ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVVVE! (Say it in your best Dr. Frankenstein voice)
Just a quick update! I have half a billion projects in the fire right now, in different spheres of my life.
Kids are great! Oldest starts high school next fall, all honors classes, marching band, scouts, yada yada. Second just got accepted into our district's self-contained program for highly gifted kids, scouts, step team, blah blah blah. Third has come out with some jewels of reflection lately that have forced me to re-evaluate my understanding of who he is, scouts, etc. All three are in To Shin Do, progressing nicely. All three really starting to explore spirituality in new ways.
Twins are perfect, beautiful, mischievous little impish troublemakers who inspire me. Cute little mister asked me today if I was a princess (I was wearing a dress), and then if someone was going to dance with me. The girly girl is a beautiful little "slinky head" who loves to join me when I pray or meditate. They love to dance, chase birds, climb trees, and sprinkle joy.
Hubs is perfect as always, my rock, my perfect match, like some cosmic planet burst into two, whose halves, while different, still fit together perfectly, and whose atmosphere (energy surrounding both) melds and glows. He has a few projects in the works, but those are his to tell.
And me? Better than I've been in YEARS. Honestly. It is amazing. I have a massive personal transformation underway that began in earnest with the start of the new year, and which is now in full swing. I put my memoir writing project on hold last fall, but reopened an old writing project, began years ago, and am now probably 1/3 of the way through. We're going to be homeschooling over the summer-- just a wonderful, child-driven bout of research and mind-expansion-- and I've been busy writing curriculum for that.
Things are busy, no doubt, but in that wonderful whirlwind of creativity and joy sort of way that I don't mind so much. Maybe eventually I'll get back to regular posting, but for now, I've been too busy living life fully to think much about blogging, which is good for me.
:-)
Peace be with you!
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Friday, October 23, 2009
Praise God!! GUILTY!!
GUILTY
It doesn't feel as good as I had hoped it would. Janet's still dead. There are still two beautiful, thoughtful girls who now have to begin to face up to and live with the reality that their father murdered their mother in cold blood. There are still a mother and father, two sisters and a brother, nieces and nephews, who have to live with the loss of their daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. There are still those people who were extremely close to Janet, to whom she confided terrible, sad, tragic details of her life with Tim, who will always be left to wonder what they could have done differently.
I hugged his neck they day after she died. It still feels gross to think about it. Some people just have no real conscience, and do not deserve our pity or compassion. It's been a long 4 years.
Rest in peace, Janet Lorita Harper Tillman
It doesn't feel as good as I had hoped it would. Janet's still dead. There are still two beautiful, thoughtful girls who now have to begin to face up to and live with the reality that their father murdered their mother in cold blood. There are still a mother and father, two sisters and a brother, nieces and nephews, who have to live with the loss of their daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. There are still those people who were extremely close to Janet, to whom she confided terrible, sad, tragic details of her life with Tim, who will always be left to wonder what they could have done differently.
I hugged his neck they day after she died. It still feels gross to think about it. Some people just have no real conscience, and do not deserve our pity or compassion. It's been a long 4 years.
Rest in peace, Janet Lorita Harper Tillman
Monday, September 28, 2009
Such Great Heights
Those of you who know The Hubster are aware that he is typically very understated and not prone to being overly romantic. I've gotten flowers once in 10 years, and that was only because I said, "Hey, I want flowers on Valentine's Day this year. And I want them to be purple, got it?" I got a glorious bouquet of irises, and was thrilled. I married him for his integrity, sweet spirit, kindness, friendship, sense of humor, and perfect compatibility with me, not for his grandiose notions of romance.
I've learned to genuinely appreciate little things, recognizing the profound meaning when he does offer even the smallest expressions of romance. And little things, I get all day long, more than I could ask for. A dozen or more "I love you's" a day. Soft kisses every time we enter or leave each other's presence. Foot or neck rubs EVERY NIGHT (with the rare exception of when he is not feeling well) for the past 9 1/2 years, since I first became pregnant with our daughter. No, my name has never been written across the sky with a heart surrounding it by a hired airplane, but I have never doubted where I stand with him.
And tonight, he has filled me with renewed love for him, once again.
I came home from work to find that he had been listening to Pandora radio today and heard a song that made him think of me. He emailed me the lyrics, which open:
I love this man.
I've learned to genuinely appreciate little things, recognizing the profound meaning when he does offer even the smallest expressions of romance. And little things, I get all day long, more than I could ask for. A dozen or more "I love you's" a day. Soft kisses every time we enter or leave each other's presence. Foot or neck rubs EVERY NIGHT (with the rare exception of when he is not feeling well) for the past 9 1/2 years, since I first became pregnant with our daughter. No, my name has never been written across the sky with a heart surrounding it by a hired airplane, but I have never doubted where I stand with him.
And tonight, he has filled me with renewed love for him, once again.
I came home from work to find that he had been listening to Pandora radio today and heard a song that made him think of me. He emailed me the lyrics, which open:
I am thinking it's a sign
That the freckles in our eyes
Are mirror images and
When we kiss they're perfectly aligned
And I have to speculate
That God himself did make us into
Corresponding shapes like puzzles pieces
From the clay
True, it may seem like a stretch
But it's thoughts like this
That catch my troubled head
When you're away, when I am missing you to death....
-From Such Great Heights by Iron & Wine
I love this man.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Back to School Update
Yesterday, while talking to my husband about some of the things going on in our lives right now, he offered in the discussion that the adjective he finds most appropriate to describe me is intense. He also thinks that I am loving, compassionate, funny, silly, thoughtful, perceptive, and adoring. But all of those things that I do, I do them more intensely than most people (so he says, and I'm inclined to agree). It's as if there's all this energy and passion packed inside of me, and when the spigot is opened, just a little, whatever is there flows out freely.
And I spend a lot of time thinking. I also spend a lot of time in meditation, playing with my kids, spending time with my husband, working, and writing. But the thinking-- that's what you get when you come here to read. If I've had a rather social few days, and a few opportunities to talk with friends about what is going on in my mind, the "need" to blog is less pressing. But when I've been a bit socially isolated (as I've been to some extent since we've moved to a new state, with a work schedule that doesn't leave much room for social time), it's all built up inside me begging to get out, and the blog serves the purpose.
But it occurred to me last night that if all you know of my life is what is in this blog, you might erroneously conclude that my life is full of drama, and that couldn't be farther from the truth. I have an incredibly drama-free life, with occasional events or thoughts passing through that need a little processing, but all in all, life is good.
So here it is: a blog post focusing on a friendly back-to-school update, so you know I really do lead a remarkably normal life.
THE HUSBAND
Since we've been in our current location, my sweet husband has been a stay at home dad, although he's poked around a bit for any appropriate opportunities that might suit him. He volunteers weekly at our local interfaith social services organization that provides a homeless shelter, food pantry, community kitchen, free clinic, and information and referral services. He's also researched the MSW program at the local university, and if the right puzzle pieces line up in our lives over the next month, he'll be applying for next fall and will, no doubt, do extremely well. He is a saint, a loving and sweet father, and one of the smartest guys I know. I become more and more aware with each day how much he loves me and wants me to be happy, which only makes me love him more. I likewise would do anything to make him happy. I give thanks to God for 10 years with this man, and pray for 50+ more (we got married on my grandparents' 60th anniversary).
THE BIG KIDS
School started back the last week of August for my oldest three, which is exciting! The local school district was one of the biggest factors in our decision to move to the town we did once we had decided on a general region, and although the district often takes some heat from the crunchy crowd for being extremely focused on academics, it is working out beautifully for our children. First, all three are extremely academically-oriented in the first place. Second, this district also does a ton of hands-on activities to make the learning real. Third, this district (and their schools in particular) have a HUGE emphasis on the arts. The art room at our elementary school looks more like a real artist's studio than a classroom. The kids learn recorder, reading music and all, beginning in 4th grade. Our elementary school has a science lab with a dedicated teacher, and kids get a science lab rotation at least once a week to do lab projects coordinated with the classroom lessons. And every school has at least one full time gifted specialist who coordinates with the classroom teacher to develop tiered lesson plans to provide extra learning opportunities for those kids who need it. The middle school offers a TON of elective courses to choose from (including 4 foreign languages and college-type art classes, courses on mythology, etc.). In short, this district is a dream for us, and our kids love school.
Funky Monkey is now almost 13, in the 8th grade, and would be mortified to know I am still calling him "Funky Monkey" on my blog. I would consider calling him something cooler, like perhaps "M Funk" or something along those lines, but then he would only be equally mortified that his now-34 year old mother is trying to get all gangsta on him. After just getting slapped onto the end of the trumpet line when we transferred to this district in March, he was thrilled yesterday to finally find out that last week's challenges placed him into second chair (out of 14 trumpets), and I'm happy that he's happy. He's taking algebra and Spanish this year, both for high school credit, is in the pep band, and is planning to go for the school's ultimate Frisbee team when they have try-outs this year. He is still awaiting this long-promised growth spurt he hears boys get around his age (keeping in mind that he's a year ahead in school, so a bit younger than most of his best friends), and says he may consider the cross country team once he grows some longer legs. He's very involved in one of the coolest boy scout troops in the country (the kind that does 10 week long cross country bike rides or month long trips to Guatemala every summer). If I have to be honest about what it is like to have a near-teenager, it is both wonderful and messy, all at the same time, but definitely more wonderful. Though he deals with some of the hormonal adolescent "You just don't understand!" drama, and doesn't always enjoy being the oldest in a large family when the younger ones are annoying him on purpose, he is a delightful and sweet boy with a ton of integrity. He spoils the baby twins rotten, dotes on them, and tries to be nice to the other two older ones. He is developing the kind of sense of humor that often leaves me rolling on the floor laughing at his wit, and might one day make a great writer for a comedy show. He's a popular enough guy (had two "girlfriends"-- aka we say we're "going out" and then never talk to each other again-- last school year), and a genuinely happy and upbeat and confident kid.
Sassy Pants turns 9 next week, and is already starting to act just a tiny bit like a pre-teen. She tosses her long, straight dirty blond hair to the side when she giggles, and sticks her hip out (typically with a balled up fist on it) when she gives her dad that sideways glance that both melts him like butter and convinces him that the next 15 years are going to be terrifying. Last week, while upset about something, actually said for the first time, "Nobody understands me!" Oh, be with me, God, the preteen years are starting! She, like her older brother, is a year ahead in school, and is in the fourth grade. She is in the gifted cluster class at school, which means that it's a mix of half kids with the gifted label. Her teacher seems super cool, which is a relief for me, because her educational needs are probably (out of the three oldest) the most demanding of my three children, as she reads and writes at a level several grades ahead, and (again, out of the three oldest) is most like me in terms of being incredibly intense. She writes stories all the time, has a natural gift for music (self-taught on the piano, and flying along with the recorder), and loves to draw, color, crochet, paint, and weave. She is a junior girl scout this year, in a really neat troop (I'm their newsletter editor). She is infinitely more beautiful and popular and confident and awesome than I ever could have dreamed of being at her age. This scares me just a little bit, because I'm not 100% sure I'll know the right ways to support her, but I'll always love her, listen to her, and try.
Short Stuff is now almost 8, in the second grade, and not so short any more. In fact, he's already taller than Sassy Pants. (Maybe it's time to let my boys decide on some new blog names for themselves.) While he is not a grade ahead (for which we are thankful), he is insanely smart and in the "nurturing program"-- a program his school does for children who don't yet qualify for gifted (they don't start gifted until 3rd grade here), but have been flagged as needing additional academic challenge. In fact, when his school decided this year to do a combination 2nd/3rd grade class (enough funding for one more teacher, but not enough for 2 new classes), he was one of the 2nd graders chosen to be in that class. So, they still do differentiated learning throughout the day for each grade, but much of their instruction is together, which I'm sure suits him well. He is still VERY active and energetic and struggles just a little with impulse and intensity control, but seeing as I struggle with both of those sometimes at age 34, it doesn't make me love him any less. We just have to get creative coming up with routines and habits that help him to be more successful. He reads constantly, and is very creative. He likes "tough guy" stuff, extreme sports, and running. He's going to be a Bear this year in Cub Scouts, which blows my mind. He is getting SO BIG. And, one of the bonuses of his intensity-- when he laughs, it simply lights up the world. That boy, when joyful, is a burst of life!!
THE BABIES
...are not really babies any more. They are now 2 years and 3 months old, talking non-stop, and trying to learn to go potty like big kids. Every morning, they get up and get dressed, put on their backpacks, and insist that they are "goin' to 'chool" like the big kids. "I goin' get on 'chool bus, Mommy!" They like to hug each other, play silly games together, play tag at the playground, and make trouble together (like emptying a 2 liter soda on the kitchen floor so they can throw themselves across it like a slip n' slide, or getting naked and smearing themselves and my entire bathroom with petroleum jelly).
Wonder Boy has straight blond hair, and a very sweet spirit. He gets his feelings hurt a little more easily than his sister, plays a little more rough than she does, and is a little more coordinated with things like stacking blocks and climbing rock walls and ladders at the playground. He is obsessed with sports, which neither me nor Daddy-O can figure out, since neither of us could give a hoot about sports. His favorite words are basketball, football, baseball, soccer ball, and "cool!" And, he's definitely a lefty.
Wonder Girl has light brown ringlets all over her head, and is a fireball. She is more stubborn than her brother, but has a very gentle touch and is incredibly compassionate. She is little more coordinated with fine motor things like drawing, feeding herself, and putting together Mr. Potato Head. She is obsessed with "baby dolls" of any kind (which include stuffed animals and creepy robots), and always asks me to play the "party music" on iTunes so she can dance on my bed. Party music, by the way, includes a blend of old school rap and cheesy dance music by Baha Men and Alvin and the Chipmunks. She also has slightly better verbal skills than him at this point, but we know that they're going to be different kids, with different gifts, and different growth curves. It's all good.
