Monday: ...the Bad, and the Ugly.

So on the way to my shopping triumph yesterday, I had the chance to visit unfamiliar parts of town. My GPS completely failed me, insisting that I drive THROUGH a neighborhood park to get to a road that had no simple substitute. So I meandered through the winding neighborhood roads of Chestnut Hill.

As I drove through the genteel neighborhoods made of graceful single-family homes on well-manicured expanses of land, I felt a wave of envy sweep over me like I've never experienced before. I felt flush, and broke out in goose-bumps. Everything was lovely. The neighborhoods projected safety. Security. Permanence. Wealth. Impeccable schools. And I wanted it all. Verdant athletic fields. Rambling playgrounds. I wanted it. Badly.

And then I started passing the private schools. The palaces of education with every educational innovation and luxury. There were no barriers or inconveniences there. Just every extracurricular you can dream of. Lacrosse? Got it. Field hockey? Rowing? Fencing? Diving? Check, check, and check. Music? Check. Art? Check. Drama? Check.

It reminded me that Boston is flush with money. Well, the tony suburbs are. There is a standard of living here that we will never have. If we lived in Texas or Minnesota, we would have a single family home on a lush green lawn. If we lived somewhere else, we wouldn't be subjected to the vagaries of the BPS lottery. We wouldn't have to choose between schools with music and schools with art. We could get music, art, and athletics at the same school. One in our neighborhood.

Other people have it all. I wanted it all, too. I wanted everything that they had. I was nearly crying with envy.

It was bad. It was ugly.

And then I felt the shame.

I was driving my girls to go shopping. Sure, I'm always looking to get a bargain, but I never have to choose between buying food or clothing. Medicine or heat. Paying for opportunities for one child, but not the other. I don't have to make hard decisions about money. We are not poor. We have all that we need, and plenty to share.

To be envious is to be ungrateful for what we do have. And we have a lot. I forget that sometimes.

For shame.

I think it's ok to wish for better, especially when it's wishing for better for your family. That's what parents do. It's our job. But I wasn't wishing. I was coveting. And for that, I'm very ashamed.

I'm thankful for brief flashes of perspective. I pray that I can keep the perspective as the year goes forward. I'm going to a BPS meeting on Thursday night to hear about proposed rezoning to change the schools available for us in the lottery. It will bring up issues of educational disparity, money, race, class... All ugly topics.

I have to keep reminding myself that we have so much. We have so much. We don't have prep schools. We don't have an expansive verdant lawn topped by a multimillion dollar home. If God thought we needed one, we would. So I pray for contentedness. And I will continue to pray. And pray. And pray...

Making Up For Lost Time

Whew. It's been almost a week since I last posted. It was a whirlwind week.

My parents were visiting from West Texas for a week, and left this morning. We had a lot of lost time to make up. We only see each other a few times a year. And with the girls as young as they are, 6 months between visits is a lot of time passed. That results in a different child at each visit. So there's a lot to do. There's a lot of "Pawpaw Monster" game to squeeze into every day.

The girls call my parents Pawpaw and Nana. The Pawpaw Monster game involves a lot of roaring, squealing, running, roughhousing, and bouncing on the bed. It's exhausting for everyone but the girls. They just can't get enough. I'm surprised my Dad still has a voice after all of the roaring he did this week... The girls were pretty nonchalant this morning when my parents went to the bus stop to head to the airport. They were perfectly content to resume our regular Monday schedule. But this evening after dinner, when they couldn't play Pawpaw Monster, and Nana wasn't available to read stories, the tears started to flow. You can't blame them. We need more Nana and Pawpaw in our lives.

But we made the most of our week. We went camping. We took my parents to Nickerson State Park on the Cape to introduce them to camping without 100+ degree heat, snakes, scorpions, or clouds of bugs. The weather was mild, sunny, and relatively bug-free. Well, after the first day of non-stop deluge, that is... When we first got there, God had turned on the spigot, and the rain was tropical in nature - falling hard and steadily. For hours. We looked at the radar on our iPhones, determined that the rain wasn't stopping soon, and went to go grocery shopping and find some dinner, where I had the best fried scallops of my life. We did get a good chance to see where the rivers flowed through the campsite when it rained. That's always a good thing. The rain did stop long enough to let us set up camp before nightfall. Which was also good. We were pitching our new ginormo-tent for the first time. It sleeps 6, and has an attached garage. Yes, a garage. The dogs' kennels fit well in there, as was a good weather-proof place to store just about everything else. Thankfully, the first day was the only rain we saw. The girls were in heaven. The park had a playground, and we had our own private swimming beach right off our site. Which was also very good. Our attempts at sightseeing around the Cape were thwarted by lack of parking. Even after Labor Day. It reminded us why we don't make it to the Cape often...

This tent is ginormous.

Our campsite was right on a pond, with our own private beach!

After our Cape camping adventure, we took the family apple-picking. And peach-picking. It was a gloriously beautiful day. We got a bushel of apples, both Honeycrisp and Cortlands. Then we picked peaches, because we just couldn't help ourselves. The girls had a blast. My parents got to check something off their wish list. We made applesauce. Four batches, so far... Yum...

Apples!

Peaches!

The next day, we went to church. And BestestHusband and my Dad smoked a brisket. We had Ally, Brian's second-cousin and our closest family member, over for dinner. We made fresh peach daiquiris, and ate out on the patio. Yum. 

