Yesterday was one of those days with the girls where I finally just said, defeated, "I can't take this. I used to have an outside JOB. One that got me OUT of the house."
But...today is a new day. And guess what? School is closed on account of the cold. One of the headlines in the newspaper said, "Why Do You Live Here?"--a question I ask myself every winter of my life.
"Are we grounded indoors all day today?" Lucy asked.
"Looks like it," I said cheerfully. So, a prayer for grace. That we will have fun, confined inside for the next 10 1/2 hours until it is time to go to bed.
This week at school, Lucy is Star of the Week. Over the weekend, we made a poster of pictures of her, doing many of the things that comprise her life. On one edge of the poster I drew an evergreen tree covered with snow; on the other side I drew a lamp post. At the top I did her name, intertwined with vines and flowers. Then we glued the photos, wrote some captions, and at the bottom she did her own drawing of Peter, Susan, Edmund, "Me!" as she says, the White Witch, and Aslan.
On Sunday night she asked, "Mom, will you go with me tomorrow to school to do my poster? I feel too shy by myself." In the morning she reiterated, "I was thinking about you coming to school with me all during the night."
So when I went to drop her off, I said to the teacher's aid, "Lucy wondered if I could come in while she does her presentation. Is that OK?" She said, "Of course it is! And take advantage of this time. In fifth grade she won't want you anywhere near the school!" which I know from my own childhood experience is completely true.
I brought the poster in, plus her copy of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," and her treat for the class: some Turkish Delight. (I had found recipes to make it, but that looked beyond me so I ordered it again.) Lucy got up with the pointer and showed her poster, explained her pictures, and talked about her name. She spoke softly, but she did a great job. Then the other children had a chance to ask her questions, which was quite cute. Then Mrs. Blevins prayed for her, Lucy passed out the Turkish Delight, and Elaine and I went home.
However, one of the big perks of being Star of the Week is that you get to bring home the class stuffed monkey, Bananas, for the whole rest of the week and weekend. You also bring home Bananas' journal and write the activities you did together, then present that to the class next Monday.
So far at our house, Bananas has basically been the recipient of much loving, hugging, clothes-changing, and watching "Anne of Green Gables." Last night when the girls got the curlers put in their hair, he got a curler in his tail. Nothing earth shattering.
So today on this extremely cold day when we are all stuck indoors, we are planning a party to liven things up. January 18 is A. A. Milne's birthday, but we're moving it up a few days. We're making stamp art invitations to his birthday party. We'll be inviting Pooh, Tigger, Piglet, various other stuffed animals, and Bananas of course. We'll be making a poppy seed cake, having tea, and listening to the Winnie-the-Pooh soundtrack, and taking pictures of it all for posterity (and the journal).
A. A. Milne, bless you for having a birthday in mid-January. Dr. King's got nothing on you.
I promise you, I faced nothing this challenging at my former job.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Our Latest Obsession
One of the things that is great about being a child is discovering new things to love. Sometimes these things come and go, but if you're fortunate, the love is an enduring one that becomes part of who you are.
When I was little, my mom enrolled me in a ballet class at the park district. The doctor thought it could help my hip and strengthen my leg. My mom confessed much later, "And I thought it might give you a little more grace and less clumsiness."
It possibly helped my leg; if you know me, you know it had absolutely no effect on my clumsiness, but the real impact it had on me was the beginning of my love of all things dance-related. It was like being injected with some indefinable substance that has never left me.
I began to watch ballet performances on TV and countless Fred Astaire movies and read dance novels and biographies. I devoured the Noel Streatfeild books about children growing up to train for a life on stage. There was no way in real life I could move my feet that way, but in my mind I always could.
Another plus was growing up in a suburb of Chicago. My parents had absolutely no interest in sports, but they loved the theater and took us to all sorts of performances in the city. I've seen musicals, operas, ballets, so many productions. There is nothing like the thrill of live theater.
Shortly after Darren and I were married, I bought us tickets to see Riverdance. This is when it first came out, and was on its first run to Chicago. On the way there, Darren said, "I just want you to know that this is one of those things I'm going to because I love you." I think there might have been some mention of poufy guys in tights or something too. We got to the theater, and he upgraded our seats to the main floor (because the balcony of that particular theater was a deathtrap we discovered), and we settled in for the show.
It was indescribable. Never in my life have I had an experience like that. Never in my life have I seen a crowd reaction like that. Of all the many shows I had ever seen, this blew them all away. Darren said, "We're going to see this again." We walked out of the theater after, only to stop at the box office and buy more tickets for another night.
That was about thirteen years ago, and I've seen a lot of shows since then but nothing has ever surpassed or even matched up to it. I have the soundtrack, and I usually pull it out on winter days that I find so depressing--it lifts my spirits. I turned it on last week in the kitchen while the girls were sitting at the island, having supper.
I had my back to them, and I realized that they had stopped talking. I turned around and each of them was moving in her chair and kicking her feet. "What IS this, Mama?" Lucy called over the high volume. "Riverdance!" I answered. "WE LOVE IT!" they yelled, "Can we get up and dance?" So they danced around the kitchen, the music taking control over their feet.
I pulled my laptop over to the island and searched a bit on youtube until I came up with some footage. All this week they have sat and watched video after video of Riverdance. "That's the principal dancer," Lucy will say importantly. "Can we see the finale?" Elaine will ask. Then they take the soundtrack up to their room, put on their Sunday Mary Janes, turn up the volume, and dance their little hearts out.
"I'm going to be an Irish dancer when I grow up," sighs Lucy. "Me too; I'm gonna be in 'Riverdance'!" says Elaine. "Can we go and see this on the real stage?" they ask. On a whim, I check the home site to see if any time in the future, a company will be touring near us. Blow me away, Riverdance is coming to our small city this spring. Can you believe it? To the theater about 8 minutes from our house. By hook or by crook, I will get those two little girls there to see it.
So, the fever has spread to them too. May it never leave, and may it bring them as much excitement and joy as it has always given me. Here's a little taste for you (I have yet to figure out how to upload video. Alysa, help!) This onscreen gives only a fraction of what seeing it live is like. You've got to see it though. And when all the chorus takes the stage near the end, if you tilt your head and squint...you just might see me dancing up there with them. I do, anyway.
When I was little, my mom enrolled me in a ballet class at the park district. The doctor thought it could help my hip and strengthen my leg. My mom confessed much later, "And I thought it might give you a little more grace and less clumsiness."
It possibly helped my leg; if you know me, you know it had absolutely no effect on my clumsiness, but the real impact it had on me was the beginning of my love of all things dance-related. It was like being injected with some indefinable substance that has never left me.
I began to watch ballet performances on TV and countless Fred Astaire movies and read dance novels and biographies. I devoured the Noel Streatfeild books about children growing up to train for a life on stage. There was no way in real life I could move my feet that way, but in my mind I always could.
Another plus was growing up in a suburb of Chicago. My parents had absolutely no interest in sports, but they loved the theater and took us to all sorts of performances in the city. I've seen musicals, operas, ballets, so many productions. There is nothing like the thrill of live theater.
Shortly after Darren and I were married, I bought us tickets to see Riverdance. This is when it first came out, and was on its first run to Chicago. On the way there, Darren said, "I just want you to know that this is one of those things I'm going to because I love you." I think there might have been some mention of poufy guys in tights or something too. We got to the theater, and he upgraded our seats to the main floor (because the balcony of that particular theater was a deathtrap we discovered), and we settled in for the show.
It was indescribable. Never in my life have I had an experience like that. Never in my life have I seen a crowd reaction like that. Of all the many shows I had ever seen, this blew them all away. Darren said, "We're going to see this again." We walked out of the theater after, only to stop at the box office and buy more tickets for another night.
That was about thirteen years ago, and I've seen a lot of shows since then but nothing has ever surpassed or even matched up to it. I have the soundtrack, and I usually pull it out on winter days that I find so depressing--it lifts my spirits. I turned it on last week in the kitchen while the girls were sitting at the island, having supper.
I had my back to them, and I realized that they had stopped talking. I turned around and each of them was moving in her chair and kicking her feet. "What IS this, Mama?" Lucy called over the high volume. "Riverdance!" I answered. "WE LOVE IT!" they yelled, "Can we get up and dance?" So they danced around the kitchen, the music taking control over their feet.
I pulled my laptop over to the island and searched a bit on youtube until I came up with some footage. All this week they have sat and watched video after video of Riverdance. "That's the principal dancer," Lucy will say importantly. "Can we see the finale?" Elaine will ask. Then they take the soundtrack up to their room, put on their Sunday Mary Janes, turn up the volume, and dance their little hearts out.
"I'm going to be an Irish dancer when I grow up," sighs Lucy. "Me too; I'm gonna be in 'Riverdance'!" says Elaine. "Can we go and see this on the real stage?" they ask. On a whim, I check the home site to see if any time in the future, a company will be touring near us. Blow me away, Riverdance is coming to our small city this spring. Can you believe it? To the theater about 8 minutes from our house. By hook or by crook, I will get those two little girls there to see it.
So, the fever has spread to them too. May it never leave, and may it bring them as much excitement and joy as it has always given me. Here's a little taste for you (I have yet to figure out how to upload video. Alysa, help!) This onscreen gives only a fraction of what seeing it live is like. You've got to see it though. And when all the chorus takes the stage near the end, if you tilt your head and squint...you just might see me dancing up there with them. I do, anyway.
Monday, January 12, 2009
A Little Bit of Elaine This Weekend
...singing, while bouncing up and down in one of the wing chairs...
"I love currant wine, I love currant wine,
I'm having it for sup-per!"
(And no, she's never had currant wine. She has seen "Anne of Green Gables," however.)
-----
...while getting her out of her carseat last night...
"I'm sorry you bumped your head, Mom. If I slammed your head in the car door? I would kiss you to make you feel better."
-----
...while arguing with Lucy over whose turn it was to pick the audiobook they were going to listen to at bedtime...
Elaine: "I pick 'Bedtime for Frances.'
Lucy: "You always pick that one, besides it's my turn."
Elaine (getting louder): "Then I pick 'Secret of Mossy Roots Mansion.'"
Lucy: "No, we just had that one."
Elaine (getting even louder): "You LOVE 'Mossy Roots Mansion,' Lucy. You think it's wonderful and precious. You said so!"
"I love currant wine, I love currant wine,
I'm having it for sup-per!"
(And no, she's never had currant wine. She has seen "Anne of Green Gables," however.)
-----
...while getting her out of her carseat last night...
"I'm sorry you bumped your head, Mom. If I slammed your head in the car door? I would kiss you to make you feel better."
-----
...while arguing with Lucy over whose turn it was to pick the audiobook they were going to listen to at bedtime...
Elaine: "I pick 'Bedtime for Frances.'
Lucy: "You always pick that one, besides it's my turn."
Elaine (getting louder): "Then I pick 'Secret of Mossy Roots Mansion.'"
Lucy: "No, we just had that one."
Elaine (getting even louder): "You LOVE 'Mossy Roots Mansion,' Lucy. You think it's wonderful and precious. You said so!"
Friday, January 09, 2009
The Story I Promised
During my little hiatus, I said I'd tell the story of my mother pushing an SUV. I think it's worth telling, so here it is.
For anyone who doesn't know my mom, she is a teeny tiny sweet little lady with a tremulous soprano voice who has a propensity to get herself into odd situations.
There was the time she was visiting at our former house, which was in a horrible neighborhood, and she locked herself out while we were at work. Instead of walking half a block down the street to the nursing home there to call my dad, she went across the street to the second worst house on the block (the worst was the meth lab next door to it--this one was closer). She picked the house with some windows boarded up, sheets hanging in the others, and Corona bottles littering the porch. The house where they set a mattress on fire and threw it out in the front yard. So, she decided to stop in and ask if she could use their phone. She did end up having to use the nursing home's phone anyway because, "the men in that house couldn't speak any English, and the numbers were all rubbed off their phone. It was so strange. I wonder how they use it on a regular basis?"
Then there was the time she inadvertently ate at Hooters. She called me, shocked. "It was dreadful! Those poor women who work there!"
But I digress.
The girls and I spent one of our vacation days going over to Manga and Packa's to play. The day didn't start auspiciously; Elaine was upset about most everything--the sun was in her eyes, she didn't want her mittens on, Lucy was singing to songs in the car when she wanted to sing them, Lucy was breathing the same air she was breathing, etc. etc.
"Boy, Mom, Elaine is sure a grouch. She must have got up on the wrong side of the bed today," Lucy said cheerfully.
"I am not a grouch on the bed!" roared Elaine.
And so on.
We finally got to my parents (relief!), and things got happier. Mid-morning, my mom bundled both girls up and headed out for some fresh air. Their destination was the mailbox downtown. Roundtrip, this adventure, including walking with small children who look for treasures along the way, should take maybe 45 minutes.
Well over an hour had passed. "I wonder where Mom and the girls are?" I said to my dad.
"Oh, you know Manga. They could be gone for ages," he replied.
More time passed. I was getting a little worried now. This is a town of 4,000 people. There's not much going on. Where in the world could they be?
"Look," Dad said. "I see three figures dragging up the driveway. You better put the kettle on for tea."
They all came in, rosy and tired and ready for lunch.
"We had an adventure!" said Lucy.
"Oh, brother," said my dad.
"Well," my mom began, "We were walking down a side street. And we saw a lady who had driven her car halfway up a snowbank, and the other half was on a patch of ice. She saw us coming, and she asked me to push her car."