ME
So, my update. I'm still working full time at my joe job, which is okay, but obviously not my dream. A few positives about my joe job: First, I'm around younger people a lot, which has reminded me that I have a lot of energy and enthusiasm for life that I had perhaps forgotten. Second, we're in the middle of a big fundraiser for a nonprofit children's hospital right now, and the fundraiser has given me a reason to love my job. In the past week and a half, I've raised around $800 for the charity, which feels nice. In June, I had dropped out of a volunteer training program for a local women's organization because we thought we might be moving almost an hour away, but since we stayed, I restart training with them this weekend, which is EXCITING! I'm still waiting on those few puzzle pieces to fall into place as well (like Daddy-O). If they do, I'm going to blitz this fall and get my ducks in a row to apply into a PhD program at the local universities, in either anthropology or sociology or religious studies, to study cultural influences on birth and breastfeeding choices OR religion (as well as a bunch of other fun stuff). I know school will kick my butt, but for over 10 years now, all I've ever really wanted to be when I grew up was a college professor. There have been times when I've started other paths (like towards midwifery or social work) because that's what was available to me where I've lived in the past and with our family set up (homeschooling), but with our current set up (kids in school, babies getting older, living 5 minutes from a huge state university and 20 minutes from a major private university), I think I can do this. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's why I'm here. God is setting us all up (me, Daddy-O, kids) to have exactly the opportunities in our lives that we need right now to follow dreams and prepare ourselves for our purposes in life. Life is good. :-)
And I spend a lot of time thinking. I also spend a lot of time in meditation, playing with my kids, spending time with my husband, working, and writing. But the thinking-- that's what you get when you come here to read. If I've had a rather social few days, and a few opportunities to talk with friends about what is going on in my mind, the "need" to blog is less pressing. But when I've been a bit socially isolated (as I've been to some extent since we've moved to a new state, with a work schedule that doesn't leave much room for social time), it's all built up inside me begging to get out, and the blog serves the purpose.
But it occurred to me last night that if all you know of my life is what is in this blog, you might erroneously conclude that my life is full of drama, and that couldn't be farther from the truth. I have an incredibly drama-free life, with occasional events or thoughts passing through that need a little processing, but all in all, life is good.
So here it is: a blog post focusing on a friendly back-to-school update, so you know I really do lead a remarkably normal life.
THE HUSBAND
Since we've been in our current location, my sweet husband has been a stay at home dad, although he's poked around a bit for any appropriate opportunities that might suit him. He volunteers weekly at our local interfaith social services organization that provides a homeless shelter, food pantry, community kitchen, free clinic, and information and referral services. He's also researched the MSW program at the local university, and if the right puzzle pieces line up in our lives over the next month, he'll be applying for next fall and will, no doubt, do extremely well. He is a saint, a loving and sweet father, and one of the smartest guys I know. I become more and more aware with each day how much he loves me and wants me to be happy, which only makes me love him more. I likewise would do anything to make him happy. I give thanks to God for 10 years with this man, and pray for 50+ more (we got married on my grandparents' 60th anniversary).
THE BIG KIDS
School started back the last week of August for my oldest three, which is exciting! The local school district was one of the biggest factors in our decision to move to the town we did once we had decided on a general region, and although the district often takes some heat from the crunchy crowd for being extremely focused on academics, it is working out beautifully for our children. First, all three are extremely academically-oriented in the first place. Second, this district also does a ton of hands-on activities to make the learning real. Third, this district (and their schools in particular) have a HUGE emphasis on the arts. The art room at our elementary school looks more like a real artist's studio than a classroom. The kids learn recorder, reading music and all, beginning in 4th grade. Our elementary school has a science lab with a dedicated teacher, and kids get a science lab rotation at least once a week to do lab projects coordinated with the classroom lessons. And every school has at least one full time gifted specialist who coordinates with the classroom teacher to develop tiered lesson plans to provide extra learning opportunities for those kids who need it. The middle school offers a TON of elective courses to choose from (including 4 foreign languages and college-type art classes, courses on mythology, etc.). In short, this district is a dream for us, and our kids love school.
Funky Monkey is now almost 13, in the 8th grade, and would be mortified to know I am still calling him "Funky Monkey" on my blog. I would consider calling him something cooler, like perhaps "M Funk" or something along those lines, but then he would only be equally mortified that his now-34 year old mother is trying to get all gangsta on him. After just getting slapped onto the end of the trumpet line when we transferred to this district in March, he was thrilled yesterday to finally find out that last week's challenges placed him into second chair (out of 14 trumpets), and I'm happy that he's happy. He's taking algebra and Spanish this year, both for high school credit, is in the pep band, and is planning to go for the school's ultimate Frisbee team when they have try-outs this year. He is still awaiting this long-promised growth spurt he hears boys get around his age (keeping in mind that he's a year ahead in school, so a bit younger than most of his best friends), and says he may consider the cross country team once he grows some longer legs. He's very involved in one of the coolest boy scout troops in the country (the kind that does 10 week long cross country bike rides or month long trips to Guatemala every summer). If I have to be honest about what it is like to have a near-teenager, it is both wonderful and messy, all at the same time, but definitely more wonderful. Though he deals with some of the hormonal adolescent "You just don't understand!" drama, and doesn't always enjoy being the oldest in a large family when the younger ones are annoying him on purpose, he is a delightful and sweet boy with a ton of integrity. He spoils the baby twins rotten, dotes on them, and tries to be nice to the other two older ones. He is developing the kind of sense of humor that often leaves me rolling on the floor laughing at his wit, and might one day make a great writer for a comedy show. He's a popular enough guy (had two "girlfriends"-- aka we say we're "going out" and then never talk to each other again-- last school year), and a genuinely happy and upbeat and confident kid.
Sassy Pants turns 9 next week, and is already starting to act just a tiny bit like a pre-teen. She tosses her long, straight dirty blond hair to the side when she giggles, and sticks her hip out (typically with a balled up fist on it) when she gives her dad that sideways glance that both melts him like butter and convinces him that the next 15 years are going to be terrifying. Last week, while upset about something, actually said for the first time, "Nobody understands me!" Oh, be with me, God, the preteen years are starting! She, like her older brother, is a year ahead in school, and is in the fourth grade. She is in the gifted cluster class at school, which means that it's a mix of half kids with the gifted label. Her teacher seems super cool, which is a relief for me, because her educational needs are probably (out of the three oldest) the most demanding of my three children, as she reads and writes at a level several grades ahead, and (again, out of the three oldest) is most like me in terms of being incredibly intense. She writes stories all the time, has a natural gift for music (self-taught on the piano, and flying along with the recorder), and loves to draw, color, crochet, paint, and weave. She is a junior girl scout this year, in a really neat troop (I'm their newsletter editor). She is infinitely more beautiful and popular and confident and awesome than I ever could have dreamed of being at her age. This scares me just a little bit, because I'm not 100% sure I'll know the right ways to support her, but I'll always love her, listen to her, and try.
Short Stuff is now almost 8, in the second grade, and not so short any more. In fact, he's already taller than Sassy Pants. (Maybe it's time to let my boys decide on some new blog names for themselves.) While he is not a grade ahead (for which we are thankful), he is insanely smart and in the "nurturing program"-- a program his school does for children who don't yet qualify for gifted (they don't start gifted until 3rd grade here), but have been flagged as needing additional academic challenge. In fact, when his school decided this year to do a combination 2nd/3rd grade class (enough funding for one more teacher, but not enough for 2 new classes), he was one of the 2nd graders chosen to be in that class. So, they still do differentiated learning throughout the day for each grade, but much of their instruction is together, which I'm sure suits him well. He is still VERY active and energetic and struggles just a little with impulse and intensity control, but seeing as I struggle with both of those sometimes at age 34, it doesn't make me love him any less. We just have to get creative coming up with routines and habits that help him to be more successful. He reads constantly, and is very creative. He likes "tough guy" stuff, extreme sports, and running. He's going to be a Bear this year in Cub Scouts, which blows my mind. He is getting SO BIG. And, one of the bonuses of his intensity-- when he laughs, it simply lights up the world. That boy, when joyful, is a burst of life!!
THE BABIES
...are not really babies any more. They are now 2 years and 3 months old, talking non-stop, and trying to learn to go potty like big kids. Every morning, they get up and get dressed, put on their backpacks, and insist that they are "goin' to 'chool" like the big kids. "I goin' get on 'chool bus, Mommy!" They like to hug each other, play silly games together, play tag at the playground, and make trouble together (like emptying a 2 liter soda on the kitchen floor so they can throw themselves across it like a slip n' slide, or getting naked and smearing themselves and my entire bathroom with petroleum jelly).
Wonder Boy has straight blond hair, and a very sweet spirit. He gets his feelings hurt a little more easily than his sister, plays a little more rough than she does, and is a little more coordinated with things like stacking blocks and climbing rock walls and ladders at the playground. He is obsessed with sports, which neither me nor Daddy-O can figure out, since neither of us could give a hoot about sports. His favorite words are basketball, football, baseball, soccer ball, and "cool!" And, he's definitely a lefty.
Wonder Girl has light brown ringlets all over her head, and is a fireball. She is more stubborn than her brother, but has a very gentle touch and is incredibly compassionate. She is little more coordinated with fine motor things like drawing, feeding herself, and putting together Mr. Potato Head. She is obsessed with "baby dolls" of any kind (which include stuffed animals and creepy robots), and always asks me to play the "party music" on iTunes so she can dance on my bed. Party music, by the way, includes a blend of old school rap and cheesy dance music by Baha Men and Alvin and the Chipmunks. She also has slightly better verbal skills than him at this point, but we know that they're going to be different kids, with different gifts, and different growth curves. It's all good.
ME
So, my update. I'm still working full time at my joe job, which is okay, but obviously not my dream. A few positives about my joe job: First, I'm around younger people a lot, which has reminded me that I have a lot of energy and enthusiasm for life that I had perhaps forgotten. Second, we're in the middle of a big fundraiser for a nonprofit children's hospital right now, and the fundraiser has given me a reason to love my job. In the past week and a half, I've raised around $800 for the charity, which feels nice. In June, I had dropped out of a volunteer training program for a local women's organization because we thought we might be moving almost an hour away, but since we stayed, I restart training with them this weekend, which is EXCITING! I'm still waiting on those few puzzle pieces to fall into place as well (like Daddy-O). If they do, I'm going to blitz this fall and get my ducks in a row to apply into a PhD program at the local universities, in either anthropology or sociology or religious studies, to study cultural influences on birth and breastfeeding choices OR religion (as well as a bunch of other fun stuff). I know school will kick my butt, but for over 10 years now, all I've ever really wanted to be when I grew up was a college professor. There have been times when I've started other paths (like towards midwifery or social work) because that's what was available to me where I've lived in the past and with our family set up (homeschooling), but with our current set up (kids in school, babies getting older, living 5 minutes from a huge state university and 20 minutes from a major private university), I think I can do this. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's why I'm here. God is setting us all up (me, Daddy-O, kids) to have exactly the opportunities in our lives that we need right now to follow dreams and prepare ourselves for our purposes in life. Life is good. :-)
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Talked-out Tuesday
So, between an emotionally exhausting ordeal a few nights ago (long story, don't ask, involves helping to save a way-too-tipsy friend from himself), an awesome conversation last night with a new friend, and an awesome conversation today with an old friend, I'm about talked out. Those of you who know me well are likely amused with the irony of ME finding myself with nothing to say. But it just isn't in me right now, folks. I've gotten it all out of my system for now, and am thus left blogless.
But I've had a wonderful day, and want to share. So, here you go-- a few pictures from our day at the Durham Museum of Life and Science. At one point, I took the twins to the toddler play area to give Hubs and the other kids a chance to play big kid stuff, hence my having more pics of the babies than the big ones.
This next one isn't from the museum, but I snapped this one last week in the middle of our crazy move. They are tres cute, n'est-ce pas?
And finally, I saw this on the bumper of a car painted to look like a giant lavender flower field at the museum today.
Hope you're having a great day!
P.S. The awesome conversation today was recorded, and will be available soon in a podcast produced by said old friend. I'll post a link once it's up.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Loving the Death Bot
When we first moved to North Carolina four months ago, we did so with little money, no jobs, and an incredibly strong faith that we were doing what we knew we were supposed to be doing, all outward appearances aside. So far, no regrets! Shortly after arriving here and in accordance with our pre-move plan, I went and rounded up a job that would provide some income while we sorted out the other details of being here. The benefits of this are, of course, income, as well as the opportunity for a seasoned people-watcher to have a virtual national geographic special of co-workers and guests by whom I am constantly reminded of the complexity of the human journey. Some of them are even becoming friends, little by little, like the prince taming the fox, awaiting the secret. The down side to having a joe job, other than the amount of physical exhaustion, would also, however, be having a virtual national geographic special of co-workers and guests by whom I am constantly reminded of the complexity of the human journey.
Last Friday, we spent all day moving furniture into the new home. By Friday evening, exhausted, and hours past our children's normal bedtimes, I sat down to play with my children a little before finally putting them down for the night. And when Wonder Girl (age 2) came running up to jump into my lap, I first noticed a HUGE lump on the right side of her neck. She had been working through a little cold for a few days at that point, but wasn't acting all that sick or like it hurt, so we decided to wait out the night before getting her checked out. Saturday morning, after returning our moving van, I was sitting in the office of the local urgent care. We signed in, and Wonder Girl went to check out the toybox.
With three older brothers (if we count Wonder Boy as older, which he technically is by just over 2 hours), she immediately picked up a hard, plastic, evil-looking black robot/transformer/terminator-looking action figure-- the kind I don't even let my kids have in our home-- and which had a button on the front that, when you pushed it, made it pretend to walk while red lights flashed in its eyes. CREEPY. I could not, for the life of me, figure out why she liked that silly robot death machine better than some of the other toys in the toybox, but she did. "Yook, mama, it's a PIRATE!" She carried that silly toy around, every now and then declaring it to be a pirate, which from her experience (having recently watched Muppets Treasure Island) was a fun and funny and delightful thing to be!
And after a while, she went from mechanically pushing the buttons and making it do its death march, to holding it and cuddling it, and reading books to it. Pretty soon, she was even expecting me to get in on the action. She ran up to me, pushed the red-eyed robot up against my chest, and grinned. "Wuv it, mama! Wuv da pirate!" Amused by her innocence and irresistible cuteness, I did a lame snuggle, trying to appease her sweet nature. Apparently, my feeble attempt was not enough, and she pressed the death bot harder into my chest-- "Don't you wuv it, Mama? WUV IT!!" So, with all the sincerity I could muster, I snuggled and cuddled her silly toy. "Oh, yes!" I said, "What a wonderful pirate you are! I love this pirate!"