It was a great week. We had a lot to do this week, and did most of it. But now we have more lost time to make up for. Time to do laundry. Time to finish cleaning the camping gear. Time to get ready for a Ruth House event. Time to plan HeyMama's birthday party. Time to continue our other basics of daily life. Back to the grind. 

It was good while it lasted. But now it's 1am. I spent the evening cleaning my kitchen and floors, catching up on laundry and email, and trying to feel like I'm in control of my life again. Reality has come crashing in. I return to work at 8am tomorrow, with a string of evaluations to complete and write up. So I should sleep now...

I hope you had a good week. I hope this next one is even better!

Stewardship Sunday on Monday Again

Wow, what a week. The whole week was a huge gift. The vacation was much-needed, and much enjoyed. It was worth every penny to hear HeyMama say, "I'm going to go outside and run around with my cousins." And since they live in St. Louis, MO and Fairbanks, AK, it takes a few pennies to gather them all together. Yet, still, it was totally worth it.


We returned home to find that our garden had exploded. The pole beans finally decided to climb their poles. The lettuce was trying to race it to the sky. The herbs were elbowing the tomato plants for space. The jalapeños were thick and plentiful. Hot sun and lots of rain will do that, I suppose...

Garden bounty:  basil, jalapeños, and zucchini cake

It's a lot of basil! The pot's just there because it's pretty...

BestestHusband uprooted the peppermint to make more room for the spearmint. We have a lot of mint...

Food waste: We left some produce for Miss Ashley (our beloved daycare teacher/dogsitter/housesitter/babysitter) to eat. She did not eat the produce. MISS ASHLEY, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO EAT THE PRODUCE!!! So we had some fruit go bad. She did help eat some of the garden. So I give her credit for that. On vacation, we made a valiant effort to keep from wasting any leftovers from a week of 3 meals/day x 12 people. I think we deserve credit for that. And we're working very hard to use/preserve the crazy amounts of herbs we brought in from the garden. OH, and we composted at the lake house! Does that earn us bonus points?

Money: Vacation is not cheap. But we cooked most of our own meals (we went out one night with the whole family, and BestestHusband and I went out one night just by ourselves - with coupons), which helps with 12 people. We shopped all of the grocery sales in advance, thanks to my detail-oriented mother-in-law.

Patience: It's easy to be patient when you're on vacation. 

M&Ms: There was a bag of plain M&Ms on vacation. I was too busy eating other yummy stuff to care much. 

Time: We got family time, couple time, 1:1 kid time, and even lots of alone time. The whole week was time well spent, in my mind. 


This week is proving already to be a tough reality check. Sigh. Back to reality. But it was definitely worth it!


How was your week?

Camping with Preschoolers

We went camping with the girls for the first time this weekend, and it was a big hit. 


Now, let me clarify what "camping" means in this context: 

• We drove across the state.
• We drove into the woods.
• We pitched a tent.
• We cooked dinner over a campfire.
• We slept - like sardines - in a small tent.
• We woke up the next morning and made coffee and oatmeal on a tiny backpackers stove.
• The girls loved the playground.
• The girls loved the indoor rec room with all the toys.
• The girls loved driving to the lake to go swimming.
• The girls loved looking at the swimming pool, but didn't want to go in.
• They thought the idea of coin-operated showers was interesting.
• The girls loved going to Tanglewood and dancing to some amazing live classical music.

Hmmm, this doesn't sound like the camping that BestestHusband and I did before the girls were born...


Because it isn't. We didn't go hiking this trip. We required flush toilets and showers. We brought lots of familiar foods in an insanely-large ice chest. We tailored camping to the tolerances and abilities of a 2.7 and a 3.9 year old. But we got them outdoors. We were outside all day. We got them surrounded by plants, animals, and scenery. And we allowed them to have fun without electronics or their favorite household toys. And we let them run around without hovering over them. We let them run off with a new little girl to stay within earshot. They had a taste of freedom. They got dirty. They learned a few new things:

• You can live from the back of your car.
• There are a lot of bugs outside.
• You can cook food over open fire.
• You can be in the dark and be ok.
• If all else fails, just lay on top of Mama.
• If you leave bagels on the table and walk away, red squirrels will try to run off with them.
• You have to take trash to the dumpster or the animals get into it.
• Lake water is different from pool water, and you can control how deep you go in.
• Binoculars help see things far away. If you turn them around, things look different.
• Magnifying glasses help see things close up. If you put them to your face, things look different.
• If you leave baby wipes on top of the car at a rest area, they disappear.
• Camping is fun and we want to go again soon.

Someday, I would love to do backpacking camping as a family. But that is quite a distance ahead in the future. For now, we just want them to experience the outdoors, and develop an appetite for more.


In the meantime, I'm marveling at how we can spend as much time preparing and recovering from the trip as we do actually enjoying the trip! Ah well. In the future, they'll be old enough to help more...


PS. I forgot to mention what WE learned!

• Summer camping trips will result in garden explosions. (Holy Bolted Spinach Batman!!!)
• No matter how much you water things in advance, your front porch hanging baskets will try to die.
• Your dogs might come back from the dog sitter's house with fleas. Lots of them.
• Guard your only package of baby wipes like your LIFE depends on it.
• Make sure you pack your glasses if you're blind without contacts in.
• 2 children do NOT equal 1 adult when it comes to tent capacity.
• Make sure you pack more than one match.
• Pack earplugs if you don't enjoy crow serenades at daybreak.
• Recovering from a camping trip might take most of the next week.