"She WHAT?" my dad exploded. "Who was this creature?" (Except, if you know my dad, he didn't use the word "creature.")
"Just a woman," my mom answered, her story interrupted. "Anyway, I tried to push it..."
"What kind of car was this?" my dad burst in again. "And how old was this dame?" (always striving to be politically correct)
"An SUV, and oh, I don't know," she answered vaguely. "40 or 50 or 60 or something."
"Wait a minute," I stepped in. "Some moron drove her car on a snowbank, and then she saw a little 75-year-old lady with arthritis and osteoporosis walk by with her two granddaughters and thought you'd be perfect to push her SUV?"
"Oh, Alice," she said, as she has said for the past 39 years.
"So, I tried that, but it didn't work [oh, surprise!] so then she got me a shovel and thought I could chip away at the ice with it. But that didn't work either, so the girls and I gathered some leaves and tried to put them down on the ice for traction. "
My dad and I both continued to sputter, inarticulately at this point.
She continued, "Fortunately after awhile, a man came by, and let me tell you, that woman was glad to see him. But he had a big dog with him, and he said he couldn't leave the dog, so then the woman asked me to hold the dog while he helped her."
"Where does this woman live?" asked my dad, barely able to contain himself.
"What kind of dog was it?" I demanded. "Probably a pit bull."
She wisely refrained from answering either of these excellent questions and went on.
"I had the girls stand away from all this underneath a tree. They were just as good as gold the whole time, and they were never in any danger whatsoever. Well, Elaine kept wanting to pet the dog, but I didn't let her."
"Because he might have snipped her," chimed in Lucy.
"I love doggies!" exclaimed Elaine.
"I bet it was a pit bull," I said.
"Our neighbor was just mauled by one of those things," my dad added. "Do you see why I don't want your mother out without supervision?"
"Mommy doesn't even let us talk about pit bulls," added Lucy helpfully, putting more toast in her mouth.
"Doggies, doggies, doggies," shrieked Elaine joyfully.
Mom could sense the whole situation slipping away from her.
"After I held onto that dog awhile, I finally just said, 'Look, I have my two granddaughters here, and I really have to get home.' So I gave the dog back, collected the girls, and came home without looking back."
"You looked back a little bit, Manga," said Lucy.
My dad sat with his head in his hands.
So, there's the story of my mom pushing the SUV.
I guess the girls can never say they got bored with Grandma.
At least she didn't take them to Hooters.
Yet.
For anyone who doesn't know my mom, she is a teeny tiny sweet little lady with a tremulous soprano voice who has a propensity to get herself into odd situations.
There was the time she was visiting at our former house, which was in a horrible neighborhood, and she locked herself out while we were at work. Instead of walking half a block down the street to the nursing home there to call my dad, she went across the street to the second worst house on the block (the worst was the meth lab next door to it--this one was closer). She picked the house with some windows boarded up, sheets hanging in the others, and Corona bottles littering the porch. The house where they set a mattress on fire and threw it out in the front yard. So, she decided to stop in and ask if she could use their phone. She did end up having to use the nursing home's phone anyway because, "the men in that house couldn't speak any English, and the numbers were all rubbed off their phone. It was so strange. I wonder how they use it on a regular basis?"
Then there was the time she inadvertently ate at Hooters. She called me, shocked. "It was dreadful! Those poor women who work there!"
But I digress.
The girls and I spent one of our vacation days going over to Manga and Packa's to play. The day didn't start auspiciously; Elaine was upset about most everything--the sun was in her eyes, she didn't want her mittens on, Lucy was singing to songs in the car when she wanted to sing them, Lucy was breathing the same air she was breathing, etc. etc.
"Boy, Mom, Elaine is sure a grouch. She must have got up on the wrong side of the bed today," Lucy said cheerfully.
"I am not a grouch on the bed!" roared Elaine.
And so on.
We finally got to my parents (relief!), and things got happier. Mid-morning, my mom bundled both girls up and headed out for some fresh air. Their destination was the mailbox downtown. Roundtrip, this adventure, including walking with small children who look for treasures along the way, should take maybe 45 minutes.
Well over an hour had passed. "I wonder where Mom and the girls are?" I said to my dad.
"Oh, you know Manga. They could be gone for ages," he replied.
More time passed. I was getting a little worried now. This is a town of 4,000 people. There's not much going on. Where in the world could they be?
"Look," Dad said. "I see three figures dragging up the driveway. You better put the kettle on for tea."
They all came in, rosy and tired and ready for lunch.
"We had an adventure!" said Lucy.
"Oh, brother," said my dad.
"Well," my mom began, "We were walking down a side street. And we saw a lady who had driven her car halfway up a snowbank, and the other half was on a patch of ice. She saw us coming, and she asked me to push her car."
"She WHAT?" my dad exploded. "Who was this creature?" (Except, if you know my dad, he didn't use the word "creature.")
"Just a woman," my mom answered, her story interrupted. "Anyway, I tried to push it..."
"What kind of car was this?" my dad burst in again. "And how old was this dame?" (always striving to be politically correct)
"An SUV, and oh, I don't know," she answered vaguely. "40 or 50 or 60 or something."
"Wait a minute," I stepped in. "Some moron drove her car on a snowbank, and then she saw a little 75-year-old lady with arthritis and osteoporosis walk by with her two granddaughters and thought you'd be perfect to push her SUV?"
"Oh, Alice," she said, as she has said for the past 39 years.
"So, I tried that, but it didn't work [oh, surprise!] so then she got me a shovel and thought I could chip away at the ice with it. But that didn't work either, so the girls and I gathered some leaves and tried to put them down on the ice for traction. "
My dad and I both continued to sputter, inarticulately at this point.
She continued, "Fortunately after awhile, a man came by, and let me tell you, that woman was glad to see him. But he had a big dog with him, and he said he couldn't leave the dog, so then the woman asked me to hold the dog while he helped her."
"Where does this woman live?" asked my dad, barely able to contain himself.
"What kind of dog was it?" I demanded. "Probably a pit bull."
She wisely refrained from answering either of these excellent questions and went on.
"I had the girls stand away from all this underneath a tree. They were just as good as gold the whole time, and they were never in any danger whatsoever. Well, Elaine kept wanting to pet the dog, but I didn't let her."
"Because he might have snipped her," chimed in Lucy.
"I love doggies!" exclaimed Elaine.
"I bet it was a pit bull," I said.
"Our neighbor was just mauled by one of those things," my dad added. "Do you see why I don't want your mother out without supervision?"
"Mommy doesn't even let us talk about pit bulls," added Lucy helpfully, putting more toast in her mouth.
"Doggies, doggies, doggies," shrieked Elaine joyfully.
Mom could sense the whole situation slipping away from her.
"After I held onto that dog awhile, I finally just said, 'Look, I have my two granddaughters here, and I really have to get home.' So I gave the dog back, collected the girls, and came home without looking back."
"You looked back a little bit, Manga," said Lucy.
My dad sat with his head in his hands.
So, there's the story of my mom pushing the SUV.
I guess the girls can never say they got bored with Grandma.
At least she didn't take them to Hooters.
Yet.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
It's January 7, and I've Already Bagged My New Year's Resolution
I like the clean slate of the new year, and I'm one of those people who likes to make resolutions. The key for me though is to make small ones--they're much easier to keep. My two resolutions this year were #1. to practice reading with Lucy for at least 15 minutes every single day, and #2. to try one new recipe each week.
Resolution 1 is going quite nicely. That one's easy. Resolution 2? Maybe not so much.
I went through all my new magazines and tore out any new recipes that sounded good or even interesting. Our family was ready to embark on a culinary tour de force. Actually, the rest of them didn't know anything about it, but I was definitely ready.
Martha Stewart Living is a magazine I read regularly even though it sort of makes me hyperventilate with thoughts of my inadequacies. However, I try to take one or two ideas each time from it, and hey, the pictures are nice. This month there was an article on revamping the casserole. Comfort food is acceptable, according to the magazine, but not if you use any sort of cream soup with which to make it. Apparently, making casseroles with Campbell's soup as a base is tacky and classless.
The writer is obviously not from the Midwest.
I certainly don't won't my family or cooking to be tacky and classless though, so I began with a new chicken casserole recipe that did not contain any sort of cream of mushroom or cream of chicken soup in it.
Here is a picture of Martha's version (it's chicken, leek, and mushroom casserole; so far so good with the ingredients):
Fortunately, we still had some taco soup left over from a recipe I got out of Midwest Living. I made it in the crockpot. Now, those are people who know how to cook for Midwesterners.
Resolution 1 is going quite nicely. That one's easy. Resolution 2? Maybe not so much.
I went through all my new magazines and tore out any new recipes that sounded good or even interesting. Our family was ready to embark on a culinary tour de force. Actually, the rest of them didn't know anything about it, but I was definitely ready.
Martha Stewart Living is a magazine I read regularly even though it sort of makes me hyperventilate with thoughts of my inadequacies. However, I try to take one or two ideas each time from it, and hey, the pictures are nice. This month there was an article on revamping the casserole. Comfort food is acceptable, according to the magazine, but not if you use any sort of cream soup with which to make it. Apparently, making casseroles with Campbell's soup as a base is tacky and classless.
The writer is obviously not from the Midwest.
I certainly don't won't my family or cooking to be tacky and classless though, so I began with a new chicken casserole recipe that did not contain any sort of cream of mushroom or cream of chicken soup in it.
Here is a picture of Martha's version (it's chicken, leek, and mushroom casserole; so far so good with the ingredients):
It took me at least an hour to do all the saute-ing, chopping, simmering, and stirring necessary before arranging all the ingredients in the casserole dish to bake. Hmmm. Usually, I just take a bunch of frozen ingredients, dump them in my crockpot with a can of cream soup, add some salt and pepper, turn it on, and several hours later...voila.
But...I forged ahead. Here is my finished product:
Doesn't that look good? Despite all the work, it was worth it! I'm preserving my family from a life of tacky classlessness right here, my friends.
Darren came into the kitchen. "What's that?" he asked.
"A new recipe!" I said enthusiastically.
"Why?" he said, decidedly unenthusiastically. "I like your old recipes."
"Taste it and see. It's a delicious casserole from Martha Stewart that is not made with any form of Campbell's soup!" I answered.
We each grabbed a fork and took a bite.
"What's the slimy stuff in it?" he asked.
Now, there are a lot of words I'd like to describe my cooking. However, "slimy" is not one of them. And before you get outraged on my behalf, he was totally right. It was extremely slimy. And tasted...weird. We're not picky eaters, either one of us. But this was...not right.
We tried it again.
"It's not your fault," he said kindly. "It's her recipe's. What does she have against Campbell's soup, anyway?"
"She thinks it's tacky and classless," I said sadly.
"She's obviously not from the Midwest. What does she know about casseroles anyway? We like soup in ours. She needs to just stay on the East Coast with her opinions," he replied.
"I know. I wasted all this time and money and ingredients on her stupid dish. We could be eating Popes' Chicken right now instead of this glop."
[Popes' Chicken is an absolutely delicious chicken recipe from our friends, the Popes. It's one of those Campbell's-cream-soups-dump-everything-in-the-crockpot recipes. Then you serve it over egg noodles. We love it. One time I was making it when my parents came over. "What's for dinner?" my dad asked. "Popes' Chicken!" said Lucy and Elaine. "The pope has a chicken recipe?" said my dad. "And how did you get it?")
I have an abhorrence of wasting food (my parents grew up in the Depression as you know), but man. This cream-soupless casserole was the worst dish I have ever made. Inedible.
So...for the first time in almost 14 years of marriage, here's where it all ended up.
Fortunately, we still had some taco soup left over from a recipe I got out of Midwest Living. I made it in the crockpot. Now, those are people who know how to cook for Midwesterners.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Not Yet Ready For Replacement
My parents brought me up to work hard. Laborare est orare—Work is a form of prayer. I’ve been constantly employed since I was 15 years old. I am fiercely independent. I make things happen. I don’t take handouts. I get it done myself. I worked all throughout college. Later, I worked full time during the day and took a full-time graduate course load at night. After that, I worked a full-time job and taught three nights a week. While pregnant. Then I was a working mom, commuting 70 miles one way to my job.
When in doubt, I take care of myself. I control my own career destiny.
That is, until December 2, 2008.
Amidst the holidays, I’ve been fighting these feelings of loss. My job is gone. Now I have two little girls to think about; I can’t just go out and try to find a full-time job, location unimportant. That’s what I would have done before. Now I need a great paying, part-time job with a lot of flexibility and easily-arranged, completely trustworthy childcare where the girls are happy. You know, all the things I used to have. Before I got laid off. Oh, and have we discussed the current job climate? It’s awful, have you heard? I feel myself completely losing control of the situation; it’s all just slipping through my fingers, and I don’t know what to do.
Is it financial needs I am worried about? Somewhat. It wouldn’t be normal otherwise. Is it a change in lifestyle? Somewhat. Do we need to change our dreams of private school for our daughters? Do we need to adjust our retirement plans? What exactly is it that keeps me awake at night, that leaves me with the feeling of dread and panic that I’m not sure how to make it through the endless days stretching out in front of me? I tried to spell out to Darren how I’ve been feeling. “I’m not anybody. It’s like, I used to be someone,” I said. “And now I’m not anyone anymore.”
I’ve continued to wrestle. There’s a verse in the New Testament that says the stories in the Old Testament have been put there for us to learn from, so I look to the stories there to see what I’m supposed to learn from this trial.
