a better story.

I have a sister and also it's Christmas.

2011-11-09T19:57:00.000-06:00

Sandra. Her name means "defender of men" and is a derivative of the Greek "Alexandra." After meeting her for the first time again, since she was two and I six, yesterday, my mind is brimming with facts and more than I can hold. I've been telling all my loved ones as much of it as I can in the snippets of our lives we manage to intersect and yet I come home to so much of it left untold, and, like an affectionate kitty, it hops in my lap the moment I sit down and demands my attention. The truth is, Sandra and I started a conversation that I am desperate to not lose and yet my own life seems a little too messy to house our new connection.

It's the beginning of November and I want to immerse myself in the spiritual wonderland we Protestants call Christmastime. I am listening to Christmas music as I write and am determined to let at least a part of me remain aware of the simple pleasures these two months afford me. Forgetting to schedule so much, as everyone is "so busy with the Holidays," they tend to want to postpone all things obligatory. Smelling and cooking and giving and glueing and cutting and creating for the first time in months. While many seem to get in high gear around Christmas, I tend to take that as my cue to lay low and look at lights and my children more closely. I love giving and getting presents with the best of them, but my husband's choice to go back to school and my former one to drop out before obtaining my degree have left us with about two dollars.

I do not remember any Christmases with Sandra. In fact, we share one of the few memories I do have with her. I was absolutely stunned when she told me on the phone yesterday that she remembers a dark-haired girl comforting her in a dark bedroom, seeming to be hiding her. As I remember her face, whatever my 8-year old mind could record, it gets instantly replaced by my own 2-year old's face, Berea. She is suddenly mine, more than ever, in my memory. Strangely, I had always thought she was 4, but I realize now, that it was because I related to her as though she were very near me in age. Not having had a child to see the development, I just felt she was a younger version of me. So, back to our shared memory. She remembers a dark-haired girl who was trying to comfort her in the dark. I am elated at the fact that she remembers what I intended at the time. So, here's what was really happening: She had come to spend the weekend with my dad and my grandmother and when her mom came to pick her up, my dad lied and said she wasn't there. Her mom got the police involved and my dad had told me to take her to the back bedroom and keep her with me there. Curiosity got the best of me, and I snuck down the hall with her and peered around the wall and of course, the police saw her and got her. I forever felt guilty that I had "let them find her." As if they wouldn't have gone looking, anyway. I am just thankful that, somehow, God preserved that memory of her with me and we were allies in it. That is all I hope to be to her now.

"Let's hope its a good one, without any fear...So this is Christmas...and what have we done? The near and the dear ones, the old and the young..." It's the only time of year where we honestly hope that every single person we know can be happy. To have a loved one be sad on Christmas, although a common plight, I'm sure, seems to be an utmost failure of our own. It just seems the one time of life where we aren't happy until everyone is. And probably how we're supposed to be living life all year, but I thank God for coming at a specific time and making a cause for celebration, remembrance, and contemplation. There will be a time and place where the Government will rest on His shoulders and we will make it our business at all times to make others as happy as ourselves. For now, I am thankful that Heaven came to earth, for at least a night...is there another account of myriads of angels rejoicing in the sight of men? Other than Revelation, where they sing Holy, Holy, Holy day and night...But here, on the night He was born, they can't help but invite men. Humble shepherds. It is so easy to make them sinless in our minds, as well as Mary and Joseph, and the Wise Men. But we know this couldn't be true and they are simply in the right place, at the right time, when God wants to be happy about something, and He can't help but involve his delicate creation...and they do the only appropriate thing: come and see...worship...stay awhile...I wonder if they knew when to leave? I wonder if they wanted to see Jesus when Mary had just finished nursing Him to sleep. "Can we see the baby??!" as my sweet friends said to me right at Anderson's bedtime, 5 days after we were home. I wished they had offered to clean my house and I wonder if Mary was relieved of some of that compulsion by the mere fact that you can't exactly clean a stable. Freed up to be with Him, herself. So. As I want so badly to make my house perfect, and I probably will, and my life perfect for all the visitors that come and want to see Him, I will try to remember the earthy smell of hay and horses and know that to "prepare Him room" is really all that is needed.

Something I wrote the day (night) Jesse proposed to me.

2011-01-03T15:58:00.001-06:00

I wish I had my camera phone still. I would take a picture of the windows in my room letting in the bright yet fading light of this February 12 winter's day. I have so much to say that it just seems easier to look at the tiny yellowish green leaves braving the cold, and wonder if they will stay til summer. ForChristmas, Naomi gave me these two lovely plastic plates with purple dogwoods on them. They perch perfectly on each of the handles of my window. Between them is a picture of the Boondogs and their little boy and big dog. I will be relying on the 10 cups of sugared-in-the-pot, Dulce de Leche Coffeemate-laden coffee previously consumed to fuel this one-sided conversation and not unlike other one-sided conversations we've all found ourselves (not) a part of, it may seem like the one talking is masking an unseemly amount of insomnia. Insomnia is usually unseemly, I would say, unless it is Seymour Glass's insomnia or some guy who is going to propose the next day. Aaahhh... an actual subject. I am so done pretending to be writer now. Was it fun for anyone at all? That's another thing people that drink coffee instead of sleep tend to do, I bet. So there's sort of a reason for the no sleeping thing on my part. "Thank you for calling YOUR 24 hour Walgreen's, this is Shaniqua, can I help you?" That 's my line. Last night I helped a guy from Chicago with an African accent pick out a Valentine present for a girl who he has known for 6 months and came in with a little piece of paper with the word "ALMONDS" written on it. I also met the sweet, waifish German girl who bought some German chocolate, Toffinay or something, and I told her I liked Nutella and she said "Yah, it's so much better than peanut butter. Because it has chocolate. That's the part I really like anyway, the chocolate." We were in total sync. She has Dido hair, almost exactly. As a matter of fact, the night started off really nicely with a Dido song playing and me thinking about my boyfriend during the whole thing and pretty much making sure no one got to leave the store knowing my eyecolor. "And even if I'm there, they'll all imply that I might not last the day, and then you call me and it's not so bad, it's not so baa aa ad...NnDAH-ahhh Want to Thank You..." Also spoke with some Turkish-ly delightful girls as well. One girl as white and strawberry blonde as I was but her two friends had some dark chocolate hair and clothes trendy enough to have been borrowed from E., the German girl's closet. They were talking the whole time they were checking out, all using the same credit card to pay for their orders separately. I said "Together?" And they said "Yes." Then when I started to put the next girl's order on the previous, one that spoke the most often to me said one of her total of 4 sentences to me, "Separate." They were a great picture of Together and still Separate in the way they looked so different but the conversation didn't seem to have a starting or stopping point. The language had both the runnning into itself nicely that French seems to and the occasional sharp corners that French doesn't seem to. That coffee is making me take sharp corners in order not to...nevermind. Not going to finish that metaphor. So I have alluded to one thing...I almost gave up dragging everyone around like this but just know I've been along for the ride and all its sudden turns with you and now I just want to say, the ride is so much nicer with Leigh Nash's music. At least the bumps are accounted for and the starkness is stared at squarely. Oh yeah, done being a writer. Right. So, going to push play again on her myspace to the song "Along the Wall."