Sitting there in an urgent care office on the weekend, knowing I had to be at work that night, sleep-deprived, stressed out, and unsure of what was wrong with my baby, I snuggled that silly macho toy, declaring to love it, and watching the way my daughter's eyes lit up as I did. The funny thing?-- The more I snuggled it, the more I actually liked that toy, and the better I felt. I am 100% positive that "cute, cuddly, snuggly, and loveable" were not words that the designer of that toy would have thought of when designing that toy. I'm sure their intent was not to foster practice for loving relationships, or to give toddlers the chance to "wuv" and cuddle a new favorite toy. But for her, that didn't matter, and allowing myself (even for a few minutes) to get into her world, where the only intent that matters is her own, I did kinda wuv her pirate, and just for a little while, it was real.
We could learn a lot from a two year old.
I think part of why my relationships with my co-workers (most of them, anyway) aren't as complicated and prone to annoyance might be that usually (not always, but usually), I see the best in them. If they say something stupid, or do something annoying, or act in a way that doesn't on the surface seem to be kind, I do my best to assume positive intent, even if the outer expression of that intent comes in the form of a red-eyed, evil-looking, hard, plastic death bot. Most of us have good intentions, after all, especially when we feel that we are important to others, and that they're interested in seeing us for who we are.
And even if they had bad intent and were trying to frustrate or hurt me, what good would it serve to acknowledge that with either anger or hurftul behavior of my own? What good would it do to tear someone down, to insult them, to play mean-spirited pranks? Would it improve the relationship? Would it solve the problem? Would it make me feel better? What if we allow ourselves to imagine, if only for a few minutes, a situation in which someone DID call you out with specific intent to hurt you, and instead of being hurt and reacting from that hurt, we simply assumed (incorrectly) that it wasn't intentional, continued on our way with a cheerful spirit, and refused to hand over to anyone else the strings and buttons that control our emotions? Would we feel stupid for not fully understanding their ill intent? Or could we simply continue to be at peace with a positive assessment of the situation? What if, instead of getting pissed off, we simply let it roll off, continued to see that person as an overall good person, and refused to get caught up in the emotional drama that permeates our lives (not just at work, but in every sphere of our lives)? In the end, what is our goal? To avenge every wrong, no matter how small? Or to live a life that is fun and vibrant and fully alive? Can we be okay with being wrong about someone else, even if it means our own lives are happier? Can we simply ignore the hard, plastic shell and red, glaring eyes, and love the death bot in spite of it all?
Don't get me wrong-- I'm not always a ray of sunshine. I have my moments when I am full of rage, disappointed in humanity, and convinced that another person is a waste of space. I'm human. But I'd like to think I have many, many more moments in which my love for others outweighs my displaced anger, which assumes that they took my power from me, when in fact, I have to give it away to allow someone else to make me angry.
I guess what it all comes down to, for me, is intent. God's intent (for you to live a life that is constantly frustrated by others, or for you to live an empowered life that is full of joy and meaning), your intent (revenge and hypercriticism, or acceptance and love), and the intent of others (which often, in cases where someone else is coming out against you, boils down to their own self-protection amidst inter- and intra-personal uncertainty).
So what's it going to be? Can we be that patient with others, forgiving of them as we'd hope them to be forgiving of our own shortcomings? Do we stick around long enough to know the fox's secret?
Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.
When the outer is throwing us off, messing us up, and keeping us frustrated, remember that The Essential is only found with the heart.
Last Friday, we spent all day moving furniture into the new home. By Friday evening, exhausted, and hours past our children's normal bedtimes, I sat down to play with my children a little before finally putting them down for the night. And when Wonder Girl (age 2) came running up to jump into my lap, I first noticed a HUGE lump on the right side of her neck. She had been working through a little cold for a few days at that point, but wasn't acting all that sick or like it hurt, so we decided to wait out the night before getting her checked out. Saturday morning, after returning our moving van, I was sitting in the office of the local urgent care. We signed in, and Wonder Girl went to check out the toybox.
With three older brothers (if we count Wonder Boy as older, which he technically is by just over 2 hours), she immediately picked up a hard, plastic, evil-looking black robot/transformer/terminator-looking action figure-- the kind I don't even let my kids have in our home-- and which had a button on the front that, when you pushed it, made it pretend to walk while red lights flashed in its eyes. CREEPY. I could not, for the life of me, figure out why she liked that silly robot death machine better than some of the other toys in the toybox, but she did. "Yook, mama, it's a PIRATE!" She carried that silly toy around, every now and then declaring it to be a pirate, which from her experience (having recently watched Muppets Treasure Island) was a fun and funny and delightful thing to be!
And after a while, she went from mechanically pushing the buttons and making it do its death march, to holding it and cuddling it, and reading books to it. Pretty soon, she was even expecting me to get in on the action. She ran up to me, pushed the red-eyed robot up against my chest, and grinned. "Wuv it, mama! Wuv da pirate!" Amused by her innocence and irresistible cuteness, I did a lame snuggle, trying to appease her sweet nature. Apparently, my feeble attempt was not enough, and she pressed the death bot harder into my chest-- "Don't you wuv it, Mama? WUV IT!!" So, with all the sincerity I could muster, I snuggled and cuddled her silly toy. "Oh, yes!" I said, "What a wonderful pirate you are! I love this pirate!"
Sitting there in an urgent care office on the weekend, knowing I had to be at work that night, sleep-deprived, stressed out, and unsure of what was wrong with my baby, I snuggled that silly macho toy, declaring to love it, and watching the way my daughter's eyes lit up as I did. The funny thing?-- The more I snuggled it, the more I actually liked that toy, and the better I felt. I am 100% positive that "cute, cuddly, snuggly, and loveable" were not words that the designer of that toy would have thought of when designing that toy. I'm sure their intent was not to foster practice for loving relationships, or to give toddlers the chance to "wuv" and cuddle a new favorite toy. But for her, that didn't matter, and allowing myself (even for a few minutes) to get into her world, where the only intent that matters is her own, I did kinda wuv her pirate, and just for a little while, it was real.
We could learn a lot from a two year old.
I think part of why my relationships with my co-workers (most of them, anyway) aren't as complicated and prone to annoyance might be that usually (not always, but usually), I see the best in them. If they say something stupid, or do something annoying, or act in a way that doesn't on the surface seem to be kind, I do my best to assume positive intent, even if the outer expression of that intent comes in the form of a red-eyed, evil-looking, hard, plastic death bot. Most of us have good intentions, after all, especially when we feel that we are important to others, and that they're interested in seeing us for who we are.
And even if they had bad intent and were trying to frustrate or hurt me, what good would it serve to acknowledge that with either anger or hurftul behavior of my own? What good would it do to tear someone down, to insult them, to play mean-spirited pranks? Would it improve the relationship? Would it solve the problem? Would it make me feel better? What if we allow ourselves to imagine, if only for a few minutes, a situation in which someone DID call you out with specific intent to hurt you, and instead of being hurt and reacting from that hurt, we simply assumed (incorrectly) that it wasn't intentional, continued on our way with a cheerful spirit, and refused to hand over to anyone else the strings and buttons that control our emotions? Would we feel stupid for not fully understanding their ill intent? Or could we simply continue to be at peace with a positive assessment of the situation? What if, instead of getting pissed off, we simply let it roll off, continued to see that person as an overall good person, and refused to get caught up in the emotional drama that permeates our lives (not just at work, but in every sphere of our lives)? In the end, what is our goal? To avenge every wrong, no matter how small? Or to live a life that is fun and vibrant and fully alive? Can we be okay with being wrong about someone else, even if it means our own lives are happier? Can we simply ignore the hard, plastic shell and red, glaring eyes, and love the death bot in spite of it all?
Don't get me wrong-- I'm not always a ray of sunshine. I have my moments when I am full of rage, disappointed in humanity, and convinced that another person is a waste of space. I'm human. But I'd like to think I have many, many more moments in which my love for others outweighs my displaced anger, which assumes that they took my power from me, when in fact, I have to give it away to allow someone else to make me angry.
I guess what it all comes down to, for me, is intent. God's intent (for you to live a life that is constantly frustrated by others, or for you to live an empowered life that is full of joy and meaning), your intent (revenge and hypercriticism, or acceptance and love), and the intent of others (which often, in cases where someone else is coming out against you, boils down to their own self-protection amidst inter- and intra-personal uncertainty).
So what's it going to be? Can we be that patient with others, forgiving of them as we'd hope them to be forgiving of our own shortcomings? Do we stick around long enough to know the fox's secret?
Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.
When the outer is throwing us off, messing us up, and keeping us frustrated, remember that The Essential is only found with the heart.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Justice?
Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
I'm a few branches over on the tree, but I can only imagine the relief felt by a mom and dad who've lived for almost two years without their youngest daughter, or by a sibling whose heart has been wrenched and torn out by the criminal (and inhuman) acts of this man. My heart breaks for the girls, to struggle with the knowledge that their mother was killed by their father. My heart breaks for my husband, and also for his mother, who struggled to protect someone without really even knowing the threats she faced.
I'd like to think I'm not the type to revel in someone else's pain or misfortune, but there's something deeply satisfying about seeing someone face the consequences of their horrible behaviors. After two long years of seeing the suffering of those left behind while the guilty one went on with his life and reputation relatively intact, it's truly satisfying to imagine what must have gone through his mind as he began to watch it all crumble around him.
And at the same time, I know justice isn't always served-- not on earth anyway. Sometimes, for whatever reasons, victims wait too long to report, or evidence is destroyed, or fear is employed to buy their silence for a time. Sometimes, sadly, we can't see the perpetrator fully and publicly punished for what they've done. In those times, we just have to rest in the knowledge that deep in the heart of most people who commit heinous crimes is the knowledge and full understanding of what they've done. They carry with them in their spirits the secret anguish and guilt over what they've done, the inability to confess such sins tearing them apart inside day by day. No matter where they go, they are never, and could never be, free.
And the ones who don't have that conscience... Not much to say about that.
I hope Tim Tillman gets the legal consequences he deserves. Only then can those who loved Janet begin to work on forgiving him, and praying for his soul. It's hard to forgive someone who refuses to admit or apologize or pay for their crimes against the innocent.
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
I'm a few branches over on the tree, but I can only imagine the relief felt by a mom and dad who've lived for almost two years without their youngest daughter, or by a sibling whose heart has been wrenched and torn out by the criminal (and inhuman) acts of this man. My heart breaks for the girls, to struggle with the knowledge that their mother was killed by their father. My heart breaks for my husband, and also for his mother, who struggled to protect someone without really even knowing the threats she faced.
I'd like to think I'm not the type to revel in someone else's pain or misfortune, but there's something deeply satisfying about seeing someone face the consequences of their horrible behaviors. After two long years of seeing the suffering of those left behind while the guilty one went on with his life and reputation relatively intact, it's truly satisfying to imagine what must have gone through his mind as he began to watch it all crumble around him.
And at the same time, I know justice isn't always served-- not on earth anyway. Sometimes, for whatever reasons, victims wait too long to report, or evidence is destroyed, or fear is employed to buy their silence for a time. Sometimes, sadly, we can't see the perpetrator fully and publicly punished for what they've done. In those times, we just have to rest in the knowledge that deep in the heart of most people who commit heinous crimes is the knowledge and full understanding of what they've done. They carry with them in their spirits the secret anguish and guilt over what they've done, the inability to confess such sins tearing them apart inside day by day. No matter where they go, they are never, and could never be, free.
And the ones who don't have that conscience... Not much to say about that.
I hope Tim Tillman gets the legal consequences he deserves. Only then can those who loved Janet begin to work on forgiving him, and praying for his soul. It's hard to forgive someone who refuses to admit or apologize or pay for their crimes against the innocent.
Friday, October 05, 2007
Back to School Whirlwind
Aaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiieeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!
Yep, I definitely feel like I'm on a rollercoaster right now, which is why I haven't posted an update in a while. And as for real, fabulous, chunky, meaty substance, this isn't going to be much of a post, either. But it's going to be an update. Take it or leave it. ;-)
Hmmmmm... Where to begin?
A) We have been visiting new churches recently. We had found a church that we thought denominationally met our needs and had been attending since October of 2006. But, it was very, very big. Big, as in too big for us to even get a call or card from anyone when the babies were born. Big, as in corporate enough that there didn't seem to really be any need for new volunteers, since everyone kind of had their thing going on already. Big, as in, well, just too big for us to feel at home. We've become weirdo country folks over the last few years, and like small town living, and the small town feel. Which brings me to our second problem with the other church-- it's in the main city almost a half an hour drive from where we live now. So, that basically limited us to Sunday morning participation since we don't head into town every day. Something in our town (which is actually about a five minute drive since we don't technically live in town anymore) would mean we could do Wednesday nights, Sunday afternoons, and more. And then there's my third problem with the old church-- it is very much a "we are the only right way" kind of denomination that isn't very good with ecumenical interactions. As much as I liked the church and its beliefs, I kind of have a hard time believing that any of the other Christian denominations are heading to Hell en masse simply because their flavor of Christianity isn't the right kind. Shoot, I don't think I completely believe that people of other religions than Christianity are definitely going to Hell en masse, for that matter. So, if being an exclusivist Believer is a requirement, I'm really going to be a crappy church member. Anyway, we believe we've found a new church home in our own little town, and we really like it. It's a small church, with lots of room to grow and opportunities to serve, and the people are fabulous. We'll see how it goes.
B) We've begun our homeschool year, and all the activities that come along with it. We started back to our year on September 17. We've also started the boys back to Cub Scouts (one is a second year Webelos and on track so far to have the Arrow of Light award, as well as every possible Webelos badge, and the other is a Tiger Cub), and Sassy Pants started back to American Heritage Girls. We're doing Scout popcorn sales and AHG candy bar sales, and I have to say that once again, I remember why I hate fundraisers. The two oldest are now in a homeschool Chess Club for 3rd grade and up once a week, my Webelos boy went to his first Boy Scouts campout over last weekend, and I took the four youngest munchkins on a field trip to an upstate farm. At the campout, big guy learned how to canoe and much more, and at the farm we learned about beekeeping, sheep herding, and got to eat goat and emu chili. We start our science unit on astronomy tonight! :-)
C) The babies are fabulous! They're now rolling over, trying to sit up, talking, cooing, and beginning to interact with each other. They weigh almost 17 pounds each at almost 5 months, and are in size 6-12 months clothing. As much as people made fun of us for wanting a 4th child, and as much as I almost had a heart attack when the sonographer told us it was a 5th one too, I can't imagine life without both of them. They're both very easy and very sweet babies; the only part that is sometimes hard is that there's two of them.