Am I supposed to learn from Noah? To build a boat even though there’s no water? Am I Abraham? To pick up my feet and put them down, even though I’m not sure where I’m going? Or am I Abraham later on, required to lay my Isaac down on the altar and trust that God will provide? Because honestly, I think I’ve learned all those lessons before in my life. Really. I don’t think that this blow was really necessary to teach me those things again.
Not this time. This time it’s about your hip.
My hip?
I have this sort of running joke with Darren that some year for my birthday he can buy me a hip replacement. I was born with a dislocated hip, a birth defect. Fortunately, it was discovered when I was about three months old. I spent about a year in a body cast as an infant (don’t feel sorry for me; I don’t remember a bit of it. Feel sorry for my mom, having to lug around a baby and a body cast, plus trying to change those cloth diapers all the time). Though it was repaired, I still feel the effects of it. I’ve never been agile or athletic. I’ll never run a 10k (or a 5k!). Pregnancy was murder on my hip, and special care had to be taken when I delivered. In general, a throbbing pain in varying degrees comes and goes at any given time. Sometimes it lasts for days. Sometimes I go for months without it. My doctor says I can just count on it to get worse as I get older.
I’m not really seeing how my hip relates to my job loss though. Because I can’t think of anyone in the Bible with a bad hip, except Jacob. And I can’t stand him. I am NOTHING like that guy. I’m not a cheater or deceiver or heel grasper or wheeler-dealer, and I don’t have two wives. I don’t have anything in common with him except that his hip hurt, too. Well, and maybe that he was a hard worker. And was independent. And fixed things to go his way a lot. And instead of waiting on God, went out and jumpstarted situations. And forged his own identity.
Oh.
Since I discovered that I might possibly have a few things in common with him, I decided to look again at the story of his hip. He was about to face his brother, Esau, who wanted to kill him. He devised some sketchy strategy and put together some gifts, but in his heart, he knew that wasn’t going to work. So before the day he was to meet him, he sent his whole family over the river, but he stayed on the other side alone. And there he met Jesus, in a Christophony: one of those times when Jesus appeared before the Incarnation. Jacob wrestled and fought with Jesus until daybreak, but he wouldn’t yield. Jacob wouldn’t give in to Him. Until finally Jesus merely touched Jacob’s hip, and it came out of its socket. Only then did Jacob realize that all his old strategies and his old identity were nothing. He was fighting with God over who was in charge of his life, and God had to give him a devastating injury to show him.
I’m seeing now that it wasn’t my job or career I loved so much (though I did love them): actually, it was me. I love me so much. I think I can do a better job being in charge of my life than God can. Does He not realize all my accomplishments? Does He not see all that I have done? Is He not aware of all my hard work? Does He not know that I have formed the absolute perfect situation for myself and my family? I got that done all on my own, didn’t I?
But in a conference room in early December, He gently reached down and pried my fingers off that cherished idol I’ve held for so long: my identity. All the pride I take in who I’ve made myself to be. Something which, though I might not have really realized it, I thought was better than God. I got a devastating injury because for too long, too many years I have believed myself to be in charge of my life.
And as I lie here on the ground, in agonizing pain, with my dislocated life—now what? Where’s my plan? Any plan I do have, I realize I have absolutely no control over whether or not it will work out. What’s going to happen to me? Who am I now?
What happened to Jacob after God dislocated his hip?
Genesis 32:29 “Jacob said, ‘Please tell me your name.’ But He replied, ‘Why do you ask my name?’ And there He blessed him.”
After He has given me this blow to my pride and everything I thought I was…here comes His hand again. For what? To lecture me? To hurt me? To take from me? To steal from me?
“And there He blessed him.”
In place of the pitiful little idol He has loosened from my clenched fist, He pours out His almighty blessing instead.
My hip is hurting a bit tonight as I write this. For so long, I’ve lived with the pain, it’s like background noise. But now to me, it’s a precious reminder of a painful lesson I needed to learn. A lesson He loved me enough to teach me.
So I limp to the mirror to take a good hard look at who I see there. Who am I now that the identity I created for myself has been stripped away?
I see an ordinary woman. Heading toward 40. With no control over what happens. With no self-made plans. With a bad hip. With an identity only He can give me.
A very, very blessed woman.
When in doubt, I take care of myself. I control my own career destiny.
That is, until December 2, 2008.
Amidst the holidays, I’ve been fighting these feelings of loss. My job is gone. Now I have two little girls to think about; I can’t just go out and try to find a full-time job, location unimportant. That’s what I would have done before. Now I need a great paying, part-time job with a lot of flexibility and easily-arranged, completely trustworthy childcare where the girls are happy. You know, all the things I used to have. Before I got laid off. Oh, and have we discussed the current job climate? It’s awful, have you heard? I feel myself completely losing control of the situation; it’s all just slipping through my fingers, and I don’t know what to do.
Is it financial needs I am worried about? Somewhat. It wouldn’t be normal otherwise. Is it a change in lifestyle? Somewhat. Do we need to change our dreams of private school for our daughters? Do we need to adjust our retirement plans? What exactly is it that keeps me awake at night, that leaves me with the feeling of dread and panic that I’m not sure how to make it through the endless days stretching out in front of me? I tried to spell out to Darren how I’ve been feeling. “I’m not anybody. It’s like, I used to be someone,” I said. “And now I’m not anyone anymore.”
I’ve continued to wrestle. There’s a verse in the New Testament that says the stories in the Old Testament have been put there for us to learn from, so I look to the stories there to see what I’m supposed to learn from this trial.
Am I supposed to learn from Noah? To build a boat even though there’s no water? Am I Abraham? To pick up my feet and put them down, even though I’m not sure where I’m going? Or am I Abraham later on, required to lay my Isaac down on the altar and trust that God will provide? Because honestly, I think I’ve learned all those lessons before in my life. Really. I don’t think that this blow was really necessary to teach me those things again.
Not this time. This time it’s about your hip.
My hip?
I have this sort of running joke with Darren that some year for my birthday he can buy me a hip replacement. I was born with a dislocated hip, a birth defect. Fortunately, it was discovered when I was about three months old. I spent about a year in a body cast as an infant (don’t feel sorry for me; I don’t remember a bit of it. Feel sorry for my mom, having to lug around a baby and a body cast, plus trying to change those cloth diapers all the time). Though it was repaired, I still feel the effects of it. I’ve never been agile or athletic. I’ll never run a 10k (or a 5k!). Pregnancy was murder on my hip, and special care had to be taken when I delivered. In general, a throbbing pain in varying degrees comes and goes at any given time. Sometimes it lasts for days. Sometimes I go for months without it. My doctor says I can just count on it to get worse as I get older.
I’m not really seeing how my hip relates to my job loss though. Because I can’t think of anyone in the Bible with a bad hip, except Jacob. And I can’t stand him. I am NOTHING like that guy. I’m not a cheater or deceiver or heel grasper or wheeler-dealer, and I don’t have two wives. I don’t have anything in common with him except that his hip hurt, too. Well, and maybe that he was a hard worker. And was independent. And fixed things to go his way a lot. And instead of waiting on God, went out and jumpstarted situations. And forged his own identity.
Oh.
Since I discovered that I might possibly have a few things in common with him, I decided to look again at the story of his hip. He was about to face his brother, Esau, who wanted to kill him. He devised some sketchy strategy and put together some gifts, but in his heart, he knew that wasn’t going to work. So before the day he was to meet him, he sent his whole family over the river, but he stayed on the other side alone. And there he met Jesus, in a Christophony: one of those times when Jesus appeared before the Incarnation. Jacob wrestled and fought with Jesus until daybreak, but he wouldn’t yield. Jacob wouldn’t give in to Him. Until finally Jesus merely touched Jacob’s hip, and it came out of its socket. Only then did Jacob realize that all his old strategies and his old identity were nothing. He was fighting with God over who was in charge of his life, and God had to give him a devastating injury to show him.
I’m seeing now that it wasn’t my job or career I loved so much (though I did love them): actually, it was me. I love me so much. I think I can do a better job being in charge of my life than God can. Does He not realize all my accomplishments? Does He not see all that I have done? Is He not aware of all my hard work? Does He not know that I have formed the absolute perfect situation for myself and my family? I got that done all on my own, didn’t I?
But in a conference room in early December, He gently reached down and pried my fingers off that cherished idol I’ve held for so long: my identity. All the pride I take in who I’ve made myself to be. Something which, though I might not have really realized it, I thought was better than God. I got a devastating injury because for too long, too many years I have believed myself to be in charge of my life.
And as I lie here on the ground, in agonizing pain, with my dislocated life—now what? Where’s my plan? Any plan I do have, I realize I have absolutely no control over whether or not it will work out. What’s going to happen to me? Who am I now?
What happened to Jacob after God dislocated his hip?
Genesis 32:29 “Jacob said, ‘Please tell me your name.’ But He replied, ‘Why do you ask my name?’ And there He blessed him.”
After He has given me this blow to my pride and everything I thought I was…here comes His hand again. For what? To lecture me? To hurt me? To take from me? To steal from me?
“And there He blessed him.”
In place of the pitiful little idol He has loosened from my clenched fist, He pours out His almighty blessing instead.
My hip is hurting a bit tonight as I write this. For so long, I’ve lived with the pain, it’s like background noise. But now to me, it’s a precious reminder of a painful lesson I needed to learn. A lesson He loved me enough to teach me.
So I limp to the mirror to take a good hard look at who I see there. Who am I now that the identity I created for myself has been stripped away?
I see an ordinary woman. Heading toward 40. With no control over what happens. With no self-made plans. With a bad hip. With an identity only He can give me.
A very, very blessed woman.
Monday, January 05, 2009
The Year in Review
I saw this idea on Alysa's blog,modified it a bit, then shamelessly stole it!
1. Where did you begin 2008?
Well, Darren's and my tradition is usually to stay at home, cook a really great dinner together, and then watch a movie. However, last year it snowed heavily on New Year's Eve so Darren had to shovel, not only at our house but the church parking lot and sidewalks as well. It took him about 6 hours so I ate a sandwich by myself and went to bed around 10. Thrilling. New Year's Day we always spend with my parents, having brunch and just sitting around chatting. It's so relaxing; I look forward to that day every year.
2. Name a difficult challenge this year.
I know I had challenges this year, but this question is really evidence that the phrase "This too shall pass" is really true. I know I came face-to-face several times with the reality of the vulnerability of my children's safety: from someone we knew and liked being convicted of assault on a child to when we lost and found Elaine...whew. OK, I'm getting a little stressed just writing about that stuff.
3. Were you in school any time this year?
Not officially, though apparently I was in kindergarten at least part of the time seeing as I had to make a native drum and Indian vests for my fellow students.
4. How did you earn your money?
At my job in the now severely injured publishing industry.
5. Where did you go on vacation?
Door County, twice--once for our anniversary in the spring and once for family vacation in the fall
6. What did you purchase that was over $1,000?
A kindergarten education, which should have covered drums and Indian vests. Not that I'm bitter.
7. Did you know anyone who got married?
A couple at our church. It was a beautiful wedding in November. We're mostly at the stage of life though where all our friends have been married for quite awhile. There was a point where we seemed to spend half the summer going to weddings.
8. What concerts/shows did you go to?
I went to an Agatha Christie play with my mom, Ann-Marie, and Juliet in the spring. In the fall, Darren and I saw a theater production of "The Hiding Place." And then we saw Selah in concert a few weeks ago.
9. Describe your birthday.
Ahh, my last birthday in my 30s. I spent it at the Japanese gardens with my family. I got my favorite purse ever (Japanese) and three seasons of NCIS on DVD. Fabulous!
10. What's one major change in your life this year?
Losing my job at the beginning of December. Big time change. More on that later. I'm still adjusting!
11. What was your favorite moment?
It's very hard to pick one, but I think I'd have to say successfully surprising my mom for her 75th birthday. Seeing Lucy lead her into the room filled with all her oldest and dearest friends, singing "Happy Birthday"...a great moment. She was so thrilled.
12. What's something you learned about yourself?
Too long to just write a sentence about. A blog post on that will be forthcoming later this week!
13. Made any new friends this year?
This is my favorite question and what I will remember most about 2008. I've had so many great "friend" moments this year...if you're my friend and I accidentally skip mentioning you, please don't feel hurt! I've got four incidents that really stand out for me. One was in June: somehow the stars and planets aligned so that my two best friends from Moody and I could get together for lunch. Seeing as we all live in different cities and have seven kids between us...that's actually 10 schedules in which to juggle and fit in a lunch date. But we did it! It was a blast, and we hope to someday even have a Mom's Weekend together...maybe in 2009?!
Secondly, on a whim, I decided to do an online Bible study, called No Other Gods, through Beth Moore's site. It seemed like most of the people (I think around 3,000 signed up in all) were doing the study in small groups. Something in me just didn't want to do this one solo, so I looked at the other attendees from around the world who were going solo, picked one who lived in a neighboring state, and asked if she'd be interested in studying with me via email. I didn't have huge hopes--after all, we were total strangers. However, Cindy has turned out to be a wonderful new friend. We are at totally different stages in life, but we both found that the study made a powerful impact on our lives. She's the best Bible study partner I've had, other than my mom. We've kept in touch even though it finished at the end of August and hope to do another Beth Moore study together this summer.