If you ask me to come, I'll say Go

If you say you love me, I'll say 'Sure if you say so.'

whatever you tell me, I wont believe you

If you try, try to make me

oooo i would like to know which one is willing to lose

All along the wall

Between us

I see a teacher [something 80s in her voice here]

there for us

i look at the wall

i see right through it

there is a door

where I am standing

without a key

without a clue

without you [here she sounded like Jewel]

i am wandering

wondering about you

its a cold cold night

are you gonna call me?

and tell me about

how i go on and on about you

being like you used to be

how it's all

about me

ooo i would like to know

who is the wounded one

which one would make the move?

which one is willing to lose

i see a teacher

there for us

i look at the wall, I see right through it

i lean on the wall

there for us

you're my heaven

and my feet

beyond myself

you're my shadow

i am hollow

all along the wall...

So what I started this all about is to tell everyone about this boy whose voice I make a point to hear every day, more regularly than I brush my teeth, if you want to know the truth. Time to let the fireflies go! I hear you scream. Thank you if you were one of the few who believed they were still alive, slow-moving though they be, and are still reading. Our hands. They seem to know better than us that we should be together. He never seems to be weary of me/mywords/myface/mystupidhairandoutfitsand'lip-lick" but i was reminded by Someone Very Important that

Love is Blindness.

2011-01-02T14:32:00.002-06:00

It's a really great song done by U2 and re-done even better, in my opinion, by Sixpence None the Richer. I spent this week with only one contact in, and when I look at how things are feeling in my closest relationships, I'm wondering if Bono's dangerous idea might almost make sense...

With one contact in, you relax a little, because if you hurry too much, you'll trip and stuff. So all that not hurrying (which, I am sure no one in my family noticed the speed-settings change, I just feel it myself) makes you see more of everyone else.

What I've seen of Anderson is that just the promise of closeness goes a long way with that little boy. When I say something like, "Do you wanna be close and show me you wanna be close by working on the same thing as me? i.e. getting dressed, getting a coat on to get out the door for wherever we probably don't need to be as urgently as I want to be "or do you want to be in your room by yourself with the door closed a little?" he is quick to respond with "I wanna be close!" And so I'm trying to remember that being close is what we're after instead of merely getting from Point A to Point B.

What I've seen of Berea is that even though, thus far, she has been an avid hugger/holder, recently she has begun to articulate her thoughts with such precision and poise, that I want to write down every word. She isn't two until February 6th, remember? Of course, when it's time to recall a sentence, I can't. She can talk, ok. And she's really good at it. Best example I can think of right now: "Dat's me." When I felt her foot touching my leg under the dinner table and asked "Is that you touching my leg?" Short sentence, long on clever/timely/adorable-ness.

With Jesse, I have realized that most of the love that is happening, is probably happening when I look away, and so much of my love seems never to escape my chest, either. Only when we get to re-watch the movie, with Commentary, will we notice and feel all the love our days have been soaked in all along. Til then, it's best we both turn blind eyes toward each other and see the rest in the softer, easy light of nearsightedness. To him I say, Glad you are here. Glad you are near. Would only want this nearness with you.

So, these are all accounts of someone seeing someone better, more completely. And in some cases, blindness helped. Here are the lyrics, in case you had them running through your head but couldn't quite make them out:

Love is blindness
I don't wanna see
Won't you wrap the night
Around me?
Oh my heart
Love is blindness
In a parked car
In a crowded street
You see your love
Made complete
Thread is ripping
The knot is slipping
Love is blindness

Love is clockworks
And cold steel
Fingers too numb to feel
Squeeze the handle
Blow out the candle
Love is blindness

Love is blindness
I don't want to see
Won't you wrap the night
Around me?
Oh my love
Blindness

A little death
Without mourning
No call
And no warning
Baby, a dangerous idea
That almost makes sense

Love is drowning
In a deep well
All the secrets
And no one to tell
Take the money
Honey
Blindness

Love is blindness
I don't want to see
Won't you wrap the night
Around me?
Oh my love
Blindness.

So much to say, So much to say.

2010-12-12T01:51:00.003-06:00

Today had a lot of people in it.

Squishy Berea, happy to be grabbed and held first thing in the morning. Eager to run with me Natalie. Helpful Jesse. Ray who cried a little bit when he tried to tell me how much Linda loves me. Linda. Dressed up, sweet, kind woman who said I looked pretty. And all those amazing faces at the Women's brunch. Lara Macfarlan, with the articulation of a Senator's wife, for sure. And Vicky Dees. Vicky Dees. Vicky Dees. 250,000 have visited her blog already and you should find out why. Denise Cerda, my super-sweet, super-young friend from Wal-Mart. Oh, before that, Amanda from Amandromeda.

Also, I had two coats with me at once today while hanging out with myself. What is THAT about?

Then lots of people I checked out at Walmart. Then Renee...who I'm pretty sure just escaped a Flannery O'Connor short story. I can't tell you her stories, but those are the ones that really filled me up. I am exhausted, but I just wanted you to know I have stories and they're so good. Everyone around has better stories than they think.

Also, I think Christmas was a bit more private, when it actually happened, with Baby Jesus and all, than it is now...everyone talking about what they got and who they got it for...

This was eventually about Christmas.

2010-11-29T18:03:00.008-06:00

you know how the top of the Mocha always tastes the best? i usually don't even add sugar til my whipped cream's gone. and i try, try, try to make it last but usually it's gone 1/4 of the way down. So. This blog post will not be like that. You will probably not notice you've enjoyed it til it's almost gone.

I wrote this the week after Thanksgiving.

so I was thinking about Christmas and how small it was, when it happened. I was on a run and it was cold and warm at the same time and raining and totally accosted at everyone's sudden throwing up of their outside Christmas decor in a matter of 24 hours, it seemed. And really i love the lights and all the shiny and all the nostalgia and all the color and all the unfounded cheerfulness that Christmas brings. I totally perused Walmart's Christmas section AS it was being installed. Lingered. But what occurred to me this morning was that the birth of Y'shua was completely Unobtrusive. "No room here? Fine. We got this." And BAM, all the hosts of heaven (probably millions of millions, like all of China in Angels or something) make an appearance. So, I see this tension...most of earth ignoring his humble arrival and Heaven doing exactly as Heaven always does. And fastforward to today, to right here in my little town, my little world, what I feel around me: such an intentional re-creation of the Glory that the Angels shared in that we kind of take up all the space in a room, too, and seriously, the baby and family and vulnerability of God goes unnoticed. Of course, Heaven always worships. And maybe, if you're out just tending your sheep or really really really seeking Truth, we might get to prepare ourselves a bit and bring whatever our best is. Dangit. This blog is so the opposite of what I meant to convey.

Unobtrusive. That is all. And I just want all my "celebrating," all my changing of the decor in my house, all my gift-giving or making and all my 'holiday baking' ... all of that to be in that same spirit of just taking up the space that's necessary, that's available. just being what you need to be to those who are humble enough to receive.

i am still trying to get my head wrapped around this. i just know that generally it all feels like "too much" and still not enough. i like a good party. i love a pretty room. i love love love so many Christmas carols, its not even funny. Obtrusive Aside: if you haven't discovered Sufjan's Christmas album, you should. But somehow, I think Christmas should be some continuation of business-as-usual for the Christian, definitely a re-set, a "hey, THIS is why we do this stuff! Look at how our God declared 'good will to men'...look at how the most random folks were a part of the big story..." but not a giant attempt at making up for all the selfishness from the rest of the year...That's His job. And our Gift.