Frazzled

I've felt extremely frazzled today. The Pama wasn't enough. 


The day was good. We went to the gym early, we led music time at preschool. We went home for an afternoon that didn't involve running around, per HeyMama's request. We did fun stuff out on the back patio. We opened the sandbox. We filled the water table. I harvested our first batch of lavender. It was a good day. It was full of cranky preschooler behavior. But most days are. Why am I so frazzled?


Well, the ajillion +1 phone calls about replacing a hot water heater might have contributed to it a bit... But I don't think that's the real cause.


I think it's because I'm an introvert.


Now some of you might argue with that statement. I seem perfectly sociable and outgoing. And you'd be right in that I DO enjoy some doses of social behavior, and I'm not afraid to talk to total strangers. That just means I'm not shy, and I'm the crazy talk-to-people-in-the-grocery-line type. But I've always heard that the test of introvert/extrovert has more to do with what ENERGIZES you - socialization or alone time.


And I need alone time. Quiet alone time other than the hours that I'm sleeping. (I don't typically sleep alone. And my sleeping partner is not consistently quiet...). My girls do not believe in quiet time. Nor do they believe in giving me alone time. Oh, sure, I can baby gate them into their room and put in ear plugs. But I save that for emergencies. Our house is about nonstop talking and nonstop needing. That's just where we are right now.


I'm always working to teach the girls more independence. And it is working. But that still takes time, talking, and togetherness. And these have devoured the remnants of my neurological system by the end of the day.


I feel better about my limitations since thinking of it this way. How can some moms seem to thrive amidst the chaos while I continue to struggle? Maybe it's because they're on Xanax. Or maybe it's because they're wired that way. I'm just not. And there's nothing I can do about it. Oh, I can pretend to be a social butterfly, but I'll still need to re-charge like a hermit. God made me this way, and I don't believe He makes mistakes...


So now I'll have to work on using this self-realization to find more balance. Because no one has fun when I'm frazzled.

A Walking Merriam-Webster

We're in a new phase in our household. We didn't spend much time in the "Why?" phase. But we are very much in the "What does that mean?" phase.


A typical conversation might go like this:
Me:  "... and she gets emotional when she hears that song..."
HeyMama:  "What does emotional mean?"
Me:  "Well, your emotions, like happiness, sadness, frustration, can come out as tears. When that happens, it's called being emotional." 
HeyMama:  "What does frustration mean?"
Me:  "Well, frustration is when you get angry or upset because something isn't happening the way you want it to, like when you ask MeToo to stop coloring on your paper and she doesn't."
HeyMama:  "What does angry mean?"
Me:  "What does angry mean? You know what angry means, right?"
HeyMama:  "Yeah, it means 'mad'."


So we go along from one word to another until she runs out of words she doesn't know and eventually asks about a word she does know, and I call her on it. This can go on for quite some time.


Ok, so this is an example of a time when I DO actually get to use some of my undergraduate education and clinical training in my job as a parent. I was a linguistics and psychology major. I know that HeyMama is making some cognitive transitions. She's started grouping words together by sounds - rhyming and alliteration. (I haven't dared use the word "alliteration" around her yet...) She hears new words and asks for meanings. She makes connections between different situations where she's heard the same words (and MAN, can those out-of-the-blue comments seem like real non-sequitors!!!) She's entered the world of metalinguistics - not just using words, but thinking about the words she uses:  the letters they contain, what they sound like, what they mean, the associations that go along with them. She's categorizing things in her mind at a higher level. She's no longer the simple sponge that her younger sister still is. Her brain just analyzes and stores information differently. It's so interesting.


AND IT'S SO EXHAUSTING. I feel like a walking Merriam-Webster dictionary. I could be an OED if I didn't slip into a Texas accent so easily. 


I keep reminding myself that a verbal child is a blessing. I'm thankful to not navigate the path of Early Intervention, IEP's and weekly speech therapy. But blessings can still be exhausting. 


"What does exhausting mean?"
"You, my dear, it means YOU!"

Slacking Off

I've always struggled with slacker tendencies.
In fact, since I typed the first line, I've gotten up to eat dessert, watch The Bachelorette, read email, and snuggle with the dogs. I'm easily distracted. And can easily justify it all.


Summer is making this worse. We're out having fun and are home less, so I'm less likely to sit at the computer writing blog entries. I'm less likely to heat up the kitchen by cooking. And I'm more likely to blow off a trip to the gym to stay home and enjoy other things. 


Today, I dressed in gym clothes, with the plan to go later this afternoon. I knew it would be a busy day, and I didn't want to have to do multiple costume changes. We met up with friends and played at a playground for a few hours. We came home. I was tired, and wasn't really motivated to clean. So I joined MeToo for a nap. It's a rare opportunity, and I wanted to capitalize on it. And I needed the sleep. So when I woke up, it was close to gym time, but I hadn't started laundry or pre-prepped dinner. So I started working on laundry, and HeyMama helped me. So we hung out wet laundry out on the deck. MeToo woke up and joined us. It was SO NICE outside! I decided that we needed a salad for dinner, and the girls and I went to the garden to pick some greens. We puttered around in the back yard for a while. HeyMama was captivated by the concept of picking and eating mint leaves straight from the garden. We played outside. We dug in the sand pile that will eventually be moved into our new sand box. Everyone was happy, no one was rushed, and it really was a lovely afternoon. Going to the gym really would have ruined all of that. I made a salad and grilled the chicken. We were able to eat shortly after BestestHusband got home from work. We had time to enjoy a relaxing dinner out on the patio. Going to the gym would have ruined all of that. 


