Well, I got to take my bisque out of the kiln while it was still 117 degrees (cool enough to touch by hand, but Oh!, so toasty!) I was very pleased with the results, even thought my elephants had broken ears. It was so cool to see the clay turned white, and nothing else broke that wasn't broken before it went in, which means I at least have SOME technique down. I also got some wax resist, latex resist, and kiln cement from her (along with a face mask the day before.)
I was so excited I showed off my first mug, which I'll keep for myself as a reminder of my journey, and I still liked it the best, to my neighbor and my in-laws at a birthday party last night. The one mug that just had a chipped ear was my second favorite, and perhaps best done technique-wise, so I'll be able to exchange it with the group.
But I am so exited that my ideas that I couldn't have drawn on paper if my life depended on it, and wouldn't have been possible with polymer clay, are not permanently etched in time in a medium that has been around sine the beginning of time. It's an awesome feeling!
I wouldn't mind carving in wood, or stone. But I can't take away from something to reveal the art within. I can only build up to what I see in my head.
But speaking of of wood cutting, Boom braved the garage and went back to his own version of Lincoln Logs today and is still out there finishing them so the kids can have them no later than tomorrow morning. I'm very proud of him, though for the first time somewhat nervous that he's out there. My dad worked with saws all my life, and never once got seriously hurt. (Actually, I don't think he's ever been seriously hurt in any way...) So I never thought to worry. Now that luxury is gone, but I'm glad he's managed to work past it and enjoy himself again.
And, hey, that means I'm this much closer to him building my wheel! I'm not ashamed of ulterior motives!
But our weekend has been sidelined in part because Rugger's come down with a nasty cold that has him clinging to me most of today, and sleeping only in fits the last two night, with last night being so bad that only me holding him helped him at all, which meant no sleep for me. You'd think with co-sleeping that I wouldn't mind holding a child, but in truth I don't like to touch anyone while sleeping and hate it if they are facing me and breathing. Paranoid about breathing in too much CO2. So while I held him and he'd finally fall asleep, I'm doomed to try and lay him down beside me, where he then rolls over to be as close to me, so I slide him over and try to be at his back, and he rolls around again. And this is repeated until the morning when he wakes up crying, and then continues to cry, nurse, and sleep the rest of the day.
At least he ate supper just now, but I dread tonight yet again. This is one of the many reasons I am not planning on more kids any time soon, if ever. I couldn't deal with this and being pregnant, or nursing. As it was, Pumpkin was asking for attention all day and I couldn't help her, and she of course wants ME, not Daddy, just like Rugger does. And there's only ONE me...*sigh*
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Thursday, January 19, 2006
That's the Way the Clay Crumbles
Well, I guess every potter experiences disappointment during their never-ending pursuit of clay and it's mesmerizing qualities. But I had hoped that at least my first try would be tested IN the fire, not before.
The Yahoo Groups I'm in (Pottery Basics) decided to do a Mug Exchange, which I was so excited for. I knew my potter friend was going to do a bisque firing soon, and so I started making some mugs right away. I came up with the idea of an African mug with an elephant head with it's trunk as the handle.
So I stated wedging, rolling, cutting, scoring, slipping, smoothing, attaching, wetting, and drying. I trashed 3 mugs before they were even done, and kept 5 altogether (one which probably should have joined the trash heap.)
So for a few days I admired my elephants, proud that they didn't completely resemble a mud heap assembled by a toddler. I would at least be able to give a decent, if not perfect, mug to the exchange.
Of course, there was the kiln issue. Maybe a handle would crack or break off. Or worse. But I didn't let that worry me. I figured they seemed pretty strong and I knew I did most of the work "correctly," so they SHOULD come out of the kiln okay.
But then I had to get them ready to transport over to my friend's house. I took pictures with my neighbors professional digital camera "just in case" and then tried to pack them as gently as I could with bubble wrap. Well, I broke one thing on one of my sculptures, but no biggie. I fixed it, knowing it might not hold but not too concerned, since it was the mugs I really wanted to be perfect.
So I drive over to her house the next day, and as I unpack my mugs, the first one's ear is broke on one side. I hadn't even realized that even gently wrapping them had damaged them. As I unpacked the rest, I kept hoping that at least ONE mug was still intact. It wasn't. They all had damaged ears. I was so down, but my friend just said we could fix it later with epoxy. I didn't want to fix it. Truth be told, if I had the time to fire more, I would. I want good mugs, not broken mugs.
But now I know that greenware is not just fragile when bumped, but fragile in general. It's amazing, actually. You have this piece of bone dry pottery sitting on your shelf. It looks real. It feels real. But it's just a pile of dust shaped into a mug, or sculpture, or something. Add water and you get slush. Drop it and you get a pile of dust. Bump it and it shatters.
It's almost like magic that adding a thousand degrees of heat to this same pile of dust will transform it to a strong piece of pottery.
And yet, mine didn't get a chance to be transformed. They were put to the fire without being fixed. And now I have to decide if I give away a less than perfect mug. (the folks at Pottery Basics are being very kind and say they'd still love one, bless their hearts.)
But it pains me to even give it. I wanted a GOOD mug, not a broken one. I want my own kiln hooked up. And my wheel, while they're at it. Summer can't come soon enough.
Here are the pics of the bone dry greenware the night before disaster. The mugs will turn out white after firing, then I'll underglaze paint them and then add a clear glaze over it.
The Yahoo Groups I'm in (Pottery Basics) decided to do a Mug Exchange, which I was so excited for. I knew my potter friend was going to do a bisque firing soon, and so I started making some mugs right away. I came up with the idea of an African mug with an elephant head with it's trunk as the handle.
So I stated wedging, rolling, cutting, scoring, slipping, smoothing, attaching, wetting, and drying. I trashed 3 mugs before they were even done, and kept 5 altogether (one which probably should have joined the trash heap.)
So for a few days I admired my elephants, proud that they didn't completely resemble a mud heap assembled by a toddler. I would at least be able to give a decent, if not perfect, mug to the exchange.
Of course, there was the kiln issue. Maybe a handle would crack or break off. Or worse. But I didn't let that worry me. I figured they seemed pretty strong and I knew I did most of the work "correctly," so they SHOULD come out of the kiln okay.
But then I had to get them ready to transport over to my friend's house. I took pictures with my neighbors professional digital camera "just in case" and then tried to pack them as gently as I could with bubble wrap. Well, I broke one thing on one of my sculptures, but no biggie. I fixed it, knowing it might not hold but not too concerned, since it was the mugs I really wanted to be perfect.
So I drive over to her house the next day, and as I unpack my mugs, the first one's ear is broke on one side. I hadn't even realized that even gently wrapping them had damaged them. As I unpacked the rest, I kept hoping that at least ONE mug was still intact. It wasn't. They all had damaged ears. I was so down, but my friend just said we could fix it later with epoxy. I didn't want to fix it. Truth be told, if I had the time to fire more, I would. I want good mugs, not broken mugs.
But now I know that greenware is not just fragile when bumped, but fragile in general. It's amazing, actually. You have this piece of bone dry pottery sitting on your shelf. It looks real. It feels real. But it's just a pile of dust shaped into a mug, or sculpture, or something. Add water and you get slush. Drop it and you get a pile of dust. Bump it and it shatters.
It's almost like magic that adding a thousand degrees of heat to this same pile of dust will transform it to a strong piece of pottery.
And yet, mine didn't get a chance to be transformed. They were put to the fire without being fixed. And now I have to decide if I give away a less than perfect mug. (the folks at Pottery Basics are being very kind and say they'd still love one, bless their hearts.)
But it pains me to even give it. I wanted a GOOD mug, not a broken one. I want my own kiln hooked up. And my wheel, while they're at it. Summer can't come soon enough.
Here are the pics of the bone dry greenware the night before disaster. The mugs will turn out white after firing, then I'll underglaze paint them and then add a clear glaze over it.
I just hope that the rest of the firing went well. I'm expecting to find out tomorrow...
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Indian Summer Thaws the Emotions
As I write this, the weather is gorgeous. It feels like Spring and the sun is out. My heart wants to soar. But like many other such days, there are thoughts that snag me and hold me down. Thoughts I'm not even sure are okay, but I don't want to let them go. Not yet, anyway.
I don't know why, but on days like this I find my thoughts straying to Indian Summer days back in the Steel City. I most often recollect my trot down to the "T" station, down the hill, the many steps, and the platform. And other times I recall the jot home - up the hill and stairs, or up the incline and over the hill, past shops and apartments and the old shut down high school...I remember feeling not a care in the world. I was confident, comfortable, and content.
Why do the trees and fields not excite me the way sidewalks and glass windows did? Why do I enjoy the silent glow of city lights and not the empty light of the moon on a clear night? Why do I even long for something I know I cannot have? I have never loved another man, but I cannot help feeling that this is what it must be like...to have loved another once before but know you can never return.
I know that it wouldn't be the same. Even at the end it wasn't the same. I missed downtown, I missed not driving, and I missed walking everywhere. I missed my friends and going to school. And I know I don't want my kids raised in the city...at least, I don't think I do. But many times I think of all the places we could go and all the things we could do that aren't even available here in our rural dwellings.
Some people dream of sipping tea on an old porch swing. I don't mind that, but I'm more of a Starbucks person (if I were the kind who drank tea or coffee.)
And then there's the friendship thing. I'll get into why this came up later, since most days I'm able to push it way down until I forget it's there...
WHY is it I don't have a great Christian friend to do things with? A friend who wants to and sets aside time to get together at least every other week. Who can encourage me in my walk with God, and who actually understands me as a person. I guess I am lucky that Boom is all those things. He is my best friend and so much more, and I'm glad he truly "gets" me. But I want a GIRL friend, a mommy friend. Someone to joke with, cry with, stay up late and talk with. I know that "it's hard when you have little ones." But I don't buy that. I've made efforts - I've made the time, and I've made the phone calls. But I seem to have more time and more desire than anyone else, apparently. Or maybe I'm just boring and desperate, I don't know.
I have friends, per se. But they don't know the whole me. They don't save a place for me at get togethers. They don't call me up just to chat. The don't even invite me over. I mentioned it at a Bible study meeting I just joined, and as we discussed it, I thought, "Don't any of you even realize that I'm begging, pleading, here...and not one of you is volunteering to be a friend to me." They tell me I have to make the effort and that I need more than one friend, etc. Yet not one offered to be another friend to me.
What is it about me? Have I changed that much since becoming a mom that no one wants to be around me? The only mom's I had been friends with until they left me cold and crying with a newborn were women who were always taking from me...my time, my advice, my pity, whatever. They complained about spouses, boyfriends, etc. I listened, I felt better about my lot, but I got no encouragement for myself. Nothing to take home to keep me warm.
I truly want to give to others. It's what I used to do well. But I feel like I've given so much that there isn't anything left. No one's filled MY love tank. My husband can only do so much and hear the same stuff so many times. I get tired of telling him about it over and over. I want someone who can go shopping with me and tell me what looks good on me. I want someone who will go to a movie with me and discuss it afterwards. Someone to go to the park with, someone who trades days doing playgroups at our houses, someone who sees the world in a similar way as I do.
Apparently it's too much to ask.
Anyway, this Bible study is called Apples of Gold, it's by Focus on the Family, and Renewing the Heart, written by Betty Huizenga.
At first I was really excited. It's a class that teaches you how to cook, and incorporates a Bible study, and you learn how to open up your home and be good at hospitality. And since I discovered through a Networking class at our old church in Edinboro that I might have a gift for hospitality (which makes sense being as I love being around people, and I love entertaining) I thought this would be perfect.
Well, we had a good time, until the friend issue was brought up. But there was one thing in the study that didn't jive with me. And after I got home and skimmed through the rest of the book, it looks like many more things won't jive with me.
I don't know if it's because of my tendency of finding fault with things, or if it's something else, but now I'm not looking forward to hearing in the other classes all the stuff I'm not doing "right." With this book, frugality is almost out, looks are VERY important (which just doesn't jive with me), and she puts out the idea that if you don't do things just so, you won't really be honoring God when you entertain people in your home.
So now I'm wondering if A)I DON'T have a gift of hospitality after all, or B) if once again someone is taking an idea from God and adding their own ideas but it makes it sound like God is saying it, if that makes sense.
Similar to the way I see Dobson sometimes. I appreciate his stance on the family and Christian values, but there are so many things that I do as a parent, or don't do, that he basically says are being lenient and even detrimental (his word, not mine) to the development of my children. I disagree, and it angers me that people may think that GOD wants us to raise our children in a certain way, when in truth it's just Dobson.
For example, it's obvious that the author does not do a family bed (or room, as is our case right now) and that's okay, but she talks about how to make the bedroom a sanctuary to retreat to, and to have a lock on the door, etc. Well, our kids are in the bedroom, it's relaxing enough for us, etc. Same with my looks and that of my house. My husband is fine with both, and says so (Yes, I do ask him.) He doesn't mind me wearing sweats, as he wants to wear them at home, as well. He's more affectionate with me in the morning with bed head hair and "kitten" breath as he says, than when I'm all dolled up. Call me lucky, but my point is that I don't think making things look pretty all the time is necessarily a Godly thing. Not a bad thing, by any means, but not necessarily a command, if you will.
Especially with all my Crunchy Mamas and Unschooling ideas....which are SO far from outward looks and neat homes....I'm trying to find what I think is a good balance, and the minute I accept that natural is okay, I read this book and think, "great...so now what do I do?"
They used the example of what if Christ walked into your home...truth be told, I wouldn't buy a toothbrush in case he forgot (it happens.) If I don't have a mirror so he can see the back of his head, I'm sure he'll live. I'll have clean sheets (pretty, maybe not) and a fresh bar of soap. But to be honest, I wouldn't change anything else in my home because I'm pretty sure He'd be more interested in ME than my house.
Maybe I'm wrong (it's been known to happen.) I don't know.
And then I think about the fact that the author got this great calling from God to do this book and class, and I wish that God would speak to me like that. Because I feel that I'm supposed to do SOMETHING with my love for people. And now with clay, I may have found a way.
Similar to what she does, but focused more on the people (she says it's a pampering for the women, but when you feel guilty about how you do things, the pampering seems more like a scam...) I've thought of having a Clay party of some sort (what to call it, I don't know.) Eventually if it got going I'd have to charge for the materials and firing time, but at first I'd do it for free. I'd invite all my friends and let them play in the clay, showing them a few tips. Then they leave their pieces and I fire them. Then they return to paint their pieces, and again I fire them for them.
My idea is that somehow we just let our barriers down and talk. Really talk. About anything and everything, and I make some new friends. And I could actually incorporate a study into it, since it's pottery and the Bible has several verses about God being the potter, us the clay, and you can come up with so many cool allegories from that alone.
But then I wonder if it's just a stupid idea instead of a seed planted. And by criticizing another's obvious success with another similar program, maybe it's just jealousy.
So today I just kept thinking. And wishing. And hoping. And maybe someday I'll sort it all out, or it will all one day come together and be clear. But until then, I collect all my thoughts and store them once again in my mental Hope Chest, to be pulled out on another day such as this. When the warm breezes begin to blow on the parts of my that have grown cold...
