Her Dreams

When our daughter was 2 1/2, she wanted to be a pig farmer. She was a pig for Halloween for 3 years straight. As expected, that dream went by the wayside in favor of wanting to be a librarian, although her love of pigs has remained. We were at the fair again on Sunday, walking through the cattle barns, and she told me this:

"Mom, do you want to know the plan for my life?"
"Yes, honey, please share."
"I am going to be a farmer."
"OK, what animals will you have?"
"Well... pigs, of course. And cows that I will milk by hand."
"Sounds like a lot of work. Anything else?"
"Goats. What else should I have?"
"Sheep?"
"Yes, sheep. Then I can knit their wool."
"What about being a librarian?"
"Farmers like me like to read. I will finish my work early then go read books. I will have a lot of books that my neighbors can come borrow."
"Make sure you write your name in your books."
"OK."

I guess this means more trips to North Dakota are in store. Sigh.

To My Son on his First Birthday

I love you, my little man. There are so many things I love about you, but here are a few:

1. Sometimes, in the back seat, you'll be completely quiet until a funny thought comes across your mind, and you laugh.

2. You have the most expressive face I've ever seen. Your eyebrows speak volumes.

3. You have the sweetest disposition. You are content and satisfied.

4. Your sister and you have a very special bond. Maybe it's because she prayed for your existence, but you look at her differently than you look at everyone else.

5. You are a manly man! You thump your chest and grunt, and then look very pleased with yourself.

6. You give the BEST baby kissies in the world! Now when I ask for them you are starting to respond. They used to be happy surprises, but now, with increased understanding, you know what giving kissies means.

7. At bedtime, after the bath, book, and bottle, you lay your head on my shoulder...but only for a moment! After a couple of seconds you perk up to look me straight in the face and grin as if you've told the best joke ever! Then you lay back on my shoulder... until pop! The grin! Back and forth, back and forth, until you start lunging for your crib.

8. I love that you are a great sleeper.

9. After all the health crapola you have gone through, you are resilient. The meanings of your names suit you so well: "rock," and "son of my right hand." Your other name, "supplanter," fits in that your life has supplanted the fear in my heart with joy.

10. I love your husky voice.

I could go on and on, of course, because I am over the moon for you. You're the best surprise I've ever received, evidence of pure grace. Thank you, my sweet baby boy. I love you. Happy First Birthday.

Flesh and Bones

I am obsessed with my body. I'm not talking about the shallow, unidimensional, "do I look fat in this" sort of persona. I've grown out of the 20-something hatred of every lump and curve. I've birthed two beautiful, healthy babies--one delivery was slick and easy, the other was work like I've never known. Still, my body did it. I gained a lot of weight as a homesick teen living in France and lost it again. I broke my left leg early in my life, then my right wrist in mid-childhood, then my left wrist a few years ago, and this year my left leg snapped, too. No limb of mine has remained whole! And yet, I've recovered. The human body--my human body--is a wonder.

I am indeed still recovering from the worst of all my breaks, which occurred in April. I was getting better-better-better, through sheer determination and will, with the help of doctor-mandated physical therapy. Then it was all left to me to keep it up. And have I? No. You've heard the expression, the mind is willing but the body is weak? In my case, the body is willing but the mind is weak. With every passing day, now, I wake up creaky, and it's downhill from there. The limp is back. I ooh and aah, and not in the good way. I notice every little twinge of pain, not just in my leg. I wake up in a bad mood. I've become a wimp.

And yet, in my mind's eye, I am an active, sporty, energetic momma. I know exactly what I need to do in order to get myself back to smooth sailing. While I have great respect for this body of mine, I live in the world of thought and not action, ideas instead of activity. I do not like this about myself. It's like I'm waiting for my brain to tell my body to get up and move. I'm passive. Oh, dear. As I write this, I realize it's worse than I had thought! So here is the crux: If I do, indeed, respect my body, then that respect must translate to action. If I do not take action, I am showing real disrespect for my body and God's creation. Some who are avid exercisers sometimes talk about how using their bodies in healthy ways is like a prayer. I am sitting here wishing I could get into that mindset. I see now, though, that if I wait on "right thinking," I'll never get around to "right doing."