The next incident was through facebook. In high school I had a best friend, Kirsten. We looked and acted and thought so much alike that we just dubbed each other "Sis." Neither one of us actually had a sister, so it was cool to pick the perfect one out for ourselves. When we went off to separate colleges though, we just lost touch. I've always missed her over the years and wondered whatever happened to her. Then one day in August, she found me on facebook! We have had a blast reconnecting and furiously emailing back and forth. It's been like meeting a great new friend--except one you already know and love!
The last incident is my favorite. In April, I wrote a tribute to my friend who was killed in a car accident in 1986. I feel like I've missed and remembered him all alone for all these years and just wanted to get out in print how much he meant to me. Six months went by after writing that. Then one morning, I saw a comment on my blog from my friend's younger brother! I guess he randomly googles his brother's name occasionally to see if anything will ever come up. Nothing ever did...until my blog post! He said it made his day. He has thought of his brother every day for the past 22 years but the worst part was that he felt he had been forgotten. As for me, I felt like, for a few moments in time, not only did I get a new friend, I got my old friend back as well.
If you check the comments of that post, you'll see the nicest comments from both Gordon's brother and his sister. I was telling my mom this story and she said, "I think you got a little foretaste of heaven!" So true.
So, though 2008 didn't start very auspiciously, it has been a wonderful year. Mostly I have so many great memories of my two little girls...Lucy graduating from pre-school and celebrating her 5th birthday, Elaine riding her tricycle around the neighborhood even though her feet don't touch the pedals, having our summer cooking school together, sending Lucy off to kindergarten, spending mornings in the Japanese gardens with Elaine, walking all around and finding "treasures," reading countless books together, singing at the top of our lungs in the car, taking two little black cats trick-or-treating, seeing both girls sing for the first time in front of the church, Elaine blowing out the candles on her Peter Rabbit cake, attending Lucy's Christmas program, opening presents together, tucking two wiggly girls into bed each night with a kiss, praying together... It's been a wonderful ride, and while there were some moments I would have gladly skipped over (such as making drums and Indian vests; have we covered that?)--we made it through. I never could have anticipated all that has happened.
That gives me a lot of hope for 2009!
1. Where did you begin 2008?
Well, Darren's and my tradition is usually to stay at home, cook a really great dinner together, and then watch a movie. However, last year it snowed heavily on New Year's Eve so Darren had to shovel, not only at our house but the church parking lot and sidewalks as well. It took him about 6 hours so I ate a sandwich by myself and went to bed around 10. Thrilling. New Year's Day we always spend with my parents, having brunch and just sitting around chatting. It's so relaxing; I look forward to that day every year.
2. Name a difficult challenge this year.
I know I had challenges this year, but this question is really evidence that the phrase "This too shall pass" is really true. I know I came face-to-face several times with the reality of the vulnerability of my children's safety: from someone we knew and liked being convicted of assault on a child to when we lost and found Elaine...whew. OK, I'm getting a little stressed just writing about that stuff.
3. Were you in school any time this year?
Not officially, though apparently I was in kindergarten at least part of the time seeing as I had to make a native drum and Indian vests for my fellow students.
4. How did you earn your money?
At my job in the now severely injured publishing industry.
5. Where did you go on vacation?
Door County, twice--once for our anniversary in the spring and once for family vacation in the fall
6. What did you purchase that was over $1,000?
A kindergarten education, which should have covered drums and Indian vests. Not that I'm bitter.
7. Did you know anyone who got married?
A couple at our church. It was a beautiful wedding in November. We're mostly at the stage of life though where all our friends have been married for quite awhile. There was a point where we seemed to spend half the summer going to weddings.
8. What concerts/shows did you go to?
I went to an Agatha Christie play with my mom, Ann-Marie, and Juliet in the spring. In the fall, Darren and I saw a theater production of "The Hiding Place." And then we saw Selah in concert a few weeks ago.
9. Describe your birthday.
Ahh, my last birthday in my 30s. I spent it at the Japanese gardens with my family. I got my favorite purse ever (Japanese) and three seasons of NCIS on DVD. Fabulous!
10. What's one major change in your life this year?
Losing my job at the beginning of December. Big time change. More on that later. I'm still adjusting!
11. What was your favorite moment?
It's very hard to pick one, but I think I'd have to say successfully surprising my mom for her 75th birthday. Seeing Lucy lead her into the room filled with all her oldest and dearest friends, singing "Happy Birthday"...a great moment. She was so thrilled.
12. What's something you learned about yourself?
Too long to just write a sentence about. A blog post on that will be forthcoming later this week!
13. Made any new friends this year?
This is my favorite question and what I will remember most about 2008. I've had so many great "friend" moments this year...if you're my friend and I accidentally skip mentioning you, please don't feel hurt! I've got four incidents that really stand out for me. One was in June: somehow the stars and planets aligned so that my two best friends from Moody and I could get together for lunch. Seeing as we all live in different cities and have seven kids between us...that's actually 10 schedules in which to juggle and fit in a lunch date. But we did it! It was a blast, and we hope to someday even have a Mom's Weekend together...maybe in 2009?!
Secondly, on a whim, I decided to do an online Bible study, called No Other Gods, through Beth Moore's site. It seemed like most of the people (I think around 3,000 signed up in all) were doing the study in small groups. Something in me just didn't want to do this one solo, so I looked at the other attendees from around the world who were going solo, picked one who lived in a neighboring state, and asked if she'd be interested in studying with me via email. I didn't have huge hopes--after all, we were total strangers. However, Cindy has turned out to be a wonderful new friend. We are at totally different stages in life, but we both found that the study made a powerful impact on our lives. She's the best Bible study partner I've had, other than my mom. We've kept in touch even though it finished at the end of August and hope to do another Beth Moore study together this summer.
The next incident was through facebook. In high school I had a best friend, Kirsten. We looked and acted and thought so much alike that we just dubbed each other "Sis." Neither one of us actually had a sister, so it was cool to pick the perfect one out for ourselves. When we went off to separate colleges though, we just lost touch. I've always missed her over the years and wondered whatever happened to her. Then one day in August, she found me on facebook! We have had a blast reconnecting and furiously emailing back and forth. It's been like meeting a great new friend--except one you already know and love!
The last incident is my favorite. In April, I wrote a tribute to my friend who was killed in a car accident in 1986. I feel like I've missed and remembered him all alone for all these years and just wanted to get out in print how much he meant to me. Six months went by after writing that. Then one morning, I saw a comment on my blog from my friend's younger brother! I guess he randomly googles his brother's name occasionally to see if anything will ever come up. Nothing ever did...until my blog post! He said it made his day. He has thought of his brother every day for the past 22 years but the worst part was that he felt he had been forgotten. As for me, I felt like, for a few moments in time, not only did I get a new friend, I got my old friend back as well.
If you check the comments of that post, you'll see the nicest comments from both Gordon's brother and his sister. I was telling my mom this story and she said, "I think you got a little foretaste of heaven!" So true.
So, though 2008 didn't start very auspiciously, it has been a wonderful year. Mostly I have so many great memories of my two little girls...Lucy graduating from pre-school and celebrating her 5th birthday, Elaine riding her tricycle around the neighborhood even though her feet don't touch the pedals, having our summer cooking school together, sending Lucy off to kindergarten, spending mornings in the Japanese gardens with Elaine, walking all around and finding "treasures," reading countless books together, singing at the top of our lungs in the car, taking two little black cats trick-or-treating, seeing both girls sing for the first time in front of the church, Elaine blowing out the candles on her Peter Rabbit cake, attending Lucy's Christmas program, opening presents together, tucking two wiggly girls into bed each night with a kiss, praying together... It's been a wonderful ride, and while there were some moments I would have gladly skipped over (such as making drums and Indian vests; have we covered that?)--we made it through. I never could have anticipated all that has happened.
That gives me a lot of hope for 2009!
Saturday, January 03, 2009
What We Did Over the Holidays, Part II or Playdates and the Tooth Fairy
After Lucy came in and told me she had lost her tooth, she said, "And this time, I'll even let the Tooth Fairy have my tooth!" This is the third one she's lost--the first one is sitting in a drawer somewhere, the second one (the original Snaggle Tooth; she now has another one of those) was never recovered after losing it at a gymnastics birthday party, but she had this one in hand and was supposedly ready to give it up.
However, as the evening neared, she changed her mind. I thought she might be nervous about having the Tooth Fairy come in her room at night, so I offered to put it in the guestroom. No, for some reason, she just did not want to give up her precious tooth. I said, "Tell you what. I'll call up the Tooth Fairy and let her know that she is supposed to leave you something, but she is definitely not supposed to take your tooth." I had found her a Princess watch at Kohl's on clearance for the Tooth Fairy to give, and she was not going to ruin this magic moment for me.
I dialed information and started to talk to the Tooth Fairy. Unfortunately, I voice-activated something so I had to surreptitiously hang up yet still pretend to be talking. Then a rather loud, recorded male voice came on. "Who is that?" Lucy asked suspiciously, since it was so loud she could overhear him. "He's the Tooth Fairy's assistant. While she's out making her rounds, she needs someone to take her calls." She seemed OK with that, but at bedtime she still had more doubts.
"Why does the Tooth Fairy visit people? And why does she have to take their teeth? Is she really real?" she asked. I was making up answers left and right and totally doubting why in the world I was even doing this when Darren chimed in, "She takes big kids' teeth and gives them to babies so they'll have teeth when they get bigger." I shot him a glare. "She does NOT. Lucy knows perfectly well that God gives us our teeth. Will you please stay out of this? I'm trying to teach her about the Tooth Fairy."
We finally settled that the tooth would sit on the dresser. After Lucy went to sleep, I made up a little card with a sticker on it and wrote in tiny print, "Congratulations, Lucy! You lost your tooth!" and left it with the watch (and the TOOTH of course). She was thrilled in the morning, but crud. Don't we have 32 teeth or some such ridiculous number? How am I gonna keep this up?
Another thing that happened over vacation was that Lucy invited her friend Daniel over to our house to play. Since she's busy with school and church, we don't do many playdates, but she's been asking to have Daniel over for months. According to Mrs. Blevins, they are inseparable at school. I figured it would be a nice time for me to meet another mom as well since I've only met maybe one since kindergarten started. Lucy had gotten some board games and an elaborate paint set for Christmas, and she thought the perfect time to try them out would be with Daniel.
He and his mom came over on Monday. He is just adorable. I said to his mom, "Lucy has been so excited that Daniel is coming over to play," and she answered, "Oh yes, we hear about Lucy all the time at our house too." Then Daniel looked up at me and said calmly, "I am going to marry her when I grow up." Oh. OK. Glad to have that settled.
The two kids played happily for at least two hours. They really do get along well. They played Chutes and Ladders for awhile and painted elaborate pictures. Another truly brilliant idea of Lucy's was that I get out my old typewriter from college so that they could type on it (because Kit Kittredge always types on a typewriter). Those two little monkeys had so much fun pounding away on that. They used sheet after sheet of paper, writing what they called "nonsense stories."
That evening, I asked Lucy if she'd had a good day. "It was great," she sighed. "I loved having Daniel come to my house. When I grow up, he's the one I'm going to marry."
Then she added, "I think I'll have to keep my eye on him though. Just in case he tries to marry someone else."
However, as the evening neared, she changed her mind. I thought she might be nervous about having the Tooth Fairy come in her room at night, so I offered to put it in the guestroom. No, for some reason, she just did not want to give up her precious tooth. I said, "Tell you what. I'll call up the Tooth Fairy and let her know that she is supposed to leave you something, but she is definitely not supposed to take your tooth." I had found her a Princess watch at Kohl's on clearance for the Tooth Fairy to give, and she was not going to ruin this magic moment for me.
I dialed information and started to talk to the Tooth Fairy. Unfortunately, I voice-activated something so I had to surreptitiously hang up yet still pretend to be talking. Then a rather loud, recorded male voice came on. "Who is that?" Lucy asked suspiciously, since it was so loud she could overhear him. "He's the Tooth Fairy's assistant. While she's out making her rounds, she needs someone to take her calls." She seemed OK with that, but at bedtime she still had more doubts.
"Why does the Tooth Fairy visit people? And why does she have to take their teeth? Is she really real?" she asked. I was making up answers left and right and totally doubting why in the world I was even doing this when Darren chimed in, "She takes big kids' teeth and gives them to babies so they'll have teeth when they get bigger." I shot him a glare. "She does NOT. Lucy knows perfectly well that God gives us our teeth. Will you please stay out of this? I'm trying to teach her about the Tooth Fairy."
We finally settled that the tooth would sit on the dresser. After Lucy went to sleep, I made up a little card with a sticker on it and wrote in tiny print, "Congratulations, Lucy! You lost your tooth!" and left it with the watch (and the TOOTH of course). She was thrilled in the morning, but crud. Don't we have 32 teeth or some such ridiculous number? How am I gonna keep this up?
Another thing that happened over vacation was that Lucy invited her friend Daniel over to our house to play. Since she's busy with school and church, we don't do many playdates, but she's been asking to have Daniel over for months. According to Mrs. Blevins, they are inseparable at school. I figured it would be a nice time for me to meet another mom as well since I've only met maybe one since kindergarten started. Lucy had gotten some board games and an elaborate paint set for Christmas, and she thought the perfect time to try them out would be with Daniel.
He and his mom came over on Monday. He is just adorable. I said to his mom, "Lucy has been so excited that Daniel is coming over to play," and she answered, "Oh yes, we hear about Lucy all the time at our house too." Then Daniel looked up at me and said calmly, "I am going to marry her when I grow up." Oh. OK. Glad to have that settled.