Also, it occurred to me that He probably did not mean for His birth or the celebration thereof to make anyone feel 'poor-er'...which is the phenomenon I have observed. In myself, too. The pressure to have a "Good Christmas." I think if He wanted us to feel that He would've definitely gotten a room at the Inn, probably the nicest one, and only the wise men with the nice presents would've been allowed to see Him. But the angels invited the Shepherds who were just doing their regular graveyard shift. So, Christmas Epiphany (pun intended): Come, get close to God, while He gets close to you. Sacrifice and offering He does not require. Just whatever Him being there, suddenly, is doing to you...that's what He wants...

Will Run for Food

2010-01-07T14:42:00.003-06:00

So, I've been thinking. I really love food. And I really hate diets. And I'm getting fat. And the only thing I've ever been any good at in the exercise realm is running. One foot in front of the other, go as slow as you want, just keep going and enjoy the scenery. I used to run around Lake Fayetteville a lot. Once I did it three times in a row and several times I did it twice in a row. I don't know, I guess I had a lot on my mind then. I probably didn't have kids, come to think of it. But I am sick of using that as an excuse. I have a double jogging stroller and I'm not afraid to sue it. So...

I really want to do a marathon. I hear talk of it among my friends and wonder, just wonder, who out there is the socially-motivated type and would do it, if they had, say a pack of girls to do it with? I've decided being an individual is totally overrated. Being with people that THINK you're an individual, now that's where its at ... No, really, I am just a highly-social animal and I'm just sayin', wouldn't it be easier to do something this hard with some other people you could complain about how hard it was, to? But still go out and practice together and stuff.

Also, I really want to memorize something from the Bible because...I hear it makes Scripture come alive to you, when its such a part of you like that, and it makes sense. So, I was thinking. Marathon...Philippians...lots of allusions to 'running the race,' etc...

So, as I pictured our climactic ending which is what you're supposed to do with your 'better stories' you've imagined for yourself, I pictured a lot of girls wearing the same t-shirt, running for the same cause, memorizing Philippians along the way. Wouldn't that be FUN?!!!

Now I just need to pick a "Cause."

Zee Bebes

2010-01-07T14:25:00.002-06:00

Time for an update on the babies.

Berea is giving kisses. Leaning in and opening her mouth wide and just touching her lips to whatever part of your face is near. With me, she likes to incorporate the occasional nibble, but that's cool. A second ago she kissed Anderson for the first time.

Their interactions have been pretty sweet, lately. She also grabbed his hand and held on, and he held on and said, "She touch my hand!" He seems to be realizing, along with the rest of us, that she is a little person with initiatives all her own.

Last night she may or may not have said, "Da-dee." We were saying it over and over to her and then it sounded like she said it. Of course she knows who everyone is and looks at them when we say their names to her. She actually says Momma but that's usually precluding a fit for nursing. She just now said "nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh" to the cat after the cat tried to bite her. A little wordsmith, she is.

Anderson has begun calling us "Jesse" and "Tee-Teen" on occasion. We're not sure how we feel about that. Also, he has begun requesting his jacket before going to sleep at night. "I want my jacket!" He calls, after being tucked in. Wakes up with it still all zipped up. He begins most sentences with "I want" or "I need" these days. Who doesn't?

New Year. New Name. So There.

2010-01-06T07:28:00.003-06:00

I want to be a better blogger. Donald Miller says you have to want something to make a better story. So I want something that will tell my better story, better, and hopefully that will make a better story in the end...

My friend Sara Neufeld is the best blogger. It's because all her blogs contain at least one simple story from her actual life. And she always includes a picture.

My mom and I went to Jay, OK last Tuesday. I usually hate that drive, but the gray, expanse of poverty that is Eastern Oklahoma, was finally bearable with her there, telling me stories of her life and the people in her life that are somehow in my life now. She is a really great story teller. One of her stories was about my biological half sister Sara and half brother Shane. (I hadn't seen my mom in 28 years and had no memory of her at all...she found my aunt on Facebook the day after my 31st birthday...the rest is too much for parenthesis).

So, back to the story within the story within the blog.

Shane was around 9, she said, and was at the store to spend some birthday money. He, being a very intentional 9-year old was deliberating over which toy to buy: something big or several somethings small...and, after about 5 minutes of waiting for her brother to walk in a direction, Sara plops down in the aisle, takes out 5 of her brother's Hot Wheels from her little girl purse and plays. Wish I had a picture for that.

But, I do have a picture of my Mother playing with my daughter in the Jay McDonald's.

We both ordered regular coffees, since the Espresso machine was being cleaned (happens between 2-3pm, if you're ever in Jay!). I like 4 creamers, 4 Splendas. She opted for 3 creamers, and only 1 Splenda, just to give it a try. And cookies! McDonald's has cookies now!

Simplify Your Holidays, if you want...

2009-10-30T17:33:00.003-05:00

So, upon recommendation of a much wiser and cooler mom than me (Starts with Jo, ends with Anna Reid...), I'm reading a book called "Living Simply with Children." I got it last night and read the last chapter first to testify to my consumer-mentality...can't wait to finish something, you know? Turns out it was the most timely chapter, though, as it advises on how to actually do what you really want to do to celebrate Christmas and not a thing more or less. Of course, I always wanna get my friends to do this stuff with me! So, if you're interested, the first step to a simpler Christmas is to do some Soul Searching, says the book. Here are the questions you're supposed to ask yourself and your family:

1. What did you love most about Christmas as a child? sights, smells, sounds, feelings
2. What do you enjoy about Christmas now?
3. What do you want your focus to be during the holidays?
4. Describe your "perfect" Christmas.
5. What aspects of Christmas do you truly dislike? Possibilities here might include in-law gift exchange, the whole Christmas card ordeal (amen!), traveling to three relatives' homes on Christmas Eve. Then again, these may be your favorites.

Then, you're supposed to summarize all this into two lists of "Keep/Add" & "Get Rid Of/Change".

Some websites, if you're curious:

http://www.simpleliving.org/
www.adbusters.org
www.simplifytheholidays.org
http://www.newdream.org/holiday/index.php
I'd be interested to know how any of my friends are 'simplifying' this year. And I'll post what we come up with.

Potential Career Paths i.e. Ways You May Find Me Embarassing Myself:

2009-10-22T05:25:00.006-05:00

So, mostly this is just a list for me to keep all the latest Dreameries in my head straight. They are more "Dreameries" than "Dreams" in that they are being Dreamed, like at Cold Stone, the Cream is being Creamed and is therefore a Creamery...

These are all the things I could be...someday...or someday sooner than that. These are things I'm thinking about doing so often that they make me sick that I'm not doing them. So I will write them down in hopes that maybe it will make something happen.

So, I guess I should come out with the fact that I've decided me and the Two Year Old need some time apart. He has demonstrated his willingness to move on by his sudden interest in three-year-old blondes. Sylvie, Azura, and now Sicily (he has a thing for unusual names, apparently, as well) have all been subject to his amorous attention--being followed around a room, randomly held against their will in a side bear-hug, and in Sicily's case, a relentless desire to feed her grapes and popcorn. Many a poor girl has received my judgemental SAHM-eye when telling me they just "can't imagine staying home" and to them, I would like to say, I'm kind of sorry. I'm sorry because NOW I feel you, but also, I'm kind of annoyed still by you that you didn't even give it a try, at least get to know your kid a bit before you decide they'd make you miserable, but then again, maybe its better not to go there...? but all judgemental eyes aside, I am ready for some (this phrase makes me kinda queasy to eek out) Me Time.