D) The house is coming along great. I got it all organized (at least well enough to have company) before Sassy Pants's 7th birthday party on September 22. It gets DARN COLD in there early mornings on cold nights. Winter is going to suck a fat one. Luckily, some friends from our new church have some farm land that needs clearing, so we'll be able to get boatloads of firewood one day in October when we go to help clear it out. Hopefully we can use the wood stove and bedroom space heaters wisely enough and avoid a killer gas bill this winter.
E) I've begun work on writing the book I've always threatened to write. I'm almost done with the introduction, and will occasionally post updates here about how far I am. The goal is to write about 10 pages a week. And no, self-centered, self-absorbed, manipulative crazy person, it's not about you. So get over yourself. ;-)
F) The hubster took a second job a couple of weeks ago. We really want to be able to buy this house, which will require getting ahead financially. We've been doing a so-so job of treading water and making teeny progress towards paying off more debt, but that won't get us where we want to be when we want to be there. So, we're going to continue to live off of job #1 for our regular expenses, and use 100% of the money from job #2 to pay off debts and begin to save up towards a downpayment on the house. If I could find a job I could do without abandoning the kids and giving up the SAHM and homeschooling, I would do that. We're just about ready to get radical if it gets us out of debt faster.
G) What kind of space cadet makes snotty comments to someone who OBVIOUSLY believes in having a big family about thinking that big families are bad? Seriously? It's been over a month now since someone offended me and the hubster-- someone we both care about very much-- and it's still a sore spot with us. The person was drunk at the time of the offending comments, so hubs and I were both wise enough to refuse to take the bait or try to engage in such an important conversation with someone who was obviously enebriated, but it definitely ticked us off. I'm going to update the family philosophy page of this blog to reflect what we believe about family size.
That's about it for the updates for now. I was going to add in a few pictures to the post, but time and technical constraints force me to save that for another post. :-)
Yep, I definitely feel like I'm on a rollercoaster right now, which is why I haven't posted an update in a while. And as for real, fabulous, chunky, meaty substance, this isn't going to be much of a post, either. But it's going to be an update. Take it or leave it. ;-)
Hmmmmm... Where to begin?
A) We have been visiting new churches recently. We had found a church that we thought denominationally met our needs and had been attending since October of 2006. But, it was very, very big. Big, as in too big for us to even get a call or card from anyone when the babies were born. Big, as in corporate enough that there didn't seem to really be any need for new volunteers, since everyone kind of had their thing going on already. Big, as in, well, just too big for us to feel at home. We've become weirdo country folks over the last few years, and like small town living, and the small town feel. Which brings me to our second problem with the other church-- it's in the main city almost a half an hour drive from where we live now. So, that basically limited us to Sunday morning participation since we don't head into town every day. Something in our town (which is actually about a five minute drive since we don't technically live in town anymore) would mean we could do Wednesday nights, Sunday afternoons, and more. And then there's my third problem with the old church-- it is very much a "we are the only right way" kind of denomination that isn't very good with ecumenical interactions. As much as I liked the church and its beliefs, I kind of have a hard time believing that any of the other Christian denominations are heading to Hell en masse simply because their flavor of Christianity isn't the right kind. Shoot, I don't think I completely believe that people of other religions than Christianity are definitely going to Hell en masse, for that matter. So, if being an exclusivist Believer is a requirement, I'm really going to be a crappy church member. Anyway, we believe we've found a new church home in our own little town, and we really like it. It's a small church, with lots of room to grow and opportunities to serve, and the people are fabulous. We'll see how it goes.
B) We've begun our homeschool year, and all the activities that come along with it. We started back to our year on September 17. We've also started the boys back to Cub Scouts (one is a second year Webelos and on track so far to have the Arrow of Light award, as well as every possible Webelos badge, and the other is a Tiger Cub), and Sassy Pants started back to American Heritage Girls. We're doing Scout popcorn sales and AHG candy bar sales, and I have to say that once again, I remember why I hate fundraisers. The two oldest are now in a homeschool Chess Club for 3rd grade and up once a week, my Webelos boy went to his first Boy Scouts campout over last weekend, and I took the four youngest munchkins on a field trip to an upstate farm. At the campout, big guy learned how to canoe and much more, and at the farm we learned about beekeeping, sheep herding, and got to eat goat and emu chili. We start our science unit on astronomy tonight! :-)
C) The babies are fabulous! They're now rolling over, trying to sit up, talking, cooing, and beginning to interact with each other. They weigh almost 17 pounds each at almost 5 months, and are in size 6-12 months clothing. As much as people made fun of us for wanting a 4th child, and as much as I almost had a heart attack when the sonographer told us it was a 5th one too, I can't imagine life without both of them. They're both very easy and very sweet babies; the only part that is sometimes hard is that there's two of them.
D) The house is coming along great. I got it all organized (at least well enough to have company) before Sassy Pants's 7th birthday party on September 22. It gets DARN COLD in there early mornings on cold nights. Winter is going to suck a fat one. Luckily, some friends from our new church have some farm land that needs clearing, so we'll be able to get boatloads of firewood one day in October when we go to help clear it out. Hopefully we can use the wood stove and bedroom space heaters wisely enough and avoid a killer gas bill this winter.
E) I've begun work on writing the book I've always threatened to write. I'm almost done with the introduction, and will occasionally post updates here about how far I am. The goal is to write about 10 pages a week. And no, self-centered, self-absorbed, manipulative crazy person, it's not about you. So get over yourself. ;-)
F) The hubster took a second job a couple of weeks ago. We really want to be able to buy this house, which will require getting ahead financially. We've been doing a so-so job of treading water and making teeny progress towards paying off more debt, but that won't get us where we want to be when we want to be there. So, we're going to continue to live off of job #1 for our regular expenses, and use 100% of the money from job #2 to pay off debts and begin to save up towards a downpayment on the house. If I could find a job I could do without abandoning the kids and giving up the SAHM and homeschooling, I would do that. We're just about ready to get radical if it gets us out of debt faster.
G) What kind of space cadet makes snotty comments to someone who OBVIOUSLY believes in having a big family about thinking that big families are bad? Seriously? It's been over a month now since someone offended me and the hubster-- someone we both care about very much-- and it's still a sore spot with us. The person was drunk at the time of the offending comments, so hubs and I were both wise enough to refuse to take the bait or try to engage in such an important conversation with someone who was obviously enebriated, but it definitely ticked us off. I'm going to update the family philosophy page of this blog to reflect what we believe about family size.
That's about it for the updates for now. I was going to add in a few pictures to the post, but time and technical constraints force me to save that for another post. :-)
Monday, July 16, 2007
Lookin' for fun, and feelin' groovy!
Two weekends ago was a FIASCO of a weekend. I didn't blog about it here, but suffice to say it was a prime example of how Murphy's Law can be demonstrated in a family's life. Over and over and over. I started off the weekend with best intentions, including listing two beds and a large TV on Freecycle just to get them out of my storage unit and attic. Two nice families were going to take the beds, and the TV was going to be delivered to a local children's home that responded to my ad so that their boys would have a TV if they ever could afford to get a game station of some sort. I was so excited to be donating the TV, that I called up my sweetheart of a little brother to ask if he'd donate his old Nintendo 64. Turns out, he sold that Nintendo years ago, but since he only plays his Gamecube and XBOX360, he donated his nice Playstation 2, and a bunch of games.
We were about to head into town to pick up the TV from our storage unit and take it to the children's home cottage, when the family who wanted the bed from our attic called and asked if they could come pick it up. We said sure, and I decided to go check out the leaky spigot on the back of the house while waiting for them to arrive. Long story short, the pipes were OLD, and after gently twisting the spigot a little to see how hard it would be to replace, the entire pipe broke and we had to turn off water the the whole house. We tried calling a plumber, but couldn't reach anyone at first. And then, the family who came to get the bed managed to break the spring on our attic ladder and left before we noticed. GRRR! So, in South Carolina in the ridiculous heat of a July day, my husband and 10 year old climbed into the attic, and I held the door shut for ten minutes while they fixed the spring. I opened the attic to let them out, and SPROING!!!!! The spring came off again. So, back into the sweltering attic they went, for round two of fix-the-spring. Ten minutes later, they emerged, smelling like camels and soaked to the bone with sweat. With no water to do so much as wash their hands, much less take a shower.
Frustrated, I called the family that wanted the bed from the storage unit and the children's home houseparent and let them know we'd just have to bring their things Sunday, and we went to swim at my dad's house so the kids and my husband could rinse off. While there, I managed to reach a plumber, who came by the house that afternoon and got the water working again, just before dinner and bedtime. That was Saturday, July 7.
Sunday morning of the 8th, we woke up and decided things would be different. We skipped out of Sunday morning church because we accidentally overslept (we usually attend Saturday vigil anyway), got up and ready, and went to the storage unit after lunch. The family who wanted our storage bed met us there and picked it up. And then, the real fun began. On Friday, I had arranged with the storage unit rental office to move all of our things into a smaller unit in a different building on the other side of the property, since we'd be getting rid of a lot of stuff and never really needed the bigger one to begin with. So, we borrowed a pickup and a hand truck from the family business, and spent an hour and a half loading up our pickup. The kids worked so hard, and I was so proud of them for all pitching in! And the babies slept peacefully in the back of the minivan the entire time. Once we got it all loaded, we were so excited to have it all finished, loaded up the truck and minivan, and drove across the property to the building where our new, smaller, unlocked unit awaited.
At least that's how we had envisioned it.
When we went inside the building to find our new unit, it had a lock on it. A big, red lock. I called the office, hoping it would have an after-hours phone number for situations like this, but no. So I left a frantic message begging for help from anyone who might check the messages over the weekend. And then I went back to the building with the locked unit, and check the doors of EVERY unit, hoping to find one unlocked that we could claim. Locks. On every door, even. After half an hour more of brainstorming some way to make lemonade out of lemons, I gave up. We decided to move everything back into our old unit. But first, someone was going to feel my pain, at least a little.
By now, both babies were in their car seats screaming their heads off. I got into the van with the babies, rolled all the windows up and closed the doors (to improve the sound quality, of course), sat in the middle of the van between the two screaming babies, and called the storage unit office voicemail one more time, with babies howling in thebackground foreground.
"Hello, this is Christy again. We've decided to move everything back into the old unit. We will not be able to borrow a truck again until next weekend. And I'll look forward to hearing from you Monday so we can work out some way, perhaps a big credit on our account, that we can make this all a little more fair. Thank you very much!"
And then, with babies screaming, and our 5 year old son crying, "Mommy PLEASE don't make us move it all back-- I don't wanna move it all back," my sweet husband and I moved all the big stuff quickly into the unit. Then I sat in the van and nursed babies while my husband and children made a billion trips to move the rest of the small stuff. It took an hour to move it all back in.
We needed something to make us happy, so we took all my brother's PS2 games (which were all rated T) to our local used game shop, explained that they had been donated but would not be appropriate for the children's home, and asked if we could get some credit to swap out for rated E games. The game store manager was so sweet, he gave us full retail credit, and we got 6 new, fun games for the boys. We called over to the cottage, and went by to deliver the TV, PS2, and games ourselves. Our kids LOVED it, and the looks on those boys' faces were priceless! What fun!
Anyway, that was the weekend before last.
I was hoping, praying, that this weekend would be better. And it was!
Friday afternoon we moved our stuff to the new storage unit (I got my credit, by the way). Friday evening, we left the three oldest kids in good hands, and the Mr. and I got to go out on a pseudo date (milkshakes at Hardee's while the babies slept in their car seats next to us). Saturday was spent preparing food, playing with my new birthday present (which will be announced once I have time to post about it properly), and enjoying family time. And Sunday was spent in family time until the afternoon, when our new friends came over for a cookout. We had so much fun, the kids played well, and the grownups had a great time! We were even able to discuss religion over dinner without things falling apart (we're currently attending a Catholic church, they're Adventists), which is no small feat on a "first date" with new buddies. And the dad is cool, which is a good thing. Many of the dads we meet in this area are macho Bubba types, so meeting another nice, semi-progressive dude was a good thing. At one point, the other mom and I walked from the kitchen to the livingroom to find the two dads there talking, each one with a baby in their arms. Sweet!
So, I woke up this morning feeling slightly tired out from visiting into the evening, but feeling very, VERY much at peace and content. It's amazing what a refreshing and fun weekend can do for the spirit.
We were about to head into town to pick up the TV from our storage unit and take it to the children's home cottage, when the family who wanted the bed from our attic called and asked if they could come pick it up. We said sure, and I decided to go check out the leaky spigot on the back of the house while waiting for them to arrive. Long story short, the pipes were OLD, and after gently twisting the spigot a little to see how hard it would be to replace, the entire pipe broke and we had to turn off water the the whole house. We tried calling a plumber, but couldn't reach anyone at first. And then, the family who came to get the bed managed to break the spring on our attic ladder and left before we noticed. GRRR! So, in South Carolina in the ridiculous heat of a July day, my husband and 10 year old climbed into the attic, and I held the door shut for ten minutes while they fixed the spring. I opened the attic to let them out, and SPROING!!!!! The spring came off again. So, back into the sweltering attic they went, for round two of fix-the-spring. Ten minutes later, they emerged, smelling like camels and soaked to the bone with sweat. With no water to do so much as wash their hands, much less take a shower.
Frustrated, I called the family that wanted the bed from the storage unit and the children's home houseparent and let them know we'd just have to bring their things Sunday, and we went to swim at my dad's house so the kids and my husband could rinse off. While there, I managed to reach a plumber, who came by the house that afternoon and got the water working again, just before dinner and bedtime. That was Saturday, July 7.
Sunday morning of the 8th, we woke up and decided things would be different. We skipped out of Sunday morning church because we accidentally overslept (we usually attend Saturday vigil anyway), got up and ready, and went to the storage unit after lunch. The family who wanted our storage bed met us there and picked it up. And then, the real fun began. On Friday, I had arranged with the storage unit rental office to move all of our things into a smaller unit in a different building on the other side of the property, since we'd be getting rid of a lot of stuff and never really needed the bigger one to begin with. So, we borrowed a pickup and a hand truck from the family business, and spent an hour and a half loading up our pickup. The kids worked so hard, and I was so proud of them for all pitching in! And the babies slept peacefully in the back of the minivan the entire time. Once we got it all loaded, we were so excited to have it all finished, loaded up the truck and minivan, and drove across the property to the building where our new, smaller, unlocked unit awaited.
At least that's how we had envisioned it.