Ideas, Please

Alright, dear readers (are there readers out there?). I need your input. As you know, I was recently the victim of a corporate merger, and have been unceremoniously scootched out of a job. Sadly, publishing jobs are few and far between here in the Pacific Northwest. I love-love-love the idea of making books. The world of ideas is my homeland. If I could live my life with my nose buried in words, I would.

What now? I have to work to keep us afloat, so staying home with my children is not an option. I've been doing sales for the past few years, but I just don't know if that's where I want to be. I'm good at it because I enjoy people, but it doesn't really seem like ME. I like having projects. Something I can organize and deatils I can break down. I love studying, especially theology, but working in a church isn't so much fun.

Somebody help me, please! We have until January 1 to find me a new job, and hopefully with it, a new career. I'm tired of jumping around, I'd love to fall in love and commit to meaningful work. I just need some creative input.

People who Overreact

My job involves talking with instructors and helping them find the right textbooks. They are always professional and well-mannered. Occasionally I get a student posing as an instructor trying to get answer keys. Because of this, I usually don't invest too much time on them until I have met the instructor or can verify that they are employed by one of my schools. The other day I got this email:

hi amyi'm looking for a book on autodesk inventor, intermediate and advanced have looked allover and can;t seem to find them, I need them to be 2008 but I would consider 2007.Tkanks Kevin

Usually those who teach use at least minimal punctuation. I was dubious. So I asked a few more questions, such as, "What school to do you teach at?" I got this response:

HI Amy
thanks for getting back so promptly, just as soon as school starts i will send you a e-mail with my .edu, also this is just in the planning stage now see i have 20 -30 students in the beginning inventor class and a lot of them want to go on but every time they try to set up a intermediate class there isn't a large enough turn out so my thought is to offer the classes every quarter then i will have beginning intermiteate and advanced inventor all in one the same lab. this might not even get through the dean so i don't know if you want to give me book so how about a list of the books and a price list
Thanks Kevin

OK, I'm still not convinced. No answer about his school affiliation, and it's not even a for-sure class yet, so it's not like he's in a time crunch. So I politely refer him to our online catalog. He says,

you should look at your catalog i did and there is only one title for inventor thats why I sent you a request for intermittent and advanced inventor books. after four e-maile you send me back to the catalog right where I started you an IDIOT

Wha-huh? First of all: no punctuation! C'mon, man, throw us a bone! And then: "intermittent" inventor books? Now really, who's the idiot here? I just had to laugh.

Two Unrelated Topics

1) I just got back from Orlando, where are national sales meeting was held. It could not have been worst if they tried! Fun times included: food poisoning, being included but not included, and suffering the world's most negative person. (I know you thought I held that title, but no, this person is worse!) I'm so glad to be home, and not in Florida (aka The Surface of the Sun).

2) Baby Boy took two more steps this morning!!! He'll be walking by the end of August, I'm sure of it. Dang, he's cute. And Little Girl continues to amaze. Last night she wouldn't admit she was tired. She yawned, and when we caught her, she said that she wasn't yawning because she was tired, it was just to "get air out of my body."

Whoa, Nellie!

Baby Boy is now pulling himself to standing without any help! Walking is right around the corner. Yikes!

Reading Material

One of my favorite things about being a mother is watching behavior and finding meaning in it. For example, my little baby boy is drawn to one of the bookshelves in the living room and loves to pull the books off. He then proceeds to eat the pages before mommy comes screaming, "No! Stop! Ack!" But I must say, his choice of material is fascinating.

For the longest time he went after Kathleen Norris' book, The Cloister Walk. Clearly, this boy is contemplative. He has also sampled What Paul Meant by Gary Wills, and, in my proudest moment, Perelandra, by the esteemed C.S. Lewis. Not the easiest C.S. Lewis to start with, but if he wants to dive right in, who am I to stop him? Oh, the literary journeys he and I will take in future years! The great discussions of spirituality! The ruminations of the state of the soul!

In a fit of folly, the boy did choose some Moliere yesterday. I'm glad to see that he has a sense of humor, this child, and can appreciate the occasionally caustic irony and even the knee-slapping comedy that Moliere offers. And, it was a collection in the original French, so I really have no choice but to endorse his selection.