The two kids played happily for at least two hours. They really do get along well. They played Chutes and Ladders for awhile and painted elaborate pictures. Another truly brilliant idea of Lucy's was that I get out my old typewriter from college so that they could type on it (because Kit Kittredge always types on a typewriter). Those two little monkeys had so much fun pounding away on that. They used sheet after sheet of paper, writing what they called "nonsense stories."
That evening, I asked Lucy if she'd had a good day. "It was great," she sighed. "I loved having Daniel come to my house. When I grow up, he's the one I'm going to marry."
Then she added, "I think I'll have to keep my eye on him though. Just in case he tries to marry someone else."
Friday, January 02, 2009
What We Did Over the Holidays, Part I, or The Year of Dolls
Christmas Eve morning we awoke to one of the most beautiful snows, one of those lovely ones that sticks to all the branches and rooftops and makes you feel as though you've stepped into a Christmas card. After breakfast, I bundled the girls up in their snowpants and coats and boots and hats and mittens, and we ventured out in winter wonderland to build these. (I know you can see them as the winter blog picture, but here they are closer up!)
In the afternoon, I gave the girls their bath and put their hair in curlers. They sat somewhat quietly and watched Christmas movies in their robes most of the afternoon. Then we did our yearly tradition of making monkey bread together. For supper each Christmas Eve, we have a picnic of cheese omelets, bacon, and monkey bread, which we eat on a blanket on the living room floor.
After that, they put on their velvet Christmas dresses, and I brushed out their hair. I took pictures but...you know my camera only works in natural light pretty much so I had to scrap all of those. We went to the Christmas Eve service at church, which was lovely. One of my favorite services--just singing carols and reading the Christmas story together. When we got home, we hustled them off to bed, then had our yearly tradition of watching all the choir Christmas concerts on PBS while wrapping presents. Remember last year when the girls came downstairs and opened all the presents a day early? Yeah, I wasn't going to make that same mistake again--I didn't even put the presents under the tree until they were in bed, and they had strict instructions that they were not to go downstairs without Dad and me in the morning.
When we all woke up on Christmas morning, we started a new tradition of singing "Good Christian Men, Rejoice!" together around the Christmas tree before opening the presents. Then they tore into their stockings. Each girl got a tiny Madame Alexander doll--Elaine got Dorothy, and Lucy got Glinda. They got furry-lined slipper crocs (w/ Tinkerbell on them), a china mug--Lucy got Jemima Puddleduck; Elaine got Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, a Country Mouse/City Mouse DVD each, some chocolate that they both ate immediately of course, and the hit of the morning, a Barbie phone--Elaine's is purple; Lucy's is blue. My friend Julie and I stood in TJ Maxx for ages with those phones, listening to every possible message available to make sure there was nothing trashy or IQ-lowering on them.
Then they moved on to the presents underneath the tree--an outfit apiece, the audio CD and DVD of Noel Streatfeild's "Ballet Shoes" for Lucy, the Frances audio collection and a Curious George book & CD for Elaine, the Peter Rabbit toy and book I braved the mall for for Elaine, the most beautiful bookends I've seen for Lucy--one of Lucy climbing into the wardrobe and the other of Mr. Tumnus standing at the lamppost--(this is one of those gifts she enjoyed opening but probably won't really appreciate until high school or college; don't worry, they're up on a high shelf at this point in time), and then their main gift: a big doll for each. We pretended that they had opened everything before we gave them the boxes with the dolls.
Note that we got one for Lucy with loads of dark curls. We've really been working with her on not touching other people's hair, and that is a struggle for her. We thought she needed someone whose hair she can maul continually without protest. And pretty much the first thing she did was undo the hairstyle the doll came with. She named her Lucille. Here she is, assessing her hair.
And here is Elaine with her doll, whom she named Emily.
After clearing up and getting ready, we headed over to my parents' house for Christmas dinner and to open more presents. The big hit of the day for the girls there was an antique doll crib from my parents, which fits both dolls. My mom had made bedding for it as well. The big hit of the day for us was getting tickets for our family to see "Mary Poppins" on stage this Spring from my brother and sister-in-law.
We left Mom and Dad's around 3 p.m. and headed down to Darren's parents. Normally we don't cram it all in one day, but Darren's sister is a nurse who works weekends so that is just the way it worked out this year. As soon as we got there, we had another Christmas dinner. By this time as well, Elaine kept asking, "Do we get to open more presents?" Why, yes! Yes, we do. Among other things, the girls each got a Barbie doll--Lucy got the baby doctor, and Elaine got the swim instructor (I let them have Barbies only if they are wearing respectable clothes and are contributing meaningfully to society.) Then Darren's sister and niece gave them each a mini-American Girl doll: Lucy got Julie--the 70s doll with the waist-length hair! She was in heaven. I am simply depressed that someone from the 70s is now considered historical. Elaine got Kit Kittredge.
After three Christmases in one day, two big meals, countless Christmas cookies, and piles of presents, there was no way the girls were going to sleep. We put them in the bed they share at my in-laws, and they giggled and giggled and giggled and squealed and giggled some more. Each adult in the house took a turn going up to wish them goodnight aka tell them to get to sleep. Finally, Elaine was so tired she was bawling, but in between sobs Lucy would make her laugh. My mother-in-law said, "It's 'Guilford Road: IloveyouI'mcrying'!" Exactly.
Finally they fell asleep around 10:30 p.m. but were up bright and early with their toys at 6:30 a.m. A little later, Lucy rushed into our room where I was half asleep and said, "Mom! I lost my other tooth!" She had had a bottom tooth that she could rotate in a complete circle, and she now held it out in her palm triumphantly. "That's great! How did you lose it?" I asked.
"I was pretending to be a dog, and I bited Elaine's toe!" Wha-HUH? "By accident" she added hastily.
We headed home that afternoon, all of us completely exhausted, through a dense, thick fog. By the time we got back to our house--it seemed as if years had passed since we'd been there instead of just a day--the girls were crying with tiredness, and I think the parents were pretty close to it too.
Darren put them to bed, and I pulled down all the Christmas decorations and we sent the tree to the curb the next morning.
The End.
Oh, wait. One of the things that passed me by this year was sending out Christmas cards. This may be only the second year since we've been married that I haven't sent cards. So from our family to you: a belated Merry Christmas and a joyous New Year to all!
In the afternoon, I gave the girls their bath and put their hair in curlers. They sat somewhat quietly and watched Christmas movies in their robes most of the afternoon. Then we did our yearly tradition of making monkey bread together. For supper each Christmas Eve, we have a picnic of cheese omelets, bacon, and monkey bread, which we eat on a blanket on the living room floor.
After that, they put on their velvet Christmas dresses, and I brushed out their hair. I took pictures but...you know my camera only works in natural light pretty much so I had to scrap all of those. We went to the Christmas Eve service at church, which was lovely. One of my favorite services--just singing carols and reading the Christmas story together. When we got home, we hustled them off to bed, then had our yearly tradition of watching all the choir Christmas concerts on PBS while wrapping presents. Remember last year when the girls came downstairs and opened all the presents a day early? Yeah, I wasn't going to make that same mistake again--I didn't even put the presents under the tree until they were in bed, and they had strict instructions that they were not to go downstairs without Dad and me in the morning.
When we all woke up on Christmas morning, we started a new tradition of singing "Good Christian Men, Rejoice!" together around the Christmas tree before opening the presents. Then they tore into their stockings. Each girl got a tiny Madame Alexander doll--Elaine got Dorothy, and Lucy got Glinda. They got furry-lined slipper crocs (w/ Tinkerbell on them), a china mug--Lucy got Jemima Puddleduck; Elaine got Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, a Country Mouse/City Mouse DVD each, some chocolate that they both ate immediately of course, and the hit of the morning, a Barbie phone--Elaine's is purple; Lucy's is blue. My friend Julie and I stood in TJ Maxx for ages with those phones, listening to every possible message available to make sure there was nothing trashy or IQ-lowering on them.
Then they moved on to the presents underneath the tree--an outfit apiece, the audio CD and DVD of Noel Streatfeild's "Ballet Shoes" for Lucy, the Frances audio collection and a Curious George book & CD for Elaine, the Peter Rabbit toy and book I braved the mall for for Elaine, the most beautiful bookends I've seen for Lucy--one of Lucy climbing into the wardrobe and the other of Mr. Tumnus standing at the lamppost--(this is one of those gifts she enjoyed opening but probably won't really appreciate until high school or college; don't worry, they're up on a high shelf at this point in time), and then their main gift: a big doll for each. We pretended that they had opened everything before we gave them the boxes with the dolls.
Note that we got one for Lucy with loads of dark curls. We've really been working with her on not touching other people's hair, and that is a struggle for her. We thought she needed someone whose hair she can maul continually without protest. And pretty much the first thing she did was undo the hairstyle the doll came with. She named her Lucille. Here she is, assessing her hair.
And here is Elaine with her doll, whom she named Emily.
A new outfit and a new doll to love...
After clearing up and getting ready, we headed over to my parents' house for Christmas dinner and to open more presents. The big hit of the day for the girls there was an antique doll crib from my parents, which fits both dolls. My mom had made bedding for it as well. The big hit of the day for us was getting tickets for our family to see "Mary Poppins" on stage this Spring from my brother and sister-in-law.
We left Mom and Dad's around 3 p.m. and headed down to Darren's parents. Normally we don't cram it all in one day, but Darren's sister is a nurse who works weekends so that is just the way it worked out this year. As soon as we got there, we had another Christmas dinner. By this time as well, Elaine kept asking, "Do we get to open more presents?" Why, yes! Yes, we do. Among other things, the girls each got a Barbie doll--Lucy got the baby doctor, and Elaine got the swim instructor (I let them have Barbies only if they are wearing respectable clothes and are contributing meaningfully to society.) Then Darren's sister and niece gave them each a mini-American Girl doll: Lucy got Julie--the 70s doll with the waist-length hair! She was in heaven. I am simply depressed that someone from the 70s is now considered historical. Elaine got Kit Kittredge.
After three Christmases in one day, two big meals, countless Christmas cookies, and piles of presents, there was no way the girls were going to sleep. We put them in the bed they share at my in-laws, and they giggled and giggled and giggled and squealed and giggled some more. Each adult in the house took a turn going up to wish them goodnight aka tell them to get to sleep. Finally, Elaine was so tired she was bawling, but in between sobs Lucy would make her laugh. My mother-in-law said, "It's 'Guilford Road: IloveyouI'mcrying'!" Exactly.
Finally they fell asleep around 10:30 p.m. but were up bright and early with their toys at 6:30 a.m. A little later, Lucy rushed into our room where I was half asleep and said, "Mom! I lost my other tooth!" She had had a bottom tooth that she could rotate in a complete circle, and she now held it out in her palm triumphantly. "That's great! How did you lose it?" I asked.
"I was pretending to be a dog, and I bited Elaine's toe!" Wha-HUH? "By accident" she added hastily.
We headed home that afternoon, all of us completely exhausted, through a dense, thick fog. By the time we got back to our house--it seemed as if years had passed since we'd been there instead of just a day--the girls were crying with tiredness, and I think the parents were pretty close to it too.
Darren put them to bed, and I pulled down all the Christmas decorations and we sent the tree to the curb the next morning.
The End.
Oh, wait. One of the things that passed me by this year was sending out Christmas cards. This may be only the second year since we've been married that I haven't sent cards. So from our family to you: a belated Merry Christmas and a joyous New Year to all!
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
A New Look for a New Year
Do you like it? I love it--and I got to switch back to blogger's new mode rather than classic, which was messing me all up. In addition, I have new little features of a quote of the week and a list of the books the girls and I (and Darren) are reading together along the side there, which I'll be continually updating.
I've enjoyed taking a little break from writing, and I plan to come back totally refreshed at the beginning of January with all sorts of tales, including our holidays, playdates, kindergarten anecdotes, what it's like having a 3-year-old in the house, more loss of teeth, roadtrips, DVD recommendations, the story of my 75-year-old mother pushing an SUV out of a ditch, constant references to Selah and "Stepping Heavenward," links to all the things I adore, my continual paean to Mark Harmon and NCIS, and everything you've come to know and (hopefully) love about Guilford Road.
As always, thank you for reading and enjoying my two wacky little girls a fraction as much as I do.
See you in the new year!
I've enjoyed taking a little break from writing, and I plan to come back totally refreshed at the beginning of January with all sorts of tales, including our holidays, playdates, kindergarten anecdotes, what it's like having a 3-year-old in the house, more loss of teeth, roadtrips, DVD recommendations, the story of my 75-year-old mother pushing an SUV out of a ditch, constant references to Selah and "Stepping Heavenward," links to all the things I adore, my continual paean to Mark Harmon and NCIS, and everything you've come to know and (hopefully) love about Guilford Road.
As always, thank you for reading and enjoying my two wacky little girls a fraction as much as I do.
See you in the new year!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Merry Christmas!
"'Yes,' said Queen Lucy. 'In our world too, a Stable once had something inside it that was bigger than our whole world.'"
--from The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis
Monday, December 22, 2008
Pre-Christmas Weekend
This Saturday, I was awakened by Elaine coming into my room, sneezing in my face, and saying in a teary voice, "Mama, Lucy has the Peter Rabbit book and is reading it. [A worse crime was never committed, seeing as it's Lucy's own book.] Dat book is berry special to meeeeee!" I figured, for once and for all, that child needed a copy of her own favorite berry special book for Christmas. Earlier this month when I was getting her picture taken at Penneys, I saw a gift set of the book and a stuffed Peter Rabbit. Foolishly, I didn't buy it then. So, I decided to brave the insanity that is the mall at Christmastime, specifically the Saturday right before Christmas. Kill me.