When we went inside the building to find our new unit, it had a lock on it. A big, red lock. I called the office, hoping it would have an after-hours phone number for situations like this, but no. So I left a frantic message begging for help from anyone who might check the messages over the weekend. And then I went back to the building with the locked unit, and check the doors of EVERY unit, hoping to find one unlocked that we could claim. Locks. On every door, even. After half an hour more of brainstorming some way to make lemonade out of lemons, I gave up. We decided to move everything back into our old unit. But first, someone was going to feel my pain, at least a little.
By now, both babies were in their car seats screaming their heads off. I got into the van with the babies, rolled all the windows up and closed the doors (to improve the sound quality, of course), sat in the middle of the van between the two screaming babies, and called the storage unit office voicemail one more time, with babies howling in the
"Hello, this is Christy again. We've decided to move everything back into the old unit. We will not be able to borrow a truck again until next weekend. And I'll look forward to hearing from you Monday so we can work out some way, perhaps a big credit on our account, that we can make this all a little more fair. Thank you very much!"
And then, with babies screaming, and our 5 year old son crying, "Mommy PLEASE don't make us move it all back-- I don't wanna move it all back," my sweet husband and I moved all the big stuff quickly into the unit. Then I sat in the van and nursed babies while my husband and children made a billion trips to move the rest of the small stuff. It took an hour to move it all back in.
We needed something to make us happy, so we took all my brother's PS2 games (which were all rated T) to our local used game shop, explained that they had been donated but would not be appropriate for the children's home, and asked if we could get some credit to swap out for rated E games. The game store manager was so sweet, he gave us full retail credit, and we got 6 new, fun games for the boys. We called over to the cottage, and went by to deliver the TV, PS2, and games ourselves. Our kids LOVED it, and the looks on those boys' faces were priceless! What fun!
Anyway, that was the weekend before last.
I was hoping, praying, that this weekend would be better. And it was!
Friday afternoon we moved our stuff to the new storage unit (I got my credit, by the way). Friday evening, we left the three oldest kids in good hands, and the Mr. and I got to go out on a pseudo date (milkshakes at Hardee's while the babies slept in their car seats next to us). Saturday was spent preparing food, playing with my new birthday present (which will be announced once I have time to post about it properly), and enjoying family time. And Sunday was spent in family time until the afternoon, when our new friends came over for a cookout. We had so much fun, the kids played well, and the grownups had a great time! We were even able to discuss religion over dinner without things falling apart (we're currently attending a Catholic church, they're Adventists), which is no small feat on a "first date" with new buddies. And the dad is cool, which is a good thing. Many of the dads we meet in this area are macho Bubba types, so meeting another nice, semi-progressive dude was a good thing. At one point, the other mom and I walked from the kitchen to the livingroom to find the two dads there talking, each one with a baby in their arms. Sweet!
So, I woke up this morning feeling slightly tired out from visiting into the evening, but feeling very, VERY much at peace and content. It's amazing what a refreshing and fun weekend can do for the spirit.
New Friends
As you may remember, I live in a tiny town. It has ONE grocery store. Two days ago, we went shopping there.
As we were heading into the store, I saw another mama with her minivan parked next to mine. She commented the standard comment I get when I go anywhere with three big kids and baby twins-- "Wow, you have your hands full!" She said it smiling, though, instead of snotty like they usually say it, and I liked her. I laughed and said, "sort of!"
Three cute kids jumped out of the car and followed her as she walked into the store. They looked like little ragamuffins-- in a good way! Big curly locks falling into their eyes, play outfits on that didn't match. I bet they homeschool, I thought to myself, and I made a mental note to try to find an opportunity to chat with her if I could work it in. But I didn't see her again in the store.
Later, while loading my groceries, I saw her come out and load up her van. "You have a beautiful family," I said, hoping to strike up a conversation. "Thanks," she replied. And then I chickened out. That stupid social anxiety welling up, I got into the driver's seat and closed the door. Disappointed in myself for not saying more, but still harboring some hope that we might still get to chat, I rolled down my windows (something I NEVER do when it's 100 degrees outside) to remain a little more accessible. She got behind the wheel of her car, cranked it up, and shifted into gear. Then, a funny thing happened. She drove her van right up next to mine, rolled down her window, and shouted, "Do you homeschool?"
Turns out she's a homeschool mom who has only lived in the area a few months. We talked in the parking lot for a few minutes, and then exchanged phone numbers before leaving. I called a little while later to invite her and her kids over to swim, and we had a BLAST! Turns out, they homeschool, they're vegetarian, they're into whole foods and natural living, and fairly crunchy in a few other ways!
Meeting her has been the highlight of my week, and it just goes to remind me to get out of my shell a little more!
Oh, AND I got an early birthday present tonight. But it's special enough to require its own post (maybe tomorrow) to present it to you. :-)
As we were heading into the store, I saw another mama with her minivan parked next to mine. She commented the standard comment I get when I go anywhere with three big kids and baby twins-- "Wow, you have your hands full!" She said it smiling, though, instead of snotty like they usually say it, and I liked her. I laughed and said, "sort of!"
Three cute kids jumped out of the car and followed her as she walked into the store. They looked like little ragamuffins-- in a good way! Big curly locks falling into their eyes, play outfits on that didn't match. I bet they homeschool, I thought to myself, and I made a mental note to try to find an opportunity to chat with her if I could work it in. But I didn't see her again in the store.
Later, while loading my groceries, I saw her come out and load up her van. "You have a beautiful family," I said, hoping to strike up a conversation. "Thanks," she replied. And then I chickened out. That stupid social anxiety welling up, I got into the driver's seat and closed the door. Disappointed in myself for not saying more, but still harboring some hope that we might still get to chat, I rolled down my windows (something I NEVER do when it's 100 degrees outside) to remain a little more accessible. She got behind the wheel of her car, cranked it up, and shifted into gear. Then, a funny thing happened. She drove her van right up next to mine, rolled down her window, and shouted, "Do you homeschool?"
Turns out she's a homeschool mom who has only lived in the area a few months. We talked in the parking lot for a few minutes, and then exchanged phone numbers before leaving. I called a little while later to invite her and her kids over to swim, and we had a BLAST! Turns out, they homeschool, they're vegetarian, they're into whole foods and natural living, and fairly crunchy in a few other ways!
Meeting her has been the highlight of my week, and it just goes to remind me to get out of my shell a little more!
Oh, AND I got an early birthday present tonight. But it's special enough to require its own post (maybe tomorrow) to present it to you. :-)
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
New Hobbies!
Okay, some of you TS old timers may remember my post, Do It Yourself = Therapy for Stubborn People. Well, I've been at it again. But THIS time around, I'd like to do it right. So, I've been learning some new tricks.
First off on our hit parade of DIY magic (as opposed to the DIY madness of years past)-- gardening. Successfully, even!
Since we have a limited area in the back yard that gets enough sunlight, Mr. Thinking Southerner read up on "square foot gardening," which is a method of gardening that helps you grow more stuff in smaller spaces. So, we have three big garden boxes full of tomatoes, squash, zucchini, cucumbers, green beans, okra, canteloupe, swiss chard, spinach, lettuce, peppers, and more! And our live to die plant ratio has been pretty good!
Number two on our hit parade of DIY magic: Canning and pickling!
I'm not that great at it yet, but I'm learning, beginning with small and simple projects. I've made a few baby carriers and slings, and a couple of play dresses for my girls. And beginning this fall, I'm going to start taking sewing classes at the local fabric store to get better at it.
Number four on our hit parade of newly acquired skills: Basic carpentry!
Last summer, we put together a very complicated build-it-yourself playground for the kids, from a kit that had all the parts pre-cut and ready to assemble. It boosted our confidence, so when we found out we were having twins and wanted bunk beds for the kids' rooms, we decided that instead of buying bunk beds, we would make them ourselves using construction plans we ordered from www. bunkbedsunlimited.com . We bought all the lumber and hardware for the project, cut it, sanded, drilled, stained, painted, and assembled it all ourselves, and VOILA! Bunk beds!
So, there you have it! Just as stubborn as ever, but the therapy is working. AND, I'm actually learning new skills now. What's next on my DIY learning list? Who knows where the wind will blow me...
First off on our hit parade of DIY magic (as opposed to the DIY madness of years past)-- gardening. Successfully, even!
Since we have a limited area in the back yard that gets enough sunlight, Mr. Thinking Southerner read up on "square foot gardening," which is a method of gardening that helps you grow more stuff in smaller spaces. So, we have three big garden boxes full of tomatoes, squash, zucchini, cucumbers, green beans, okra, canteloupe, swiss chard, spinach, lettuce, peppers, and more! And our live to die plant ratio has been pretty good!
Number two on our hit parade of DIY magic: Canning and pickling!
With all those tasty garden treats, might as well learn to preserve them, right? So two weeks ago, I made my first ever pickles-- bread and butter. DELICIOUS! And then two nights ago, I made dill pickles. They were fabulous, though not as good as bread and butter. I've always liked homemade sweet pickles better than dill, even though I like store-bought dills better than sweet.
Number three on the hit parade: Sewing!
I'm not that great at it yet, but I'm learning, beginning with small and simple projects. I've made a few baby carriers and slings, and a couple of play dresses for my girls. And beginning this fall, I'm going to start taking sewing classes at the local fabric store to get better at it.
Number four on our hit parade of newly acquired skills: Basic carpentry!
Last summer, we put together a very complicated build-it-yourself playground for the kids, from a kit that had all the parts pre-cut and ready to assemble. It boosted our confidence, so when we found out we were having twins and wanted bunk beds for the kids' rooms, we decided that instead of buying bunk beds, we would make them ourselves using construction plans we ordered from www. bunkbedsunlimited.com . We bought all the lumber and hardware for the project, cut it, sanded, drilled, stained, painted, and assembled it all ourselves, and VOILA! Bunk beds!
So, there you have it! Just as stubborn as ever, but the therapy is working. AND, I'm actually learning new skills now. What's next on my DIY learning list? Who knows where the wind will blow me...
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
I am so blessed!
New babies born 5/08/07
One was 7 pounds 4 ounces
The other was 7 pounds even
Completely uncomplicated and unmedicated homebirth after cesarean
My last belly pics taken Sunday, May 6, at 38 weeks:
Friday, April 27, 2007
First lost tooth-- lost for real!
My 6 year old daughter lost her first tooth last night. Really. She lost it. As in, we looked, and it was gone and we couldn't find it. I think she ate it in a hot wing.
We were at dinner at Wild Wing Cafe with some friends who drove up from back home to spend the afternoon with us, and one of her little friends shouted, "Hey, did you lose your tooth?" Sassy Pants says, "No, but I have one that is really loose!" Upon closer investigation, the tooth was in fact gone! Too funny!
And, at almost 37 weeks preggo with twins, I continue to be big as a whale! Here's a picture from last night.
We were at dinner at Wild Wing Cafe with some friends who drove up from back home to spend the afternoon with us, and one of her little friends shouted, "Hey, did you lose your tooth?" Sassy Pants says, "No, but I have one that is really loose!" Upon closer investigation, the tooth was in fact gone! Too funny!
And, at almost 37 weeks preggo with twins, I continue to be big as a whale! Here's a picture from last night.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Looky, looky!
I made my first AIO (all-in-one) cloth diaper yesterday!
I ordered a kit with precut fabrics, elastic, and hook/loop closures from Diaper Kits. It came with a page of instructions, and all I had to do was sew it together! How cool! This is all made even more impressive by the fact that I can't sew worth a crap, still need to read the instruction manual for my sewing machine to figure out how to use it, and couldn't read a pattern to save my life.
Anyway, I was so pleased with it, I had to share!
I ordered a kit with precut fabrics, elastic, and hook/loop closures from Diaper Kits. It came with a page of instructions, and all I had to do was sew it together! How cool! This is all made even more impressive by the fact that I can't sew worth a crap, still need to read the instruction manual for my sewing machine to figure out how to use it, and couldn't read a pattern to save my life.
Anyway, I was so pleased with it, I had to share!
Monday, March 19, 2007
An open letter
Any of you who have read this blog for long, or know me and my husband in real life, know that we are research-oriented. I'm not sure how much of that is natural inclination, how much is background and experiences, and how much is based on the years we've spent in service to the higher education machine. Suffice to say, however, that before undertaking ANY major decision about our lives or our families, we are very likely to research the heck out of it. That's how it's been with major decisions about our parenting and family philosophies, and it's how we've been about our approach to becoming debt-free (something we've been working on these past 3 years, and we're now completely debt-free except for student loans and haven't used credit in over 6 years).
For those of you who haven't heard this yet, on September 14, 2006, we found out we were expecting! Back in May of last year, we began making plans for us to swap out yet again, hoping that by fall my husband would be working full time again, and I would once again be a stay at home mom. It was around that time that we decided that if I was able to be home full time again, we'd love to have a 4th child. Well, my dear husband began working full time the end of July, and we knew it was time. I believe strongly in the safety of VBACs, and many of our local hospitals have either banned VBACs or make them terribly and unnecessarily complicated (thus leading to an increase in failed VBACs and increased complications for mothers and their babies). So, we spent a couple of months researching our options, trying to find the one that would be safest for me and for our unborn. After much research, seeking referrals from friends, and reviewing our options with each other and in prayer, we knew we had found our perfect provider! We selected a certified nurse midwife in a neighboring state who we felt had the natural approach to childbirth we desired, while also having the experience and medical training we felt would be essential to our comfort level with the birth plan, and we began making plans to temporarily relocate to a city near her as the due date approached.
Then, in December, we found out we're having twins! Talk about a surprise, since there is not a family history of twins, and we have never needed any fertility assistance! Of course, our first reaction was shock. I believe our second was fear.
I spent much of the next 24 hours reading and researching about twin pregnancy, and much of what I read was fear-based. I read that 60% of all twins are born prematurely (before 36 weeks). I read about complications that can arise in twin pregnancy and birth, including complications for the babies as well as increased maternal complications such as pre-eclampsia, pregnancy induced hypertension, gestational diabetes, and more. I read that most twin pregnancies are induced before 38 weeks to prevent placental deterioration and reduce the risk of stillbirth. I also read that many twin pregnancies end up in cesarean births.
Because I believe that all other things being equal, natural childbirth is best and safest for mother AND babies, these statistics scared me. Disappointed (both for myself and worried for the safety of my babies) I called my midwife the day after we found out it was twins, told her I didn't think we could go through with it, and told her I'd be looking for a new provider.