Part of what helped me conclude this: I left Anderson with Amanda and her two girls on Tuesday to take Berea to a dr's appointment and when I got back he was FINE. Can you believe it? Approx. 5 hours away and Nothing Happened. Except a trip to the park, a walk around the block, sidewalk chalk hopscotching, and apparently an encounter with a Dinosaur, he later shared with us at dinner. And he seemed so happy when I got home!

Ahem. Dreameries. Here goes.
Hem Me In. The name of a sewing shop I want to open in downtown Siloam. The name is taken from Psalm 139. I imagine starting out doing alterations, etc. with the hopes of designing and sewing Clothes I Would Wear. And hopefully, you would too. If you're a girl. Ideally, the shop would be a little sliver of a building in between two other shops. To further illustrate the name, see. And how fun would it be to also pedal interesting/vintage/rare fabric outta there? Ok, so this is the dream that is currently closest to my heart and furthest from my reach. But me and this dream: we're in love. And I could probably do this with minimal Other People Raising My Kids.

Beauty School Not-Drop-Out. I really only kinda want to do this, so that's why I emphasize not dropping out. But I can see myself talking to lots of different gals all day long and making them like their hair. And getting to smell all those chemicals and perfumes all day. I walked into Sally's the other day, and you'd think I opened the door to a bakery, it made me so happy. Meghan, my sweet friend with superior hair and hair-fixing supplies, appeared to become ill. Also, I hear they make lotsa money, even tips during school. Cash, as Anderson calls it. So, I can imagine Jesse bringing the babies by the shop in the evening and him asking, "Mommy Cash? Mommy Cash? Muffin!" Cause they would be on their way to the coffee shop, of course.

So, my options here are to put both babies in some form of daycare. EeeK. And probably an unfamiliar form, as we will probably rely on government funding to be able to afford it. Double EeeK. And I still really can't imagine doing this with Berea. She is only eight months old and I don't think I'm ready to let someone else see her first steps, hear her first words, etc. Ugh, I miss her already, thinking about it. Does anyone know of any bring-your-baby-to-beauty-school programs? As I mentioned earlier, I think Anderson would actually enjoy being away from Momma some during the day, but Berea's just hitting Stranger Anxiety stage, and I think it would be No Fun for either of us.

Some of you knew about me wanting to be a teacher. I don't know what grade, really, but I was thinking maybe Kindergarten or 3rd and so I looked into the JBU Advance Education program and it turns out I have a GPA of 1.6. Eek, how embarassing. Anyway, obviously, I have some classes to re-take in order to be admissable into that program. It would be a pretty ideal schedule, just one or two nights a week away from home for a couple years. And I guess my options are to take the classes I need to make up (about 9) at the UofA or NWACC. This is probably my most respectable option, as far as education, I'm just having a hard time with the long-termed-ness of the plan. While it would provide for some out-of-the-house time, it wouldn't provide immediate income, which is a desperate need around here.

Also, I thought about just getting a plain ol' jobby job. Hobby Lobby offers $10 an hour and would maybe hire me this time of year. Again, is it worth the time away from the fam?

Also, I have a Mary Kay business that is sinking fast. I wish I knew how to get my poor friends to make me rich. But it just ain't happenin. Sorry, Mary, you did your best. I, on the other hand, probably did not.

Hmmm...what else, in the dreamery...OH, if I were a teacher, when I became a teacher, I thought it would be fun to write and illustrate children's books in the summer. Using stories and photographs I'd taken of my kids that year. I guess I could be doing this already?

One last dream: a little bakery. That delivered desserts at all hours of the night. This one developed while watching "Stranger than Fiction," probably late at night.

I would love to hear my sincere friends' sincere thoughts on these early morning meanderings. Thank you.

Four

2009-03-25T19:38:00.003-05:00

The number four is on our microwave's digital screen right now. Sometimes I'm a wierdo and notice numbers everywhere and think they mean something. Maybe now is one of those times. That I'm a wierdo and/or that a number means something...Anyway, I was thinking, before I noticed the number four, that I was breathing deeper, from somewhere different than I'm usually breathing from lately. And it's not even bedtime yet. It is directly related to the fact that Berea was fussy 20 minutes ago after having been fed and nothing was seeming to de-fuss her. Which is usually the case. And previously around this time of night, Jesse and I would take turns attempting to bounce, sway and variously position her in whatever chair that did whatever thing that the last one didn't do until I'd end up feeding her more. Which I don't really mind, most of the time. But the truth is, it is hard being absolutely subject to the desire/need of another person. I really just wanted to clean the kitchen a little, to help Jesse, who's been doing it nightly for a while now, to help me. I can't tell you the joy these tiny little breaths I'm feeling against my tummy, that deeper place I'm breathing from, is bringing me. It's an amazing feeling being able to give peace to someone in anguish. Or maybe that's me--when I can't give the peace--anguishing. Anyway, Praise the Lord, and thank you Jesus, for answering our prayers (mine were less than hopeful) that Berea would have a good night and that Anderson would be healed...oh yeah, our family member #3 has had vomitosis since last night. And its just sad. Also really runny, horrible smelling poo that makes his bum and anything else it touches red. So so sad. But he seemed a little ornery after dinner, so we think he's healed. We fed him BRAT today (for non-mommys that's Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, and Toast--separately of course). He is very good at saying "ICE" meaning Rice. He also has a word for "Medicine" which sounds like plural Mommy: "Mommeeece". He's a big fan of the purple equate tylenol. And Berea weighed 8 pounds, 2 oz today! She was weighed at our WIC appointment. I am so pushing my luck being still this long--usually she needs to be moving while in the carrier to simulate her womb experience, I suppose.
I just wanted to record a day in our lives that seemed pretty chaotic and hard at first, but has turned out good, leaving me more hopeful than not. So whenever I'm whining about whatever next thing I'll be whining about, feel free to remind me of this day. AMEN. Or "Anem" as Anderson would say.

2009-02-27T14:21:00.008-06:00

I love when Anderson plays with my engagement/wedding ring as I read to him. It has six diamonds on it, all spread out across three different strands of white gold criss-cross. I've wondered what the significance of the six diamonds are but more than anything, I just found it to be oddly beautiful. I knew I wanted it the second I saw it and I didn't even know the price tag--I just knew I wanted it. Similarly, I knew I wanted Jesse very soon after meeting him, maybe when I finally 'saw' him--a part of him that felt like only I could see and appreciate and that made me want to make him mine. Listening to the JUNO soundtrack he bought me for Christmas, this morning, I heard a line, "Remembering when we first met...I knew I wanted to make you my pet..." and the girl's sweet, sultry twang made the pet allusion fine with me. It seems so long since I've seen him like that. There are glimpses...yesterday, during his lunch hour we were driving on 412 and I glanced at the side of his cheek and saw his blue-grey-green eyes with the feathery blondish brown lashes rimming them and wanted to just keep looking. I told him he was beautiful and that was all I could say.