I don't know why, but on days like this I find my thoughts straying to Indian Summer days back in the Steel City. I most often recollect my trot down to the "T" station, down the hill, the many steps, and the platform. And other times I recall the jot home - up the hill and stairs, or up the incline and over the hill, past shops and apartments and the old shut down high school...I remember feeling not a care in the world. I was confident, comfortable, and content.
Why do the trees and fields not excite me the way sidewalks and glass windows did? Why do I enjoy the silent glow of city lights and not the empty light of the moon on a clear night? Why do I even long for something I know I cannot have? I have never loved another man, but I cannot help feeling that this is what it must be like...to have loved another once before but know you can never return.
I know that it wouldn't be the same. Even at the end it wasn't the same. I missed downtown, I missed not driving, and I missed walking everywhere. I missed my friends and going to school. And I know I don't want my kids raised in the city...at least, I don't think I do. But many times I think of all the places we could go and all the things we could do that aren't even available here in our rural dwellings.
Some people dream of sipping tea on an old porch swing. I don't mind that, but I'm more of a Starbucks person (if I were the kind who drank tea or coffee.)
And then there's the friendship thing. I'll get into why this came up later, since most days I'm able to push it way down until I forget it's there...
WHY is it I don't have a great Christian friend to do things with? A friend who wants to and sets aside time to get together at least every other week. Who can encourage me in my walk with God, and who actually understands me as a person. I guess I am lucky that Boom is all those things. He is my best friend and so much more, and I'm glad he truly "gets" me. But I want a GIRL friend, a mommy friend. Someone to joke with, cry with, stay up late and talk with. I know that "it's hard when you have little ones." But I don't buy that. I've made efforts - I've made the time, and I've made the phone calls. But I seem to have more time and more desire than anyone else, apparently. Or maybe I'm just boring and desperate, I don't know.
I have friends, per se. But they don't know the whole me. They don't save a place for me at get togethers. They don't call me up just to chat. The don't even invite me over. I mentioned it at a Bible study meeting I just joined, and as we discussed it, I thought, "Don't any of you even realize that I'm begging, pleading, here...and not one of you is volunteering to be a friend to me." They tell me I have to make the effort and that I need more than one friend, etc. Yet not one offered to be another friend to me.
What is it about me? Have I changed that much since becoming a mom that no one wants to be around me? The only mom's I had been friends with until they left me cold and crying with a newborn were women who were always taking from me...my time, my advice, my pity, whatever. They complained about spouses, boyfriends, etc. I listened, I felt better about my lot, but I got no encouragement for myself. Nothing to take home to keep me warm.
I truly want to give to others. It's what I used to do well. But I feel like I've given so much that there isn't anything left. No one's filled MY love tank. My husband can only do so much and hear the same stuff so many times. I get tired of telling him about it over and over. I want someone who can go shopping with me and tell me what looks good on me. I want someone who will go to a movie with me and discuss it afterwards. Someone to go to the park with, someone who trades days doing playgroups at our houses, someone who sees the world in a similar way as I do.
Apparently it's too much to ask.
Anyway, this Bible study is called Apples of Gold, it's by Focus on the Family, and Renewing the Heart, written by Betty Huizenga.
At first I was really excited. It's a class that teaches you how to cook, and incorporates a Bible study, and you learn how to open up your home and be good at hospitality. And since I discovered through a Networking class at our old church in Edinboro that I might have a gift for hospitality (which makes sense being as I love being around people, and I love entertaining) I thought this would be perfect.
Well, we had a good time, until the friend issue was brought up. But there was one thing in the study that didn't jive with me. And after I got home and skimmed through the rest of the book, it looks like many more things won't jive with me.
I don't know if it's because of my tendency of finding fault with things, or if it's something else, but now I'm not looking forward to hearing in the other classes all the stuff I'm not doing "right." With this book, frugality is almost out, looks are VERY important (which just doesn't jive with me), and she puts out the idea that if you don't do things just so, you won't really be honoring God when you entertain people in your home.
So now I'm wondering if A)I DON'T have a gift of hospitality after all, or B) if once again someone is taking an idea from God and adding their own ideas but it makes it sound like God is saying it, if that makes sense.
Similar to the way I see Dobson sometimes. I appreciate his stance on the family and Christian values, but there are so many things that I do as a parent, or don't do, that he basically says are being lenient and even detrimental (his word, not mine) to the development of my children. I disagree, and it angers me that people may think that GOD wants us to raise our children in a certain way, when in truth it's just Dobson.
For example, it's obvious that the author does not do a family bed (or room, as is our case right now) and that's okay, but she talks about how to make the bedroom a sanctuary to retreat to, and to have a lock on the door, etc. Well, our kids are in the bedroom, it's relaxing enough for us, etc. Same with my looks and that of my house. My husband is fine with both, and says so (Yes, I do ask him.) He doesn't mind me wearing sweats, as he wants to wear them at home, as well. He's more affectionate with me in the morning with bed head hair and "kitten" breath as he says, than when I'm all dolled up. Call me lucky, but my point is that I don't think making things look pretty all the time is necessarily a Godly thing. Not a bad thing, by any means, but not necessarily a command, if you will.
Especially with all my Crunchy Mamas and Unschooling ideas....which are SO far from outward looks and neat homes....I'm trying to find what I think is a good balance, and the minute I accept that natural is okay, I read this book and think, "great...so now what do I do?"
They used the example of what if Christ walked into your home...truth be told, I wouldn't buy a toothbrush in case he forgot (it happens.) If I don't have a mirror so he can see the back of his head, I'm sure he'll live. I'll have clean sheets (pretty, maybe not) and a fresh bar of soap. But to be honest, I wouldn't change anything else in my home because I'm pretty sure He'd be more interested in ME than my house.
Maybe I'm wrong (it's been known to happen.) I don't know.
And then I think about the fact that the author got this great calling from God to do this book and class, and I wish that God would speak to me like that. Because I feel that I'm supposed to do SOMETHING with my love for people. And now with clay, I may have found a way.
Similar to what she does, but focused more on the people (she says it's a pampering for the women, but when you feel guilty about how you do things, the pampering seems more like a scam...) I've thought of having a Clay party of some sort (what to call it, I don't know.) Eventually if it got going I'd have to charge for the materials and firing time, but at first I'd do it for free. I'd invite all my friends and let them play in the clay, showing them a few tips. Then they leave their pieces and I fire them. Then they return to paint their pieces, and again I fire them for them.
My idea is that somehow we just let our barriers down and talk. Really talk. About anything and everything, and I make some new friends. And I could actually incorporate a study into it, since it's pottery and the Bible has several verses about God being the potter, us the clay, and you can come up with so many cool allegories from that alone.
But then I wonder if it's just a stupid idea instead of a seed planted. And by criticizing another's obvious success with another similar program, maybe it's just jealousy.
So today I just kept thinking. And wishing. And hoping. And maybe someday I'll sort it all out, or it will all one day come together and be clear. But until then, I collect all my thoughts and store them once again in my mental Hope Chest, to be pulled out on another day such as this. When the warm breezes begin to blow on the parts of my that have grown cold...
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Toddler Logic
Whoever thinks proofs in geometry are hard to figure out, they should try reasoning with a three year old:
At bedtime in our bedroom, tucked in and waiting for both kids to fall asleep. Pumpkin has a sippy cup which I tell her to drink just a little from so she won't have to go pee again...
"Mommy, can I have a drink?"
"Yes, you can have a drink."
Pause.
"Mommy, can I have 'too much'?"
(stifling laugh and a little irritation since it's late) "No, just drink a little bit, then go to sleep."
"I am asleep."
"No you aren't."
"Yes. I am!"
"No, you AREN'T! If you were asleep you wouldn't be talking."
"I'm not."
"Yes. You are."
"No I'm not. "
"Just close your eyes and go to sleep."
"I already did!"
At bedtime in our bedroom, tucked in and waiting for both kids to fall asleep. Pumpkin has a sippy cup which I tell her to drink just a little from so she won't have to go pee again...
"Mommy, can I have a drink?"
"Yes, you can have a drink."
Pause.
"Mommy, can I have 'too much'?"
(stifling laugh and a little irritation since it's late) "No, just drink a little bit, then go to sleep."
"I am asleep."
"No you aren't."
"Yes. I am!"
"No, you AREN'T! If you were asleep you wouldn't be talking."
"I'm not."
"Yes. You are."
"No I'm not. "
"Just close your eyes and go to sleep."
"I already did!"
Sunday, January 01, 2006
The Accident That Almost Was
Well, Christmas was good this year, with the exception of too many toys once again. I swear that they have gotten combined 50 to 100 toys this year alone (or last year, as it's officially 2006 now!)
Anyway, we had a good break, good visit with my family etc. And things WERE going great on our return, until Boom decided to tempt fate...
Boom was excited about being in his barn/garage thing out back, with a fire in the old stove and music on, happily trying to carve out some of his own version of Lincoln Logs since the kids got some for Christmas. After a few prototypes, he brought in his first perfect pieces, smiling like a school boy. I went back to my cleaning and rotating of toys hoping to get rid of a least a FEW...
Next thing I know I hear Boom screaming outside (I was upstairs and could still hear him from the closed windows up there.) I immediately thought of the table saw and my heart stopped and my stomach churned. I flew down the stairs where Boom was still yelling in agony and I asked what happened. All he could say was, "Help me!"
Now, I don't know how you are in emergency type situations, but I am as good a a lump of jello, only I don't even taste good. I basically panic, cry, and freeze up. So I asked him what I was supposed to do, was it a "911" type of thing, etc. He just kept groaning and holding his hand in the sink, which I wasn't about to go near.
Eventually he was able to get out that he needed something to wrap his hand in (I know, I know, how could I not know?!?!?) and luckily I could tell there wasn't much blood. But what I wouldn't have given to have something to help with the pain. A shot, a pill, SOMETHING. I thought that if only he were in labor I could help him breath, and how much more obvious to me it was that labor pain is not REAL pain in the sense of something being wrong...
Anyway, he confessed that he thought he lost his fingers, and wasn't even sure until he looked in the sink himself. He had shut the saw and radio off and run into the house. Luckily, his fingers were all there, though how bad we weren't really sure.
We wrapped them and to cut a long story short, he eventually went to the ER that night to make sure that he was getting it clean and wrapping it right. They couldn't do anything for him since the skin was just tore up pretty deep, but they cleaned it and gave him a script for antibiotics and a bad shot of antibiotics. So at least hopefully we won't have to worry about infection. I usually don't care for antibiotics, but in this case I didn't mind. Two of his fingers may never look the same again, but they are there, and for that we are thankful.
We were both shook up pretty bad, and Boom will be wary the first few times he uses anything sharp again, but we are glad for what DIDN'T happen.
So, we now look forward to a New Year full of possibilities, uncertainties, adventures, and probably a few tears. We are thankful for the blessings of God so apparent in our daily lives, and we are content. I don't know what this year will bring, but I pray that God will give us what we need through both the ups and the downs, and that we may learn ever more to depend on Him and show those around us the LOVE of Christ, and that we may ourselves be free from the guilt that binds so that we don't place guilt on others.
A Happy New Year to you and yours, as well.
Anyway, we had a good break, good visit with my family etc. And things WERE going great on our return, until Boom decided to tempt fate...
Boom was excited about being in his barn/garage thing out back, with a fire in the old stove and music on, happily trying to carve out some of his own version of Lincoln Logs since the kids got some for Christmas. After a few prototypes, he brought in his first perfect pieces, smiling like a school boy. I went back to my cleaning and rotating of toys hoping to get rid of a least a FEW...
Next thing I know I hear Boom screaming outside (I was upstairs and could still hear him from the closed windows up there.) I immediately thought of the table saw and my heart stopped and my stomach churned. I flew down the stairs where Boom was still yelling in agony and I asked what happened. All he could say was, "Help me!"
Now, I don't know how you are in emergency type situations, but I am as good a a lump of jello, only I don't even taste good. I basically panic, cry, and freeze up. So I asked him what I was supposed to do, was it a "911" type of thing, etc. He just kept groaning and holding his hand in the sink, which I wasn't about to go near.
Eventually he was able to get out that he needed something to wrap his hand in (I know, I know, how could I not know?!?!?) and luckily I could tell there wasn't much blood. But what I wouldn't have given to have something to help with the pain. A shot, a pill, SOMETHING. I thought that if only he were in labor I could help him breath, and how much more obvious to me it was that labor pain is not REAL pain in the sense of something being wrong...
Anyway, he confessed that he thought he lost his fingers, and wasn't even sure until he looked in the sink himself. He had shut the saw and radio off and run into the house. Luckily, his fingers were all there, though how bad we weren't really sure.
We wrapped them and to cut a long story short, he eventually went to the ER that night to make sure that he was getting it clean and wrapping it right. They couldn't do anything for him since the skin was just tore up pretty deep, but they cleaned it and gave him a script for antibiotics and a bad shot of antibiotics. So at least hopefully we won't have to worry about infection. I usually don't care for antibiotics, but in this case I didn't mind. Two of his fingers may never look the same again, but they are there, and for that we are thankful.
We were both shook up pretty bad, and Boom will be wary the first few times he uses anything sharp again, but we are glad for what DIDN'T happen.
So, we now look forward to a New Year full of possibilities, uncertainties, adventures, and probably a few tears. We are thankful for the blessings of God so apparent in our daily lives, and we are content. I don't know what this year will bring, but I pray that God will give us what we need through both the ups and the downs, and that we may learn ever more to depend on Him and show those around us the LOVE of Christ, and that we may ourselves be free from the guilt that binds so that we don't place guilt on others.
A Happy New Year to you and yours, as well.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
The Ghosts of Christmas...and other musings
Well, I know I haven't posted in awhile. I guess I figure my life is too boring to share with the world right now, though I will update you all (you all being the very small number who might actually be reading this.)
Thanksgiving was okay, but more depressing than normal. I was so hoping that now that there are two other babies at the family gathering (my sister didn't come since my nephew was only a few days old) I would feel more at ease with my own. But instead, I just felt the stark difference once again between my style of parenting and "everyone else's."
I was the only one who nursed my child, and he was 15 mo., their babies were 5 mo. old. As they talked about sleeping through the night or working on it, I mentioned that I STILL nurse my son every 3 hours at night, and got blank stares.
After the birth of my nephew (long story but I was emotionally down after that as well because of the differences in my choices vs. my sisters...not bad, just different, but I felt defeated) I was already feeling low, but after Thanksgiving I felt totally down. I cried for a whole day just wishing that for once in my life I wasn't "different" from everyone around me.
Ever since I was little I just wanted to fit in, be in the "in" crowd. But I never compromised WHO I was to do so (thank goodness!) However, it doesn't hurt any less now that I know I'm making the right choices for my family. I still want to belong to the majority, and I don't. Period.
But this last week I felt good. I had our reading club on Monday and got to chat and laugh. On Friday we did a small neighborhood (3 houses and one other neighbor) Progressive Dinner. I had a lot of fun with that! I was the Salads and the first stop, and we talked and talked that night! The kids had a blast as well. Pumpkin just plays right along with all her little friends now. She is SO social now! I love it!