I really was motivated to work out today. Seriously. I'm not even trying to be funny. But sometimes opportunities arise that are more important than accomplishing my daily goals. I know that when I'm 80, I won't care much about getting to the gym 3 days a week. I will remember trying to teach MeToo how to use a clothes pin, and how helpful HeyMama wanted to be. I will remember the feel of the evening air and the joy of sharing a meal on the patio with my family. I know that I'm making good choices for my family. But it doesn't help my slacker tendencies at all. And it only reinforces my tendency to justify things...


Happy Monday!

Downsizing. And a Miracle or Two...

Today was an exciting day. We did some serious downsizing. We sold our double stroller to a woman with a single stroller of the same brand. It was newer, less-used, and significantly SMALLER! I'm SO EXCITED!!!

Now an observant person might ask, "But don't you have 2 kids? Where does the second one go?" 

Well, some of the additional money that changed hands helped buy the glider board for HeyMama to stand on. It folds up when not in use. It's pretty amazing. The girls are excited, and I can't wait for them to see it in the morning. I sold the double and got the single this morning, and bought the glider after the girls were in bed. That's why I have the stroller parked in the kitchen. I want them to see it first thing in the morning. It's like Christmas. For me, at least...

Here's a look back at our old stroller. It's an awesome stroller if you need a double. Walks and trips to the Arb were a dream. Especially with smaller kids. And it folds so quickly and easily. And it's light for a double. But it's not great for getting on busses. Or the T. Or into tiny stores in the Square. And it's not great for getting your preschoolers to get a bit of incidental exercise getting from Point A to Point B.

So I'm really excited about the prospects of using public transportation this summer. Have I mentioned that I'm excited about the new stroller?

Ok, so I did mention that we had a miracle or two today. I truly believe that we don't recognize the small miracles that occur in our modern life. Does a miracle really have to require raising someone from the dead or feeding thousands of people with just a few fish and loaves of bread for us to recognize it as a miracle? Here are the miracles that I saw today:

1. I made it to my PT appointment on time. This requires a bit of back story... I went to bed late. MeToo climbed into our bed at some point in the middle of the night. She proceeded to twiddle my hair and generally keep me from sleeping. So I didn't wake up at 6:00 when BestestHusband did. No, I regained semi-consciousness at 7:25. My PT appointment was at 8:00. I had 35 minutes to get myself ready, get the girls up and dressed, pack a breakfast for everyone, drop the girls off at daycare, and drive myself to  the office during the morning commute time. Anyone with small children knows that this would require a miracle to actually happen as planned. Well folks, a miracle happened today. BestestHusband and I made it happen. And no doubt there was a big dose of the grace of God. Because how often do things go WRONG when we're in a hurry that keep us from actually leaving on time? I think it's more the rule than the exception in our household. Except for this morning. I can only attribute that to a miracle.

2. Everything else happened today, as well. After the PT appointment, I picked up the girls from daycare. We went to the gym. I did a real workout. Then showered. Then we drove towards our stroller rendezvous point. The meeting time had been pushed back an hour, so we went to Target to pick up a few things. Then we got the stroller. Then we dropped a bag of stuff off at Ruth House. Then we came home. Then the plumber came over. Then I cleaned the floors downstairs. Then we went outside. Then someone came over to buy the carseat adaptor from our old stroller. I started folding the laundry on the spare bed. BestestHusband came home. We ate dinner. I drove out to pick up the gliding board. It was quick. So I stopped by DSW to see if the red patent flats I'd been eyeing were finally on clearance. They were. I was able to replace the scuzzy and smelly brown flats I wear to work in the summer. I came home and finished folding the laundry. I'm writing a blog post. I'm about to go weed out the winter clothes from my closet. THAT IS A LOT OF STUFF FOR ONE DAY! I can't help but think that this is yet another miracle. Everything fell into place perfectly. How often does this happen? If I were the gambling type, I'd play the lottery. But instead, I'll just be thankful that miracles don't restrict themselves to the lame walking and lepers being instantly healed. 

What minor miracles have you experienced lately?

Confession of Faith: Part I

I had an interesting opportunity recently to do an uncommon confession of faith. Well, uncommon because it was out of church. I confess my faith every Sunday in church. But I was being challenged by someone to confess what I believe in contrast to what she believed. In some ways, perhaps I’m a bad Christian for not doing this more often. I’m not very good at giving myself opportunities to talk about my faith with people who disagree with me. It’s most common in this part of the country to NOT talk about your faith with people who might disagree with you. Politeness? Aversion to conflict? I’m not sure why. But regardless, I’m not spending most mornings on my front stoop trying to convince someone of why she should stop trying to convert me.