And then we had one of our worst fights we've ever had last night. The one word I'd use to describe it: ugly. Very, very ugly. Things were said by both of us that we wish we could visit Lacuna and have removed. Maybe more so we can forgive ourselves than so the other person could forgive us. During the Outreach Women's Prayer meeting, so much encouragement was poured over me and our family in prayer. Among the words spoken was Psalm 103. God doesn't just forgive the sins we repent from. He forgives all our iniquities. As far as the East is from the West, so far has He removed them from us. If He kept a record of wrongs WHO could stand?? But with Him, there is forgiveness, and therefore He is feared. It is somewhat the sentiment of Jonah: "I Knew you were a gracious and merciful God and that you were slow to anger...and that you would forgive..." This brought sorrow to Jonah, because he wanted Ninevah to be punished so badly. In spite of all the crap my relatives threw at me, I've never related to Jonah so much as I have since I've been married. This person that you love teaches you constantly that you do not love, but that you will and the way you know you're finally doing it is it will feel impossible. To forgive, to not count the sins, to not have each one repented over before opening wide my hand to take his--this is the Love that Jesus offers me and that Jesse needs from me. The thief on the cross who said, "Save me, when you come into your kingdom..." to Jesus couldn't have repented of each of his sins before saying that--the one act of asking for forgiveness was enough. Jesse asked me for this today, on the phone during his lunch hour. Probably around 24 hours from when I told him he was beautiful. I knew what his heart needed: an absolute, unconditional pardon. And I said I gave it, but that I thought we should talk about everything that went wrong so that we didn't do it again. But talking about the rules we broke, talking about what rules should be there next time never really helped anyone. It definitely never saved anyone--the law just reminds us that we're breaking it. The Spirit who brings life and peace is my only hope. I can't think about what I won't do next time. I can't make Jesse promise what he won't do next time. Our only hope is to be full enough of the Holy Spirit that we limit our own will in the moment to the extent that the forgiveness would eventually require anyway. These are jagged thoughts from a tired mind so if anyone has followed this to the end, your prayers are coveted more than anything and prayerful comments are welcome.

Anderson's Sleep Update

2009-01-31T06:32:00.003-06:00

Sorry, everyone, for the very detailed introduction to this issue and then the following weeks of silence. I guess life sometimes demand you live it w/ no time to document it. Thus, my memory of how things have been going is pretty foggy, but I do want to give a possible final account of our efforts. Anderson is going to sleep now with no protest, both at night and in the afternoons. And, when he wakes in the middle of the night (still an issue)--I've made myself get up, give him a bottle in case he's hungry and rock him, and lay him down back in HIS packnplay whether he's asleep yet or not. Last night, around 3 am this process ensued but I was so excited that he just had a tiny little whimper of a protest and then burrowed his nose in his blanket and curled his little knees under him and was back asleep before I left the room.

Alas, for the 1 oclock nap and bedtime we are completely dependent on the Youtube Elmo video and most times he falls asleep around the 15 minute mark where Elmo is bringing in his broken walkman to Luis and Maria, saying his little friend is sick. So...unless anyone has a digital copy of this thing, our future babysitters may be a little doomed. Until we can wean him of this as well. At first, he stayed awake during the whole thing and it was just an attempt at creating a 'winding down' atmosphere...something that would get him to be still for a bit. Then I'd take him into his room, read him a couple stories and then give him a bottle and and sing and then lay him down asleep. The whole thing was actually taking much longer than even our previous routine of singing and rocking with a bottle, BUT he was actually going to sleep 'on his own.' Now, it has replaced story time and singing time and all the traditional bedtime rituals. I am happy that for the past few times he hasn't needed a bottle--he just drinks a sippy of milk while he watches and then falls asleep on one of our laps and we lay him down after that. I am not happy that our baby falls asleep watching tv, basically. Not a habit I want to instill. And yet, it is Elmo. And 80s Elmo at that. So, I know it's not poisoning his brain or anything and I'm thankful that he's at least used to us laying him down and walking out.

So, thanks, Meghan, Sara, and Shannon for your comments and empathy--you girls were definitely ones I had hoped would read and relate to me on this! I'd love to hear more detailed accounts of anyone's experience, although, as I said earlier, most of us just have time to live this stuff and take a shower--not so much time for writing about it. One time saver I've discovered: bathing with Anderson at night w/ Bedtime Bath (the purple stuff). Bubbles!!!

No baby, no cry...

2009-01-15T13:13:00.003-06:00

Well, naptime today was almost too easy. We had had a pretty full morning and even visitors for lunch, so he must've been pooped. Mission accomplished! Right around 12:45 I let him start watching a Youtube Elmo video and right around when Luis starts trying to get Elmo to take a nap, Anderson started milling around and so I paused the video, offered him his blanket and sippy of milk and got Just in Case You Ever Wonder out. Instead of reading him every line, I just started naming the objects, especially the body parts and pointing. Before I was even done with the book, his eyes were closed! I finished, wondered if I should still sing and decided that he was probably asleep anyway and would miss it or that I should at least try to lay him down before he's all the way asleep. Well, I'm pretty sure he must've been all the way asleep cause there was zero protest. I did feed him both a banana and milk and I think they're both sleep-inducing...so that works! We'll see how long he sleeps and how bedtime goes!

Let's Hear it For Crying Out Loud!

2009-01-14T21:19:00.003-06:00

I said I'd keep people updated on this and so here we go...it's actually not as bad as I had anticipated.

Well, last night I pretty much caved and stayed in the room again. He cried when I laid him down awake and so I patted his back and then he got all giddy and started rolling around, cooing, playing with his blanket. He even stood up and held on to the side of the packnplay, grinning. This was not the idea I wanted him to get--just us chickens hangin out in the dark for fun. So I laid down on the bed which happens to be 6 inches from his packnplay. Then he started crying again, assuming correctly that if I were asleep, I am not so much available to him. So I sat up. I helped him lay down and I guess that little bit of crying got him tuckered and he seemed content to let me rub his back and as soon as I started singing (duh! He's used to going to sleep to the sound of my voice!) he was out. So not so bad, but not really going to sleep on his own, either.

Then today he fell asleep again in the car around naptime and stayed asleep as I carried him in to his bed.

But, tonight, Hallelujah, was the real deal! I hated it and dreaded it and probably dragged out our pre-bedtime routine longer than even Anderson wanted. It was already a late night cause we had company til almost 7 and then did the "Baaa" (Bath). Then we had book reading on the couch w/ sippy cup of milk and mommy and daddy. Then we had final book reading on my lap w/ blanket and bear. Then we had a couple of songs. And on song #2 he started closing his eyes and leaning back his head, so I pretty much had to take him in to his bed then. I laid him down. He knew what was up and was definitely not down. Like not down with being laid down not asleep. I talked to him in a normal voice and said basketball coach sounding things like, "I know you can do this!" and some mommy things, too. And I returned a second time w/ the Jesus Loves Me bunny (which I'm afraid was a grand mistake and will be the culprit in waking him in the middle of the night if I don't go fish it out of the packnplay before he accidentally lays on it) and he fell down and snuggled his blanket as soon as I was in there, as if to say, "Good! You're here! I can go to sleep now!" but alas, I had to turn around and walk right back out. And he cried. I sat in the rocking chair and began asking Jesse if he sounded sad or mad to him. I was sure it was sad. Jesse said he thought it was confused and he'd get that that's just what we did now, eventually. Before our conversation was up, he had stopped crying. I know it was no more than five minutes, if that. So all that to say, I'm still dreading doing it again tomorrow due to the ambiguous nature of baby emotions and whether I'm hurting his feelings or not being the question, but we will do it because he seems to be spending a lot less time with those hurt feelings and is deciding just to go to sleep anyway pretty quickly. And I just really trust the other moms I know who've done this and that they love their kids completely. Also, I trust the other moms who refuse to do this and that they love their kids completely as well. I'm kind of a fence rider here, if you haven't noticed. Mostly, I'm just trying to make it easier on the four of us since there will be four of us very, very soon.

