, you haven't earned them. Stop spending thousands of dollars on new cars, new offices, re-election campaigns, drugs, booze, hookers, whatever.
Start working. Find out what we need as a country (if you need help, I have some ideas) and then get to work figuring out how to make it happen.
I have some pointers there, too. You have to stop arguing about stupid, insignificant crap. Frankly I don't care anymore which party you belong to, stop fishing for soundbites and start listening to each other. I'm sure most of you are intelligent people, take that a step further and I bet most of you are capable of some intelligent critical thinking.
Instead of dismissing an idea as being "liberal" or "conservative" because of who came up with it, try listening to it for its' own sake. There might be some good stuff there. You never know.
I can tell you now I think most people have similar ideas about what they want out of life. We want shelter, we want access to good healthcare that isn't going to bankrupt us, we want a decent job, we want a good education. We want our cities and towns to be safe. We want natural spaces so we can remember trees, animals, flowers, and other natural beauty, So we disagree on how to make those things happen, so what? That brings us back to listening to each other.
Another thing you can do, stop with the mudslinging. I can tell you right now I don't care a single tiny bit about what your opponent did during college. Frankly I don't care if they finished college so long as they're reasonably intelligent, willing to work hard, and have some good solutions for the problems we currently face. Get to the point. What do you think the problems are, what are you doing to solve them, how are you going to get everyone on board?
Keep it simple. When you make a bill, stick to one subject. It doesn't need to encompass the entirety of creation, just what you're talking about. And don't sneak things into it like pet projects. Those cost money and waste time. If it's really important to you, and you think it's important to other people, make another bill.
I don't want my entire evening newscast to be taken up by your various scandals, the stupid things you've said, or what or who you're doing. I want to know what kind of work you're doing for the people who elected you. ALL of the people. So right now you need to chuck the idea that minorities, homosexuals, women, mentally challenged, or in some other way not "normal" people are for you to make fun of, discriminate against, hate, or ignore. Every single one of these people are your responsibility. You were elected to look after everyone's interests. Even the people you disagree with.
Don't be such a sheep! Just because your party is doing it doesn't mean you have to if  you disagree. And that goes for all of you, not just the right, not just the left. Don't be afraid of an honest discussion.
In closing, stop worrying about getting re-elected. Just do the best job you can in the time you have, and don't assume you'll get anymore. If you spent more time working hard to make things better, you'd have a better shot of getting elected than if you spend your time telling us why we should vote for you and not the other guy.

Sincerely,
Leia C.

Welcome to my blog...I guess.

So I guess I will start this thing off by telling all you readers (or just random net space) a little about me.
First, I'm in my 20s. Not the early ones. I can't tell you how much getting closer to that little 3-0 freaks me out.
Second, I have 2 children. One is 4. He is a sweet little monster. Busy, curious, crazy smart, into everything, and a total joy and pain in my butt all the time. The other is just shy of 3 months at this point. Not sure who he is yet, but we're figuring each other out. So far I know he is shyer than his brother was at this age, more relaxed, and much more into being snuggled. Maybe a budding introvert? I guess we'll see.
Third, I'm married. This is a fairly recent development, although my husband and I have known each other for almost half our lives now. We've been living together for 8 years but decided we should just make it official last year. People say our kids look like him..or me depending on who you ask or who is closest to the child in question.
I could go on and on about my family, but they'll certainly come up again and I don't want to give it all away right now. So...
Fourth, I'm a student. I'm about halfway through my Bachelor of Science in Human Services degree. Maybe a little more than halfway. After I finish that I'll get my Master of Social Work degree. Probably. I've learned that it's best if I just leave things as general ideas of plans rather than certainties.
Maybe you're asking: "Why those degrees?" Well...that would bring you to the
Fifth, I have a deep commitment to service to those in need. I remember as a child feeling so terrible for those who were homeless, poor(or poorer than we were anyway. We were poor, but I didn't realize it until I was older), or struggling in general. It would break my heart to think we couldn't just wave a wand and make these people's lives better. So that's what I want to do, help make people's lives better. I could go on and on about that too, but like my family it will almost certainly come up again.
Sixth (last?) I have always enjoyed writing. When I was a little girl I just loved putting stuff down on paper. Nothing was cooler than making a shape and having that shape mean something beyond itself. After all, letters are just shapes but stick them with a few of their friends and you get meaning. It's pretty cool. I write sporadically for the most part now, I'm too busy to make it a habit, but I'm hoping this blog helps with that.
So that's that....if you follow along, you'll likely get a hodgepodge of thoughts, ideas, events, and other assorted randomness. Enjoy!