I have to give the two Jehovah’s Witness missionaries some credit. It was a cold and rainy Saturday morning. They have been to our house many times. BestestHusband made the mistake(?) of inviting them in to debate theology a few months back. He’s good at pulling out the Bible and pointing out exactly WHY he disagrees with their teaching. In fact, while I was talking to them at the front door, he was in the back room getting the Bible ready. So they stopped coming for him. They started coming for me. The first time, I took their pamphlet politely and excused myself to attend to the kids. Then I thought a bit about what I would say to them the next time they came.

Now, I understand that people tend to think that their church or denomination is the best way to worship God. It’s a natural thing. I grew up in the Lutheran church, derive joy from worshiping with the Lutheran liturgy, and continue to grow in my understanding of the “whys” of our theology. But I would never argue that "Lutherans can go to Heaven, but those Methodists are just screwed." I don’t need to "convert" other Christians. Even if I don’t agree with the finer points of their theology, they confess a faith in the same God as me, and honestly, I seriously doubt that ANY denomination is absolutely correct about every detail of our understanding of God and His will for us. Our God is just too great, His ways are not our ways, and any assertion of anyone that THEY know what God REALLY means seems like folly to me.

So if someone comes to my door with a Bible in their hand and tries to convert me, I’m automatically suspicious. They already know that we are Christian. For pete’s sake, BestestHusband pulled out a Bible and read it to them. I’ve told them that we attend church, read the Bible, and even teach Sunday School. Now, I know that doing these things does not guarantee a strong faith in God. But it should convince someone that I might have a few strongly-held opinions on my faith. And perhaps their missionary energies might be better spent on someone who hasn’t heard the Gospels, and doesn’t profess a faith in Christ. Bottom line:  If you’re trying to use the Bible I already read to “convert” me to your religion, don’t bother. We don’t share an understanding of the Great Commission. We don't share an understanding of who Jesus really is. I don’t want to go to your church. Please go try to convert someone else.

While I won’t be sending any money to the JW Missionary Society, I can’t deny that perhaps their act of placing a Bible in someone’s hands will lead to the salvation of someone that wouldn’t happen otherwise. The Word is powerful enough to do that, even if the people placing it in your hands ignore certain parts of it. But that scenario does not apply to our household. We’ve tried to make that clear.

I attempted several times to close the conversation nicely and send them away. They were impressively persistent. “Do you think that God meant for us to live in a world that is the way it is now?” She was referring to all of the world’s ills:  poverty, war, disease, crime, etc. She referred back to Adam and Eve. I stated my opinion on sin, its influence on the world, and my belief that it is a force that only God can finally conquer in the end days. I talked about the kingdoms of the left and right, and our place in both. She changed tactics. “What about your goals for the future?” My response was along the lines of, “Well, our ULTIMATE goal is an eternity with God.” Her eyes bugged out a bit at this response. She was looking for earthly goals. Ones that could be affected by the ills of the world. Ones that would need the version of religion she was trying to sell. I didn’t give her what she was looking for. It did give me two things:  a chance to compliment their tenacity and comment on how ripe the mission field in Boston is for passionate women like themselves, and the prompt to think about what my goals are for my family, especially given my views on the kingdoms of the left and the right.

So I sent them on their way. And started musing about what my family goals really are…

Monday Catchup and Gail Halvorsen

Happy Memorial Day to all!  A huge "Thank You" to everyone who has served in our military. 

I'm extremely thankful that there are people in our country who willingly put themselves in harm's way every day so that I don't have to think about how dangerous the world is. I do sleep better at night knowing that there are people who have the skill and bravery to do the dirty work that allows us to all sleep peacefully at night. And I'm extremely thankful that there are families who put on brave faces, and spouses that struggle to do the job of two people so that their household can function while their soldier spouse is deployed far away. 

Whether or not you approve of the reasons that the military gets deployed, you must acknowledge the people who don't get to have a say in these decisions, but feel strongly enough about serving their country that they go along anyway. And they do a really good job of it. They've recently proven that the bad guys aren't as good at finding hiding places as we are. And they bring along candy for children who have never tasted any. And share their rations with people who don't have food. And provide medical care to the sick and injured who aren't even involved in the fighting. 

I know that there are countless stories of U.S. service members doing small things to help the residents of the countries they fought in. I think my favorite so far is that of Gail Halvorsen. PBS introduced me to him a while back, talking about the Berlin Airlift after WWII. Today made me think of him again. American pilots flew life-saving necessities into Western Berlin. They provided a constant stream of food, medicine, and supplies for the beleaguered Germans who lived there, with planes landing every 3 minutes. Gail noticed the children who watched his plane land 3 times a day. He gave them chewing gum one day, and realized that they weren't just bringing these children food, but hope. So he bought up candy at the commissary, fashioned tiny parachutes out of handkerchiefs, and dropped the candy from his plane on his approach to the landing field. 

Gail attaching parachutes to candy. (Thanks for the photo, Wikipedia!)

Of course it was a hit. He became known as the Berlin Candy Bomber. Children across the U.S. raised money and American candy makers donated candy to the cause. Other pilots joined in. One man's sympathy and compassion for a few children grew into a joy-bringing institution. 

@ss-kicking and candy bombing. What a combo within a military force! 