AGONIZING ferberizing and baby-wising...

2009-01-13T13:14:00.003-06:00

Ok, I feel like I have to preclude this particular blog and my upcoming ones with the warning that this will be of absolutely no interest to anyone who isn't or hasn't had to put a baby to sleep before. I know, I never have time to blog, so there must be something in it for me, this time, right? Right. I need to know from all my mommy friends how they think I'm doing, how they did, etc. I know, wasn't I supposed to do this when Anderson was 3 months old or something? But, alas, I enjoyed rocking my baby and singing him my repertoire of bluegrass hits till he was blue in the face or at least asleep and holding him even a little after he'd fall asleep.* Sorry for the run-on sentence there, but it is a good illustration of why our nap and bedtime rituals have had to come to a screeching (and sobbing and wailing) halt. They started to just run on and on. The boy could stare out the window, at a quilt, even at the white walls for a very long time. I would have been through 4 Christmas Carols, 3 bluegrass songs and the traditional Eidelweiss and "It is Well" and he'd still be awake. So, at first it was a matter of convenience for me. Then it occurred to me that in less than 3 weeks, we'll be having our second child who will probably need fed, changed, and other life-sustaining activities performed for him or her. And Anderson's afternoon on Momma's lap will not be an option. So instead of him thinking its the other baby's fault or that we like it more, I figured I should help him learn to fall asleep by himself now rather than later. Also, I decided along with the new way of going to sleep, we'd eliminate the morning nap altogether making it more likely for him to be ready to sleep by 1. He definitely displays signs of tiredness around his usual naptime of 9 a.m., but we just keep going. Talk about running out of ideas for what to do with a 1 year old. Today I finally called some people with kids and convinced them either to come see us or let us come over during the morning time. I have relied way too heavily on Youtube's Wiggles selection and its ruining my headspace...last night Jesse and I were having an intimate moment on the couch and we both confessed that we had "Fruit Salad...Yummy, Yummy!!!" going through our heads.

So, I officially started yesterday, and this is how it's gone so far, as recorded in my written journal:

January 12, 2009 (Anderson's 15 month birthday!!!) Afternoon nap, around 1 p.m.
I waited first 3 minutes then went in and comforted him and then five minutes and went in and brought his 'womb sounds' teddy bear, but without it being turned on. I thought I'd go back in 10 minutes but right around 10, he was settling down and I diddn't want to get him started again. I can't decide fi going in just gives him false hope or makes him know I'm around and provides security. It was just hard because after only 2 oz milk in a bottle and 2 songs he was almost asleep on my lap (in his usual facing-out position across the pregnant belly) but I didn't want him to fall asleep on me* so I laid him in his crib and just as I was about to lay him in, he cried... so a total of 25 minutes, I think it took for him to cry himself to sleep. I guess this is how you do it, but it sucks. It just doesn't seem fair to expect him to 'get himself to sleep' when I've been doing for 15 months. But it will be virtually impossible for him to get to sleep if I have to do it around our next baby's schedule...This is excruciating and nauseating --Jesse's saw woke up the baby and now we're starting over getting him to sleep. I went in and his face was soaked with tears. So I patted his back and touched his face probably for about 5 minutes and then left and as soon as I got up to leave, he started crying again. It seems like he's saying "WHY???!!!" And I don't know what to do. It was 2:35 when I left the room. I'll go back in 5 min. He already seems to be calming down but I think I still hear him. I still hate going back and getting his hopes up. I guess I need to find my books an really pore over them and seeif I can learn something. Well, he was asleep again at 2:40. He woke up crying around 3:20 and I just decided naptime would be over then. I was so glad to just hold him and he fell asleep for a few minutes in my arms but I knew he needed to stay up til bedtime, so I brought him out to see Jesse and he reached for his daddy as soon as he saw him.

Bedtime, 7:45 p.m.
I read to him with him on my lap, starting at 7:12. We'd already had dinner and a warm bath and even a little bit of a warm shower, which always makes him yawn, and then animal crackers and a little milk. He doesn't like drinking milk from a sippy cup because he associates it with going to sleep. He only wants it in a bottle and when he's sleepy. Thus, my hesitancy to get rid of the bottle right now. Next time I will not have the bottle visible at all during reading time because the whole time he just kept pointing to it and whining for it and not enjoying the reading at all. I gave in and gave it to him (only 2 oz, since I knew he wasn't actually needing the milk for nutritional purposes) and then read some more. He actually looks at the pictures of the little board book version of 'Just in Case You Ever Wonder' by Max Lucado. He seems really comforted by it. I've been reading it to him since he was born and we happened to get it at the same garage sale we found our bassinett at. He was still fussy, though and kept pointing to the empty bottle, so I gave in and gave him 4 oz more. After the last bottle and some singing, he was almost asleep so I carried him to his crib, already protesting. I left from 8:35-8:40 and went back and touched, kissed, rubbed his face and started praying over him aloud. He collapsed onto his blanket and tried to go to sleep with me there, seemingly comforted by at least that. Then I left before his eyes were closed, thinking I don't want him to need me HERE to fall asleep. Immediate crying again. While I was awaiting that 5 minutes to pass, I happened to find the "Cry It Out Trauma" heading in What to Expect the Toddler Years and rushed back in to him. The article said that particular baby was horrified at even the mention of a nap or sleep and that had happened after having to 'cry it out' and their advice for that mother was to just stay with her but not to pick her up so that she gets over her fear more gradually. I was ecstatic this was ok w/ them and decided to do it. This time, though, although I stayed doing my usual touching, caressing, patting mommy stuff, he just stood and looked out over his packnplay almost as if he was so deliriously frightened that he was looking for someone else besides me. Also, he may have thought I would just leave as soon as he laid down again, as I had previously done. He's a smart boy, people. Finally, when I turned on the 'womb-sounds' bear he fell down beside it and after two times of sitting up to see that I was still there, he stayed laying beside the bear and let me rub his back til he fell asleep--probaby no more than 3 minutes.

January 13, 2009
Fell asleep in car around 12:10 p.m. on way back from dropping Jesse off at work and going to the park for 10 minutes. Stayed asleep, even as I got him out of the car and laid him in his crib. I kinda got off easy this time, although, I don't want this to be the habit by any means. He didn't officially have lunch, even, just some triscuits and cheese around 11:15, intended to hold him over. It is 2:15 and he's still asleep. I am so not looking forward to tonight and maybe should have spent some time looking for our copy of Babywise during this naptime but I really wanted to have some opinions/advice on this subject as soon as possible. So, I'll keep everyone posted!

Last Summer on the Farm...