Maybe I should go add some money to his therapy fund. I'm sure, with this mindset, the poor child is doomed to some sort of complex due to his mother's expectations.

My Beautiful Babies

Aren't they cute? I know, I'm shameless. I adore my sweeties. K, the daughter, who does not lack self-esteem, reminds me frequently, "Mom, you only make the most beautiful babies." I have to say, she is lovely AND wise, this girl.

I'm Chip; I'm Dale

My husband always surprises me. No, not with flowers or gifts for no particular reason. He surprises me with his deep fount of random information.

Tonight is Friday, which, in our family, makes it Friday Family Movie Night. It is our tradition to let our daughter pick out any movie on this night (usually a DVD, although we sometimes go out) and we are all obligated to watch it with rapt attention. It's a fun tradition that we all enjoy.

Tonight's selection is a Mickey Mouse Christmas movie. And yes, we know it's July. K chose it because it is rather short (we are all very tired) and requires very little brain power, since it is made up of amusing little vignettes.

One of these vignettes featured Chip and Dale of chipmunk fame. K wondered out loud how anyone could possibly tell them apart. My dear husband went on to explain the various nuances that make Chip and Dale entirely different. One is smart, the other is not. The not-so-bright chipmunk (are any chipmunks brainiacs?) is made to look like a hill-billy. Their teeth differ. He went on to tell us various neumonic devices he uses to tell them apart. Wha-huh? When did my husband become so knowledgeable about cartoon chipmunks? Fascinating! It was like talking to a parent of identical twins who has no trouble telling which is which, and we are embarrased to even ask which is Shane and which is Shawn, when they are dressed exactly alike. I marvel at his wells of information. This keeps the marriage interesting.

Lindsay, oh Lindsay

My daughter will be turning 8 this month, which brings its share of "serious" conversations. We discussed where babies come from (she deemed this "dis-GUS-ting." Good.), drugs, and alcohol, all in a rather hypothetical and removed sense. As in, "sometimes some people do certain things..." She also is reluctant to discuss these things. She just plain doesn't like it. She also likes all things Disney. So she was watching something rather benign Disney channel show and they were advertising an upcoming Lindsay Lohan movie to be aired over the summer.



Later in the day, K the daughter very shyly asked me why there is a movie with Lindsay Lohan when she had been arrested. I was shocked! How did she know that the little misguided actress had been arrested? What does she know of such things? It wasn't all that long ago that I knew everything that went into my child's head. So I asked her if she knew what LL had been arrested for. Her answer? She thought LL had been arrested for drinking too much caffeine. Hee hee.



So then we had the requisite discussion in 8-year-old terms about poor choices, the illness of addiction, and so forth. All the while, I was mentally cursing LL for forcing this issue with my little girl and taking away just a little more of her innocence. There's also the issue of corporate responsibility: Will Disney continue to employ LL? And why do so many Disney shows and movies have no mothers in sight?



I suppose this is the age where my daughter is starting to learn how sticky life can be. I pray that I can guide her through it so she is a strong adult. Oy, what a responsibility.

Happy Mothers Day

Hurrah to mothers, all of us who are raising children the best we can. We, who postpone ourselves for these 18 years that will probably turn into many more. I don't know; I'm not there yet. We look at our babies and see the future and the past at the same time. Today is contrived, but it's nice anyway. So happy day for us.

What are you having?

Dorothy Parker was at a blah dinner party. Probably not enough booze flowing for that dear lush's liking. A gentleman was going to refill her glass for her and asked, "What are you having" Her witty response: "Not much fun."

I can relate. I'm sitting here with my leg elevated, and I really can feel myself healing. I'm doing my work from home, which isn't easy. I'd rather be on campus getting blown off than on the phone getting blown off. So I'm not so motivated. Still, I hold out hope that I will make goal this year. Please, God, I want to make goal so much!!! But still, I feel like I have nothing interesting to say anymore. My mom will call later today, and I will have nothing to say. At least when I was pregnant and doing nothing I could say, "Today I grew my child's ear." or "Today I worked on the baby's hearing." Nope. Today my bones fused a little more. Anyone want to join me to watch grass grow?