I also went to see my one friend on Thursday last week, and I had fun. Though of course it was one of those days that you aren't supposed to drive unless you NEED to, so by the time I left for home, I was driving 30 mph on a 55 road, and cars were probably swearing behind me. But I CAN'T drive in winter! Sorry!
Pumpkin did two small songs with her preschool class at church, and was so cute. I was in a small skit before Thanksgiving, which I enjoyed, though I was sad because no one sat with us at the dinner, like usual. I just want a couple of REAL friends...is that all to ask? A couple of people who make an EFFORT to be with us, to talk to us, to keep in touch with us.
I don't have anyone who fits that description in my life right now, save the one friend I saw on Thursday, and there are issues with them not really understanding the Christian life since they didn't come from that kind of background and aren't with other believers ever to learn. So she is a great friend, but can't encourage me in my walk with God, yet.
Anyway, the rest of my life is same old, same old. Kids do cute stuff. I clean house. I play with clay but can't fire it because I don't have my kiln hooked up yet and am waiting to build the wheel because there's nowhere to put it yet.
On the positive side, I made Christmas cut out cookies a couple of days ago. I looked all day for a recipe that was hard and crunchy, like bakeries sell, but no such luck. I thought that Pumpkin's Cubbie's leader might have a recipe, since they frosted cookies in her class that were those crisp bakery cookies, but it turns out she bought the dough....from a bakery! So if anyone out there has a recipe for those crisp, hard bakery sugar cookies, PLEASE send them my way!
And now on to the reason for the title of this post (see, I got ya!)
Yesterday when Boom got to school, there were gifts waiting for him in front of another teacher's classroom (he thinks the gift-giver didn't' know which room was his.) There were three gifts, one marked from "The Ghost of Christmas Past" which had an expensive book called "What If" (collected version, where "Eminent Historians Imagine What Might Have Happened.") A second gift from "The Ghost of Christmas Present" included the Life Books "The War In Iraq." and the third gift from "The Ghost of Christmas Future" contained some thin mints, orange cream thin mints, peanut brittle, and "reindeer corn" (candy corn with Christmas colors.)
Boom thinks that it might have been his old History teacher that left the gift, based on the choice of books and lack of knowing where his room was. He thinks the football boosters wouldn't have left History stuff, but football stuff. So, we aren't really sure who it was. But I wish we could get together with his old history teacher. I loved talking to his wife. They are a neat couple. I wish I could say the same for their sons, but alas, I only knew Boom's best friend since we've been together, and most of his good memories with him happened before.
So that's my life in the last two months in a nut shell. Hope you sort of enjoyed it. I did.
Thanksgiving was okay, but more depressing than normal. I was so hoping that now that there are two other babies at the family gathering (my sister didn't come since my nephew was only a few days old) I would feel more at ease with my own. But instead, I just felt the stark difference once again between my style of parenting and "everyone else's."
I was the only one who nursed my child, and he was 15 mo., their babies were 5 mo. old. As they talked about sleeping through the night or working on it, I mentioned that I STILL nurse my son every 3 hours at night, and got blank stares.
After the birth of my nephew (long story but I was emotionally down after that as well because of the differences in my choices vs. my sisters...not bad, just different, but I felt defeated) I was already feeling low, but after Thanksgiving I felt totally down. I cried for a whole day just wishing that for once in my life I wasn't "different" from everyone around me.
Ever since I was little I just wanted to fit in, be in the "in" crowd. But I never compromised WHO I was to do so (thank goodness!) However, it doesn't hurt any less now that I know I'm making the right choices for my family. I still want to belong to the majority, and I don't. Period.
But this last week I felt good. I had our reading club on Monday and got to chat and laugh. On Friday we did a small neighborhood (3 houses and one other neighbor) Progressive Dinner. I had a lot of fun with that! I was the Salads and the first stop, and we talked and talked that night! The kids had a blast as well. Pumpkin just plays right along with all her little friends now. She is SO social now! I love it!
I also went to see my one friend on Thursday last week, and I had fun. Though of course it was one of those days that you aren't supposed to drive unless you NEED to, so by the time I left for home, I was driving 30 mph on a 55 road, and cars were probably swearing behind me. But I CAN'T drive in winter! Sorry!
Pumpkin did two small songs with her preschool class at church, and was so cute. I was in a small skit before Thanksgiving, which I enjoyed, though I was sad because no one sat with us at the dinner, like usual. I just want a couple of REAL friends...is that all to ask? A couple of people who make an EFFORT to be with us, to talk to us, to keep in touch with us.
I don't have anyone who fits that description in my life right now, save the one friend I saw on Thursday, and there are issues with them not really understanding the Christian life since they didn't come from that kind of background and aren't with other believers ever to learn. So she is a great friend, but can't encourage me in my walk with God, yet.
Anyway, the rest of my life is same old, same old. Kids do cute stuff. I clean house. I play with clay but can't fire it because I don't have my kiln hooked up yet and am waiting to build the wheel because there's nowhere to put it yet.
On the positive side, I made Christmas cut out cookies a couple of days ago. I looked all day for a recipe that was hard and crunchy, like bakeries sell, but no such luck. I thought that Pumpkin's Cubbie's leader might have a recipe, since they frosted cookies in her class that were those crisp bakery cookies, but it turns out she bought the dough....from a bakery! So if anyone out there has a recipe for those crisp, hard bakery sugar cookies, PLEASE send them my way!
And now on to the reason for the title of this post (see, I got ya!)
Yesterday when Boom got to school, there were gifts waiting for him in front of another teacher's classroom (he thinks the gift-giver didn't' know which room was his.) There were three gifts, one marked from "The Ghost of Christmas Past" which had an expensive book called "What If" (collected version, where "Eminent Historians Imagine What Might Have Happened.") A second gift from "The Ghost of Christmas Present" included the Life Books "The War In Iraq." and the third gift from "The Ghost of Christmas Future" contained some thin mints, orange cream thin mints, peanut brittle, and "reindeer corn" (candy corn with Christmas colors.)
Boom thinks that it might have been his old History teacher that left the gift, based on the choice of books and lack of knowing where his room was. He thinks the football boosters wouldn't have left History stuff, but football stuff. So, we aren't really sure who it was. But I wish we could get together with his old history teacher. I loved talking to his wife. They are a neat couple. I wish I could say the same for their sons, but alas, I only knew Boom's best friend since we've been together, and most of his good memories with him happened before.
So that's my life in the last two months in a nut shell. Hope you sort of enjoyed it. I did.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
I'm An Aunt!
My Nephew was born on November 21 at 12:17 PM weighing 8 lbs. 4 oz. and measuring 20 1/4 in. long.
Congratulations Sis and BIL!!!
She went in on Sunday night to get induced (peri didn't want to go past the due date) and they broke her water Monday morning. Shortly after she got the epidural and quickly went from 4-5 cm. to complete. After only 10 minutes pushing, her much wanted baby boy was here!
The mass in his chest is measuring small enough that he won't need surgery until around 6-12 months, so that is an answer to prayer as well.
Congratulations Sis and BIL!!!
She went in on Sunday night to get induced (peri didn't want to go past the due date) and they broke her water Monday morning. Shortly after she got the epidural and quickly went from 4-5 cm. to complete. After only 10 minutes pushing, her much wanted baby boy was here!
The mass in his chest is measuring small enough that he won't need surgery until around 6-12 months, so that is an answer to prayer as well.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Potter's Hands
Yesterday I was on Cone 9...er, I mean, Cloud Nine!
I have been e-mailing a potter who lives not even 10 miles away from me ever since I found her gallery of sorts on the internet. She has been the biggest encouragement, with real tips and hope and not once making me feel I was in over my head.
Turns out, she started just like me, in a way. She is 67 now, and only starting working with clay 8 years ago. She didn't attend classes, she had no one to teach her. She read and researched and just dove in. After hours, weeks, and months of frustration, she finally got the hang of the potter's wheel and now she even makes her own glazes when she has the time and energy to work (she has polio and also does the accounting for her and her hubby's business.)
Well, she offered to let me visit her and yesterday I spent about 3 hours with her. I got to hear stories of how she began, she showed me her work, and she even showed me how to work the wheel.
Then, she let ME try my own two hands at it...after centering it for me. I push the clay in and out and she said she honestly thought I had a natural talent for it...she hadn't been able to get her own grown kids or grandkids to do as well the first time...she said I must be a pro in disguise ;)
This might sound like she was just flattering me, but in talking to her I know she respects honesty, so though I may not be pro, I hope I DO have a knack for it! She also could tell that I knew a lot from my reading and that I'm not like some who THINK they want to work with clay but only really want easy answers on how to get from here to there...
And then I found out she is a Christian! And we've had two more e-mails just today with regards to talking about God!
So I have found a friend and a mentor, and I hope we can get together more. And, I have discovered that I like the idea of the potter's wheel more than I thought I would (it doesn't hurt to have someone tell you that you might be good at it!) But I loved the feel of the clay spinning within my hands, and a picture came to me...
As I was thinking one again about the fact that we are living Jars of Clay sculpted by the Father's hand, I pictured God at the potter's wheel, with me as the lump of clay He was shaping, and I realized that when you shape a pot, you literally are hugging it much of the time, to re-center or push in the shape. You alternate between drawing the clay out and hugging it, or at least, in my beginning pursuit of it, I did so.
But I thought that that was such a neat picture, that while God is shaping me, He is cupping me within His palms, gently forming me to be what He wants. I can't wait to see what other pictures I get the more I study scripture and pottery. I think maybe this will bring me closer to God than just me reading the Bible...I'm a very visual person, and maybe this is another way God is choosing to speak to me. I sure hope so.
I also will be thrilled that if and when I get a wheel and make pots, the "pottery" part of Mud Puppy Pottery won't be a misnomer after all...
I have been e-mailing a potter who lives not even 10 miles away from me ever since I found her gallery of sorts on the internet. She has been the biggest encouragement, with real tips and hope and not once making me feel I was in over my head.
Turns out, she started just like me, in a way. She is 67 now, and only starting working with clay 8 years ago. She didn't attend classes, she had no one to teach her. She read and researched and just dove in. After hours, weeks, and months of frustration, she finally got the hang of the potter's wheel and now she even makes her own glazes when she has the time and energy to work (she has polio and also does the accounting for her and her hubby's business.)
Well, she offered to let me visit her and yesterday I spent about 3 hours with her. I got to hear stories of how she began, she showed me her work, and she even showed me how to work the wheel.
Then, she let ME try my own two hands at it...after centering it for me. I push the clay in and out and she said she honestly thought I had a natural talent for it...she hadn't been able to get her own grown kids or grandkids to do as well the first time...she said I must be a pro in disguise ;)
This might sound like she was just flattering me, but in talking to her I know she respects honesty, so though I may not be pro, I hope I DO have a knack for it! She also could tell that I knew a lot from my reading and that I'm not like some who THINK they want to work with clay but only really want easy answers on how to get from here to there...
And then I found out she is a Christian! And we've had two more e-mails just today with regards to talking about God!
So I have found a friend and a mentor, and I hope we can get together more. And, I have discovered that I like the idea of the potter's wheel more than I thought I would (it doesn't hurt to have someone tell you that you might be good at it!) But I loved the feel of the clay spinning within my hands, and a picture came to me...
As I was thinking one again about the fact that we are living Jars of Clay sculpted by the Father's hand, I pictured God at the potter's wheel, with me as the lump of clay He was shaping, and I realized that when you shape a pot, you literally are hugging it much of the time, to re-center or push in the shape. You alternate between drawing the clay out and hugging it, or at least, in my beginning pursuit of it, I did so.
But I thought that that was such a neat picture, that while God is shaping me, He is cupping me within His palms, gently forming me to be what He wants. I can't wait to see what other pictures I get the more I study scripture and pottery. I think maybe this will bring me closer to God than just me reading the Bible...I'm a very visual person, and maybe this is another way God is choosing to speak to me. I sure hope so.
I also will be thrilled that if and when I get a wheel and make pots, the "pottery" part of Mud Puppy Pottery won't be a misnomer after all...
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
That'll Do, Pig. That'll Do.
I've only seen the movie "Babe" twice, and both times I cried at the end. For those who haven't seen the movie, the next paragraph is a definite spoiler.
After Babe steps into the arena to round up the sheep, he is met with jeering crowds, doubtful judges, and a hopeful farmer. After all, the farmer himself has a few skeptics wondering if he's lost his mind. But no matter, Babe learns the secret sheep code and gently herds them to the proper places, and as the crowd is silenced and the judges amazed, the farmer says very quietly to Babe, "That'll do, Pig. That'll do."
And that's where I cry. That simple statement is more than an affirmation. He may not have jumped for joy or screamed in victory, but he is satisfied, and in his quiet way he says all that he needs to. He is proud that the pig has done what he knew he could do, and he doesn't need to puff up the pig with big words...the simple confident thanks is enough.
********
Sunday at church we were singing during worship, and a familiar voice began to gnaw at my mind. These songs aren't that exciting. They definitely aren't all that new. They aren't vineyard music. I wish we had more contemporary stuff. I wish we had our old church. I wish I could have the church I grew up in stay the way it was with my Dad playing trombone and me being happy. I wish, I wish, I wish....
And I realized a few things. One, of course is that not much worshipping is being done while I'm being critical. And the second is that I have no real need to be critical. And I'm tired of it. And third, I don't want my kids to be subject to the Sunday weekly criticism that I endured growing up, and is probably the very reason I'm so critical of everything myself.
If it wasn't the preaching, it was the music. If it wasn't the music, it was the Sunday School. If it wasn't the Sunday School, it was the teacher. There was always something. My mother didn't mean to be this way, I am sure. But she was. And it wasn't just at church. My father had more faults than good traits, and I remember many times when the effort I'd put forth in cleaning or something was not quite "good enough."
And now I'm the same way. Boom can help out and I'll find ways to nit pick. There will be no reason to find fault with him, but apparently I'm not content until I do. Lack of self confidence on my behalf? I'm not sure, but I'm beginning to get tired of it. And on church on Sunday, I decided to stop my bitterness and enjoy the fellowship of believers and worship with my heart.
Kind of like the song, "I'm coming back to the heart of worship, and it's all about YOU...." I know that there is no perfect church. But I like that we have many families coming together in one place for one purpose. We are all imperfect, and to expect a perfect church to come about from imperfect people is ridiculous. I know many people end up meeting with just their own family, but truthfully, we aren't all perfect, either, and I'd rather deal with the imperfections of a large group of people and make friends and be encouraged, than to be safe with my own family, but lonely and eventually encounter our own problems.
So I need to quit being cantankerous. And yet outside of church I find that the lifestyle I have adopted tends to also be critical of others. Whether in self defense or in judgment, I'm not sure. Or maybe in the defense of those innocents that are lied to by the majority.
Either way, I find myself criticizing hospital births, those who let their child cry it out for days, those who trust doctors without even researching on their own. And I get frustrated. I get frustrated because I don't see how anyone can let a child cry for hours, wanting only to be held, and only for the reason that this child should learn to "self-sooth." I get frustrated that people trust doctors who induce for no reason, then thank that same doctor for saving their baby's life because of all the complications that ensued, not realizing that had they waited for the baby to come on it's own there might not have BEEN any complications in the first place. And I'm REALLY frustrated with doctors who tell mothers that their breast milk is not sufficient and they need to supplement with formula.