2008-04-28T20:13:00.004-05:00

The bed is in the room. So is everything else. I should take a picture. Our rechargeable batteries are uncharged and I fear the phone's pictures will never find their way out, so I'll just describe it for now. My main conclusion is that the room is so much bigger than I thought it was. I thought the bed would take up more than half the room, but it's probably just a third. The room is a nice minty green color, although the sample calls it "Weathered Copper."

I'm talking about our new abode, in case someone needs caught up. We recently moved to a farm in Colocord, Oklahoma, to live with our friend Naomi's parents, for approximately 1 year, since Jesse's job assignment is now in Siloam Springs. Breathe....

Which is what it feels a lot easier to do, now that I can go be in my own room for the first time since we've been here...well, we could be in it, but it was void of a 'proper' ceiling, floor, or anything else when we first came (again, pictures would have helped). Just uninhabitable. But with an amazing view. Which is why I asked if we could have that room in the first place. I went in, it was obviously the 'extra' room, without a floor and only a few patches of drywall on the walls, and full of items meant for the impending garage sale. But all I could see was the perfect view of the pasture and the little goats right out there, less than 20 feet away. I think I have mentioned these goats before, but I really do remain impressed with their presence. Today I had a goat encounter, actually.

Moving Day

2008-04-23T06:56:00.003-05:00

I just looked at my phone and noticed it's April 23rd, my biological dad's birthday. And while I couldn't feel more estranged from him, I saw the look of a dad in Bruce's eyes as he spoke of how he and Audrey wanted us to come and be in their home for this coming year. Yesterday, my prayer with Laura was centered on the fact that Jesus came to introduce us to His Father and and invite us into the middle of their relationship..."that tHE LOv E YOU HAvE for Me may be in them" John 18, maybe?

Well, I was there when you were torn apart
Now a piece of you is gone
Somehow you wish that you could only find
A little strength to carry on
You've tried so hard to make it on your own
That your heart has come undone
So I am here to prove that I alone
Have the power to overcome
Don't let your heart be troubled
This world will never keep you down
It will never keep you down
So rise up, my friend
No, this will never be the end
So rise up, my friend
And live again
I didn't want you to feel this way
It's not what life was meant to be
And so for you, my friend, I'll take your shame
You can give it all to me
'Cause you've wrestled demons every day
And they've dragged you to your knees
But in your weakness you will learn to find
That I will always be your strength
In life or in death
Through joy or regret
And all of the secret things you have done
No matter what comes, my friend
Nothing can keep you from the love of God

A song I just heard for the first time that I'd like to dedicate to those of us who fear our secrets are darker than the blood on His side. Including my biological dad.

2008-03-25T14:16:00.002-05:00

"Um, yeah, hi. My wife just ran over a boulder..." That was the beginning of Jesse's conversation with the Sears guy yesterday.

It was true. So very, very true. I went running at Lake Fayetteville after inhaling way too much Walgreen's 50% off Easter candy (1 chocolate covered marshmallow egg, 1 caramel cadbury egg, and an entire 5-pack of Vanilla Creme filled hershey's kisses...[which by the way, were the best of the three entrees, and i should have just been happy with those alone],not to mention all the mini cadbury eggs I'd had before even leaving home. the old fashioned chocolatey, canned milk tasting ones. I really really like them. Confession time is over now.) And when I got done I had about 15 minutes to get the car back to Jesse so he could get to class on time. So, as I was backing out of a parking lot, I didn't look over my shoulder. For the boulder. The air literally hissed out of my tire immediately and I could pull neither forward nor backward. This is starting to sound very dr seussian...

Our friend Steve went all the way from Springdale to pick up Jesse in Fayetteville and bring him to me. And then Jesse changed the tire without a single reprimand or complaint. I showed Anderson the daffodils. I wished for an upclose picture of his hands reaching out for them. I know he just does that to everything right now, no matter if its my chin, a cup of coffee, or the cell phone (especially the cell phone)--he isn't selective, he just wants it and then he just wants to taste it.

Spring is gorgeous here. Today we took the jogging stroller outside for the first time, he and I. It was very windy and I had to jog backwards some, so as not to blast him. He promptly fell asleep and missed all the scenery, but again, I wished for a camera. Overhead snowballs that will soon become "Just Trees" and tons and tons of Forsythia, Hydrangea, and Daffodils of course... I noticed mostly purple and yellow and wondered if there's something significant or scientific about those two colors being the most prominent ones of our Arkansas Spring. Is it the same everywhere else? It made me think of Gold and Purple and how they point to Royalty, the message of Easter, the message of a King.

those links

2008-03-18T14:38:00.002-05:00

how sad that apparently you can't create a link to youtube videos in these blogs. The best I can do is tell you they were all videos by this very funny Christian Owen-Wilson looking character named Stephen Hawkins. You should totally watch them, as my last blog was very much an excuse to introduce you to them. Just cut and paste these into the YouTube search box:

Stephen Hawkins Homeschool Family

Stephen Hawkins I Don't Drink Beer

Stephen Hawkins Cletus Take the Reel

Josh, I especially feel you'll appreciate Cletus Take the Reel.

I disabled the paragraph function on this blog. You will now be subjected to how things actually sound in my head.

2008-03-14T10:57:00.009-05:00

What exactly is the point of a blog? A card catalog comes to mind. This antiquated piece of furniture with a million cards with a million headings all leading to different chapters of information contained in one building. "We read in order to find we are not alone."-C. S. Lewis
It was in red, laminated letters above the chalk board at the front of the room in my favorite high school English teacher's class. So simple, so true. I think my blogs are more like the back issues of my brain--things I should maybe throw away but might want to look at again someday, or better yet, someone else might! Probably this metaphor springs from my friend Beth's idea of having a magazine swap. I think it's a lovely idea, as we are needing to downsize considerably. Magazines, books, and dishes are the two things we seem to allow ourselves to accumulate incessantly. There would be room for neither in the home we are considering moving to for a year. It is a community-living situation which would be amazing in some aspects--its out in the country, on a farm, basically. Goats, cows, horses, doggies--you name the See & Say Character, it will probably answer you with its respective sound. It isn't by any means decided upon, just something we need everyone to pray for the right thing to happen for all involved. Wow. I'm becoming more and more like my husband every day. I just got really annoyed at him the other day for breaking this news to Josh & Meghan first thing after they got here. I explained how I felt it made things that were a really big deal seem a little anti-climactic for me and he explained how he just really hates drama. So I get it. And apparently, it's getting me...
I went for a jog today. I piece together blogs in my head on most jogs and thought I should rename my blog "Blog & Jog." Jogging is the one time of my day I get away from (usually) everyone and can "think a thought" as my friend Beth would say. Anne made it possible for me to go. I called her up out of the blue and asked if I could drop off Anderson while I ran (she's usually my running buddy, so she knows how much i love/need it). I came back to her holding him on her hip and talking on the phone--he as calm as a duck on a pond. I was going to say as calm as a pond. But I really didn't want to compare my baby to a pond. Anyway, she takes me into the living room and showed me how she entertained him the whole time--she had put a fuzzy blanket down and draped four of her pretty scarves onto the blades of the ceiling fan and turned it on. I wanted so badly to take a picture, as it would illustrate nicely the kind of girl she is. These were nice scarves, probably some of her favorites. Anne is like this hidden jewel of a person who I'd never expect to find in Fayetteville--just not stereotypical in any way, is what I mean. I often wonder how I am so lucky to know the people I know--it's like God just hits the stumbleupon button in their lives and they get http://www.christineneedsafriend.org/ NOT a real website there, at least I'm not clicking on it! Anyway, I do have a plethora of gorgeous, intelligent, GIVING friends and often I wonder what I could possibly do to bless them. This actually brings up another subject that I started thinking about again...Beauty School. If I went to the one in West Siloam, it would actually be called Beauty College. I can't wait to post a picture of the sign. It conveys so much more than I could with words. Although I guess it consists of words. Anyway. Before I thought about the Mary Kay thing, I thought the one way to keep in contact with lots of different types of people would be to cut their hair. Everyone talks to their hairstylist, whether they're friends or not. How much cooler if you were friends already? Plus its something you could do practically in your house. I think technically you need a little building that can get inspected or something. But that would totally be something to do with a baby or even a little family of homeschooled children. (Plus, I'm already dying to cut my hair again, and it would probably be good if I learned the tricks of cutting it without it growing back in two weeks. Anyway. So, as I was saying, I went on a jog today. So pretty. Chirps and squirrels and everything budding. It looked like English Countryside, maybe. All dark green grass and foggy. My husband says there's no such thing as English Countryside. "That's Ireland," he says. I observed several people are celebrating St. Patrick's Day with little door hangings, lawn rocks, etc...I didn't know anyone really celebrated it any other way than drinking beer. And so I don't celebrate it, because I Don't Drink Beer. Catalina and Lay and me and Jesse are gonna go fishing someday . That's all. It's Friday!!! It's Sunny!!! And there's a couch in our front yard. I should at least push it to the back yard, maybe? I got an idea while in the shower earlier...you know how there's a freecycle? I was thinking there should be a 'favor-trade' website. Like, I could get someone to watch Anderson and then in return, I could clean their microwave or something. I'm really good at cleaning microwaves, and I know nobody really likes that job. I guess it's something you'd only do with friends, though, so maybe it could be a private website in which you had to have an invitation to join. And maybe that stuff is supposed to be a little more organic and spontaneous, not like going shopping? Any thoughts?