I am, however, enormously grateful that I'm an injured person getting better, rather than someone with a degenerative disease getting worse every day. And so many people deal with so much worse. So really, I'm on the positive end of things. I try to keep telling myself to have a good attitude. It'll work, eventually. Especially if I make goal.

Disaster Strikes

A week ago Saturday I was enjoying a wonderful play at the Children's Theatre just up the highway a bit. My husband, my daughter (for whom the play trip was most beneficial), my infant son, and I were all there, enjoying ourselves. I took Baby into the cry room to feed him. The seating area was up a few steps, so up I went, happily nursing and rocking my little guy. When he was done, I stood up to go rejoin the rest of the family. Silly me. I took my first step and noticed that the stair lights were not working. I tried to feel my way, but to no avail. I fell hard, clutching the little guy to my chest, heard my bones crack, and fell on my back.

Once we were on the ground, the baby rolled off my chest and onto the ground, where he wailed. Thankfully, someone picked him up. I was a bit pre-occupied. I was lying on my back, holding my thigh up with my left hand, and my right hand was holding my calf, which was angled out at 90 degrees. Here's the funny thing: the firemen and EMTs were telling me that it looked not so good because of the swelling. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Seriously... the swelling was what caused concern, not my leg heading to the right with the rest of me headed to the left? C'mon. After the fact, Michelle (who gets a tribute here in a sec) told me that no one wanted to worry me by pointing out the obvious. That's pretty funny.

Michelle is my new hero. Steve was being a fabulous daddy, shepherding our children away from the disaster scene and calming fears. I wanted him to do that. But this other mommy, Michelle, made sure that her little son was taken care of, then stayed with me, holding my hand, letting me rest my head on her lap, and helping me hold up my thigh. She stuck it out until I was carted off to the hospital. She even laughed with me as I was bummed about their having to cut off my K Swiss shoes, shoes I have wanted since Kristin had them in 7th grade, and finally bought for myself this winter! I'm such a consumer. We talked about all sorts of random things, and we even laughed! We have a date for ice cream once I'm more mobile.

So now I'm coping with the aftermath: children who miss time with mommy, being very dependent on others (thank God for Mom's visit!), dragging my sorry ass across flat surfaces with the help of a granny walker, and other issues. All these must be saved for another post. Oh, and the fact that the baby seems to react badly to all solid foods except for rice cereal. Can you tell I'm in a bad mood? Let's hope my mood turns upward very soon. I'm remembering that lots of people have much worse injuries, and cope cheerfully for years on end. That's the kind of person I want to be. I'll get there, eventually.

Rach-a-bye baby

I'm back, after a hiatus when my brain went dry. I am now the mother of 2 and working full-time. I usually feel like I am one thread away from total insanity.

By the end of the day, I'm often in need of a major energy infusion. All I want to do is nap, but this is the time of day when I have to give my very best. It's the only time I have to fill my little ones with love enough to last them until the next day. Not to mention the daily details like getting homework done, making a healthy supper, and cleaning up the house enough so that no one breaks a bone tripping over anything getting from point A to point B.

So the other night I was making said healthy supper and feeding the baby at the same time. I needed some "up" music so I chose Aerosmith. The baby had a look on his face like someone was pinching him!!! It wasn't even loud! This is the most sound-sensitive little guy ever! I quickly dove to change the music on the iPod to Rachmaninoff, and wow, did his mood ever change! He was happy and relaxed. Plus, it was "Vespers," so I think that helped him sleep that night. Amazing little discovery.

Speaking of music... Two days ago I was at Dinners Ready, my trusty secret weapon for healthy family meals. I spent about an hour prepping suppers for the next month. The radio was tuned to an '80's station, and I tell ya, every song brought be back to some very specific high school era memories. Remembering those days of yore while preparing meals for my family of 4 (how did that happen?!), about to bring the meals out to my minivan, and carry them into the split level home we now occupy. As my friend Lesley says, I had a Talking Heads moment.