And yet I'm trapped by my own critical-ness. I don't vaccinate. And so there are people who don't understand why I don't let my children's bodies fight their own diseases. (for what it's worth, I knew a lady growing up who had polio because her parents didn't vaccinate, and I could not do that to my children. I DID do research on both sides, and this is what I've chosen.) I was actually planning to circumcise, before I had Pumpkin. I still don't think it's horrible (after all, since God had his "chosen" people circumcised, I don't think He would mutilate them or cause them to experience less pleasurable sex, since He created it, after all.) But then I changed my mind because there wasn't enough to convince me to go through with it.
And so I know that each choice one makes is THEIR decision, and yet I remain critical, skeptical, at times bitter. And for what?
*******
And then I thought about how I think of God. I picture Him often to be critical of ME. That He is always disappointed and thinking that I'm not "good enough." That no matter how hard I try, I will never add up.
Oh, I know there's the whole "grace" thing...but I don't actually GET IT, not completely. I mean, I understand what it means and how it's supposed to "work." But I don't live like I believe it. I still fear the repercussions of the mistakes and bad decisions I make. If I feed my kids fruit that isn't organic or even washed...will there be a mark against me? I knew better...I had no excuse (beside low funds), and I'm supposed to be the best parent I can be...so does that count?
I'd like to think, sometimes, that God is like that farmer in Babe. That He believes in me and that He is proud of me. And though I'm not perfect, and I know good works and intentions don't "earn" you anything, that maybe He will see my heart and know that at least I TRIED to do my best, as I knew how, with what I had.
I think that even though it would be wonderful to hear my Father utter the words, "Well done good and faithful servant," I'd be just as happy to hear him say quietly, "That'll do, Prism. That'll do."
After Babe steps into the arena to round up the sheep, he is met with jeering crowds, doubtful judges, and a hopeful farmer. After all, the farmer himself has a few skeptics wondering if he's lost his mind. But no matter, Babe learns the secret sheep code and gently herds them to the proper places, and as the crowd is silenced and the judges amazed, the farmer says very quietly to Babe, "That'll do, Pig. That'll do."
And that's where I cry. That simple statement is more than an affirmation. He may not have jumped for joy or screamed in victory, but he is satisfied, and in his quiet way he says all that he needs to. He is proud that the pig has done what he knew he could do, and he doesn't need to puff up the pig with big words...the simple confident thanks is enough.
********
Sunday at church we were singing during worship, and a familiar voice began to gnaw at my mind. These songs aren't that exciting. They definitely aren't all that new. They aren't vineyard music. I wish we had more contemporary stuff. I wish we had our old church. I wish I could have the church I grew up in stay the way it was with my Dad playing trombone and me being happy. I wish, I wish, I wish....
And I realized a few things. One, of course is that not much worshipping is being done while I'm being critical. And the second is that I have no real need to be critical. And I'm tired of it. And third, I don't want my kids to be subject to the Sunday weekly criticism that I endured growing up, and is probably the very reason I'm so critical of everything myself.
If it wasn't the preaching, it was the music. If it wasn't the music, it was the Sunday School. If it wasn't the Sunday School, it was the teacher. There was always something. My mother didn't mean to be this way, I am sure. But she was. And it wasn't just at church. My father had more faults than good traits, and I remember many times when the effort I'd put forth in cleaning or something was not quite "good enough."
And now I'm the same way. Boom can help out and I'll find ways to nit pick. There will be no reason to find fault with him, but apparently I'm not content until I do. Lack of self confidence on my behalf? I'm not sure, but I'm beginning to get tired of it. And on church on Sunday, I decided to stop my bitterness and enjoy the fellowship of believers and worship with my heart.
Kind of like the song, "I'm coming back to the heart of worship, and it's all about YOU...." I know that there is no perfect church. But I like that we have many families coming together in one place for one purpose. We are all imperfect, and to expect a perfect church to come about from imperfect people is ridiculous. I know many people end up meeting with just their own family, but truthfully, we aren't all perfect, either, and I'd rather deal with the imperfections of a large group of people and make friends and be encouraged, than to be safe with my own family, but lonely and eventually encounter our own problems.
So I need to quit being cantankerous. And yet outside of church I find that the lifestyle I have adopted tends to also be critical of others. Whether in self defense or in judgment, I'm not sure. Or maybe in the defense of those innocents that are lied to by the majority.
Either way, I find myself criticizing hospital births, those who let their child cry it out for days, those who trust doctors without even researching on their own. And I get frustrated. I get frustrated because I don't see how anyone can let a child cry for hours, wanting only to be held, and only for the reason that this child should learn to "self-sooth." I get frustrated that people trust doctors who induce for no reason, then thank that same doctor for saving their baby's life because of all the complications that ensued, not realizing that had they waited for the baby to come on it's own there might not have BEEN any complications in the first place. And I'm REALLY frustrated with doctors who tell mothers that their breast milk is not sufficient and they need to supplement with formula.
And yet I'm trapped by my own critical-ness. I don't vaccinate. And so there are people who don't understand why I don't let my children's bodies fight their own diseases. (for what it's worth, I knew a lady growing up who had polio because her parents didn't vaccinate, and I could not do that to my children. I DID do research on both sides, and this is what I've chosen.) I was actually planning to circumcise, before I had Pumpkin. I still don't think it's horrible (after all, since God had his "chosen" people circumcised, I don't think He would mutilate them or cause them to experience less pleasurable sex, since He created it, after all.) But then I changed my mind because there wasn't enough to convince me to go through with it.
And so I know that each choice one makes is THEIR decision, and yet I remain critical, skeptical, at times bitter. And for what?
*******
And then I thought about how I think of God. I picture Him often to be critical of ME. That He is always disappointed and thinking that I'm not "good enough." That no matter how hard I try, I will never add up.
Oh, I know there's the whole "grace" thing...but I don't actually GET IT, not completely. I mean, I understand what it means and how it's supposed to "work." But I don't live like I believe it. I still fear the repercussions of the mistakes and bad decisions I make. If I feed my kids fruit that isn't organic or even washed...will there be a mark against me? I knew better...I had no excuse (beside low funds), and I'm supposed to be the best parent I can be...so does that count?
I'd like to think, sometimes, that God is like that farmer in Babe. That He believes in me and that He is proud of me. And though I'm not perfect, and I know good works and intentions don't "earn" you anything, that maybe He will see my heart and know that at least I TRIED to do my best, as I knew how, with what I had.
I think that even though it would be wonderful to hear my Father utter the words, "Well done good and faithful servant," I'd be just as happy to hear him say quietly, "That'll do, Prism. That'll do."
Monday, October 31, 2005
My First Trick-Or-Treat
Well, obviously I've lived through Trick or Treating's throughout my lifetime. But I've never participated in one until now.
I was raised without Trick or Treating for two reasons: we lived in a rural area where kids didn't come to your house even if you wanted them to, and we didn't believe in celebrating Holloween because of it's pretense of Evil.
So this is the first time I've gone door to doorstep and asked for candy. Well, actually, Pumpkin asked for candy. But I took her!
Last year I sat at our doorway waiting for the first costumed child to walk up our porch steps. And when it was 2 minutes past 7:00 I panicked and began to cry because no one could tell our porch light was on since it was still light out. But only seconds later I nervously handed our first patron their prized sweets. And we were out of our two bags of Snickers 10 minutes later (turns out over 500 kids showed up last year here - out neighbors across the street go ALL OUT for Halloween and draw quite a crowd.)
Anyway, this year Pumpkin had seen enough on cartoons and TV to know the gist of it, and she's so not shy anymore!, that I knew I wanted to take her. Rugger stayed home with Boom to pass out candy since he wouldn't get into it and he's running a fever right now.
Anyway, we put the bunny suit that her Grandma (MIL) got her last year, and I even painted her face white with a pink nose (she like the nose) and black whiskers. She smeared it twice before we even left the house, but it was worth it anyway.
As we walked from house to house, I felt sort of shy and new at the same time. Everyone commented on my little bunny and how cute she was. She was great at saying "Trick or Treat" and "Thank You." And half and hour later she was ready to go home ;) Little feet can only walk so far, it seems. If she had had her cousin running around with her, it might have been a different story, but his grandparents are in Warren, and so he wasn't with us.
I also felt a bit guilty. Part of me knows there are Christians who are very much against Trick or Treating. I used to be one of them. I'm still not completely sure what is okay or not. But I like the idea of dressing up, and getting candy isn't so bad, either. I know there are evil roots behind the tradition, and I'm still not into the ghouls or goblins, witches or ghosts, corpses and blood.
But I felt like tonight I took part in a tradition that most Americans have been celebrating for generations. I felt part of our neighborhood. I relished sitting on the porch with our Jack-O-Lanterns lit and Boom's students coming to say "hi." I enjoyed seeing neighbors and strangers all being polite and smiling at each other's costumes.
I had fun. And for me, tonight, that's all that matters.
I was raised without Trick or Treating for two reasons: we lived in a rural area where kids didn't come to your house even if you wanted them to, and we didn't believe in celebrating Holloween because of it's pretense of Evil.
So this is the first time I've gone door to doorstep and asked for candy. Well, actually, Pumpkin asked for candy. But I took her!
Last year I sat at our doorway waiting for the first costumed child to walk up our porch steps. And when it was 2 minutes past 7:00 I panicked and began to cry because no one could tell our porch light was on since it was still light out. But only seconds later I nervously handed our first patron their prized sweets. And we were out of our two bags of Snickers 10 minutes later (turns out over 500 kids showed up last year here - out neighbors across the street go ALL OUT for Halloween and draw quite a crowd.)
Anyway, this year Pumpkin had seen enough on cartoons and TV to know the gist of it, and she's so not shy anymore!, that I knew I wanted to take her. Rugger stayed home with Boom to pass out candy since he wouldn't get into it and he's running a fever right now.
Anyway, we put the bunny suit that her Grandma (MIL) got her last year, and I even painted her face white with a pink nose (she like the nose) and black whiskers. She smeared it twice before we even left the house, but it was worth it anyway.
As we walked from house to house, I felt sort of shy and new at the same time. Everyone commented on my little bunny and how cute she was. She was great at saying "Trick or Treat" and "Thank You." And half and hour later she was ready to go home ;) Little feet can only walk so far, it seems. If she had had her cousin running around with her, it might have been a different story, but his grandparents are in Warren, and so he wasn't with us.
I also felt a bit guilty. Part of me knows there are Christians who are very much against Trick or Treating. I used to be one of them. I'm still not completely sure what is okay or not. But I like the idea of dressing up, and getting candy isn't so bad, either. I know there are evil roots behind the tradition, and I'm still not into the ghouls or goblins, witches or ghosts, corpses and blood.
But I felt like tonight I took part in a tradition that most Americans have been celebrating for generations. I felt part of our neighborhood. I relished sitting on the porch with our Jack-O-Lanterns lit and Boom's students coming to say "hi." I enjoyed seeing neighbors and strangers all being polite and smiling at each other's costumes.
I had fun. And for me, tonight, that's all that matters.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
My Pumpkin Princess
Well, she turned three on Monday. And she's been talking about birthdays in general for so long that I'm not sure she knows exactly WHEN she turned three, or that after this week it's not her birthday or anyone else's for quite awhile. But at least this year she knew to look forward to it. And I hope her party on Saturday goes well. I got her balloons and noise makers because to her that means party, and it's the first she'll have had them (the noise makers, that is.)
Tonight at Cubbies she got a little present. They were generic My Little Ponies, and when I asked her is she had gotten "My Little Ponies" she replied, "No!, Their MY little ponies!" Ah, yes. Three and not willing to share. Which means poor Rugger is getting shoved quite a lot lately.
Speaking of which, the little cuddle has apparently been attending "Tantrum Throwing 101" because he's gotten very good at it. I knew he would months ago when he used to put his head to the ground and pout if he didn't get his way. Now he resembles more of an angry bull...
And he has yet to say a word. I'm beginning to wonder if he'll be the type to spout a whole sentence when he DOES talk...
Pumpkin is also very into the imagining and role playing thing. I've been "Pumpkin" all week and she's been "Mommy." She pretends her animals are in distress like on Go Diego and rescues them. And she names her baby doll (which is clothed in pink) baby "Joey." She insists he's a baby boy. Before I gave her the doll for her birthday, she had been on a kick with her "baby froggy." A little bath toy which she would put under her shirt and proclaim to be having a baby, then pull out and he is born. She wrapped him in a washcloth and kept good care of him.
Right now I am so enjoying them. Rugger is getting into more things than I can think to find since I can't imagine why he's want to get into them, and Pumpkin surprises me daily with new things she learns. Tomorrow I'm taking her skating for the first time with the local homeschoolers group. I hope to meet some people and make some friends. But it will be hard to keep quiet about my plans to unschool, since I know people say, "Don't label yourself," and "don't talk about methods." But I'm so excited about unschooling...Oh, well.
I found a lady here in Jamestown (well, not HERE, of course, but close enough that it might as well be) who does clay and is on CLAYART, which is where I found her gallery. We haven't met in person, yet, but she's been VERY helpful in her e-mails and I hope I can learn much from her. I can't wait until football is over and I can think about getting the garage wired and fire up the kiln. Of course, inevitably, I will shatter a few pieces (she said everybody does throughout their career) but I'm hoping SOMETHING makes it through the whole process. Then I can get started on making gifts for family and friends! What better excuse than that to do what you love!
And I have a confession to make. I didn't think I'd care that much, but I'm hooked on Sudoku...are you? My family gave me some sheets and I can't help it...I love it.
Tonight at Cubbies she got a little present. They were generic My Little Ponies, and when I asked her is she had gotten "My Little Ponies" she replied, "No!, Their MY little ponies!" Ah, yes. Three and not willing to share. Which means poor Rugger is getting shoved quite a lot lately.
Speaking of which, the little cuddle has apparently been attending "Tantrum Throwing 101" because he's gotten very good at it. I knew he would months ago when he used to put his head to the ground and pout if he didn't get his way. Now he resembles more of an angry bull...
And he has yet to say a word. I'm beginning to wonder if he'll be the type to spout a whole sentence when he DOES talk...
Pumpkin is also very into the imagining and role playing thing. I've been "Pumpkin" all week and she's been "Mommy." She pretends her animals are in distress like on Go Diego and rescues them. And she names her baby doll (which is clothed in pink) baby "Joey." She insists he's a baby boy. Before I gave her the doll for her birthday, she had been on a kick with her "baby froggy." A little bath toy which she would put under her shirt and proclaim to be having a baby, then pull out and he is born. She wrapped him in a washcloth and kept good care of him.
Right now I am so enjoying them. Rugger is getting into more things than I can think to find since I can't imagine why he's want to get into them, and Pumpkin surprises me daily with new things she learns. Tomorrow I'm taking her skating for the first time with the local homeschoolers group. I hope to meet some people and make some friends. But it will be hard to keep quiet about my plans to unschool, since I know people say, "Don't label yourself," and "don't talk about methods." But I'm so excited about unschooling...Oh, well.