And then I continued my research. I began to learn that the 60% prematurity figure includes both identicals (who are at risk increased complications including twin to twin transfusion syndrome) and fraternals, and mothers who have other complications of pregnancy. My babies are fraternal (boy/girl, two separate placentas for nourishment, thus no risk for TTTS), and I've never had any pregnancy complications. I learned that nutrition can often prevent pregnancy complications such as pre-eclampsia and gestational diabetes, and began to follow a modified version of the Brewer diet, a diet for healthy pregnancy (although I increased my own protein intake above Brewer's recommendations, to provide adequate nutrition for my twins). I learned that one of the greatest risks to otherwise healthy twins is low birthweight, and that adequate protein intake could increase twin birthweights significantly. And I also learned that nutrition is the single biggest factor contributing to placental deterioration. I ordered books about natural twin pregnancy and birth, and followed the recommendations as well as I could. I also learned that twin VBACs are at no higher risk for rupture than singletons, which was reassuring.
I started to think I might be able to go with my original plan, so 2 days after calling my midwife to drop her, I called her back and asked what her experience with twins had been. Turns out, she's attended vaginal births of dozens of twins, both in and out of hospitals, including twin VBACs. She's had positive outcomes with every one, and has only lost one baby in her 20+ years of being a midwife (and that wasn't at a twin birth). She wanted to be sensitive to my needs and concerns, so she recommended that I begin nutritional changes that could enhance my pregnancy outcome. She also suggested that instead of feeling like I had to make an immediate change, to take a few weeks to continue researching, meeting with twin mamas, and praying for God's guidance regarding our birth plans. We agreed that I would call her back in almost a month and let her know what we had decided, and she agreed that she would also be taking my situation into prayer to make sure she felt confident taking me on as a patient.
I began drinking a gallon and a half of water per day, eating well over 120 grams of protein a day (usually more), and taking adequate daily supplements (prenatal vitamins, vitamin C, iron supplements, liquid chlorophyll, alfalfa, fish oil, flax oil, and probiotics). And my husband and I met (online and in real life) with several women who had safely given birth to their twins under the care of a midwife, with minimal interventions. We both carefully read the twin books I had ordered. And we discussed and prayed about my pregnancy history, which has never included any of the common twin complications that can often lead to preterm birth or birth complications. After carefully and prayerfully considering our options for a few weeks, we called our midwife back and made plans to meet again soon.
Since then, I have received competent, professional, considerate, compassionate, and personalized care from a my wonderful midwife, who clearly views this not only as her profession but as her spiritual calling. Because twins are typically considered term at 36-40 weeks, we've moved up our relocation date to late April. We have VERY carefully researched, prayed about, and considered our options, and are solid in our conviction that we are doing what is safest for me and for our babies. If at any point something comes up that makes this plan risky or not suitable, we'll change plans. Until then, we feel we are doing the right things. And we have chosen not to discuss our decisions with anyone who can't bring anything supportive to the table. We simply don't need the stress right now!
So, if you feel you can be supportive of our choice and respect our decisions, we will gladly include you in our planning process, let you know when we're in labor, and keep you posted on how things go! If you feel you disagree too strongly to remain supportive of our plan, we'll be happy to call you after the babies are born to let you know how it went, but we'll have to request that you refrain from discussing our birth plans with us in the mean time. So far, everyone we've talked to has been wonderful and supportive, and understands that we would never take lightly our responsibility to choose the safest options for our children. We just felt it was appropriate to let folks know some of what has led us to the choices we've made, so that you can be reassured by the actual facts about twin childbirth (as opposed to myths and fears), just as we have been reassured by them.
For those of you who haven't heard this yet, on September 14, 2006, we found out we were expecting! Back in May of last year, we began making plans for us to swap out yet again, hoping that by fall my husband would be working full time again, and I would once again be a stay at home mom. It was around that time that we decided that if I was able to be home full time again, we'd love to have a 4th child. Well, my dear husband began working full time the end of July, and we knew it was time. I believe strongly in the safety of VBACs, and many of our local hospitals have either banned VBACs or make them terribly and unnecessarily complicated (thus leading to an increase in failed VBACs and increased complications for mothers and their babies). So, we spent a couple of months researching our options, trying to find the one that would be safest for me and for our unborn. After much research, seeking referrals from friends, and reviewing our options with each other and in prayer, we knew we had found our perfect provider! We selected a certified nurse midwife in a neighboring state who we felt had the natural approach to childbirth we desired, while also having the experience and medical training we felt would be essential to our comfort level with the birth plan, and we began making plans to temporarily relocate to a city near her as the due date approached.
Then, in December, we found out we're having twins! Talk about a surprise, since there is not a family history of twins, and we have never needed any fertility assistance! Of course, our first reaction was shock. I believe our second was fear.
I spent much of the next 24 hours reading and researching about twin pregnancy, and much of what I read was fear-based. I read that 60% of all twins are born prematurely (before 36 weeks). I read about complications that can arise in twin pregnancy and birth, including complications for the babies as well as increased maternal complications such as pre-eclampsia, pregnancy induced hypertension, gestational diabetes, and more. I read that most twin pregnancies are induced before 38 weeks to prevent placental deterioration and reduce the risk of stillbirth. I also read that many twin pregnancies end up in cesarean births.
Because I believe that all other things being equal, natural childbirth is best and safest for mother AND babies, these statistics scared me. Disappointed (both for myself and worried for the safety of my babies) I called my midwife the day after we found out it was twins, told her I didn't think we could go through with it, and told her I'd be looking for a new provider.
And then I continued my research. I began to learn that the 60% prematurity figure includes both identicals (who are at risk increased complications including twin to twin transfusion syndrome) and fraternals, and mothers who have other complications of pregnancy. My babies are fraternal (boy/girl, two separate placentas for nourishment, thus no risk for TTTS), and I've never had any pregnancy complications. I learned that nutrition can often prevent pregnancy complications such as pre-eclampsia and gestational diabetes, and began to follow a modified version of the Brewer diet, a diet for healthy pregnancy (although I increased my own protein intake above Brewer's recommendations, to provide adequate nutrition for my twins). I learned that one of the greatest risks to otherwise healthy twins is low birthweight, and that adequate protein intake could increase twin birthweights significantly. And I also learned that nutrition is the single biggest factor contributing to placental deterioration. I ordered books about natural twin pregnancy and birth, and followed the recommendations as well as I could. I also learned that twin VBACs are at no higher risk for rupture than singletons, which was reassuring.
I started to think I might be able to go with my original plan, so 2 days after calling my midwife to drop her, I called her back and asked what her experience with twins had been. Turns out, she's attended vaginal births of dozens of twins, both in and out of hospitals, including twin VBACs. She's had positive outcomes with every one, and has only lost one baby in her 20+ years of being a midwife (and that wasn't at a twin birth). She wanted to be sensitive to my needs and concerns, so she recommended that I begin nutritional changes that could enhance my pregnancy outcome. She also suggested that instead of feeling like I had to make an immediate change, to take a few weeks to continue researching, meeting with twin mamas, and praying for God's guidance regarding our birth plans. We agreed that I would call her back in almost a month and let her know what we had decided, and she agreed that she would also be taking my situation into prayer to make sure she felt confident taking me on as a patient.
I began drinking a gallon and a half of water per day, eating well over 120 grams of protein a day (usually more), and taking adequate daily supplements (prenatal vitamins, vitamin C, iron supplements, liquid chlorophyll, alfalfa, fish oil, flax oil, and probiotics). And my husband and I met (online and in real life) with several women who had safely given birth to their twins under the care of a midwife, with minimal interventions. We both carefully read the twin books I had ordered. And we discussed and prayed about my pregnancy history, which has never included any of the common twin complications that can often lead to preterm birth or birth complications. After carefully and prayerfully considering our options for a few weeks, we called our midwife back and made plans to meet again soon.
Since then, I have received competent, professional, considerate, compassionate, and personalized care from a my wonderful midwife, who clearly views this not only as her profession but as her spiritual calling. Because twins are typically considered term at 36-40 weeks, we've moved up our relocation date to late April. We have VERY carefully researched, prayed about, and considered our options, and are solid in our conviction that we are doing what is safest for me and for our babies. If at any point something comes up that makes this plan risky or not suitable, we'll change plans. Until then, we feel we are doing the right things. And we have chosen not to discuss our decisions with anyone who can't bring anything supportive to the table. We simply don't need the stress right now!
So, if you feel you can be supportive of our choice and respect our decisions, we will gladly include you in our planning process, let you know when we're in labor, and keep you posted on how things go! If you feel you disagree too strongly to remain supportive of our plan, we'll be happy to call you after the babies are born to let you know how it went, but we'll have to request that you refrain from discussing our birth plans with us in the mean time. So far, everyone we've talked to has been wonderful and supportive, and understands that we would never take lightly our responsibility to choose the safest options for our children. We just felt it was appropriate to let folks know some of what has led us to the choices we've made, so that you can be reassured by the actual facts about twin childbirth (as opposed to myths and fears), just as we have been reassured by them.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Parenting Philosophies
Here are some sites the explain, support, or present research on some of the parenting philosophies we use in our own family management. We don't expect everyone to agree with us, but to respect our choices and to understand that they are well-thought out, well-researched, strongly-held, and not likely to be changed through argument. Whatever argument against one of these you may have, chances are we've heard it, considered it, and decided against it for whatever reason already.
General Parenting Philosophy Information:
Sears Family Parenting
About Breastfeeding, In Private and Public:
Watch Your Language: Breast is NOT Best!
Nursing in Public
Public Breastfeeding
La Leche League
Militant Breastfeeding Cult
About Co-Sleeping:
Attachment Parenting International Explains
Co-Sleeping Safety Study
Solitary or Shared Sleep: What's Safe?
Cosleeping is Twice as Safe
Not Designed to Sleep Alone
About Circumcision:
More Links:
Male Circumcision in the USA: A Human Rights Primer (This article has great information refuting generalizations from the recent study on AIDS transmission and circumcision in Africa.)
National Organization of Circumcision Information Resource Centers
International Coalition for Genital Integrity
Circumcision Information and Resource Pages
About Homeschooling:
John Taylor Gatto: Challenging the Myths of Modern Schooling
Home Education Magazine: Homeschooling FAQ
About Family Size
We believe that the number of children a couple has is an intensely heartfelt and personal decision, and that it should be prayerfully considered. The reasons people have one, or many, children are very diverse and are often private matters between the couple and God. We believe that when people are attentive to God's direction in their lives in this matter, they will feel so led when the time is right for another child. While we aren't at all "quiverfull" (practicing no birth control whatsoever), we do believe in remaining open to God's decision to add another family member when God places is on your heart. We also believe that when you trust in Him and follow His guidance, he will provide for your needs, therefore we do not believe in waiting until the retirement fund is fully funded and a family is rich before having another child. Children are not nearly as expensive as are lifestyles.
See Lots of Kids
General Parenting Philosophy Information:
Sears Family Parenting
About Breastfeeding, In Private and Public:
Watch Your Language: Breast is NOT Best!
Nursing in Public
Public Breastfeeding
La Leche League
Militant Breastfeeding Cult
About Co-Sleeping:
Attachment Parenting International Explains
Co-Sleeping Safety Study
Solitary or Shared Sleep: What's Safe?
Cosleeping is Twice as Safe
Not Designed to Sleep Alone
About Circumcision:
- It his body, and should be his choice.
- There is no medical or hygiene benefit to circumcision, despite popular misconceptions to the contrary.
- It's not any harder to keep clean.
- The foreskin serves a purpose and is not useless skin.
- If our boys one day decided to be circumcised, they can make that choice and have it done fairly easily. If we choose to have them circumcised without their consent and they were to one day want to restore, it would be a long and uncomfortable process (3 years or more), and would still not be exactly like an uncircumcised penis.
More Links:
Male Circumcision in the USA: A Human Rights Primer (This article has great information refuting generalizations from the recent study on AIDS transmission and circumcision in Africa.)
National Organization of Circumcision Information Resource Centers
International Coalition for Genital Integrity
Circumcision Information and Resource Pages
About Homeschooling:
John Taylor Gatto: Challenging the Myths of Modern Schooling
Home Education Magazine: Homeschooling FAQ
About Family Size
We believe that the number of children a couple has is an intensely heartfelt and personal decision, and that it should be prayerfully considered. The reasons people have one, or many, children are very diverse and are often private matters between the couple and God. We believe that when people are attentive to God's direction in their lives in this matter, they will feel so led when the time is right for another child. While we aren't at all "quiverfull" (practicing no birth control whatsoever), we do believe in remaining open to God's decision to add another family member when God places is on your heart. We also believe that when you trust in Him and follow His guidance, he will provide for your needs, therefore we do not believe in waiting until the retirement fund is fully funded and a family is rich before having another child. Children are not nearly as expensive as are lifestyles.
See Lots of Kids
Friday, October 27, 2006
I'm a Super Nutty, Ultra-Crunchy Granola Earth Mama
(... according to an online quiz I took)
Okay, so it isn't particularly groundbreaking, thought-provoking, or profound, which I find somewhat disappointing for my first post back in several months, but I have to start somewhere, right?
The Granola Factor Quiz
I took this quiz online today, and got a 122. That's on the low end of the highest range, but in the highest range, nonetheless! I was actually quite pleased with myself. A few years back, I would have been in the 140s or so, but somehow over the last 3 years we had gotten off track from some of the natural family practices we had previously held. We never quit believing that they were ideals, but we had sort of lost the will to act consistently with regard to what we believed. I have a few theories about where we first started to lose that commitment to our actions matching our beliefs, and the primary theory has to do with my last full time job in Florida, but we'll leave that post for another day.
I guess it also doesn't help that we moved to a small town in South Carolina. Living on the west coast of Florida in a fairly large resort area, we had access to just about anything we wanted, including delicious vegetarian Thai and Indian restaurants, a plethora of health food stores, and a large community of folks who didn't tilt their heads and stare at you sideways when you mentioned organic foods, cloth diapers, or co-sleeping. For the past 2 years, we've been over an hour from the nearest health food store, good Thai or Indian restaurant, or natural foods diner. Sucks.
But, ever the optimist, I will continue to look on the bright side. I LOVE the small town we live in. I love the community, and the longer we stay the more we connect with other slightly to somewhat crunchy folks. And I wouldn't trade my small southern town for a big city ANYWHERE. And 1 year ago? My quiz result would have been an 83-- only "Sprinkled with Granola." So, all in all, I think we're back on the upswing, and relearning how to live life in a way that reflects our beliefs about Christ, society, parenting, and health, EVEN in the Deep South.