However, first I had to drop both girls off at my parents' for a sleepover. I packed their church clothes and playclothes and clean underwear and toothbrushes and nightgowns. This was not enough for them. They also wanted me to pack their rice bags; their curlers ("so that Manga can make our hair curly for church, Mama. She'll want to, she really will!" Sorry, Mom.); their mermaids, Bluey and Elizabeth, complete with floating lilypad sprinkler fountains; both "Meet Me in St. Louis" and "Kit Kittredge: An American Girl Mystery;" ("Manga will want to watcht these movies with us"); Lucy's elephant named Trumpet; Elaine's new Webkin named Anna; and of course Rabbie and Catty. It looked like they were going on a tour of Europe, rather than an overnight to their grandparents who live 35 minutes away.
I got that done and headed to the mall. Craziness, I tell you. I finally found a parking spot almost at the road and walked 3/4 of a mile to the door. I found the very last Peter Rabbit set, but someone had stolen the book out of it. Here's a little plug for Penneys--not only was it on sale, but they gave me a sizable discount because of the missing book--and I paid $6.39 for what was originally $22. Then I came home and ordered the book on amazon.
In the evening, Darren and I headed out to what I have been waiting, not only for this whole Christmas season, but since April when I first heard about it: the Selah Christmas concert. I was not disappointed. This is the second time we've seen them in concert but the first time at Christmas. I've heard countless renditions of "Silent Night," but their version, part in English, part in Kituba, with their glorious harmonies...the most beautiful version I've ever heard. They sang for close to two hours; I could have listened to at least two more hours.
Then we braved the horrible weather back to our city, had dinner at 10:30 at night, and had continued uninterrupted conversation. The whole evening was the Christmas present I've been most anticipating.
Sunday we picked the girls up and heard tales of cookie baking, cookie decorating, cinnamon roll making, getting candy canes at church, and the fact that Elaine told Manga she wasn't going to pick her nightgown up off the floor. In the evening, we all bundled up again and went to our choir's Christmas concert. It was so beautiful, too. I sat with the girls in the back of the sanctuary, and they waved to Daddy who is in the choir.
So that was our weekend! I'll leave you with one of my very favorite Christmas songs that I've been listening to over and over this season...here...Enjoy!
However, first I had to drop both girls off at my parents' for a sleepover. I packed their church clothes and playclothes and clean underwear and toothbrushes and nightgowns. This was not enough for them. They also wanted me to pack their rice bags; their curlers ("so that Manga can make our hair curly for church, Mama. She'll want to, she really will!" Sorry, Mom.); their mermaids, Bluey and Elizabeth, complete with floating lilypad sprinkler fountains; both "Meet Me in St. Louis" and "Kit Kittredge: An American Girl Mystery;" ("Manga will want to watcht these movies with us"); Lucy's elephant named Trumpet; Elaine's new Webkin named Anna; and of course Rabbie and Catty. It looked like they were going on a tour of Europe, rather than an overnight to their grandparents who live 35 minutes away.
I got that done and headed to the mall. Craziness, I tell you. I finally found a parking spot almost at the road and walked 3/4 of a mile to the door. I found the very last Peter Rabbit set, but someone had stolen the book out of it. Here's a little plug for Penneys--not only was it on sale, but they gave me a sizable discount because of the missing book--and I paid $6.39 for what was originally $22. Then I came home and ordered the book on amazon.
In the evening, Darren and I headed out to what I have been waiting, not only for this whole Christmas season, but since April when I first heard about it: the Selah Christmas concert. I was not disappointed. This is the second time we've seen them in concert but the first time at Christmas. I've heard countless renditions of "Silent Night," but their version, part in English, part in Kituba, with their glorious harmonies...the most beautiful version I've ever heard. They sang for close to two hours; I could have listened to at least two more hours.
Then we braved the horrible weather back to our city, had dinner at 10:30 at night, and had continued uninterrupted conversation. The whole evening was the Christmas present I've been most anticipating.
Sunday we picked the girls up and heard tales of cookie baking, cookie decorating, cinnamon roll making, getting candy canes at church, and the fact that Elaine told Manga she wasn't going to pick her nightgown up off the floor. In the evening, we all bundled up again and went to our choir's Christmas concert. It was so beautiful, too. I sat with the girls in the back of the sanctuary, and they waved to Daddy who is in the choir.
So that was our weekend! I'll leave you with one of my very favorite Christmas songs that I've been listening to over and over this season...here...Enjoy!
Friday, December 19, 2008
It's that time of year...
On Sunday evening, Darren came home from church and said, "There was a little girl who started throwing up right by the information desk." Oh. Of course there was. Because this is only the busiest week of the year, and it's time for Lucy's Christmas program. And good thing I'd seen Lucy and this little girl holding hands that very morning since Lucy is the most susceptible child in the world to any sort of stomach ailment. She had seven stomach viruses before she was even 18 months old.
Wouldn't you know it--Monday night she came into our room crying, "I don't want to be all by myselllffffffff" she wailed and then SPLAT. She got up one other time in the night for a repeat. In the morning, she came into the bathroom looking like something chewed over by a sheep. "I feel OK, Mommy," she whispered. "I'm just fine to go to the Polar Express party at school today." Then she rolled up into a ball on the floor. So she had a quiet day at home and soon was feeling fine. I wasn't worried about Elaine because she's never thrown up once in three years.
Last night was the Christmas program, Candy Cane Lane: A Recipe for Life. Lucy was a Christmas Candy kid. Both sets of grandparents were planning to come, but the weather forecast was predicting an ice storm so I told them both to not worry about it. However, the storm was pushed back a few hours so my parents rushed over and made it just in time as the program started.
The program was so, so cute, and Lucy did a great job singing. We've been listening to the CD at home since Thanksgiving so Elaine had all the songs memorized too. We sat up in the balcony on Mrs. Blevins' recommendation so that we could see. Elaine sat on my lap and sang along with all the kids. I hope everyone up there enjoyed that as much as we did.
Here is my little Christmas Candy kid...
...and her little sister...
This next part, in my opinion, deserves a whole post of its own, but seeing as I can barely get this one done (I've been interrupted three times while writing it) here goes. Lucy and I have officially started reading this together:
As you can see, we have the version illustrated by Michael Hague. I love Michael Hague and try to collect children's novels he has illustrated. (Of course, the original illustrator of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is Pauline Baynes...her version is classic. Truly lovely.) Here are a couple of Michael's (I hope it's OK that I call him that) brilliant illustrations:
Back to the text. I have to tell you, my voice was a little shaky as I read the dedication to Lucy, Lewis's goddaughter, to my own Lucy. Every word of this book is pretty much sacred to me. But I shook it off, and we embarked on her very first journey to Narnia. My Lucy is loving it. She begs me not to stop as we finish each chapter. She was dying to know what Turkish Delight is. When we had her christening party when she was four months old, I put little bowls of Turkish Delight all around for people to sample. Fortunately, I had a very old, yet unopened box, still up in a cupboard so we sampled it. It was a bit chewy but still tasty. Currently, we've just finished up the chapter where the children had supper at the Beavers' house (I challenge anyone to read that without running down to the kitchen for at least a snack).
This morning, the day after Lucy's program, we awoke to more of this (my camera doesn't convey how heavily it is currently snowing).
Lucy's last day of school was cancelled, so we're all hanging around indoors in our pajamas. Which is a good thing, seeing as Elaine has thrown up four times just this morning. Apparently, she is making up for the last three years. She has spent most of the morning wrapped in a blanket on my lap, watching Kipper the Dog.
At least we have Narnia, inside and out, to enjoy!
Wouldn't you know it--Monday night she came into our room crying, "I don't want to be all by myselllffffffff" she wailed and then SPLAT. She got up one other time in the night for a repeat. In the morning, she came into the bathroom looking like something chewed over by a sheep. "I feel OK, Mommy," she whispered. "I'm just fine to go to the Polar Express party at school today." Then she rolled up into a ball on the floor. So she had a quiet day at home and soon was feeling fine. I wasn't worried about Elaine because she's never thrown up once in three years.
Last night was the Christmas program, Candy Cane Lane: A Recipe for Life. Lucy was a Christmas Candy kid. Both sets of grandparents were planning to come, but the weather forecast was predicting an ice storm so I told them both to not worry about it. However, the storm was pushed back a few hours so my parents rushed over and made it just in time as the program started.
The program was so, so cute, and Lucy did a great job singing. We've been listening to the CD at home since Thanksgiving so Elaine had all the songs memorized too. We sat up in the balcony on Mrs. Blevins' recommendation so that we could see. Elaine sat on my lap and sang along with all the kids. I hope everyone up there enjoyed that as much as we did.
Here is my little Christmas Candy kid...
...and her little sister...
This next part, in my opinion, deserves a whole post of its own, but seeing as I can barely get this one done (I've been interrupted three times while writing it) here goes. Lucy and I have officially started reading this together:
As you can see, we have the version illustrated by Michael Hague. I love Michael Hague and try to collect children's novels he has illustrated. (Of course, the original illustrator of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is Pauline Baynes...her version is classic. Truly lovely.) Here are a couple of Michael's (I hope it's OK that I call him that) brilliant illustrations:
Back to the text. I have to tell you, my voice was a little shaky as I read the dedication to Lucy, Lewis's goddaughter, to my own Lucy. Every word of this book is pretty much sacred to me. But I shook it off, and we embarked on her very first journey to Narnia. My Lucy is loving it. She begs me not to stop as we finish each chapter. She was dying to know what Turkish Delight is. When we had her christening party when she was four months old, I put little bowls of Turkish Delight all around for people to sample. Fortunately, I had a very old, yet unopened box, still up in a cupboard so we sampled it. It was a bit chewy but still tasty. Currently, we've just finished up the chapter where the children had supper at the Beavers' house (I challenge anyone to read that without running down to the kitchen for at least a snack).
This morning, the day after Lucy's program, we awoke to more of this (my camera doesn't convey how heavily it is currently snowing).
Lucy's last day of school was cancelled, so we're all hanging around indoors in our pajamas. Which is a good thing, seeing as Elaine has thrown up four times just this morning. Apparently, she is making up for the last three years. She has spent most of the morning wrapped in a blanket on my lap, watching Kipper the Dog.
At least we have Narnia, inside and out, to enjoy!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The Birthday
When Elaine woke up on Friday morning, we sang to her right away--she was thrilled. Her birthday was finally here...she's been waiting not-so-patiently for weeks. I had woken up extra early in order to make birthday blueberry muffins. She and I dropped Lucy off at school, and as a special treat she got to spend most of the day in her pajamas (actually I just sort of forgot to dress her). Her present from Mommy and Daddy was a toy kitchen, grocery cart with some play groceries, and...the gift she's been asking for: the Kit Kittredge movie.
She played all morning alongside me with her toy kitchen. I put together the dinner she had chosen for her party: spaghetti and meatballs (just like Frances). Then I worked on the cake (more on that later). When Lucy got home from school, she and Elaine played with (aka fought over) the toy kitchen the rest of the day.
Later in the afternoon, I dressed them in their party dresses, and our family began to arrive. Both sets of grandparents and Lucy and Elaine's Tia and Tio came. Darren had made an appetizer platter of crackers, cheese, sausage, vegetables, and dip, so the party began. Then we had the spaghetti and meatballs, salad, and bread. Elaine had one or two mouthfuls, then got up from her chair and came over to me. "I am ready for my cake!" she whispered loudly. "Well," I whispered back, "we'll have cake when we're done eating supper." "I AM done eating my supper," she replied.
Finally, it was time for her cake. As early as October, she told me that she wanted a Peter-Rabbit-Mr.-McGregor's-Garden cake when she turned three. Ooh-kay. I figured a Peter-Rabbit-Mr.-McGregor's-Garden cake had better be carrot, so I made Alysa's-soon-to-be-world-famous carrot cake. It is the best you have ever put in your mouth. Phenomenal. My mother-in-law said that her mother made the best carrot cake in the world but that this one had it beat. Thanks, Alysa!
For better or worse, here's what it looked like (design courtesy of Hello, Cupcake!):
Elaine seemed pretty happy with it...
After we had our cake, she announced to everyone, "It is time for my presents!"
Oh my. From Lucy, she got the "Let's Go Fishin'" game, which they have played and played almost non-stop. From Tia and Tio, she got a Tinkerbell movie and a stamp art set (which she is very into these days). From MiMi and PaPa, she got the Little People castle and the Little People princess and carriage (a huge hit), some winter boots, and an outfit. From some friends, she got a cash register to go with her groceries/grocery cart, Wonder Marker coloring books, and a mini-Webkinz. From Manga and Packa, she got dishes for her kitchen, a flannel nightgown (and matching one for Lucy), and some money for her bank account. All in all, a pretty good haul.
So, that was the third birthday extravaganza! Elaine is very happy to officially be a big girl.
Here are both girls right before bed...so cute I can't stand it. :-)
She played all morning alongside me with her toy kitchen. I put together the dinner she had chosen for her party: spaghetti and meatballs (just like Frances). Then I worked on the cake (more on that later). When Lucy got home from school, she and Elaine played with (aka fought over) the toy kitchen the rest of the day.