I found a lady here in Jamestown (well, not HERE, of course, but close enough that it might as well be) who does clay and is on CLAYART, which is where I found her gallery. We haven't met in person, yet, but she's been VERY helpful in her e-mails and I hope I can learn much from her. I can't wait until football is over and I can think about getting the garage wired and fire up the kiln. Of course, inevitably, I will shatter a few pieces (she said everybody does throughout their career) but I'm hoping SOMETHING makes it through the whole process. Then I can get started on making gifts for family and friends! What better excuse than that to do what you love!
And I have a confession to make. I didn't think I'd care that much, but I'm hooked on Sudoku...are you? My family gave me some sheets and I can't help it...I love it.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Tad Bit Jealous
Okay, so my feelings aren't all that stellar lately!
But, I was watching That's Clever on HGTV today and saw a man who (with his son) makes these flea characters out of metal. He welds them and such. It was so neat! So I checked out his website, and I SO want, like, half of his stuff! You can catch them here.
I want the trombone player for my dad (mustache and all), the football scene for Boom, the pottery guy for myself some day (if I ever do get it going and get a wheel,) and I can think of one for just about everybody I know, almost!
And I just wish that I could do something this cool and enjoy it and have others enjoy it and make some money, too.
But as it is, I can't even seem to figure out my clay. I don't know if it's too wet, dry, or what. I get very frustrated sometimes because I keep feeling like I should be good at SOMEthing, and yet I never feel like I "find" it. Boom has football, my MIL does gardening, my Mom is good at housekeeping and cooking, my sister is becoming a writer, and I...I just keep trying.
*sigh*
But at least I won't give up. Not yet. I still have faith that I can make the clay work. I just have to figure it out. I will search for a workshop or something, but I'll get there.
If there's a "flea" on that website that describes you, let me know in the comments!
But, I was watching That's Clever on HGTV today and saw a man who (with his son) makes these flea characters out of metal. He welds them and such. It was so neat! So I checked out his website, and I SO want, like, half of his stuff! You can catch them here.
I want the trombone player for my dad (mustache and all), the football scene for Boom, the pottery guy for myself some day (if I ever do get it going and get a wheel,) and I can think of one for just about everybody I know, almost!
And I just wish that I could do something this cool and enjoy it and have others enjoy it and make some money, too.
But as it is, I can't even seem to figure out my clay. I don't know if it's too wet, dry, or what. I get very frustrated sometimes because I keep feeling like I should be good at SOMEthing, and yet I never feel like I "find" it. Boom has football, my MIL does gardening, my Mom is good at housekeeping and cooking, my sister is becoming a writer, and I...I just keep trying.
*sigh*
But at least I won't give up. Not yet. I still have faith that I can make the clay work. I just have to figure it out. I will search for a workshop or something, but I'll get there.
If there's a "flea" on that website that describes you, let me know in the comments!
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Feeling Cheated
Well, no Nemo for me, at least for now. About a month ago I bought (at least I thought) the Finding Nemo DVD for Pumpkin on ebay. It was a money order or check only, but I didn't mind because they had 100% postitive feedback. And they had to wait 10 days for check to clear. So I wait but 3 days after I send my check I see that their user ID is no longer registered. I e-mail them and they tell me it's a mistake and they are trying to clear it up. NOPE. My check was cashed, but no DVD. And ebay won't refund because it's under the $25 limit.
All I can say about the guys who pulled this one on me (and I suspect others...there were many movies for sale when I "bought" mine) is: JERKS!!!
On another note, I'm hoping I started my period soon. I actually took a HPT today because I had bad cramps Friday night, then nothing until today. I was worried they might have been implanting cramps, but the test says no...thought I'm still waiting for AF. I don't want to be pregnant right now...I've been waiting 21 months for this month to come and go and me not be pregnant...I can't do that close of an age gap again...let alone the extra bed and van and everything else we'd have to adjust to...
So I'm hoping these cramps move into something more serious by tomorrow...
All I can say about the guys who pulled this one on me (and I suspect others...there were many movies for sale when I "bought" mine) is: JERKS!!!
On another note, I'm hoping I started my period soon. I actually took a HPT today because I had bad cramps Friday night, then nothing until today. I was worried they might have been implanting cramps, but the test says no...thought I'm still waiting for AF. I don't want to be pregnant right now...I've been waiting 21 months for this month to come and go and me not be pregnant...I can't do that close of an age gap again...let alone the extra bed and van and everything else we'd have to adjust to...
So I'm hoping these cramps move into something more serious by tomorrow...
Thursday, October 13, 2005
At Least Something Works - And I'M "IT" !!!
Well, I've been tagged. Thank you, TD!
But, I didn't think Blogger copied text, or at least it didn't the last time I tried. So I tried downloading the Blogger for Word, and wouldn't you know it can't find the path (I'm assuming to my internet connection.) Same as Mozilla Firefox...it just keeps searching for the page and times out. I can't even set it to my connection like I do in IE...and I get so frustrated with technology. If you don't have the latest or the greatest, or understand how to program yourself, you are basically, pardon me, screwed.
Anyway, I really wanted to do this tag, it's my first *blush*, but I couldn't stand the thought of typing it all down, so I tried by chance to copy and paste...and wonder of all wonders, it worked! Though I have to do some formatting...it's all there. So, here goes:
First the rules:Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; link to each of the other blogs for the desired cross pollination effect.
1. Blue Stocking: http://bluestocking.typepad.com
1. Simply Coll: http://colleenscorner.com/blog
3. My Boutiful Life: http://billi-jean.com/thebounty.html
4. Today's Lessons: http://todayslessons.blogspot.com
5. The Thought Train: http://thethoughttrain.blogspot.com
Next: select four new friends to add to the pollen count. (No one is obligated to participate and anyone can play if they want to).
Umm...to be honest, I don't have any blogging friends that I know besides the one who tagged me. I've visited other blogs, but I couldn't do this unless I knew the blogger better. So get to know me, already!
were you doing 10 years ago?
1995 I was a Senior in High School. That summer I had spent a week at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh (AIP) and also visited the Pittsburgh technical Institute (where I actually attended.) I was a colorguard in my marching band and a valedictorian, though I turned down the offer to speak at graduation since I had only been at the school for 4 years and I don't like public speaking. (though I will do plays)
What were you doing 5 years ago?
2000 I had been married for a year and a half and we decided to send Boom back to school to become the teacher and coach he had always wanted. I was commuting an hour to work, so the moved benefited us by making it only 20 minutes. We watched Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlee over New Year's while we were sick with a stomach bug that lasted about a week. Thank goodness for the holidays or we would have missed more than one day of work! We were too sick and tired to care if Y2K actually happened, but figured we have a field, land, and can hunt for food. Our own natural gas well, and a generator...we were set. Thanks goodness we didn't spend time making gallons of bleached water!
What were you doing one year ago?
2004 I had just had my second homebirth with was a wonderful, serene waterbirth that I wish I could re-live over and over except the last hour and a half, until he came out, I'd also relive that. Then we moved into our new house and Boom started his new job as a teacher and head football coach of the local high school (the one he graduated from.) I was basically depressed, lonely, and stressed. My almost 2 yr. old didn't cope with all the changes well, and I couldn't even help like I wanted since I had a newborn to attend to. And all the boxes to unpack since Boom couldn't be home much, and all the furniture to move even though I was warned to take it easy. Basically, I was counting down to Christmas when Boom would be home for almost 2 weeks. And Rugger would be old enough to sit for 10 minutes or maybe even 20 while I baked cookies for the first time since he was born.
What were you doing yesterday?
The 12th Yesterday I was moving again, within my house. I moved boxes and crafts and craft supplies upstairs to the now toyroom. I moved clothes and clothes and more clothes downstairs to our current bedroom. This took me 3 hours. I made lunch but did the dishes while the water boiled for the macaroni (boxed version...first time in over a year for me, usually do the whole wheat pasta and velveta type cheese and milk.) Then I typed up the games for Awana and after Rugger woke from his nap, went back to sorting clothes and putting stuff in it's new spots. By the time I was done and had given the kids a bath and taken a shower it was 6 hours total. A long day. Which is why I did nothing today. Except rake the leaves in the front yard and play in them...first time I've raked leaves in my own yard! I loved it! We didn't have trees near the trailer.
5 snacks you enjoy
Chocolate Chip Cookies (though just about any cookies will do.)
Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream (though any ice cream will do.)
Fruit with that awesome Cream Cheese & Whip Cream Fruit Dip
Chips & Dip (never ever buy it, don't hardly ever have it, because I'd eat it all. I'm not a chip person, unless there's dip!)
Candy Bars (Especially Nutrageous by Recees)
5 songs you know all the words to
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star
Jesus Loves Me
The Star Spangled Banner
Praise Adonai
(I used to know a ton of songs by Audio Adrenaline, Newsboys, D.C. Talk, Carmen, Michael W. Smith, etc. Don't listen enough now...)
5 things you would do if you had a million dollars
Pay off the house and pay my parents back for helping us so much over the last 6 years
Save it for the kids when they need it (college or otherwise)
Give more to charities
Find the perfect land and buy it, then build the perfect house
Buy two new vehicles that are more spacious and versatile than the ones we currently have and which would be dependable for years to come
5 things you like doing
Talking
Reading
Meeting new people
Trying new things
Traveling to new places
5 bad habits
Talking too much and too loud
Yelling at my kids
Not getting into the Word or Praying everyday
Interrupting conversations
Forgetting things
5 things you would never wear again
Makeup (unless for a play or something, not for myself)
Pegged Pants
Banana Clips in my hair
Braces
Diapers (hopefully!)
5 favorite toys
Slinky
Hi-Bounce Balls
Mechanical Puzzles (ie. Rubik's Cube)
Glow-In-The-Dark and Light Up toys
Devil Sticks
But, I didn't think Blogger copied text, or at least it didn't the last time I tried. So I tried downloading the Blogger for Word, and wouldn't you know it can't find the path (I'm assuming to my internet connection.) Same as Mozilla Firefox...it just keeps searching for the page and times out. I can't even set it to my connection like I do in IE...and I get so frustrated with technology. If you don't have the latest or the greatest, or understand how to program yourself, you are basically, pardon me, screwed.
Anyway, I really wanted to do this tag, it's my first *blush*, but I couldn't stand the thought of typing it all down, so I tried by chance to copy and paste...and wonder of all wonders, it worked! Though I have to do some formatting...it's all there. So, here goes:
First the rules:Remove the blog at #1 from the following list and bump every one up one place; add your blog's name in the #5 spot; link to each of the other blogs for the desired cross pollination effect.
1. Blue Stocking: http://bluestocking.typepad.com
1. Simply Coll: http://colleenscorner.com/blog
3. My Boutiful Life: http://billi-jean.com/thebounty.html
4. Today's Lessons: http://todayslessons.blogspot.com
5. The Thought Train: http://thethoughttrain.blogspot.com
Next: select four new friends to add to the pollen count. (No one is obligated to participate and anyone can play if they want to).
Umm...to be honest, I don't have any blogging friends that I know besides the one who tagged me. I've visited other blogs, but I couldn't do this unless I knew the blogger better. So get to know me, already!
were you doing 10 years ago?
1995 I was a Senior in High School. That summer I had spent a week at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh (AIP) and also visited the Pittsburgh technical Institute (where I actually attended.) I was a colorguard in my marching band and a valedictorian, though I turned down the offer to speak at graduation since I had only been at the school for 4 years and I don't like public speaking. (though I will do plays)
What were you doing 5 years ago?
2000 I had been married for a year and a half and we decided to send Boom back to school to become the teacher and coach he had always wanted. I was commuting an hour to work, so the moved benefited us by making it only 20 minutes. We watched Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlee over New Year's while we were sick with a stomach bug that lasted about a week. Thank goodness for the holidays or we would have missed more than one day of work! We were too sick and tired to care if Y2K actually happened, but figured we have a field, land, and can hunt for food. Our own natural gas well, and a generator...we were set. Thanks goodness we didn't spend time making gallons of bleached water!
What were you doing one year ago?
2004 I had just had my second homebirth with was a wonderful, serene waterbirth that I wish I could re-live over and over except the last hour and a half, until he came out, I'd also relive that. Then we moved into our new house and Boom started his new job as a teacher and head football coach of the local high school (the one he graduated from.) I was basically depressed, lonely, and stressed. My almost 2 yr. old didn't cope with all the changes well, and I couldn't even help like I wanted since I had a newborn to attend to. And all the boxes to unpack since Boom couldn't be home much, and all the furniture to move even though I was warned to take it easy. Basically, I was counting down to Christmas when Boom would be home for almost 2 weeks. And Rugger would be old enough to sit for 10 minutes or maybe even 20 while I baked cookies for the first time since he was born.
What were you doing yesterday?
The 12th Yesterday I was moving again, within my house. I moved boxes and crafts and craft supplies upstairs to the now toyroom. I moved clothes and clothes and more clothes downstairs to our current bedroom. This took me 3 hours. I made lunch but did the dishes while the water boiled for the macaroni (boxed version...first time in over a year for me, usually do the whole wheat pasta and velveta type cheese and milk.) Then I typed up the games for Awana and after Rugger woke from his nap, went back to sorting clothes and putting stuff in it's new spots. By the time I was done and had given the kids a bath and taken a shower it was 6 hours total. A long day. Which is why I did nothing today. Except rake the leaves in the front yard and play in them...first time I've raked leaves in my own yard! I loved it! We didn't have trees near the trailer.
5 snacks you enjoy
Chocolate Chip Cookies (though just about any cookies will do.)
Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream (though any ice cream will do.)
Fruit with that awesome Cream Cheese & Whip Cream Fruit Dip
Chips & Dip (never ever buy it, don't hardly ever have it, because I'd eat it all. I'm not a chip person, unless there's dip!)
Candy Bars (Especially Nutrageous by Recees)
5 songs you know all the words to
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star
Jesus Loves Me
The Star Spangled Banner
Praise Adonai
(I used to know a ton of songs by Audio Adrenaline, Newsboys, D.C. Talk, Carmen, Michael W. Smith, etc. Don't listen enough now...)
5 things you would do if you had a million dollars
Pay off the house and pay my parents back for helping us so much over the last 6 years
Save it for the kids when they need it (college or otherwise)
Give more to charities
Find the perfect land and buy it, then build the perfect house
Buy two new vehicles that are more spacious and versatile than the ones we currently have and which would be dependable for years to come
5 things you like doing
Talking
Reading
Meeting new people
Trying new things
Traveling to new places
5 bad habits
Talking too much and too loud
Yelling at my kids
Not getting into the Word or Praying everyday
Interrupting conversations
Forgetting things
5 things you would never wear again
Makeup (unless for a play or something, not for myself)
Pegged Pants
Banana Clips in my hair
Braces
Diapers (hopefully!)
5 favorite toys
Slinky
Hi-Bounce Balls
Mechanical Puzzles (ie. Rubik's Cube)
Glow-In-The-Dark and Light Up toys
Devil Sticks
Winter is on it's Way
The experts are saying that this is one of the most beautiful Autumn seasons ever, and it peaks this very weekend around these northern parts. Which means this week has been a lovely mix of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, and even purples. Add to it the dreary weather and it's been a pretty nice fall week overall.