So that's all I've got for today. I'm too behind to even try to do a belated Stewardship Sunday. Thanks to a holiday weekend, I significantly increased my work hours, which always screws me up. BestestHusband was home today with the girls and attacked the Clean Laundry Beast that was lurking on the spare bedroom bed while I enjoyed a "quiet" day at work. That's why I even have time to tell you that I can't catch up with blog posts. Yeah, I know it's been a while. But I promise a new boulder update soon. There is a new boulder. And a new update.

PS. Thanks Anne and Chris for the delightful dinner gathering that made me eat and drink too much. That's probably the biggest reason I couldn't write a Stewardship Sunday post. And the homemade brats were insanely good...

Revenge of the Amoxicillin

So I earned myself the Worst Mother of the Year Award this weekend by allowing HeyMama to get a sunburn on her shoulders. Saturday morning we went down the street to our friends' yard sale. I didn't expect we'd be there long. But we were. Without sunscreen.


So HeyMama had bright red shoulders this morning. I slathered her in aloe. The redness spread down her arms. Then little bumps appeared. I called the doctor's office. By the time the nurse called back, the bumps had spread to her legs. The nurse scheduled us for an appointment in the evening. By the time we got there, the bumps were on her chest and back. They were spreading to her face.


The verdict? Allergic reaction to amoxicillin.


Poor HeyMama. She's red and swollen all over now. And itchy. And sad.


At bedtime, we all said special prayers for her little red bumps. Even MeToo asked God to make her feel better.


I hope the Benadryl works. At least we know she'll get a good night's sleep...

Moms Aren't Allowed to Get Sick

I'm glad I have a fever. You can't make a fever happen or not happen. It just is. And in my book, it's proof that I have a RIGHT to feel this crappy. Because Moms aren't allowed to get sick. Life is just not structured for Mom sickness. Well, at least mine isn't...

And if my kids have to get sick, I'm glad we're all finally sick at the SAME TIME. So we can all lie on the couch together, happy to watch PBS Kids. And schedule all of our doctors appointments within a 2 hour stretch. This is a convenient illness, if you ask me. We usually stretch out our illnesses over a week, where there's always a conflict between people who want to go to the playground vs. people who want to lie on the couch and watch PBS. Or just sleep and moan (that's my typical response to being sick).

I rarely take my kids to the doctor for "looking sick". They need serious or prolonged symptoms to get me to make the trek. But a fever in me is a rare thing. And the hideous tonsils lurking in the girls' throats? They're pretty serious.

And I always question myself when I start to feel droopy. Am I REALLY getting sick? Or just being a wuss? Have I gotten enough sleep? Had enough caffeine to drink? PMS-ing? Just in a crabby mood? Procrastinating from some task I really despise? But why do I really doubt myself? Sometimes I DO get SICK. I know it's not ALLOWED to happen, but hey, call me a rebel.

BestestHusband had a thing in his mouth that he was already taking antibiotics for, and his doctor agreed today that this was the reason he DOESN'T currently have strep. He was signed up for another course of antibiotics for his mouth thing, and told to eat a lot of yogurt. "My wife happens to make it by the gallon," he told her. "Unsweetened?" Yes, when I make yogurt by the gallon, I do make it unsweetened. Perhaps my yogurt-as-procrastination habit isn't such a bad one, after all...

Our current pharmacopeia.

WARNING! NASTY TONSIL PICTURES TO FOLLOW IMMEDIATELY!

This is what strep throat looks like.

The nurse who looked in my mouth informed me that I have white patches in my throat.
Now you can see them too!

Trophy Wife Monday

I'm on the phone with our financial guy, upgrading my life insurance. We're getting ready for a picnic and an excursion to the best lilac collection in our country. We've got a fancy event scheduled for this evening. Yes, another fancy event requiring a babysitter. Yes, on a weeknight. We're living large today. I feel like a Trophy Wife again. 


This fancy event is an alumni event for BestestHusband's undergrad alma mater (Yes, the one I got wait-listed at because I was from the Houston area and they valued Minnesotans more than they valued Texans. Not that I'm still bitter about that or anything... And I'll just ignore the part about BestestHusband maybe being smarter than me and maybe deserving to get in more...) It's being held at the home of one of the sons of a local sports team owner. I've heard the home is very nice. There's appetizers and drinks and valet parking. And some kind of fancy other stuff. I'm not really sure, but I don't really care. I get to dress up and go to someone's fancy home and talk to other grownups without having my sentences interrupted every 30 seconds. That's all I need to know. I'm in. 


We're all still fighting a sore throat. So I'm trying to keep the overall demands of the day lower than usual. We watched the new Muppets movie twice this morning. Ok, so we only watched the end of it - the Muppets Show re-creation part. But it was a lot of screen time for my media-deprived girls. A special treat. I'll spread the Trophy Wife wealth today.

Marvelous Monday

Marathon Monday dawned as hot as was promised. And the girls woke up bright and early. So we got an early start at the gym. Actually, we opened the babysitting room. It's a first. So I got in a long workout. Then we ran an errand (I returned my last unwanted bathing suit) and went to the playground.  We ran into Jenna and the boys (nice sundress, Jenna!). It was warm. The girls didn't really object when it was time to leave. We ate lunch. We all napped. We woke up. I had iced coffee. We went to the Lebanese market. We walked around the square and got ice cream. We sat outside eating it and watched the neighborhood go by. Busses. Trains. Dogs. Neighbors. We went home, cooked dinner, and ate it on the patio. We watched the sun set. We drank yummy wine. The girls played in the yard. BestestHusband rearranged some more dirt. The dogs frolicked. We watched the first stars and bats come out. The air was mild. The sky was lovely. Everything flowed together so perfectly. Life was as it should be. It was a delicious conclusion to a lovely day.