Later in the afternoon, I dressed them in their party dresses, and our family began to arrive. Both sets of grandparents and Lucy and Elaine's Tia and Tio came. Darren had made an appetizer platter of crackers, cheese, sausage, vegetables, and dip, so the party began. Then we had the spaghetti and meatballs, salad, and bread. Elaine had one or two mouthfuls, then got up from her chair and came over to me. "I am ready for my cake!" she whispered loudly. "Well," I whispered back, "we'll have cake when we're done eating supper." "I AM done eating my supper," she replied.
Finally, it was time for her cake. As early as October, she told me that she wanted a Peter-Rabbit-Mr.-McGregor's-Garden cake when she turned three. Ooh-kay. I figured a Peter-Rabbit-Mr.-McGregor's-Garden cake had better be carrot, so I made Alysa's-soon-to-be-world-famous carrot cake. It is the best you have ever put in your mouth. Phenomenal. My mother-in-law said that her mother made the best carrot cake in the world but that this one had it beat. Thanks, Alysa!
For better or worse, here's what it looked like (design courtesy of Hello, Cupcake!):
Elaine seemed pretty happy with it...
After we had our cake, she announced to everyone, "It is time for my presents!"
Oh my. From Lucy, she got the "Let's Go Fishin'" game, which they have played and played almost non-stop. From Tia and Tio, she got a Tinkerbell movie and a stamp art set (which she is very into these days). From MiMi and PaPa, she got the Little People castle and the Little People princess and carriage (a huge hit), some winter boots, and an outfit. From some friends, she got a cash register to go with her groceries/grocery cart, Wonder Marker coloring books, and a mini-Webkinz. From Manga and Packa, she got dishes for her kitchen, a flannel nightgown (and matching one for Lucy), and some money for her bank account. All in all, a pretty good haul.
So, that was the third birthday extravaganza! Elaine is very happy to officially be a big girl.
Here are both girls right before bed...so cute I can't stand it. :-)
Friday, December 12, 2008
Ready or Not
(With a nod to Maryann Cusimano)
I am your parent and you are my child
I am your quiet place; you are my wild…
The first sounds I hear every day are the pit-pat of pajama’d little feet running into our room and then a gravelly voice, saying, “Hi Mama!” I squint, and there she is, my little tootlebug with the big blue eyes and the two deep dimples, peering over the edge of my bed. “I wanna eat breffuss,” usually comes next.
As of today, a three-year-old is in the house. Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
The other day, I put her in her new timeout area, which is on the bed in the guestroom. I forget what heinous crime she had committed. She was up there for about ten minutes, and everything was quiet. “Poor little thing,” I thought. “She’s all worn out and has fallen asleep.” I went up and carefully opened the door. She was sitting there, nonchalantly putting pennies in between her toes with one hand. In the other hand, she held a three-year-old bottle of gripe water I’d forgotten in a drawer. She looked up and said “What IS this stuff, Mom?”
We've all been practicing the songs for Lucy's Christmas program, which is next week. The grand finale is a big birthday cake for Jesus and a song. The lyrics are, "Happy birthday, happy happy birthday, come and celebrate the birthday of the King!" Elaine throws her head back and sings at the top of her voice, "Happy birthday, happy happy birthday, come and celebrate the birthday of Meeeeeeeeeee!"
Relations between her and Lucy have been…I believe the word is volatile…of late. One minute they are playing and giggling together, the best of friends. The next minute there is screaming and wrath aplenty. The other day they were going at it in the car, Elaine pushing Lucy’s buttons and Lucy letting her buttons be pushed until she was almost in tears. Finally Elaine looked at her and roared, “YOU’RE DUST SUPPOSED TO IGNORE ME!”
As December 12 dawns again, I think back three years ago to that little baby who had been ever-so-deceptively quiet in the womb, yet burst out impatiently in a 4-minute delivery, so fast the blood vessels in her eyes burst. That should have been a pretty good indicator for us what we were in for. Her personality has burst into our rather sedate little family, and we have never been the same since. We are definitely not able to ignore her.
And so today as we approach her adventurous third year, what do I want to say to Elaine Frances? I guess just that I am her parent; she is my child. I am her quiet stroll through the neighborhood; she is my roller coaster ride.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I love you so much, sweet littlest girl.
Happy 3rd Birthday!
Mama
I am your parent and you are my child
I am your quiet place; you are my wild…
The first sounds I hear every day are the pit-pat of pajama’d little feet running into our room and then a gravelly voice, saying, “Hi Mama!” I squint, and there she is, my little tootlebug with the big blue eyes and the two deep dimples, peering over the edge of my bed. “I wanna eat breffuss,” usually comes next.
As of today, a three-year-old is in the house. Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
The other day, I put her in her new timeout area, which is on the bed in the guestroom. I forget what heinous crime she had committed. She was up there for about ten minutes, and everything was quiet. “Poor little thing,” I thought. “She’s all worn out and has fallen asleep.” I went up and carefully opened the door. She was sitting there, nonchalantly putting pennies in between her toes with one hand. In the other hand, she held a three-year-old bottle of gripe water I’d forgotten in a drawer. She looked up and said “What IS this stuff, Mom?”
We've all been practicing the songs for Lucy's Christmas program, which is next week. The grand finale is a big birthday cake for Jesus and a song. The lyrics are, "Happy birthday, happy happy birthday, come and celebrate the birthday of the King!" Elaine throws her head back and sings at the top of her voice, "Happy birthday, happy happy birthday, come and celebrate the birthday of Meeeeeeeeeee!"
Relations between her and Lucy have been…I believe the word is volatile…of late. One minute they are playing and giggling together, the best of friends. The next minute there is screaming and wrath aplenty. The other day they were going at it in the car, Elaine pushing Lucy’s buttons and Lucy letting her buttons be pushed until she was almost in tears. Finally Elaine looked at her and roared, “YOU’RE DUST SUPPOSED TO IGNORE ME!”
As December 12 dawns again, I think back three years ago to that little baby who had been ever-so-deceptively quiet in the womb, yet burst out impatiently in a 4-minute delivery, so fast the blood vessels in her eyes burst. That should have been a pretty good indicator for us what we were in for. Her personality has burst into our rather sedate little family, and we have never been the same since. We are definitely not able to ignore her.
And so today as we approach her adventurous third year, what do I want to say to Elaine Frances? I guess just that I am her parent; she is my child. I am her quiet stroll through the neighborhood; she is my roller coaster ride.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I love you so much, sweet littlest girl.
Happy 3rd Birthday!
Mama
Monday, December 08, 2008
Some Monday Randomness
First off, a huge thank you for all the support and encouragement everyone's been giving me over the job loss thing. It's been hard, but I'm doing OK. And a special shout-out to my friend and fellow blogger, Ann-Marie, who stopped by with a bag full of assorted Girl Scout aka "You've-Just-Been-Fired" cookies.
I can't remember the last time I've not been at work on Monday, so here are some random happenings and photos from today.
First off, a riddle. What do a Polly Pocket doll, a Glad plastic container, a corkscrew, a pizza cutter, and water have in common?
Yeah, I have no idea either (and something you can't see in the photo, she is wearing her precious red rubber boots with her pajamas).
The next picture is a little horrifying. Lucy lost her first tooth on her birthday, exactly six months ago yesterday. The tooth next to it was loose too--it still hasn't fallen out, even though she can completely rotate it around in her mouth. Then her two top front teeth have been loose since at least September. One of them is so loose that I now call her Snaggletooth. When her teacher helped her into the car this morning she whispered to me, "Just pull that tooth out!" I said, "She won't let me near it." She was wiggling it on the way home, and we went over a bump so it began to bleed. That was worth at least an hour of drama. But she readily agreed for me to photograph Snaggletooth (and trust me, it looks even worse in person).
When I was a little girl, my grandma had these two very cute white china elves that climbed up her candles. I don't know whatever happened to them, but I've always wanted some. Last week I won these on ebay--this guy has a little friend who now resides on my other candlestick.
Lastly, I picked up Elaine's pictures that I had taken a week or so ago. I'm really happy with how they turned out. These are photos of pictures so they don't quite do them justice.
It's hard to believe she'll be three years old this week. Here's one last picture-- this is her right now, playing that her mermaid and assorted Polly Pockets are swimming in the kitchen sink. [Note the footwear].
I can't remember the last time I've not been at work on Monday, so here are some random happenings and photos from today.
First off, a riddle. What do a Polly Pocket doll, a Glad plastic container, a corkscrew, a pizza cutter, and water have in common?
Yeah, I have no idea either (and something you can't see in the photo, she is wearing her precious red rubber boots with her pajamas).
The next picture is a little horrifying. Lucy lost her first tooth on her birthday, exactly six months ago yesterday. The tooth next to it was loose too--it still hasn't fallen out, even though she can completely rotate it around in her mouth. Then her two top front teeth have been loose since at least September. One of them is so loose that I now call her Snaggletooth. When her teacher helped her into the car this morning she whispered to me, "Just pull that tooth out!" I said, "She won't let me near it." She was wiggling it on the way home, and we went over a bump so it began to bleed. That was worth at least an hour of drama. But she readily agreed for me to photograph Snaggletooth (and trust me, it looks even worse in person).
When I was a little girl, my grandma had these two very cute white china elves that climbed up her candles. I don't know whatever happened to them, but I've always wanted some. Last week I won these on ebay--this guy has a little friend who now resides on my other candlestick.
Lastly, I picked up Elaine's pictures that I had taken a week or so ago. I'm really happy with how they turned out. These are photos of pictures so they don't quite do them justice.
It's hard to believe she'll be three years old this week. Here's one last picture-- this is her right now, playing that her mermaid and assorted Polly Pockets are swimming in the kitchen sink. [Note the footwear].
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Still in Control
It's sort of odd. Earlier this week, I was going to write a (hopefully) humorous post about Bill Kurtis and how I have been obsessed with working for him for years. I mean, who wouldn't be? The man is the pinnacle of journalistic integrity, has awards a mile long, is a humanitarian and conservationist, and is pretty much the godfather of gravitas to boot.
A number of years ago, my obsession was at its peak. The company I was currently working for was restructuring, and I needed to find a new job. Part of my severance package was that I received outplacement counseling in the form of a really cool job counselor named Judy. We met in her office and hit it off immediately. "What would be your ideal job?" she asked. "Working for Bill Kurtis," I said promptly. She burst out laughing (in a nice way). "I'm serious, Judy," I replied, "I have borderline stalked the man already." Then I explained how I had, er, aggressively gone after the company that published his book "We Interrupt This Broadcast..." I had sent my resume to Kurtis Productions. I had (ok, this is where the possible stalking charge comes in) found out about a private event at the WTTW studios in Chicago where he was making a special presentation and crashed it.
I found another job soon after with Judy's help, but for at least a year after that she would send me little clippings about Bill Kurtis and his doings. And of course told everyone else about her wacky client with the Kurtis fixation.
This week in the Chicago Tribune, I saw this article and planned my little blog post about it. I thought I might write it on Tuesday during my lunch hour. Normally I work from home on Tuesday, but this week I went into my office because I had worked from home on Monday instead. When I got in, I saw that I had a publishing meeting scheduled at 9:30. That seemed a little odd, because usually only my boss invites me to meetings and this was from a vice president. But I saw my colleague Jim's name on the invite as well and didn't think much of it.
I went to the meeting room, and the other meeting participants were already there with the exception of Jim who was working from home that day. Then I saw the human resources woman with a stack of blue packets sitting there as well. The vice president came in and said, "Hi. Well, you probably know this isn't really good news. I am now going to read to you." And he pulled out a script and read to us. "Due to the dwindling economy and educational cutbacks in this state, [this company] has lost significant revenue. Therefore, your jobs are being eliminated. Your responsibilities end here today." Then he looked up and said, "Sorry" and walked out.
The HR woman handed out our packets and told us what to do next. She asked us to please not say anything to anyone because these same meetings would be going on throughout the day--we were only the first group (I found out later that by the end of the day, almost 1/3rd of the company had been let go). Somehow I walked to my next meeting, but my legs were shaking so badly I'm not sure how I made it. I got through that one without hearing a word she said, but I did notice on her whiteboard in large red letters: PROJECTS: JOB RIF. Yeah, I guess they were really trying to keep that confidential.
After that, I met with my boss. She was shocked and outraged. The decisions were made on a much higher level that hers; she assured me it was not a performance issue; that essentially Jim's and my names were pulled out of a hat. I asked her if she minded if I said goodbye to all my co-workers (or what? I'd get fired?), and she said sure. I went around to each of my team members whom I have enjoyed working with for years. They are all my friends. I hated putting them in that position because...well, because. Each of them was pretty devastated as well.
Then I pulled out the white cardboard box I had been given and began to pack up my things--coffee mug, hand lotion, pictures of the girls, drawings they had made for me to hang in my office. I erased my whiteboard that gave my schedule. I turned in my security badge and my laptop. Then I left the place where I have spent close to a decade of my career.
I went to pick up Elaine from daycare. Of course they weren't expecting me at noon and wondered why I was there. I told the director what had happened and explained that as of now, I would be withdrawing Elaine. The center where I have entrusted my girls for five and a half years with people I have greatly appreciated and they have absolutely loved...gone. We'll never see them again.
It was like, I woke up with my regular life I've always had and was coming home with a completely different one. One that I didn't choose or want.