:-)
Okay, so it isn't particularly groundbreaking, thought-provoking, or profound, which I find somewhat disappointing for my first post back in several months, but I have to start somewhere, right?
The Granola Factor Quiz
I took this quiz online today, and got a 122. That's on the low end of the highest range, but in the highest range, nonetheless! I was actually quite pleased with myself. A few years back, I would have been in the 140s or so, but somehow over the last 3 years we had gotten off track from some of the natural family practices we had previously held. We never quit believing that they were ideals, but we had sort of lost the will to act consistently with regard to what we believed. I have a few theories about where we first started to lose that commitment to our actions matching our beliefs, and the primary theory has to do with my last full time job in Florida, but we'll leave that post for another day.
I guess it also doesn't help that we moved to a small town in South Carolina. Living on the west coast of Florida in a fairly large resort area, we had access to just about anything we wanted, including delicious vegetarian Thai and Indian restaurants, a plethora of health food stores, and a large community of folks who didn't tilt their heads and stare at you sideways when you mentioned organic foods, cloth diapers, or co-sleeping. For the past 2 years, we've been over an hour from the nearest health food store, good Thai or Indian restaurant, or natural foods diner. Sucks.
But, ever the optimist, I will continue to look on the bright side. I LOVE the small town we live in. I love the community, and the longer we stay the more we connect with other slightly to somewhat crunchy folks. And I wouldn't trade my small southern town for a big city ANYWHERE. And 1 year ago? My quiz result would have been an 83-- only "Sprinkled with Granola." So, all in all, I think we're back on the upswing, and relearning how to live life in a way that reflects our beliefs about Christ, society, parenting, and health, EVEN in the Deep South.
:-)
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Attempts at real blogging
Let's talk about something more sensible. Like body hair.
Gentlemen: If you're that obsessed over whether or not your woman shaves daily, weekly, or never, you need to rethink a couple of things. For starters, time. If a lady is running late and doesn't take the time to shave in the shower, too frickin' bad. At least she showered. Get over it. And if it's winter-- puhleeze. If she wants to run around looking like she's wearing some hairy legwarmers, she can. If she doesn't complain about your body hair, man stench, and beer belly, she can be hairy. And yes, (name omitted to protect the not-so-innocent but someone I like a lot anyway), I am talking to you. ;-)
Wait... That's not a whole lot better than talking about strippers and porn, now that I think about it.
It might even make me sound weirder. Maybe I'll go put some strikethrough on it and try again.
Ugh.
My 5 year old daughter has been dragging for the past few weeks, when it comes to getting up and getting ready for school in the mornings. She finally broke down this morning, started crying, and told me that she hates school. I'm sure part of it has to do with the fact that it's been pretty cold and rainy lately, and they aren't getting as much outside time at school as kindergarteners should. But part of it is that she's bored. She started sounding out words when she was 3, and finished reading all two hundred eighty-something pages of her children's Bible before her 5th birthday-- all by herself. She can do double digit addition and subtraction in her head (don't really know how she picked that up; she's been doing it for months), and loves to write letters to people (wonder where she gets that?). "Mommy, they make me do math and Ms. Debbie makes everyone count sticks, and I can do it without counting sticks. And they make us spell things one letter at a time, and I can write the whole sentence all by myself!" And the complaints went on and on.
I remember my school years vividly. Like a big nightmare.
I was a lot like my daughter, and learned to read and do math early. When I went into kindergarten, my teacher gave me a hard time. Why did your mom have to teach you to read early, anyway? Mom never really taught me to read-- she just read to me and answered my questions. In 1st grade, they realized I was drowning in my own boredom. So, worried that letting me skip to 2nd grade might cause emotional adjustment issues, they came up with a much more bizarre plan. Beginning in first grade and lasting all the way through 7th, I was in two grades at once. I would go to school with the kids my age for social studies and math (and they all thought I was the weird smart kid), and then I would go to school with kids a year older for language arts (and they all thought I was the little nerd).
In 4th grade, I moved to a school that had a good gifted program called PELICAN. It meant that several other gifted kids my age and I got pulled out for a full day one day each week to do hands-on projects, experiments, and study units, and it was SOOOOOOOOOO COOL! But my time in the regular classroom was still painfully boring, so they started pulling me out a second day each week to go to PELICAN with the older kids, too. So, I was in 4th grade for a half day and 5th for a half day three days each week, pulled out for 4th grade gifted program one day each week, and pulled out for 5th grade gifted the other day each week. That was when I was 9.
Sixth grade brought another cranky teacher who was annoyed that I needed to do a different reading level. I don't know why you can't just do the same book everyone else does! Um, because I did it last year?
Eighth grade brought band (woo-hoo!), and tracking, which meant that I got fed into all the honors classes and could finally be in one grade, with kids my age. It also meant that things got pretty easy, and I could skate by without doing my homework. That lasted through high school, and I never really developed anything that could be considered a study habit, much less study habits, plural. I rarely ever did homework, but could ace the tests if I listened even a little bit in class, and graduated high school with a good bit of AP credits and dual-enrollments and was accepted into the honors college at USC-- which I immediately bombed out of, having no study habits, no self-discipline, and having had any true enjoyment of education beaten out of me by a history of whacked out attempts at engaging me academically.
Enter the homeschooling idea. I homeschooled my children up until this school year, so this whole school thing is pretty new to me. I had enjoyed homeschooling because of the freedom to challenge my children, teaching them at an individual rate that wasn't to pushy but that did encourage self-discipline and taught my children the joy of a good challenge.
I don't want to look like a freaky parent who is controlling or delusional about my child's capabilities, but I sure as anything don't want them being bored. I have seen firsthand how boredom with the educational process can create bad study habits, instill a lack of self-discipline, and generate a general disregard and disrespect for the educational process in general, and educators in particular. I don't want my kids growing up with that. I want them to always challenge themselves, to always know that education is SUCH a gift and a blessing, and to enjoy the process of learning new things as much as they did back when we were homeschooling.
Hmmmmmm.... Not sure what to do.
See, this is the kind of wacko post you get from me when I'm sleep deprived from staying up too late to edit the podcast. I didn't quite finish, but it should be up by tomorrow, and this is going to be a good one. AND a reporter from the local newspaper sat in with me so that she can write a feature article in Saturday's paper about podcasting and local podcasters. Oh wait, I'm the only podcaster in my town (that I know of). ;-)
And I promise to those of you who listen to the 'cast that after this, I have several in-person interviews planned, so you will be spared the skype audio quality, at least for a little while.
Ho-hum. Better start my day.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Reality, the Musical
I'm sitting here watching Scrubs as I write this which, while it's not one of my usual shows, is one that I enjoy a good bit when I do get a chance to watch. My warped sense of humor as well as my extremely visual sense of ... well, of everything, makes me a good fit for shows that so flawlessly blend nonsense, keen wit, good writing, sharp delivery, and slapstick to make both entertainment and a point. Currently on my television screen, the creepy janitor is dangling half naked outside a window suspended by the speedo that he's wearing, but the episode that came on just before this one actually touched on the issues of religion, honesty in relationships, parenthood, and childhood trauma. And it was funny! And not really in a sick and evil sort of way, as I really don't appreciate, get, or enjoy genuinely mean humor, but in a intelligent silliness sort of way. It's amazing that because the show engaged me in a less threatening way, through use of effective theatrical diversions, I was more relaxed, and therefore more easily receptive to the more serious messages the show had to offer.
Earlier today, I posted my most recent podcast, which was an interview with the author of Love Jerry-- the so-called "pedophile musical" I heard about just last week. The interview, while obviously about a heavy subject, was a wonderful experience for me and in the end of the interview, Megan thanked me for approaching her work with an open mind and said how refreshing it was to be able to actually talk about the play without having to constantly defend it. It's so important to me that each person who is a guest on my podcast look at is as having been a positive experience, and being 6 for 6 in that regard feels good.
Megan is heartfelt, friendly, thoughtful, intelligent, and clearly committed to being a part of the solution to end child sexual abuse, in whatever ways she can. People have made issues of three key facts about the play that could potentially be objectionable: 1) It's a musical, and quite a few people find that inappropriate; 2) Jerry is not demonized in the play, and rather than being presented as the manifestation of pure evil is offered up as a very flawed human whose horrible choices devastate his family's life as well as his own; and 3) A handful of people have proclaimed that child sexual abuse is not an appropriate topic for public entertainment.
Which brings up quite a few other elements, to my view. For starters, Megan made clear that this is not a musical in the style of Oklahoma or Li'l Abner. This is a play in which acoustic, natural, folk-style music is used as a way for the characters to express heartfelt emotions and truths that might not come out in any other way. That kind of music not only expresses a kind of emotion and sincerity that is difficult to express in any other way, but it provides a less threatening context into which to place an otherwise unsettling exploration of a terrifying social plague. It, in some ways, makes an intimate exploration of such an intense issue a little more palatable in the end.
Megan conducted a good bit of research on and interviews with actual sexual offenders and child molesters as part of her preparation for this play. One of the things that struck her was how human they seemed-- these were not creepy and sinister characters barren of emotion, living in solitude under the social radar, without family and community connections. Instead, they were people with families, dreams, feelings, fears, and worries-- people who would not stand out in a crowd as people to avoid. See, as long as we, as a society, continue to expect those who abuse our children to be dark and looming characters, we will miss out on the true threat to our children. Most sexual abuse is not by openly disturbed or threatening people. It's almost always someone the child knows-- a family member, trusted adult, or teacher. The real threat to our children isn't secretive and lurking people, as much as it is secretive and lurking ideas in our society regarding how we address sexual abuse when it does happen.
Which brings me to the question of what is or isn't an appropriate topic to address through theater. See, I am a big fan of the arts as a personal diversion, as well as of the arts as a way of working to effect dramatic cultural change. I grew up in the theater, performing on stage as a singer, dancer, actor, and musician. I understand how the experience of an artistic project, both as a participant and as a spectator, can change your heart and open your mind to new possibilities. Addressing sexual abuse as an issue, and only an theoretical and intellectual issue, it is far too easy to remove the issue from its' context, to throw away the humanity of the abuser as we address criminal acts, and to assault the epidemic with platitudes, narrow-minded (albeit well-intentioned) anger, and a completely useless rage against what is clearly an injustice. This does nobody any good, least of all the person who was abused, or whose child was abused, for whom platitudes are meaningless and the offender is often more human than their heart would have ever preferred. It's far too easy for people to theorize about what is or isn't an appropriate forum to discuss child sexual abuse when their own lives have never been touched, either through their own experiences or those of someone they love, by the personal and emotional devastation that child abuse leaves in its' wake. Those who have been through it are less likely to be interested in arguments about where and when sexual abuse should be discussed... they just want to see the discussion happening.
Megan brought up a particularly powerful point during our conversation-- a point that has replayed itself on the spectacular backdrop of my far-too-intense imagination over the last few days. We repress this, refuse to discuss it, and expect people to heal from their sexual-abuse-inflicted wounds quietly and without great fanfare precisely because it is a topic we're scared of. We can't define it in terms of genetics, microbiology, or a cure, so we are scared to stand face to face with what we can't control. If this were polio, or bird flu, or any other definable illness that was affecting one out of three girls and one out of six boys in this country, it would be on the cover of the papers every single day until we had found a solution. Sadly, I think our head-in-the-sand stupidity with regard to sexual abuse goes even deeper than that, as erectile dysfunction and frickin' male pattern baldness often get more play in the press than the violation of our children. (Of course, we plaster sexually abused children all over the media when they are killed by their abusers, which makes it easier to demonize the abuser, but what about the thousands of others who live daily with their scars? But, alas, that's another blogpost for another day.) Where are our priorities, people? Why is it that when someone makes an honest effort to address a societal epidemic, we tear her apart, assuming it's a perversion of reality, when it is sadly, horrifyingly, and inexcusably likely to be one of the most honest and genuine looks at sexual abuse to date? Sad, horrifying, and inexcusable not because she addressed this issue in the format of a musical that does not make the bad guy a monster, but sad, horrifying, and inexcusable because WE as a society have, in some way, allowed it to become (and continue to allow it to be) the epidemic that it is, through our own silence and unwillingness to be gently led out of our comfort zones.
Earlier today, I did a google search to find any press or blog coverage about Love Jerry. What I found was, in most cases, a collection of the most ridiculous, misguided, misinformed, irrational, knee-jerk reactions I've ever seen in regard to a topic. Bloggers, it's just a little too easy to fire off at the mouth, or the keyboard, as the case may be, without having ANY IDEA what we're talking about. Why do we do that? I'll admit, when I first heard about this play, my first reaction was that it must necessarily be an atrocity. But the first sentence I fired off about it wasn't in a blog post; it was in an email to the author of the play, to find out from the delightfully open and sincere horse's mouth what the real deal was. Do a technorati search, or some other blog search, on "Love Jerry" or "pedophile musical." I dare you. And then prepare to cringe, as you read what would be a ridiculously funny series of idiotic tirades by people who don't know anything about it, except for the fact that real ignorance is rarely ever funny. Pull your heads out of the sand of your self-presumed righteousness, and face the facts that we REALLY need to have open and honest discussions about what is happening to our children if we are ever to have any hope of truly protecting them. And please, if you have no idea what it is like to be a survivor of sexual abuse, a parent, or a friend of one, listen in intently on the discussion, contributing only when you feel you have something to say that brings a greater truth to light for the benefit of our society. Don't pretend to speak for the little people; chances are you aren't really speaking for them in the first place. And most of the adult survivors can speak for themselves quite nicely, thank you.
In other news, south clearly trumps north, according to googlefight. So there.
Also, listenership is up, thank you very much to the nice podcasters out there sharing about what I'm doing! And as exciting as the growing stats (particularly 1st day posting stats) are to me, they are not the true indicator of whether or not I have arrived as a podcaster-- I got my first piece of slightly inappropriate email feedback over the weekend. SCORE! From a guy. Who liked my accent. (What is UP with you Great Lakes states freaks? Seriously!) Truthfully, though, it made me smile on an otherwise boring day, so whatever. Also, today I noticed that I had my first review on iTunes-- 5 stars and a nice comment. Unfortunately, the review was written by my dad, and referenced my "sultry, southern drawl."
*crickets*
Thankyouverymuch.
I think I'm going to shove a bottle brush in one ear and out the other and scrub hard until that reference has been completely and totally erased from my brain.