But that means that winter is right around the corner. The Sugar Maples will loose their beautiful clothes and get tapped once again for their sweet sap. (I didn't know it eventually kills them until Boom told me...now I feel bad for the trees, and this town as most of the trees are the same age and starting to die in parts.)
And now with the double hurricanes the gas prices are expected to be 50% higher than normal. Not that I'm complaining. I'd rather have to pay higher prices to HEAT my home, than to LOSE my home altogether. But at the same time, we are doing what we can to keep costs down.
Which this week meant moving the upstairs downstairs. Namely, the room we all slept in upstairs is now in the toyroom, and the toyroom is now upstairs. (We all sleep in the same room.)
This may not sound like much, but it took a good 3 hours Saturday afternoon just moving the furniture, with my in-laws' help (grandma watched the kids, especially Rugger who wanted to go up and down, up and down with us...and grandpa helped Boom with the bigger stuff.) Then it took all of Sunday afternoon to rearrange the toyroom and find a place for everything. Then on Monday I didn't get to do anything, and yesterday I didn't get to it, so today I finally spent six hours taking the craft stuff in the big closet upstairs and bringing all the clothes and towels down from upstairs. I made countless trips, and found a place for everything in the end. I even cleaned the showerhead downstairs so I can enjoy a shower in it (either it's been bad since we moved in or Boom never noticed the diminishing spray.) All I did was took an old toothbrush and attempt to scrub it thinking it might be calcium build-up. Thank goodness we have calcium here and not iron...iron never comes off easy.
Anyway, I haven't been blogging because I tend to do things in "fads." I get on a roll, then I take a break, etc. I have had not much to talk about, and too much. Here's a summary:
I now enjoy Phantom of the Opera music after renting the DVD from the library. I want the real CD from 1986 now. Never knew it was so good. Read the book 5 years ago and liked it, but never heard the music. Don't know why.
Joined a class for 20 some things on Sunday mornings, and right now it's about decision making with a book called The Best Question Ever by Andy Stanley. Seems good so far.
Been proud of Pumpkin as she is SO social with her peers now, though shy initially. She loves her preschool class at church and Cubbies on Wednesday. She plays happily with the kids of the moms I occasionally get together with (a few in the last two weeks...when I get with people, it seems to be in lumps, and then a dry spell.)
I am so excited about unschooling. I love the book Christian Unschooling by Teri Brown and wish their website was still up. I talked with the lady in charge of our local homeschooling chapter, and unfortunately she isn't into the unschooling thing at all, so she directed me in all the wrong directions as far as how I need to comply to the law (I found a great forum at Yahoo for PA unschoolers.) It just fits with the rest of my parenting.
In light of the unschooling thoughts, I pondered once again that the choices I have made since being a parent have been the ones most difficult to travel. Little support. Much skepticism. And doubts as to the real reason I'm doing it. At least I have a stubborn streak to keep with it.
Speaking of stubborn, we went to a corn maze in Ohio (first I've been to one) and though my kids were falling asleep I kept up and got us through it. We were supposed to get a prize for collecting verses to a song and singing it at the store, but all we got was ONE apple. Bummer. At least the price was discounted since it was during the day...
But that means that winter is right around the corner. The Sugar Maples will loose their beautiful clothes and get tapped once again for their sweet sap. (I didn't know it eventually kills them until Boom told me...now I feel bad for the trees, and this town as most of the trees are the same age and starting to die in parts.)
And now with the double hurricanes the gas prices are expected to be 50% higher than normal. Not that I'm complaining. I'd rather have to pay higher prices to HEAT my home, than to LOSE my home altogether. But at the same time, we are doing what we can to keep costs down.
Which this week meant moving the upstairs downstairs. Namely, the room we all slept in upstairs is now in the toyroom, and the toyroom is now upstairs. (We all sleep in the same room.)
This may not sound like much, but it took a good 3 hours Saturday afternoon just moving the furniture, with my in-laws' help (grandma watched the kids, especially Rugger who wanted to go up and down, up and down with us...and grandpa helped Boom with the bigger stuff.) Then it took all of Sunday afternoon to rearrange the toyroom and find a place for everything. Then on Monday I didn't get to do anything, and yesterday I didn't get to it, so today I finally spent six hours taking the craft stuff in the big closet upstairs and bringing all the clothes and towels down from upstairs. I made countless trips, and found a place for everything in the end. I even cleaned the showerhead downstairs so I can enjoy a shower in it (either it's been bad since we moved in or Boom never noticed the diminishing spray.) All I did was took an old toothbrush and attempt to scrub it thinking it might be calcium build-up. Thank goodness we have calcium here and not iron...iron never comes off easy.
Anyway, I haven't been blogging because I tend to do things in "fads." I get on a roll, then I take a break, etc. I have had not much to talk about, and too much. Here's a summary:
I now enjoy Phantom of the Opera music after renting the DVD from the library. I want the real CD from 1986 now. Never knew it was so good. Read the book 5 years ago and liked it, but never heard the music. Don't know why.
Joined a class for 20 some things on Sunday mornings, and right now it's about decision making with a book called The Best Question Ever by Andy Stanley. Seems good so far.
Been proud of Pumpkin as she is SO social with her peers now, though shy initially. She loves her preschool class at church and Cubbies on Wednesday. She plays happily with the kids of the moms I occasionally get together with (a few in the last two weeks...when I get with people, it seems to be in lumps, and then a dry spell.)
I am so excited about unschooling. I love the book Christian Unschooling by Teri Brown and wish their website was still up. I talked with the lady in charge of our local homeschooling chapter, and unfortunately she isn't into the unschooling thing at all, so she directed me in all the wrong directions as far as how I need to comply to the law (I found a great forum at Yahoo for PA unschoolers.) It just fits with the rest of my parenting.
In light of the unschooling thoughts, I pondered once again that the choices I have made since being a parent have been the ones most difficult to travel. Little support. Much skepticism. And doubts as to the real reason I'm doing it. At least I have a stubborn streak to keep with it.
Speaking of stubborn, we went to a corn maze in Ohio (first I've been to one) and though my kids were falling asleep I kept up and got us through it. We were supposed to get a prize for collecting verses to a song and singing it at the store, but all we got was ONE apple. Bummer. At least the price was discounted since it was during the day...
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Duo World
Ever since I can remember, I've hated living in the country. I hated living in a no-name town that barely hit the map. I hated having to drive 20 minutes to the nearest grocery store. I hated having to measure distance in minutes. I couldn't wait to get out of my small town and move on. And when my mothers told me that she always knew her daughter would grow up and move to the "big city," I couldn't have been more proud: that was me all right!
And I did, sort of. I went to college in Pittsburgh. For two years I lived in Mt. Washington on the backside near South Hills Junction. I took the incline (Monongahela, not the Dusquene incline where the fancy restaurants are) from Station Square to the lookout, then walked the 6 blocks past a little ice cream shop, a small hardware store, the CoGo's convenience store where I worked for 1 1/2 years, and down to the old South Hills High School that was closed down, where I lived opposite in a second story apartment made for college kids. I worked at a beer and hot dog place at Station Square for awhile; my first job in Pittsburgh(Jimbo's.) I remember the first day of college and being nervous about being separated from my best friend and roommate. But I made friends quickly and absolutely LOVED the classes.
I remember the first time we walked home with all of our materials and had to stop more times than we could count to catch our breath. This was before we knew we could stop at South Hills Junction and walk up the stairs. Also tiring, but less distance over all...only about 2 blocks walking, just all up hill. The incline way was uphill and then down hill. I remember not knowing what "T" to take home that first day. They all said South Hills or some other name I can't recall and none said "Mt. Washington." Luckily there were some guys from our high school a few years ahead of us who were attending the Art Institute (wish I had chosen that, instead) and knew to tell us all the "T"s went to our stop...the name on the front was just the final destination. (The only one that didn't go to our normal stops was the Allentown "T" and we discovered it stopped near our backyard, so we would take that if we didn't need to be home soon as it went around the mountain instead of through.
I remember driving up McArdle Dr. before my parents knew the back way up Mt. Washington, and seeing the lights of the city from the lookout. I remember the winter day when my Mom and sister came to visit and I brought pizza from downtown near my college and was waiting in the snow for her to pick me up at the lookout and drive home with the cold pizza.
I remember dragging two duffel bags of laundry and a tupperware container of detergent 6 blocks in the sleeting snow to wait over 2 hours while I did the laundry in the laundromat, my first. I remember the first night as we unpacked our dishes and our parents drove home in tears, us in jubilation.
I remember walking across the 9th street bridge for drawing classes. I remember sitting in the PPG plaza drawing people, or in the parks drawing fountains or the jailhouse or the buildings. I remember the way the sun came in the window in our apartment in the afternoon, and the tilt of my drawing desk with my 3rd can of Mountain Dew perched at the corner. The meals of mac-n-cheese, the two hour drives to my parents, the midnight walks home from work, Smithfield bridge, the Liberty Tunnel, the Wood St. "T" station, the parking garage next to the old school, the sounds of lawnmowers and barking dogs on Saturday mornings.
And I remember how alive I felt when I walked on the sidewalks, leaves swirling beneath my feet, or snow melting. I remember the smell of flowers as I walked up the stairs from the junction, and running in the rain to catch a bus. There weren't many things I didn't like.
The few I remember are the discarded pants or condoms at the stairs by the junction, or the strangers asking for my phone number. The man who was peeing on the wall by the river while fishing and I was showing my parents the scenic spot for the first time. And Sundays.
Sundays was always a mixed day for me. I went to a church that by car was 10 minutes away. By bus, about an hour or more. I had to take the "T" to downtown by the McDonalds (Gateway Center, I think, not Steel Plaza). Then I waited for 20 minutes for the "somethingC" bus. While I waited, a perverted old Greek man used to try to feel me up and then sit next to me on the bus. Then I rode 20 minutes to church. After church I waited for 5 to 30 minutes depending on when the sermon ended and the last bus went. Then back in town another 20 minutes for the "T." It was on the bus that I saw the homeless with their shopping carts and bare feet. Asleep on the benches without a blanket. Downtown was shut down on Sundays, and these people came out of the woodwork. And I always felt so down. I still have the idea of delivering blankets to these people.
But those are the only bad memories. The LAST memory of Pittsburgh comes the day we moved. I was sitting in Boom and I's apartment and it was empty. Everything we had was in the vans and trucks and cars, and we were leaving for his parents' house, one room to ourselves. Barely 3 months married, and I was leaving everything I loved behind for hope of a better future.
Now, before I paint the wrong picture, I will admit that after we graduated and moved into Greentree, things changed. I didn't get to see my friends. I had a car and didn't get to ride the buses or the "T"s anymore. I didn't even get to go downtown or buy monthly bus passes, either. I missed all of the above. I knew I didn't want to live downtown with a family, but I missed the business, the sheen of metal and glass, and sidewalks and shadows from tall buildings and nights where the city never turned off. I missed it all. So when we left, most of what I missed was already gone.
But I never wanted to move back to the country. Before Boom, I was planning on moving to Chicago. I didn't want the fields and barns and cows and dirt roads. I admit that the country is beautiful. As I drove to the doctor's office today, I noticed the hills covered with red, yellow, and orange. But I also noticed the rows of corn, hay, alfalfa, rye, and mostly, weeds. I noticed the dilapidated barns, silos and farmhouses. The muddy tractors and barn boots. The rusty trucks and dirt roads with dust all summer and mud the rest of the time.
I know many people find these things comforting, much like they like antiques. But I've never liked antiques. I like the sturdiness and the durability, but not the architectural design or the chipped paint. And my only experience first hand with farming set me dead against the idea of ever doing it for a living.
We rented a house from a small dairy farmer (30 cows.) This guy had chickens, pigeons, guinea hens, peacocks, and tons of other birds. One sheep dog and several barn cats also lived there, besides the rats in the grain bin. That first winter he took a vacation leaving Boom and I to do the milking and such. Now Boom grew up farming and used to love it and the idea of it, so he knew what to do and expect, though the farm wasn't kept up to the standards he was used to. So when a calf was born early and the mom didn't want to nurse it, and there was no pen for the little thing, we had some trouble. Soon it was apparent the calf was sick and Boom gave him an antibiotic shot, while I put a warm blanket over his shivering body. But the net morning when I brought the wanted bottle for him, Boom wouldn't let me near him since he could tell he was dead. I wanted to scream when later I noticed the dog trying to chew on him. It got to the point I couldn't help anymore because around every corner I saw his face and thought his body was there in the hay or manure...but it wasn't. Then add to it the next winter the water froze and I tried giving the cows water one by one all night on New Year's Eve, and then the kitten that got crushed by a cow, and on and on. I just couldn't take it.
So country life doesn't appeal to me. Many people find solace in planting. I hate digging in the dirt, and I can't get anything to grow, anyway. I kill any plant within a ten foot radius of my being. I even tried the first summer at the trailer. None of my herbs came up, and the weeds did better than my garden and we didn't even bother getting most of the produce in that year. This year at the new house Boom tried and a deer ate it before we could get it. Why bother? *sigh*
So country life doesn't appeal to me. I know that the kids have open air. They can explore the woods, and the creeks and the fields. They have space. But I want the museums, the shops (just to look, just for something different), the busses, the "T"s or "L"s or sidewalks. I prefer concrete to dirt, steel to field. And though the sunset in the mountains here is breathtaking, I find the city lights that never go off at night to be just as mesmerizing.
But I find that God has called us here. Or more specifically, Boom, here. And since I didn't feel and strong call in another direction, we are here. And I know God has worked in Boom with his football kids and his classroom kids. The letters, the phone calls, the attitudes (Boom even has his own cheering section as a girl painted his name and high school number on a t-shirt and was shouting his name at games.) I know he loves those guys like his own sons. And he is sad to think the school might close and he's loose them.
But I'm not completely sad. There's a part of me that feels like a gypsy. Always wanting to move on, try something new. See if the next town is better, make new friends. There's a part of me that hopes that somehow God will bring us back to sidewalks and steel.
And yet I feel like somehow I'm betraying those parts of me that believe natural is best...that God's creations is best. That man's inventions only bring pain and suffering with their ease and ability of speed. On one hand I try to raise my kids that way I think Eve must have...birthing at home and nursing when they want to. Sleeping next to them and holding them often. I want them to know what nature is and how God made the earth. But part of me wants the musicals at theaters, the quaint little shop that sells trinkets you can't find anywhere else. The people that are always there.
And I used to be much worse. I used to want the most updated technology there was. I wanted the latest software for my computer, the newest system, etc. If I could, I'd have Tivo, cell phones with cameras, digital cameras, a digital video camera, a DVD burner/recorder.
But at the same time, I have this crazy notion that it wouldn't be that bad to live off the land and be self-sufficient. Make your own flour, milk, butter, chicken, beef, vegetables, fruit, cheese, jams and pickles, smoked meat, etc. I like the IDEA of building your own house or repairing a place up, but the shear work involved makes me light-headed and tired just thinking about it.