I frequently hear moms lament the ever-growing tendencies of their children. "They're growing up so fast! Where did my baby go?" I don't lament this. Growing up led them to joyfully leaping off the climbing structure tonight. Kicking their legs on a bench, eating their ice cream this afternoon. Growing up led them to running around the yard, giggling, singing to the bat that swooped overhead. I don't lament this at all.

I think it's all marvelous.

It's finally iced coffee weather!!!

Dinner alfresco. Waiting for the fish to come off the grill...

BestestHusband rearranging dirt.

A lovely evening sky

The Joys of Quality Time

My in-laws are still in town, so I took advantage of their presence to spend some quality time with HeyMama. I had a meeting at Ruth House and didn't really want to inflict my defiant and loudly opinionated two year old on anyone unnecessarily, so MeToo stayed home with Grandma and Grandpa. Not that she was thrilled with the idea. Actually, ear-splitting wails ensued. But my attempt to let her "help" me prepare Easter stuff at church was a spectacular failure. I actually turned around and took her home before returning to the church on Saturday. And I wanted to spare myself the gas and time today.


So HeyMama went with me. She entertained herself appropriately during the overly-long meeting. Then we went to Ikea for lunch. I somehow managed to not buy more Samla. But I did buy a few picture frames. We did a few more errands, then she fell asleep on the ride home. So here I am blogging in my driveway while HeyMama sleeps in the back seat, thinking about how I view my children as individuals, and as a unit.


As a unit, they are an extremely chatty and demanding entity. While they are occasionally delightful to observe playing together, they are also occasionally enragingly quarrelsome. I'm glad I had them 14 months apart, but they are exhausting. 


Individually, without the conflict and whining, they are a lot more fun. When they're not busy arguing, their personality traits come shining through.  HeyMama is such a planner. She doesn't forget a thing. She remembers that the dogs' birthday is in April. And it's April now. So she was planning a birthday party for them: what kind of cupcakes we'd have, what we'd eat, who we'd invite, etc. We need balloons. Definitely balloons. She'll wear her pink tutu and a party hat. She'll make them cards. It's all planned out. HeyMama's got it covered.


Her sister is quite different. I swear that MeToo has her own personal soundtrack in her head. She is always singing. You don't need a radio in the car when MeToo's in the back seat. And now that her speech intelligibility has significantly improved, you can actually recognize the songs and sing along. She's not quite on the same generative level as HeyMama, who can make up songs on the fly. But she's getting there. And it's a hoot!


I'm coming to the realization that I enjoy my girls more and can engage with them more as individuals when I'm actually just working with them as individuals. Hmmm, it's taken me 28 months to realize this? But I feel lately as if I'm doing more disciplining and redirecting than having fun with them. Ok, so MeToo is just doing her job of presenting a larger-than-life caricature of the "Terrible Twos". But I'd like to spend more time with her as "my life-of-the-party daughter" than "my spirited and punky two year old". I know that this is a phase, but I'd like to find ways to enjoy it a bit more. 


So anyone want to take a 3 or 2 year old for a few hours once a week? I promise you'll have a good time. And I will too. 

We girls went out for lunch and drinks. 

Thank God for Grandpas!

We got hailed on today. Just briefly. But it was enough to make the girls want to leave the playground. It was tiny hail, really just slush that couldn't figure out what form of precipitation it wanted to be and leaned a bit too far in the "solid" direction. So not painful, but cold and unpleasant. But it was quite handy.


I'm appreciative of anything right now that makes the girls easier to get along with while BestestHusband's in Amsterdam. Last night was not a great night for sleeping. So this morning was not a great morning for waking. So I'm especially thankful for Grandpa. BestestHusband's mother went to join him in Amsterdam. His father came here. I consider it to be a pretty good deal. Already we've had a handful of niggling little projects finished. And the dogs are currently being walked by Grandpa. And Grandpa's just so darn helpful around the house. And the girls love him. So it really is a joy to have him here. 


And while he's here, I've scheduled a haircut. And I'm trying to get a first appointment with a PT for my back and shoulder. And maybe even a massage. Life is good. 


Thank God for Grandpas!

Stewardship Sunday/Monday

I've been despairing at my lack of productivity as I lie about moaning with a gimpy back. But once again, my ToDo list tells me the week was not all lost.


I worked a Saturday. Slowly, stretching frequently. And then I was useless for the rest of the evening. I went to church on Sunday. Then went to the urgent care clinic for some drugs. Then ran a few errands with HeyMama. Then made breakfast for dinner. And was useless for the rest if the day. Too useless even to watch GCB. That's pretty pitiful.


But the beginning of the week was much better. We played outside quite a bit this week. The weather was fantastic, and Boston is always happy to enjoy an early summer preview. Trees burst into bloom. Playgrounds came to life. The tulips popped up in the front yard. So did the hyacinth. The bushes and trees are sprouting leaves. People in Boston are sprouting good moods. It's a good time of year to be here.

A neighborhood tree in bloom.

A magnolia budding out.

Close-up of magnolia buds.