Earlier today, I posted my most recent podcast, which was an interview with the author of Love Jerry-- the so-called "pedophile musical" I heard about just last week. The interview, while obviously about a heavy subject, was a wonderful experience for me and in the end of the interview, Megan thanked me for approaching her work with an open mind and said how refreshing it was to be able to actually talk about the play without having to constantly defend it. It's so important to me that each person who is a guest on my podcast look at is as having been a positive experience, and being 6 for 6 in that regard feels good.
Megan is heartfelt, friendly, thoughtful, intelligent, and clearly committed to being a part of the solution to end child sexual abuse, in whatever ways she can. People have made issues of three key facts about the play that could potentially be objectionable: 1) It's a musical, and quite a few people find that inappropriate; 2) Jerry is not demonized in the play, and rather than being presented as the manifestation of pure evil is offered up as a very flawed human whose horrible choices devastate his family's life as well as his own; and 3) A handful of people have proclaimed that child sexual abuse is not an appropriate topic for public entertainment.
Which brings up quite a few other elements, to my view. For starters, Megan made clear that this is not a musical in the style of Oklahoma or Li'l Abner. This is a play in which acoustic, natural, folk-style music is used as a way for the characters to express heartfelt emotions and truths that might not come out in any other way. That kind of music not only expresses a kind of emotion and sincerity that is difficult to express in any other way, but it provides a less threatening context into which to place an otherwise unsettling exploration of a terrifying social plague. It, in some ways, makes an intimate exploration of such an intense issue a little more palatable in the end.
Megan conducted a good bit of research on and interviews with actual sexual offenders and child molesters as part of her preparation for this play. One of the things that struck her was how human they seemed-- these were not creepy and sinister characters barren of emotion, living in solitude under the social radar, without family and community connections. Instead, they were people with families, dreams, feelings, fears, and worries-- people who would not stand out in a crowd as people to avoid. See, as long as we, as a society, continue to expect those who abuse our children to be dark and looming characters, we will miss out on the true threat to our children. Most sexual abuse is not by openly disturbed or threatening people. It's almost always someone the child knows-- a family member, trusted adult, or teacher. The real threat to our children isn't secretive and lurking people, as much as it is secretive and lurking ideas in our society regarding how we address sexual abuse when it does happen.
Which brings me to the question of what is or isn't an appropriate topic to address through theater. See, I am a big fan of the arts as a personal diversion, as well as of the arts as a way of working to effect dramatic cultural change. I grew up in the theater, performing on stage as a singer, dancer, actor, and musician. I understand how the experience of an artistic project, both as a participant and as a spectator, can change your heart and open your mind to new possibilities. Addressing sexual abuse as an issue, and only an theoretical and intellectual issue, it is far too easy to remove the issue from its' context, to throw away the humanity of the abuser as we address criminal acts, and to assault the epidemic with platitudes, narrow-minded (albeit well-intentioned) anger, and a completely useless rage against what is clearly an injustice. This does nobody any good, least of all the person who was abused, or whose child was abused, for whom platitudes are meaningless and the offender is often more human than their heart would have ever preferred. It's far too easy for people to theorize about what is or isn't an appropriate forum to discuss child sexual abuse when their own lives have never been touched, either through their own experiences or those of someone they love, by the personal and emotional devastation that child abuse leaves in its' wake. Those who have been through it are less likely to be interested in arguments about where and when sexual abuse should be discussed... they just want to see the discussion happening.
Megan brought up a particularly powerful point during our conversation-- a point that has replayed itself on the spectacular backdrop of my far-too-intense imagination over the last few days. We repress this, refuse to discuss it, and expect people to heal from their sexual-abuse-inflicted wounds quietly and without great fanfare precisely because it is a topic we're scared of. We can't define it in terms of genetics, microbiology, or a cure, so we are scared to stand face to face with what we can't control. If this were polio, or bird flu, or any other definable illness that was affecting one out of three girls and one out of six boys in this country, it would be on the cover of the papers every single day until we had found a solution. Sadly, I think our head-in-the-sand stupidity with regard to sexual abuse goes even deeper than that, as erectile dysfunction and frickin' male pattern baldness often get more play in the press than the violation of our children. (Of course, we plaster sexually abused children all over the media when they are killed by their abusers, which makes it easier to demonize the abuser, but what about the thousands of others who live daily with their scars? But, alas, that's another blogpost for another day.) Where are our priorities, people? Why is it that when someone makes an honest effort to address a societal epidemic, we tear her apart, assuming it's a perversion of reality, when it is sadly, horrifyingly, and inexcusably likely to be one of the most honest and genuine looks at sexual abuse to date? Sad, horrifying, and inexcusable not because she addressed this issue in the format of a musical that does not make the bad guy a monster, but sad, horrifying, and inexcusable because WE as a society have, in some way, allowed it to become (and continue to allow it to be) the epidemic that it is, through our own silence and unwillingness to be gently led out of our comfort zones.
Earlier today, I did a google search to find any press or blog coverage about Love Jerry. What I found was, in most cases, a collection of the most ridiculous, misguided, misinformed, irrational, knee-jerk reactions I've ever seen in regard to a topic. Bloggers, it's just a little too easy to fire off at the mouth, or the keyboard, as the case may be, without having ANY IDEA what we're talking about. Why do we do that? I'll admit, when I first heard about this play, my first reaction was that it must necessarily be an atrocity. But the first sentence I fired off about it wasn't in a blog post; it was in an email to the author of the play, to find out from the delightfully open and sincere horse's mouth what the real deal was. Do a technorati search, or some other blog search, on "Love Jerry" or "pedophile musical." I dare you. And then prepare to cringe, as you read what would be a ridiculously funny series of idiotic tirades by people who don't know anything about it, except for the fact that real ignorance is rarely ever funny. Pull your heads out of the sand of your self-presumed righteousness, and face the facts that we REALLY need to have open and honest discussions about what is happening to our children if we are ever to have any hope of truly protecting them. And please, if you have no idea what it is like to be a survivor of sexual abuse, a parent, or a friend of one, listen in intently on the discussion, contributing only when you feel you have something to say that brings a greater truth to light for the benefit of our society. Don't pretend to speak for the little people; chances are you aren't really speaking for them in the first place. And most of the adult survivors can speak for themselves quite nicely, thank you.
In other news, south clearly trumps north, according to googlefight. So there.
Also, listenership is up, thank you very much to the nice podcasters out there sharing about what I'm doing! And as exciting as the growing stats (particularly 1st day posting stats) are to me, they are not the true indicator of whether or not I have arrived as a podcaster-- I got my first piece of slightly inappropriate email feedback over the weekend. SCORE! From a guy. Who liked my accent. (What is UP with you Great Lakes states freaks? Seriously!) Truthfully, though, it made me smile on an otherwise boring day, so whatever. Also, today I noticed that I had my first review on iTunes-- 5 stars and a nice comment. Unfortunately, the review was written by my dad, and referenced my "sultry, southern drawl."
*crickets*
Thankyouverymuch.
I think I'm going to shove a bottle brush in one ear and out the other and scrub hard until that reference has been completely and totally erased from my brain.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Great Smoky Mountains
A few weeks ago, my daughter, who is 5, commented that some hill we were driving by was "a really big mountain."
"Sweetie, have you ever seen real mountains?"
"Yeah, mom, remember? We played on some big clay mountains at Mema's house." My Mema and Papa's house has a big hilly red clay area out back. This child has never seen real mountains, which means that her little brother hasn't either.
So, Daddy-O and I decided that rather than go home on interstates through Atlanta, we would go up to Chattanooga and then cut across the Appalachians. We didn't say anything to the kids about it-- we just figured we'd wait to see how long it took for them to notice the change in scenery.
It was a brilliant plan-- the kids loved being in the mountains, and we stopped off a few times for good views and little creeks. Then came the part that wasn't in the plan: Short Stuff, who had really bad chest congestion all weekend, started puking up mucus once we were about 45 minutes off of the interstate and on curvy mountain roads. We stopped a few times to take care of him and change his clothes ("We don't have to tell anyone I was outside in the mountains in my underwear and no pants, do we, mommy?"), and finally found an old McDonald's bag and gave it to him for if he got sick again. "Mom, do you have a pen?" asked Funky Monkey. "No, Funky Monkey, we are not going to write 'barf bag' on it," I asserted. Apparently his 9 year old sense of humor had been thwarted by my momminess--"Aw, man!"
By the time we got the puking all taken care of, the kids were getting hungry (we had eaten an early lunch), and we stopped for dinner. We got back on the road, and the sun started to set. That was when it occurred to us that we had picked some of the most mountainous, curvy paths to take, so that the kids would have stunning views the whole way home. We did not anticipate being delayed by a few hours, and taking these roads at night, with neither of us being experienced mountain-drivers.
Can I just say that the "Great Smoky Mountains" are not so great to navigate after dark when you aren't familiar with the roads and are not a mountain native? We spent FOUR hours driving 15 mph in the dark on winding mountain roads with terrifying dropoffs and no guardrail. Sassy Pants started crying about 1 hour into it.
"Why are you crying?"
"Because I'm scared?" *blows nose*
"Oh, baby, don't be scared! Why are you scared?"
"Because we're lost." sniff sniff
"Honey, we're not lost. We have a map, and we know where we're going."
This is where Short Stuff (the 4 year old firecracker) chimed in: "I think I saw a sign back there that says there's monsters ahead!"
Sassy Pants again: "Shut up! I know there's no such thing as monsters!"
Short Stuff: "Well, I thought I saw a sign, anyway."
Me: "There are no monsters, no signs about monsters, and we're not lost. I saw the map, and this road does go to South Carolina. It's just a curvy, hilly road, and we have to take it slowly. That's all."
This quieted the fretting for a bit, until we had been driving for another couple of hours on winding roads, and came upon a state line sign: Welcome to Georgia!
Funky Monkey read the sign out loud, and major freaking out ensued in the backseats.
"We are lost! I knew it!"
"I thought you said this road went to South Carolina?"
"Oh, great. Georgia. We're never going to get home."
I did my best stern mom bit: "Chill out, guys. We're not lost. We are going to South Carolina." Then I turned to Daddy-O, and under my breath muttered, "check the map."
Turns out, Highway 28 does a bit of a turn through Georgia for a few miles before heading into Oconee county, South Carolina. No problem. Not lost.
The rest of the drive home was pretty uneventful, which is fine by me, as driving 4 hours on death-trap roads was event enough. Oh yeah, one final note: If you are ever passing through South Carolina and see a sign for a town named "Walhalla," please be advised that the locals do not say "wall' ha la" like my Sarasota-raised Floridian husband does. If you're in the Carolina lowcountry, it's pronounced "Wawl hah' luh." If you're in the upstate, where we live and where Walhalla is actually located, you gotta get a little more redneck with it. "Wawl holler" will suffice.
"Sweetie, have you ever seen real mountains?"
"Yeah, mom, remember? We played on some big clay mountains at Mema's house." My Mema and Papa's house has a big hilly red clay area out back. This child has never seen real mountains, which means that her little brother hasn't either.
So, Daddy-O and I decided that rather than go home on interstates through Atlanta, we would go up to Chattanooga and then cut across the Appalachians. We didn't say anything to the kids about it-- we just figured we'd wait to see how long it took for them to notice the change in scenery.
It was a brilliant plan-- the kids loved being in the mountains, and we stopped off a few times for good views and little creeks. Then came the part that wasn't in the plan: Short Stuff, who had really bad chest congestion all weekend, started puking up mucus once we were about 45 minutes off of the interstate and on curvy mountain roads. We stopped a few times to take care of him and change his clothes ("We don't have to tell anyone I was outside in the mountains in my underwear and no pants, do we, mommy?"), and finally found an old McDonald's bag and gave it to him for if he got sick again. "Mom, do you have a pen?" asked Funky Monkey. "No, Funky Monkey, we are not going to write 'barf bag' on it," I asserted. Apparently his 9 year old sense of humor had been thwarted by my momminess--"Aw, man!"
By the time we got the puking all taken care of, the kids were getting hungry (we had eaten an early lunch), and we stopped for dinner. We got back on the road, and the sun started to set. That was when it occurred to us that we had picked some of the most mountainous, curvy paths to take, so that the kids would have stunning views the whole way home. We did not anticipate being delayed by a few hours, and taking these roads at night, with neither of us being experienced mountain-drivers.
Can I just say that the "Great Smoky Mountains" are not so great to navigate after dark when you aren't familiar with the roads and are not a mountain native? We spent FOUR hours driving 15 mph in the dark on winding mountain roads with terrifying dropoffs and no guardrail. Sassy Pants started crying about 1 hour into it.
"Why are you crying?"
"Because I'm scared?" *blows nose*
"Oh, baby, don't be scared! Why are you scared?"
"Because we're lost." sniff sniff
"Honey, we're not lost. We have a map, and we know where we're going."
This is where Short Stuff (the 4 year old firecracker) chimed in: "I think I saw a sign back there that says there's monsters ahead!"
Sassy Pants again: "Shut up! I know there's no such thing as monsters!"
Short Stuff: "Well, I thought I saw a sign, anyway."
Me: "There are no monsters, no signs about monsters, and we're not lost. I saw the map, and this road does go to South Carolina. It's just a curvy, hilly road, and we have to take it slowly. That's all."
This quieted the fretting for a bit, until we had been driving for another couple of hours on winding roads, and came upon a state line sign: Welcome to Georgia!
Funky Monkey read the sign out loud, and major freaking out ensued in the backseats.
"We are lost! I knew it!"
"I thought you said this road went to South Carolina?"
"Oh, great. Georgia. We're never going to get home."
I did my best stern mom bit: "Chill out, guys. We're not lost. We are going to South Carolina." Then I turned to Daddy-O, and under my breath muttered, "check the map."
Turns out, Highway 28 does a bit of a turn through Georgia for a few miles before heading into Oconee county, South Carolina. No problem. Not lost.
The rest of the drive home was pretty uneventful, which is fine by me, as driving 4 hours on death-trap roads was event enough. Oh yeah, one final note: If you are ever passing through South Carolina and see a sign for a town named "Walhalla," please be advised that the locals do not say "wall' ha la" like my Sarasota-raised Floridian husband does. If you're in the Carolina lowcountry, it's pronounced "Wawl hah' luh." If you're in the upstate, where we live and where Walhalla is actually located, you gotta get a little more redneck with it. "Wawl holler" will suffice.
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