2008-03-03T21:24:00.002-06:00

Go look at my pictures or you're in trouble!

2008-03-03T21:12:00.000-06:00

Jesse got me these yellow tulips with his birthday money. I guess I really liked them cause I took a few pictures...

2008-03-03T21:10:00.000-06:00

Meghan Walton Rocks
She made Jesse's Birthday (cup)Cake... And then I ate most of it. It was throwing itself at me! Isn't it pretty though? She has really really good taste, in my opinion. We even like the same ballet flats at wal-mart.

Foiled by lack of aluminum muffin pan

2008-03-03T20:56:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure what this blog is about. I've been away so long, you'd think I'd come back with a bit more substantial of a post. What's more substantial than breakfast, though? I think the technical answer is 'every other meal thereafter.' Whatever. You get this because I have pictures that go with it. Because I am a dork and like to chronicle my cooking mishaps (via the digital camera from Meghan!) to show my husband when he gets home. Actually, it's worse than that. I just like taking pictures of food. Jesse usually makes it look so pretty, it feels like a present.
So I take a picture of my present before I eat it. In this case, I was taking a picture of the present I made for him. So I started this new thing where I cook all I need to cook for the week all at once. Probably the thing that wouldn't work for most people about it is we don't mind eating basically the same thing all the time. For dinner, I just cook the tube o' ground turkey with some onions and a taco seasoning packet and we eat it with spinach and baked doritos and whatever else we have to make 'Taco Salad.' For lunch, I make the tuna salad ahead and peel the carrots and cut up the broccolli. This week, I made semi-hummus for the vegetable dip instead of ranch. It's basically all the same stuff in hummus only with yogurt instead of the tahini, making it low-fat. Oh my gosh, I'm already annoying myself by talking about food this long. I just really wanted to make fun of myself. Breakfast. Last week we had Baked Oatmeal Mini Muffins and Quiche Mini Muffins. This week I made the Oatmeal ones all precisely and they turned out great. I spent all this time measuring exactly 1 tsp. of sausage into those little silicone muffin cups and then 1/8 cup of egg mixture and 1 little chunk of ff cream cheese and upon trying to place it on a rack, it sloshed all over itself like drunkgirl. Or like drunkgirl were making it.
So, after that happened, I did a little stompy dance in the kitchen and figured I sortof deserved it for being so concerned with the little egg muffins. Then I poured it all into a pyrex pie pan and it turned out to be a perfectly pretty quiche. Yay. I just really like making things into mini versions of themselves. Bites. I think it's because I tell myself I'll just have a bite of something and that's it. I do like all the various "Bites" there are out there. Chick fil A chickn minis are an amazing example. And we're back to breakfast. "What about Second Breakfast? And Elevensies?" "I don't think he knows about Second Breakfast, Pip."

We need to be Beautiful because He Is

2008-02-12T13:22:00.001-06:00

The Weight of Glory by C.S. Lewis

To explain why I named my blog this...

2008-02-11T18:06:00.000-06:00

I have every Monday night free because my husband has a class. Up until tonight, I would frantically call every contact in my phone over the age of 5 and under the age of 65. Or clean between the stove and the cabinet. Or bake something I would say is 'for someone else' and then eat well over half of it. All while watching really bad tv. I think Monday night tv is really bad tv. Monday night tv is the bowling alley of tv nights. Shows that get to be on air only when football season is over and there's no where else for them to hang out.

I spend the first 8 hours a day with my gorgeous little boy, Anderson Judah, and after he goes to bed, I'm pretty desperate for anyone to talk to that likes it when I actually connect the syllables I'm speaking into words.

So, those Contacts are only usually half of them home and even fewer of them feeling at all chatty like me. So I decided to be chatty by myself and maybe give everyone a chance to catch up with me at once and post a few pictures and thoughts. The reason I've never done this before, though, is my overwhelming sense that it would be vanity. Turning little things into big things. I have quite the capacity for this vice. Today, I took 25 pictures of myself and my new haircut. I did cut it myself. I did mean to cut the bangs that short. It took around 4.3 minutes to cut but I probably stared at the mirror wondering if I would do it for 4.3 days total. Vanity, vanity, a chasing after the wind! That's my vague recollection of Ecclesiastes.
So, since I cut my hair yesterday morning, I really had nothing left to do on Monday nights. Other than the above mentioned activities, plus any number of unfinished projects laying around, and plenty of laundry and cleaning. Thus, Monday's Child is born.

I had some vague recollection of one of my relatives saying that I was born on a Monday, so I did official calculation.

Then, I remembered "Wednesday's child is full of woe" so I wondered if Monday's child was full of anything better. Here's the whole poem:

Monday's child is fair of face;
Tuesday's child is full of grace;
Wednesday's child is full of woe;
Thursday's child has far to go;
Friday's child is loving and giving;
Saturday's child works hard for a living;
The child that is born on the Sabbath day,
Is bonny, and blithe, and good, and gay.

Turns out, I am fair of face. Ivory 100, the lightest one there is, is my Mary Kay foundation match. To celebrate my new do, I did my face, too, with some MK starter kit makeup. I felt pretty in a grown-up sort of way after I put it on. I haven't worn foundation since 9th grade. As I was saying, vanity!!!