So I have in my head two dueling worlds...the all natural one and the technology-driven civilized one. I like SOME of both, but where we are we don't have hardly either of what I REALLY want. The biggest draw to the trailer was the free gas (would've come in real handy this winter) and that I could walk around naked. Since I can't do that as the kids get older, anyways, then the country only offered a break from the rest of civilization...a break I don't really want all that much.
But unless thinks take a drastic turn around, I am stuck here in a town I honestly drove through over a hundred times thinking about the people who live here, "Suckers!" And now I'm one of them. Except unlike most, I don't think this is THE place to be. That this town is okay as is. That I want to live here forever and ever. And yet I might, if that's what God wants.
I just wish I knew why sometimes I have things ingrained in me that have been there since I can remember, but go against what God wants for me. They aren't sinful things, either, just things that don't mesh with where we are in life, that's all. And so I will always wonder if perhaps someday they will be used...these desires for things not so natural.
By the way. I was on my way to Chicago before we started dating. Boom was on his way to Australia, for one reason; it was opposite on the globe from the one place he didn't want to be - here.
And HERE is where we are.
And I did, sort of. I went to college in Pittsburgh. For two years I lived in Mt. Washington on the backside near South Hills Junction. I took the incline (Monongahela, not the Dusquene incline where the fancy restaurants are) from Station Square to the lookout, then walked the 6 blocks past a little ice cream shop, a small hardware store, the CoGo's convenience store where I worked for 1 1/2 years, and down to the old South Hills High School that was closed down, where I lived opposite in a second story apartment made for college kids. I worked at a beer and hot dog place at Station Square for awhile; my first job in Pittsburgh(Jimbo's.) I remember the first day of college and being nervous about being separated from my best friend and roommate. But I made friends quickly and absolutely LOVED the classes.
I remember the first time we walked home with all of our materials and had to stop more times than we could count to catch our breath. This was before we knew we could stop at South Hills Junction and walk up the stairs. Also tiring, but less distance over all...only about 2 blocks walking, just all up hill. The incline way was uphill and then down hill. I remember not knowing what "T" to take home that first day. They all said South Hills or some other name I can't recall and none said "Mt. Washington." Luckily there were some guys from our high school a few years ahead of us who were attending the Art Institute (wish I had chosen that, instead) and knew to tell us all the "T"s went to our stop...the name on the front was just the final destination. (The only one that didn't go to our normal stops was the Allentown "T" and we discovered it stopped near our backyard, so we would take that if we didn't need to be home soon as it went around the mountain instead of through.
I remember driving up McArdle Dr. before my parents knew the back way up Mt. Washington, and seeing the lights of the city from the lookout. I remember the winter day when my Mom and sister came to visit and I brought pizza from downtown near my college and was waiting in the snow for her to pick me up at the lookout and drive home with the cold pizza.
I remember dragging two duffel bags of laundry and a tupperware container of detergent 6 blocks in the sleeting snow to wait over 2 hours while I did the laundry in the laundromat, my first. I remember the first night as we unpacked our dishes and our parents drove home in tears, us in jubilation.
I remember walking across the 9th street bridge for drawing classes. I remember sitting in the PPG plaza drawing people, or in the parks drawing fountains or the jailhouse or the buildings. I remember the way the sun came in the window in our apartment in the afternoon, and the tilt of my drawing desk with my 3rd can of Mountain Dew perched at the corner. The meals of mac-n-cheese, the two hour drives to my parents, the midnight walks home from work, Smithfield bridge, the Liberty Tunnel, the Wood St. "T" station, the parking garage next to the old school, the sounds of lawnmowers and barking dogs on Saturday mornings.
And I remember how alive I felt when I walked on the sidewalks, leaves swirling beneath my feet, or snow melting. I remember the smell of flowers as I walked up the stairs from the junction, and running in the rain to catch a bus. There weren't many things I didn't like.
The few I remember are the discarded pants or condoms at the stairs by the junction, or the strangers asking for my phone number. The man who was peeing on the wall by the river while fishing and I was showing my parents the scenic spot for the first time. And Sundays.
Sundays was always a mixed day for me. I went to a church that by car was 10 minutes away. By bus, about an hour or more. I had to take the "T" to downtown by the McDonalds (Gateway Center, I think, not Steel Plaza). Then I waited for 20 minutes for the "somethingC" bus. While I waited, a perverted old Greek man used to try to feel me up and then sit next to me on the bus. Then I rode 20 minutes to church. After church I waited for 5 to 30 minutes depending on when the sermon ended and the last bus went. Then back in town another 20 minutes for the "T." It was on the bus that I saw the homeless with their shopping carts and bare feet. Asleep on the benches without a blanket. Downtown was shut down on Sundays, and these people came out of the woodwork. And I always felt so down. I still have the idea of delivering blankets to these people.
But those are the only bad memories. The LAST memory of Pittsburgh comes the day we moved. I was sitting in Boom and I's apartment and it was empty. Everything we had was in the vans and trucks and cars, and we were leaving for his parents' house, one room to ourselves. Barely 3 months married, and I was leaving everything I loved behind for hope of a better future.
Now, before I paint the wrong picture, I will admit that after we graduated and moved into Greentree, things changed. I didn't get to see my friends. I had a car and didn't get to ride the buses or the "T"s anymore. I didn't even get to go downtown or buy monthly bus passes, either. I missed all of the above. I knew I didn't want to live downtown with a family, but I missed the business, the sheen of metal and glass, and sidewalks and shadows from tall buildings and nights where the city never turned off. I missed it all. So when we left, most of what I missed was already gone.
But I never wanted to move back to the country. Before Boom, I was planning on moving to Chicago. I didn't want the fields and barns and cows and dirt roads. I admit that the country is beautiful. As I drove to the doctor's office today, I noticed the hills covered with red, yellow, and orange. But I also noticed the rows of corn, hay, alfalfa, rye, and mostly, weeds. I noticed the dilapidated barns, silos and farmhouses. The muddy tractors and barn boots. The rusty trucks and dirt roads with dust all summer and mud the rest of the time.
I know many people find these things comforting, much like they like antiques. But I've never liked antiques. I like the sturdiness and the durability, but not the architectural design or the chipped paint. And my only experience first hand with farming set me dead against the idea of ever doing it for a living.
We rented a house from a small dairy farmer (30 cows.) This guy had chickens, pigeons, guinea hens, peacocks, and tons of other birds. One sheep dog and several barn cats also lived there, besides the rats in the grain bin. That first winter he took a vacation leaving Boom and I to do the milking and such. Now Boom grew up farming and used to love it and the idea of it, so he knew what to do and expect, though the farm wasn't kept up to the standards he was used to. So when a calf was born early and the mom didn't want to nurse it, and there was no pen for the little thing, we had some trouble. Soon it was apparent the calf was sick and Boom gave him an antibiotic shot, while I put a warm blanket over his shivering body. But the net morning when I brought the wanted bottle for him, Boom wouldn't let me near him since he could tell he was dead. I wanted to scream when later I noticed the dog trying to chew on him. It got to the point I couldn't help anymore because around every corner I saw his face and thought his body was there in the hay or manure...but it wasn't. Then add to it the next winter the water froze and I tried giving the cows water one by one all night on New Year's Eve, and then the kitten that got crushed by a cow, and on and on. I just couldn't take it.
So country life doesn't appeal to me. Many people find solace in planting. I hate digging in the dirt, and I can't get anything to grow, anyway. I kill any plant within a ten foot radius of my being. I even tried the first summer at the trailer. None of my herbs came up, and the weeds did better than my garden and we didn't even bother getting most of the produce in that year. This year at the new house Boom tried and a deer ate it before we could get it. Why bother? *sigh*
So country life doesn't appeal to me. I know that the kids have open air. They can explore the woods, and the creeks and the fields. They have space. But I want the museums, the shops (just to look, just for something different), the busses, the "T"s or "L"s or sidewalks. I prefer concrete to dirt, steel to field. And though the sunset in the mountains here is breathtaking, I find the city lights that never go off at night to be just as mesmerizing.
But I find that God has called us here. Or more specifically, Boom, here. And since I didn't feel and strong call in another direction, we are here. And I know God has worked in Boom with his football kids and his classroom kids. The letters, the phone calls, the attitudes (Boom even has his own cheering section as a girl painted his name and high school number on a t-shirt and was shouting his name at games.) I know he loves those guys like his own sons. And he is sad to think the school might close and he's loose them.
But I'm not completely sad. There's a part of me that feels like a gypsy. Always wanting to move on, try something new. See if the next town is better, make new friends. There's a part of me that hopes that somehow God will bring us back to sidewalks and steel.
And yet I feel like somehow I'm betraying those parts of me that believe natural is best...that God's creations is best. That man's inventions only bring pain and suffering with their ease and ability of speed. On one hand I try to raise my kids that way I think Eve must have...birthing at home and nursing when they want to. Sleeping next to them and holding them often. I want them to know what nature is and how God made the earth. But part of me wants the musicals at theaters, the quaint little shop that sells trinkets you can't find anywhere else. The people that are always there.
And I used to be much worse. I used to want the most updated technology there was. I wanted the latest software for my computer, the newest system, etc. If I could, I'd have Tivo, cell phones with cameras, digital cameras, a digital video camera, a DVD burner/recorder.
But at the same time, I have this crazy notion that it wouldn't be that bad to live off the land and be self-sufficient. Make your own flour, milk, butter, chicken, beef, vegetables, fruit, cheese, jams and pickles, smoked meat, etc. I like the IDEA of building your own house or repairing a place up, but the shear work involved makes me light-headed and tired just thinking about it.
So I have in my head two dueling worlds...the all natural one and the technology-driven civilized one. I like SOME of both, but where we are we don't have hardly either of what I REALLY want. The biggest draw to the trailer was the free gas (would've come in real handy this winter) and that I could walk around naked. Since I can't do that as the kids get older, anyways, then the country only offered a break from the rest of civilization...a break I don't really want all that much.
But unless thinks take a drastic turn around, I am stuck here in a town I honestly drove through over a hundred times thinking about the people who live here, "Suckers!" And now I'm one of them. Except unlike most, I don't think this is THE place to be. That this town is okay as is. That I want to live here forever and ever. And yet I might, if that's what God wants.
I just wish I knew why sometimes I have things ingrained in me that have been there since I can remember, but go against what God wants for me. They aren't sinful things, either, just things that don't mesh with where we are in life, that's all. And so I will always wonder if perhaps someday they will be used...these desires for things not so natural.
By the way. I was on my way to Chicago before we started dating. Boom was on his way to Australia, for one reason; it was opposite on the globe from the one place he didn't want to be - here.
And HERE is where we are.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Loose Threads
Our lives are often referred to in song and poetic verse as being canvases woven with threads. Today I wondered how strong of a weaver I am in my kids' lives, and if others are strong enough to pull out the threads I am so carefully pulling through the loom of their childhood.
I know I am not, nor will I be, the perfect parent. But I am trying to be the best parent I believe I can be. And I know that if nothing else, I am trying to impart to my children those things in life I hold dear, the things I believe to be of utmost importance; the true things in life. I am trying to raise well-rounded, healthy kids with a zeal for life and for learning. With confidence in themselves, in their family, and in God.
But not everyone would choose the same color of threads that I (and my husband) choose. Not everyone would weave the same design that we've chosen. And unfortunately, some may even tug at those precious threads and begin to unravel the very design that we are trying to build...even if not intentionally. And I wonder if it will hold, or if it can be repaired if it ever gets torn.
I think about the opposite reality in many lives. Canvases woven with pain, lies, letdowns. And people try to come and repair with love, kindness, forgiveness. But we remain tattered and town, unable or unwilling to change. If a negative thread is so strong, is it possible that the positive threads I'm weaving will remain just as strong?
I hope so.
Because today, like so many other times when we are together, I wondered what kind of influence my children's' grandparents have over them. I have heard that grandparents are in a unique position to pass on a heritage rich with God's blessings and truths. But what if the grandparents don't pass on blessings, but cursings? How do I protect against that? Will their unhealthy habits, their belief in ungodly things, their misunderstandings of the worthiness of all people...will these unravel the threads that I have already started to weave? Can two hours of time undue hours, days, or months of training and demonstration?
I hope not.
For those wondering, my in-laws aren't your typical in-laws in that they just rub me the wrong way sometimes. They do...but that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is some bad habits, and worse, some wrong beliefs. I won't slam them on here because that's not my point. I want to, in a way. The part of me that is human and wants people to see what I am dealing with. To those raised in a sheltered home like me, some of the stuff I would tell you would literally sound unbelievable. To those raised like my husband, if may sound embarrassingly normal. And to all in between, you might have your opinion, but until you've been there, you'll never really know.
I always thought I could keep my kids away from certain evils for at least much of their childhood. But the moment my daughter was born, I realized that I can never keep her away from the enemy...for they are her family. I would have kept her from language, alcohol, and smoke. I would have kept her away from ideas that go completely against the word of God, I would have kept her out of possible danger from the law and strangers who should never have known her. But I can't. They are her family, and I don't know what to do. I pray. I hope. I don't take her there often. Sometimes I wish they'd go too far and I could draw a line. Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes and make it all go away. Make his family "decent" if not Christian. I'd take the first without the second, knowing the second is always possible. But right now it's a miracle, and a pretty impressive one should it happen.
I thank God daily that my husband changed. But I wonder to God daily why his family is so different. And I prayed today that the threads I'm weaving into my children's lives are strong enough and protected by God so that when the enemy comes in, whether the wolf or the wolf in sheep's clothing, that they will not be able to shred apart their canvases. But instead that maybe they'd see the design being built. The beauty of it, the innocence of it, the truth of it. Maybe they'll wonder about their own tattered canvases. And maybe, just maybe, I can tell them that they, too, can have beautiful threads again. New threads. Different threads. Threads made from the cleanest wool, made pure by the blood of Christ.
I hope so.
I know I am not, nor will I be, the perfect parent. But I am trying to be the best parent I believe I can be. And I know that if nothing else, I am trying to impart to my children those things in life I hold dear, the things I believe to be of utmost importance; the true things in life. I am trying to raise well-rounded, healthy kids with a zeal for life and for learning. With confidence in themselves, in their family, and in God.
But not everyone would choose the same color of threads that I (and my husband) choose. Not everyone would weave the same design that we've chosen. And unfortunately, some may even tug at those precious threads and begin to unravel the very design that we are trying to build...even if not intentionally. And I wonder if it will hold, or if it can be repaired if it ever gets torn.
I think about the opposite reality in many lives. Canvases woven with pain, lies, letdowns. And people try to come and repair with love, kindness, forgiveness. But we remain tattered and town, unable or unwilling to change. If a negative thread is so strong, is it possible that the positive threads I'm weaving will remain just as strong?
I hope so.
Because today, like so many other times when we are together, I wondered what kind of influence my children's' grandparents have over them. I have heard that grandparents are in a unique position to pass on a heritage rich with God's blessings and truths. But what if the grandparents don't pass on blessings, but cursings? How do I protect against that? Will their unhealthy habits, their belief in ungodly things, their misunderstandings of the worthiness of all people...will these unravel the threads that I have already started to weave? Can two hours of time undue hours, days, or months of training and demonstration?
I hope not.