Elaine fell asleep in the car on the way home, which was fortunate for me because I didn't feel like talking. I've been involved in reductions in force before at previous companies, but I always knew it was coming so I had time to mentally prepare, and I always had gotten a good severance. This time...nothing. No warning. No severance. The human part of me felt like the place where I had poured my professional life into for the past almost nine years had just tossed me into the garbage without a second thought. They read to me from a script.
But instead of just staying alone with my thoughts, I pulled out my iPod and clicked on King James. "God is in control...even when I'm suffering," he boomed over the car speakers. "And if you're sayin' 'Everything's just rockin' over at my house, man,' well, that's not good news. Because the Scripture says that who the Lord loves, He chastens. What I mean is, all His kids are gettin' it. All His kids are going through hard times. Sometimes the number one tool He pulls out of the chest to work on our faith is suffering. Whatever has come your way that has surprised you or shocked you, GOD is at work in that. He's working working working for your good. That's a great spot for an amen, isn't it?"
Then he said, "So, it's time to get your eyes off your spouse, get your eyes off your children, and your finances, and your career, and your health, and get them back on the Lord. Walk by faith, not by sight. Love the PROMISER, not the promise. We're so focused on, "When, God, when? When are you going to help me? And how, how, how, how? When instead we should be asking ourselves, WHO? Who promised? GOD promised."
I felt a wave of peace wash over me. God gave me that job. He had every right to take it away. And I thank Him for both of those things: the giving and the taking. He's going to work it for my good, (great spot for an amen!).
So, now I am home. I was not due for any leave over these holidays, and now I get some. I finished decorating the Christmas tree yesterday with Elaine. Lucy and I went outside and made snow angels. She and I are going to have our special Mom/Daughter weekend we've been looking forward to for the last couple of months (Darren and Elaine are gone for the weekend). We're going to eat popcorn and red velvet cake, watch Anne of Green Gables, do a little Christmas shopping, and a lot of Christmas baking.
And in all of it, I'm not just going through the motions either. I'm walking by faith, not by sight. In addition to peace, I've gotten joy as well. God is in control.
Don't think I didn't check Kurtis Productions for job openings first thing though. I'm just sayin'. He needs me, people. He just might not know it yet.
A number of years ago, my obsession was at its peak. The company I was currently working for was restructuring, and I needed to find a new job. Part of my severance package was that I received outplacement counseling in the form of a really cool job counselor named Judy. We met in her office and hit it off immediately. "What would be your ideal job?" she asked. "Working for Bill Kurtis," I said promptly. She burst out laughing (in a nice way). "I'm serious, Judy," I replied, "I have borderline stalked the man already." Then I explained how I had, er, aggressively gone after the company that published his book "We Interrupt This Broadcast..." I had sent my resume to Kurtis Productions. I had (ok, this is where the possible stalking charge comes in) found out about a private event at the WTTW studios in Chicago where he was making a special presentation and crashed it.
I found another job soon after with Judy's help, but for at least a year after that she would send me little clippings about Bill Kurtis and his doings. And of course told everyone else about her wacky client with the Kurtis fixation.
This week in the Chicago Tribune, I saw this article and planned my little blog post about it. I thought I might write it on Tuesday during my lunch hour. Normally I work from home on Tuesday, but this week I went into my office because I had worked from home on Monday instead. When I got in, I saw that I had a publishing meeting scheduled at 9:30. That seemed a little odd, because usually only my boss invites me to meetings and this was from a vice president. But I saw my colleague Jim's name on the invite as well and didn't think much of it.
I went to the meeting room, and the other meeting participants were already there with the exception of Jim who was working from home that day. Then I saw the human resources woman with a stack of blue packets sitting there as well. The vice president came in and said, "Hi. Well, you probably know this isn't really good news. I am now going to read to you." And he pulled out a script and read to us. "Due to the dwindling economy and educational cutbacks in this state, [this company] has lost significant revenue. Therefore, your jobs are being eliminated. Your responsibilities end here today." Then he looked up and said, "Sorry" and walked out.
The HR woman handed out our packets and told us what to do next. She asked us to please not say anything to anyone because these same meetings would be going on throughout the day--we were only the first group (I found out later that by the end of the day, almost 1/3rd of the company had been let go). Somehow I walked to my next meeting, but my legs were shaking so badly I'm not sure how I made it. I got through that one without hearing a word she said, but I did notice on her whiteboard in large red letters: PROJECTS: JOB RIF. Yeah, I guess they were really trying to keep that confidential.
After that, I met with my boss. She was shocked and outraged. The decisions were made on a much higher level that hers; she assured me it was not a performance issue; that essentially Jim's and my names were pulled out of a hat. I asked her if she minded if I said goodbye to all my co-workers (or what? I'd get fired?), and she said sure. I went around to each of my team members whom I have enjoyed working with for years. They are all my friends. I hated putting them in that position because...well, because. Each of them was pretty devastated as well.
Then I pulled out the white cardboard box I had been given and began to pack up my things--coffee mug, hand lotion, pictures of the girls, drawings they had made for me to hang in my office. I erased my whiteboard that gave my schedule. I turned in my security badge and my laptop. Then I left the place where I have spent close to a decade of my career.
I went to pick up Elaine from daycare. Of course they weren't expecting me at noon and wondered why I was there. I told the director what had happened and explained that as of now, I would be withdrawing Elaine. The center where I have entrusted my girls for five and a half years with people I have greatly appreciated and they have absolutely loved...gone. We'll never see them again.
It was like, I woke up with my regular life I've always had and was coming home with a completely different one. One that I didn't choose or want.
Elaine fell asleep in the car on the way home, which was fortunate for me because I didn't feel like talking. I've been involved in reductions in force before at previous companies, but I always knew it was coming so I had time to mentally prepare, and I always had gotten a good severance. This time...nothing. No warning. No severance. The human part of me felt like the place where I had poured my professional life into for the past almost nine years had just tossed me into the garbage without a second thought. They read to me from a script.
But instead of just staying alone with my thoughts, I pulled out my iPod and clicked on King James. "God is in control...even when I'm suffering," he boomed over the car speakers. "And if you're sayin' 'Everything's just rockin' over at my house, man,' well, that's not good news. Because the Scripture says that who the Lord loves, He chastens. What I mean is, all His kids are gettin' it. All His kids are going through hard times. Sometimes the number one tool He pulls out of the chest to work on our faith is suffering. Whatever has come your way that has surprised you or shocked you, GOD is at work in that. He's working working working for your good. That's a great spot for an amen, isn't it?"
Then he said, "So, it's time to get your eyes off your spouse, get your eyes off your children, and your finances, and your career, and your health, and get them back on the Lord. Walk by faith, not by sight. Love the PROMISER, not the promise. We're so focused on, "When, God, when? When are you going to help me? And how, how, how, how? When instead we should be asking ourselves, WHO? Who promised? GOD promised."
I felt a wave of peace wash over me. God gave me that job. He had every right to take it away. And I thank Him for both of those things: the giving and the taking. He's going to work it for my good, (great spot for an amen!).
So, now I am home. I was not due for any leave over these holidays, and now I get some. I finished decorating the Christmas tree yesterday with Elaine. Lucy and I went outside and made snow angels. She and I are going to have our special Mom/Daughter weekend we've been looking forward to for the last couple of months (Darren and Elaine are gone for the weekend). We're going to eat popcorn and red velvet cake, watch Anne of Green Gables, do a little Christmas shopping, and a lot of Christmas baking.
And in all of it, I'm not just going through the motions either. I'm walking by faith, not by sight. In addition to peace, I've gotten joy as well. God is in control.
Don't think I didn't check Kurtis Productions for job openings first thing though. I'm just sayin'. He needs me, people. He just might not know it yet.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Happy 1st Day of Advent!
(well, really yesterday...)
So, remember when I got really sick in October and vowed to re-examine my life and my priorities? Surprisingly, I'm sticking with that. My schedule this Advent season is not crammed and cluttered. I have a few select things going on that I am so looking forward to: Elaine's birthday, Lucy's school Christmas program, a Selah concert on the 21st (I'm a little bit giddy about that one!). Other than that...I'm home with my family, decorating, making Christmas treats, listening to Harry Connick, Jr. I've declined Christmas parties without a particle of guilt. The word is serene, my friends, serene.
Anyone who knows me knows I absolutely love traditions. This Saturday we kicked off Advent a tad early with Darren's yearly tradition with the girls of going out to the Christmas tree farm to cut down the tree. There are horse-drawn wagons, Christmas carolers, cider donuts, and Santa Claus (they were too afraid to sit on his lap though).
Here they are, posing with the tree they picked, sporting some of the worst bedhead you've ever seen.
And here they are in the Christmas store with Daddy...
We got the tree up on Saturday night, but we'll be doing the lights and ornaments within the next couple of days. Yesterday after church, the girls were supposed to be having their "quiet rest time" (the interpretation of that varies between them and me). They put on their pajamas and robes, I put their warm rice bags on their feet, and made them each a cup of tea. They sat on my bed and were watching "Beauty and the Beast." Doesn't that sound lovely?
Until we discovered that Elaine had riffled through some dresser drawers and found an extremely old (but still spreadable) tube of Desitin (the white kind of course rather than the clear). For some completely inexplicable reason, they covered themselves from head to toe with it, and their clothes, and our bedspread, and the floor. Oh, and of course smoothed it through their hair. Haven't we been over this with Vaseline, I ask you?
I acted a lot more outraged than I really was. I bathed them and washed their hair and had to go out to the store to buy baby powder to sprinkle in their hair since I had thrown all of ours away after Elaine was potty trained. While I was gone, Elaine had to sit on a chair in the dining room and Lucy had to sit in the boring guest bedroom. As expected, Lucy was totally devastated and Elaine was completely unrepentant. I told them that in addition because of their heinous deeds, we wouldn't put the ornaments on the tree that afternoon (which we couldn't anyway because Darren doesn't have the lights on, but they didn't know that).
And so Advent dawned...to this!
And yesterday at church, a friend gave me one of the coolest gifts ever. Actually, a disclaimer: she's my secret sister. Yes. I know. The whole secret sister thing is completely dorky. But...it's still fun. And whoever it is? somehow hit on my complete love of traditions, because look what I got that she MADE.
Then, for each evening of Advent, there is a reading to do together and Christmas carols to sing (with an accompanying CD she gave me).
And the best part is this...an ornament to go with each day's reading to put on the tree!
Lucy and Elaine were so excited and looked over each one of the ornaments. They can't wait to start tonight before bed. This is exactly the type of thing I love to do with them. I predict many happy memories made, fighting over the ornaments and who gets to put them on the tree, in the years ahead.
So, remember when I got really sick in October and vowed to re-examine my life and my priorities? Surprisingly, I'm sticking with that. My schedule this Advent season is not crammed and cluttered. I have a few select things going on that I am so looking forward to: Elaine's birthday, Lucy's school Christmas program, a Selah concert on the 21st (I'm a little bit giddy about that one!). Other than that...I'm home with my family, decorating, making Christmas treats, listening to Harry Connick, Jr. I've declined Christmas parties without a particle of guilt. The word is serene, my friends, serene.
Anyone who knows me knows I absolutely love traditions. This Saturday we kicked off Advent a tad early with Darren's yearly tradition with the girls of going out to the Christmas tree farm to cut down the tree. There are horse-drawn wagons, Christmas carolers, cider donuts, and Santa Claus (they were too afraid to sit on his lap though).
Here they are, posing with the tree they picked, sporting some of the worst bedhead you've ever seen.
And here they are in the Christmas store with Daddy...
We got the tree up on Saturday night, but we'll be doing the lights and ornaments within the next couple of days. Yesterday after church, the girls were supposed to be having their "quiet rest time" (the interpretation of that varies between them and me). They put on their pajamas and robes, I put their warm rice bags on their feet, and made them each a cup of tea. They sat on my bed and were watching "Beauty and the Beast." Doesn't that sound lovely?
Until we discovered that Elaine had riffled through some dresser drawers and found an extremely old (but still spreadable) tube of Desitin (the white kind of course rather than the clear). For some completely inexplicable reason, they covered themselves from head to toe with it, and their clothes, and our bedspread, and the floor. Oh, and of course smoothed it through their hair. Haven't we been over this with Vaseline, I ask you?
I acted a lot more outraged than I really was. I bathed them and washed their hair and had to go out to the store to buy baby powder to sprinkle in their hair since I had thrown all of ours away after Elaine was potty trained. While I was gone, Elaine had to sit on a chair in the dining room and Lucy had to sit in the boring guest bedroom. As expected, Lucy was totally devastated and Elaine was completely unrepentant. I told them that in addition because of their heinous deeds, we wouldn't put the ornaments on the tree that afternoon (which we couldn't anyway because Darren doesn't have the lights on, but they didn't know that).
And so Advent dawned...to this!
And yesterday at church, a friend gave me one of the coolest gifts ever. Actually, a disclaimer: she's my secret sister. Yes. I know. The whole secret sister thing is completely dorky. But...it's still fun. And whoever it is? somehow hit on my complete love of traditions, because look what I got that she MADE.
Then, for each evening of Advent, there is a reading to do together and Christmas carols to sing (with an accompanying CD she gave me).
And the best part is this...an ornament to go with each day's reading to put on the tree!
Lucy and Elaine were so excited and looked over each one of the ornaments. They can't wait to start tonight before bed. This is exactly the type of thing I love to do with them. I predict many happy memories made, fighting over the ornaments and who gets to put them on the tree, in the years ahead.
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