I discovered an angel in my neighborhood this week. Her name is Jackie, and she had heat packs for my back when I didn't (but really needed them!) I'm extremely grateful that I have good friends in my neighborhood.


But on to my accounting of resources.


Patience: I blew it on Friday. Big time. I was cranky. Really cranky. Let's just hope that's not one of the random memories the girls have when they're older...


Food waste: this wasn't a great week for food waste. The muscle relaxer I took a few hours ago is making it difficult to recall everything I tossed, but I think it was around a meal's worth. It definitely included 2 cucumbers. One grew hair and died before its time. The other languished sadly for too long before joining the compost party. I tried today to explain to HeyMama why we try not to waste food. I started in on the "there are starving children in Africa" line. But the blank look from HeyMama told me to save my breath. I'll have to work on that. She gets the concept of sending nets to Africa to keep the little boys and girls from getting malaria. So I'll have to work on making it concrete for her. 

Yes, that used to be a cucumber. Eewww...

M&Ms:  We still have plain M&Ms. So not a problem for me. But the sea salt brownies that Anne brought over on Friday were a problem. I really am a sucker for chocolate...


So this week is still off to a rocky start. I'm mobile with my drugs, but still gimping along and cranky. The Easter candy is calling to me. Loudly. My patience was gone by 2pm today. This might be a long week.


Hope your week is off to a better start!

Confessions of a Transplanted Texan

I'm a Texan.


Ok, so I may not live in Texas right now. I pray I'll live there again someday, even if it's just my ashes scattered among the bluebonnets. I was born there. My formative years were there. To quote many, "You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take Texas out of the girl." It's so true. (Just ask BestestHusband. After I've had a few margaritas, my accent makes him occasionally check his GPS to make sure he's where he thinks he is. Phone chats with Mum make the accent come back, too.)


I have a confession to make. I love the new show GCB. In case y'all didn't know, the letters are short for a phrase:  Good Christian (rhymes with witches). Yes, it's a bit scandalous. I find it hysterical.


But I'm a bit conflicted by this. Here's a little back story.


After leaving the Lone Star State at the age of 17 to attend a non-Christian Boston-area liberal arts university with the motto, "Truth unto its innermost parts", I was exposed to a lot that wasn't Texan. Girls didn't wear makeup. Girls didn't get dressed up for class. Girls didn't shave their legs (or their armpits!). OH, that was just the BEGINNING! It was a culture shock.


I was educated in everything a smart, worldly, enlightened girl of the '90's should know and think. Religion was for the weak. Churches were full of hypocrites. Women who wore makeup and spent time on their appearance were enslaved by a misogynistic and archaic ideal of femininity. Biology is not our destiny! Generations of our foremothers are counting on you to reverse gender inequality! Throw away that hairspray! Get out there and build yourself some biceps bigger than the guy living across the hall!!!


Women from Texas were backwards. Enlightened New Englanders were so much more advanced in intellectual and philosophical development. Good thing I had moved to Boston! I now knew the error of my ways, and could be saved.


Nobody actually said those words to me. But the subtext was there. Professors found my commentary less interesting when it was delivered with the remaining vestiges of my Texas accent. When I wiped my speech clean, I suddenly became smarter. So I was able to rationalize rejecting many of the good and bad things I remembered from home.


Now, let me explain, there are things I don't miss from my days in Texas. I don't miss the extreme cattiness of teen-aged girls (although I suspect it's universal...) I don't miss the pressure to always look flawless, even running to pick up a gallon of milk. I don't miss being judged by what you drive, or the size of your front lawn. What you look like describes who you are and how much money you have. I don't miss that about Texas. I don't miss how scripture verses are tossed around like catch phrases. I don't miss how much church attendance could play into your social image. I don't miss all of the emphasis on appearances.


Maybe that's why I love to see it all on TV. Oh, GCB puts on a show. It's the worst of it all, in all its glory. The show does a fantastic job of putting it all on display to laugh at. I love it.


I just hope the rest of the country doesn't take it too seriously and use it as fodder for scorn of my great home state. Because what I learned about Texas being all-wrong? Well, that's not right. Social graces really DO grease the wheels of society. And you know what? People DO judge you by what you look like. Even in an "enlightened" society that's moved beyond a misogynistic and archaic ideal of femininity. So put on that lipstick gals. The "natural" look is ok. The "haggard and sleep-deprived" look is not. It won't help you break through the glass ceiling, that's for sure. And yes, you can find plenty of hypocrisy in churches. But I think I've noticed more insidious and hurtful hypocrisy outside of churches. Some of the "enlightened" people I've met in college and beyond are surprisingly bigoted towards people; not on the basis of race, but on the basis of religious beliefs and political affiliation. Is that really being open-minded and advanced? Unlike in GCB, the church-goers I know don't lob scripture verses like bombs. They use them to encourage, help, and comfort.


So the "transplanted" aspect of my identity loves to laugh at GCB. The "Texan" aspect of my identity fears that people will take it too seriously and think that all Texans are like what they see in the show.


It's entertainment folks, and in my opinion, it's pretty entertaining. 


(Disclaimer:  Not everyone I grew up with was obsessed with image. Not everyone was catty. But there were some overwhelming social trends. Just like bad driving and a cold social veneer are overwhelming trends in Boston. Yes, they're overgeneralizations. But they're still true.)