Held captive in ND

Well, the best part about going to ND was coming back home. The trip was supposed to last Friday to Tuesday. So long 'bout Spokane I asked Steve's uncle Loren-the-chauffeur when on Tuesday he thought we'd be back. "Tuesday?" he responds incredulously. "We're not coming back until next Saturday or Sunday!" Imagine my surprise. And my fury. All while trying to maintain decorum.
The countryside was beautiful and green and FULL of critters. Everything from prairie dogs and pheasant to wood ticks that really liked Katie and me. The child was entranced the whole time. Just loved it. We made some new friends, the Johnsons... lovely, wholesome, funny people. We took long walks and expored. We also met crazy cousin Ray from Minnesota. Wooo-whee. What a character.
But the house... oh, my. The mice traps were quite active throughout the visit. The shower was an exposed pipe spurting water. No sink in the bathroom. Everything frozen in time from 35 years ago, including grandma's partially used deodorant (she passed away a while ago, now, but nobody seems to want to throw away anything). If you use the oven, be aware that it will smell of a decaying rodent that is stuck in there somewhere that nobody seems to be able to reach.
So yesterday we got home. With Katie spending the night at Steve's parents' house, and Steve on a business trip, I had the house to myself. I had my favorite dinner of popcorn and wine, watched Ocean's 12, took a yummy hot bath, and felt human again. I need to do that more often.
I did have time to do a lot of thinking, so on an existential level, the trip was good. I learned a lot about myself, which is never a bad thing.

Wide Open Spaces

On Friday the child and I are headed to The Farm in Esmond, North Dakota! I SOOOOO need a getaway, and seeing as this is close to the geographic center of North America and I am a coastal dweller, this is about as far a getaway as I can imagine. I hope I fall in love with it. It could truly become a great escape. I think it'll be like a very large sensory deprivation chamber. Very restful. I just bought a fabulous new quilting tote, so even my little iron fits in it. I'll be bringing that, lots of games, a few books (if the child allows me to read)... any recommendations? I've been singing loudly to the Dixie Chicks. Cowboy Take Me Away sums me up right now. I even have a cowboy in mind. :-) I'll keep y'all posted on this new adventure. Then it's back to work for a month. After that project, we'll have Disneyland in SoCal, then hopefully back to the farm, and then to Michigan for 2 weeks at the end of August. I'm going to treat myself to a few days in Chicago with friends. It's shaping up to be a great summer! Y'all keep in touch. Miss you, my darlings!

I DID IT!!!

Prepare for a rambling entry... just pretend you're listening to me. So, last Thursday, with the help of my trusty sidekick Peter, I got my belly button pierced!!! And by the way, ow. Hurt like hell, but I love it!!! Can't stop looking at my beautiful tummy. My belly has always been my favorite part of my body, and now the lovely thing is adorned. How I love it! Loved it immediately. I flashed everyone on Thursday night who had the misfortune of being on 100th street right after I got it done, or at the Ram where Peter and I had drinks immediately following. Had to numb the pain somehow. But yay!!! It's so fun! No, I will not start wearing daisy dukes and tiny tees, but if you ask nicely, I'll show ya.

I've finally decided to do it... I'm going to get my belly button pierced! I've wanted a tattoo since college, but being too chicken to do it, I'm going to go ahead and do this! Given, my spouse isn't too happy with this decision, but for once I'm going to do it anyway. It's more than jewelry, it's liberation! Yipee! Then once I'm in better shape (due to the recent discovery of Bikram Yoga... wow!), I can be a bikini mama. It's going to be a great summer.

Katie gets it

My daughter is better at being a Christian than I am. We have actually bribed her to convince her to stay home on a Sunday morning rather than go to church. The other day, the child declares, "There are more people on earth than in heaven." I proceed to explain to her that there are only a few billion people on earth now, and many more than that have lived and died and already found their way to heaven. (Scientifically accurate? I don't know.) I also let it out that I have some reincarnation leanings and told her that in heaven there are also the angels waiting to be born as babies. She takes a moment to think, then says, "So this isn't our real home?" I shake my head. "So heaven is our real real real home?" I get misty-eyed and nod. To think that lots of money has been made by people buying The Purpose Driven Life, and there my little 5-year-old understands it all, just sitting on the couch one afternoon. I wish I were as smart as she is.