For those wondering, my in-laws aren't your typical in-laws in that they just rub me the wrong way sometimes. They do...but that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is some bad habits, and worse, some wrong beliefs. I won't slam them on here because that's not my point. I want to, in a way. The part of me that is human and wants people to see what I am dealing with. To those raised in a sheltered home like me, some of the stuff I would tell you would literally sound unbelievable. To those raised like my husband, if may sound embarrassingly normal. And to all in between, you might have your opinion, but until you've been there, you'll never really know.
I always thought I could keep my kids away from certain evils for at least much of their childhood. But the moment my daughter was born, I realized that I can never keep her away from the enemy...for they are her family. I would have kept her from language, alcohol, and smoke. I would have kept her away from ideas that go completely against the word of God, I would have kept her out of possible danger from the law and strangers who should never have known her. But I can't. They are her family, and I don't know what to do. I pray. I hope. I don't take her there often. Sometimes I wish they'd go too far and I could draw a line. Sometimes I wish I could close my eyes and make it all go away. Make his family "decent" if not Christian. I'd take the first without the second, knowing the second is always possible. But right now it's a miracle, and a pretty impressive one should it happen.
I thank God daily that my husband changed. But I wonder to God daily why his family is so different. And I prayed today that the threads I'm weaving into my children's lives are strong enough and protected by God so that when the enemy comes in, whether the wolf or the wolf in sheep's clothing, that they will not be able to shred apart their canvases. But instead that maybe they'd see the design being built. The beauty of it, the innocence of it, the truth of it. Maybe they'll wonder about their own tattered canvases. And maybe, just maybe, I can tell them that they, too, can have beautiful threads again. New threads. Different threads. Threads made from the cleanest wool, made pure by the blood of Christ.
I hope so.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Jack of All Trades, Master of Fun
Well, I've been reading a little Charlotte Mason, a lot of John Holt, and I'm starting to get a feel for what I want as far as homeschooling goes.
I like some of the stuff Charlotte Mason says, but I just don't think, that for now, I want to follow her specifics. In fact, I don't want to follow any specifics. Hence, the UNschooling.
I thought I wanted a curriculum. But when I tried filling out the How To Write A Low Cost/No Cost Curriculum book I got stuck when I got to the part that asked about your children's learning styles. Basically, my kids learn by all styles right now...they haven't got far enough along to see what their strengths are, yet.
But the beauty of unschooling is that no matter what age (even me!) you can learn just about anything by doing whatever (within the limits of reason, of course. My kids will not be watching veggie tales 24/7....maybe only 3/)
And here's the really cool part. I've always known that I know a little about a lot of thing, and I've always wanted to know more about everything. Which makes me THE PERFECT UNSCHOOLING TEACHER FOR MY KIDS! I want to have fun...it's almost my motto (ask my high school friends who weren't allowed to touch my toys...or heck, look in my [yes, MY] toy box and see all my childhood toys that I've kept.)
I love researching, I love finding answers! I just can't wait until the answers involve more than, "He was a catipillar, then turned into a butterfly..." "No, Mommy, he wasn't a catipillar, he was a WORMY!" (from SpongeBob episode: "Wormy")
Anyway, I'm probably more excited than my kids will be...I can't wait to order microscopes, binoculars, gyroscopes, make flower presses, kaleidoscopes, etc. I can't wait! And all in the name of education...go figure!
On another note, now that Rugger is walking, he must think it's time to learn more important things. Namely how to unroll toilet paper. And tonight he learned how to flush. Just wait till he puts the two together...it makes a mothers heart almost...stop ;)
But Boom is asleep, or maybe not so, waiting for the warmth of my body beside him. Funny how we both can't sleep as well without the other, though we both enjoy our freedom of space and would LOVE for a king size bed...Oh, well.
Good night.
I like some of the stuff Charlotte Mason says, but I just don't think, that for now, I want to follow her specifics. In fact, I don't want to follow any specifics. Hence, the UNschooling.
I thought I wanted a curriculum. But when I tried filling out the How To Write A Low Cost/No Cost Curriculum book I got stuck when I got to the part that asked about your children's learning styles. Basically, my kids learn by all styles right now...they haven't got far enough along to see what their strengths are, yet.
But the beauty of unschooling is that no matter what age (even me!) you can learn just about anything by doing whatever (within the limits of reason, of course. My kids will not be watching veggie tales 24/7....maybe only 3/)
And here's the really cool part. I've always known that I know a little about a lot of thing, and I've always wanted to know more about everything. Which makes me THE PERFECT UNSCHOOLING TEACHER FOR MY KIDS! I want to have fun...it's almost my motto (ask my high school friends who weren't allowed to touch my toys...or heck, look in my [yes, MY] toy box and see all my childhood toys that I've kept.)
I love researching, I love finding answers! I just can't wait until the answers involve more than, "He was a catipillar, then turned into a butterfly..." "No, Mommy, he wasn't a catipillar, he was a WORMY!" (from SpongeBob episode: "Wormy")
Anyway, I'm probably more excited than my kids will be...I can't wait to order microscopes, binoculars, gyroscopes, make flower presses, kaleidoscopes, etc. I can't wait! And all in the name of education...go figure!
On another note, now that Rugger is walking, he must think it's time to learn more important things. Namely how to unroll toilet paper. And tonight he learned how to flush. Just wait till he puts the two together...it makes a mothers heart almost...stop ;)
But Boom is asleep, or maybe not so, waiting for the warmth of my body beside him. Funny how we both can't sleep as well without the other, though we both enjoy our freedom of space and would LOVE for a king size bed...Oh, well.
Good night.
Monday, September 19, 2005
My Daughter, The Doctor
Pumpkin is at that adorable stage where cute things come out of her mouth at random moments, and if you don't catch it, you're missing comedy that ranks right up their with the best of them.
Today she was playing doctor. At times she's the patient, like the other night when driving home from church and she tells me she's not feeling well. I ask her what hurts and she tells me, "The apple in my tummy." Now, being the good mother I am, I did not feed her any healthy apples that day, or any day near that day, and so I ask, "You ate an apple, did you?" She says, "Yes, a red apple. And a green apple." Then she tells me her own advice for the malady: "I think I need to sleep, rest, and watch T.V."
Or on Saturday, when she told me she couldn't eat the blueberry in her pancake (homemade whole wheat with banana and fresh blueberries...see, I'm not always a bad mom!) because, "I think it will make me sick." I couldn't help it, I smiled at the little stinker.
But today, she was the doctor. And Rugger was the patient. As she "examined" him with a headband/stethoscope, she okayed his forehead, his back, and his tummy. But I had to laugh when he bent over and she placed the instrument on his little behind, then proclaimed, "Your butt, is fine." in the most serious of voices a little almost 3 year old can muster.
It's moments like these that keep me going...:)
Today she was playing doctor. At times she's the patient, like the other night when driving home from church and she tells me she's not feeling well. I ask her what hurts and she tells me, "The apple in my tummy." Now, being the good mother I am, I did not feed her any healthy apples that day, or any day near that day, and so I ask, "You ate an apple, did you?" She says, "Yes, a red apple. And a green apple." Then she tells me her own advice for the malady: "I think I need to sleep, rest, and watch T.V."
Or on Saturday, when she told me she couldn't eat the blueberry in her pancake (homemade whole wheat with banana and fresh blueberries...see, I'm not always a bad mom!) because, "I think it will make me sick." I couldn't help it, I smiled at the little stinker.
But today, she was the doctor. And Rugger was the patient. As she "examined" him with a headband/stethoscope, she okayed his forehead, his back, and his tummy. But I had to laugh when he bent over and she placed the instrument on his little behind, then proclaimed, "Your butt, is fine." in the most serious of voices a little almost 3 year old can muster.
It's moments like these that keep me going...:)
Friday, September 16, 2005
In the Name of Education
I drove home tonight from our first win against our oldest rival, and I had the silly feeling of being safe on my home turf that was rightly defended. Last year this game was played in the mud, and the players ended the after game with fists after the opponents' coach ordered his team to "take care of those *%$#@ kids!" because our kids were on their field sliding in the mud (which WAS pretty stupid on our kids' behalf.) Anyway, we won tonight and no one got violent this time. I guess some parents thought the last-second touchdown was unsportsman like on our behalf, but they probably didn't see their kid punch ours in the stomach repeatedly during the game, and they sure didn't hear their junior high coach yell profanities at the kids after half time (and then tell my DH, the head coach, that he'd take him on right there in the parking lot....I mean, come on!)
But all that was only to lead into my real thoughts tonight. Because as I felt that silly safe feeling, I also felt great sadness, because this school may not be around for very long. And unfortunately, it's the best school in the district.
The problem began several years ago. Some time, for some reason (I wasn't hear; I don't know) our three elementary schools and high school joined the Warren County School District and we became one of five schools in the same district. There are several problems with this. Basically, Warren County isn't exactly ahead of the times. In fact, it's just a lot of old money that doesn't want any change. People get jobs that pay the same 20 years later as they did upon hiring. There are fewer office jobs in this town than spiders in my home. Manual labor is, after all, a very good way of keeping the people where you want them - poor and happy with even the smallest of changes.
So this big district has one "big" town that does everything backwards. And I do mean it. They tore down a bridge, a rather important one that led from the center of town to the hospital, and didn't rebuild for 2 years because they mis-budgeted. It's not surprising then, that this town has problems budgeting for their schools.
But wait...they acquired Eisenhower school district years ago. And wouldn't you know, it's now the fastest growing population, and most of the new residents have plenty of money in their pockets and want to live in the country. Well, hey, let's use the money for our "city" school, for lights on our field, for a new field altogether built over the oil refinery waste...how convenient. Then let's shut down 10 schools in two years.
Yes, 10 schools in two years. Most elementary, all important to the kids and parents who attended there.
The newest was Lander Elementary...the school my kids would have gone to had I not chosen to homeschool, and had they not sold it for $20,000 to a local family who lives there now. My husband graduated from there. It's one of his few good school memories. But they took it away and split the kids between the two remaining schools, only one of which they improved and enlarged (nothing like distinguishing between the rich and the not so...)
One of the high schools was closed, and the parents opened a charter school this year, doing very well. And one other school sits in the center of a large target, wondering when they, too will be wiped clean off the public education map.
Eisenhower. The farming town school. The one with, if you care, which I don't, but the disctrict claims to, has the highest test scores of the county. The one with a real community spirit and concern. The one that kids chose to drive to rather than being bussed to their closest school. And unfortunately the one that hasn't been looked at in years from a financial maintenance perspective.
Last year Boom kind of planted a seed in his students telling them how easy it would be for the district to get rid of us. The kids panicked and told their parents that Eisenhower was doomed. The parents had heard similar rumors from higher up than my Boom, and a meeting was called. They acknowledged that it had been a consideration, but that they weren't planning on doing so anymore. (Yeah, like they would have said anything different with hundreds of angry parents there.)
So for the first time in 3 years a maintenance guy comes and fixes fountains, says scaffolding that had been there for 2 years is illegal, etc. Proof that maybe they are taking these parents seriously and will keep Eisenhower open to please the masses (the masses that pay the taxes that go to their shiny and completely upkept school and field.)
And then they tried to raise money this year with pay to park or pay to play. Pay to play was shut down, but pay to park was passed, at $200 per person for the year. Twice the amount a college student pays for a year. This, too, though, was eventually revoked as parents and kids protested.
And then Hurricane Katrina hit. And now they are claiming that because they didn't raise their expected $80,000 from the pay to park, combined with raised energy costs, they now have a $800,000 budget dilemma, and I quote "are open to ideas from the public." There are holding meetings next week so that when they DO decide what to do, they will be able to say, "At least we gave you a chance to offer input." Which they won't listen to, anyway.
No, as the newspaper said, in the opinion of the newspaper, there are too many teachers for too few students in too many schools. They will start by removing "unneeded" things like extracurricular activities. Then they will shut down more schools and get rid of more teachers.
Which will leave us with more students per teacher in less schools...which to anyone with half a brain equals less quality learning and less capable teachers in too cramped buildings. Let alone the idea that they actually want people to move into the Warren area...I wonder where they think they'd put all THOSE students?
And I noticed the paper once again omitted an important fact: The administrators in our county earn a comfy six digit salary, much higher than Erie schools. Our teachers in this same county are at the lowest of the schools in the area, which means that the gap between administrators and teachers is the biggest of all the NorthWestern PA schools....and yet this never hits OUR paper (it's been in the Erie paper at least twice.)
So if our administrators really cared about our children's education...don't you think they could give up some of that ridiculously high salary to help them out? I'm sure between them all (and they haven't lost any jobs despite the decreasing school numbers and the teacher firings) they could come up with $800,000.
But that's not what it's about, really, is it. It's not about the kids. It should be, but it won't be. It will be in their name, and their the ones affected most, but it's about the money. It always has been.
And I wonder if tonight I saw one of the last games played on a lonely field of camaraderie, community, and friendly competition. I wonder if I heard one of the last bands to play from a school that has meant so much to so many people, and I can't count the number of times I heard of people purposely coming to this school over the one next to their home. I wonder if I drove home for one of the last times feeling like I belonged to a community that am proud of, despite my not wanting to move here originally.
I hope not. But many people are already assuming as much. And in the end, it's the kids who will suffer, all in the name of big "E" Education.
But all that was only to lead into my real thoughts tonight. Because as I felt that silly safe feeling, I also felt great sadness, because this school may not be around for very long. And unfortunately, it's the best school in the district.
The problem began several years ago. Some time, for some reason (I wasn't hear; I don't know) our three elementary schools and high school joined the Warren County School District and we became one of five schools in the same district. There are several problems with this. Basically, Warren County isn't exactly ahead of the times. In fact, it's just a lot of old money that doesn't want any change. People get jobs that pay the same 20 years later as they did upon hiring. There are fewer office jobs in this town than spiders in my home. Manual labor is, after all, a very good way of keeping the people where you want them - poor and happy with even the smallest of changes.
So this big district has one "big" town that does everything backwards. And I do mean it. They tore down a bridge, a rather important one that led from the center of town to the hospital, and didn't rebuild for 2 years because they mis-budgeted. It's not surprising then, that this town has problems budgeting for their schools.
But wait...they acquired Eisenhower school district years ago. And wouldn't you know, it's now the fastest growing population, and most of the new residents have plenty of money in their pockets and want to live in the country. Well, hey, let's use the money for our "city" school, for lights on our field, for a new field altogether built over the oil refinery waste...how convenient. Then let's shut down 10 schools in two years.
Yes, 10 schools in two years. Most elementary, all important to the kids and parents who attended there.
The newest was Lander Elementary...the school my kids would have gone to had I not chosen to homeschool, and had they not sold it for $20,000 to a local family who lives there now. My husband graduated from there. It's one of his few good school memories. But they took it away and split the kids between the two remaining schools, only one of which they improved and enlarged (nothing like distinguishing between the rich and the not so...)
One of the high schools was closed, and the parents opened a charter school this year, doing very well. And one other school sits in the center of a large target, wondering when they, too will be wiped clean off the public education map.
Eisenhower. The farming town school. The one with, if you care, which I don't, but the disctrict claims to, has the highest test scores of the county. The one with a real community spirit and concern. The one that kids chose to drive to rather than being bussed to their closest school. And unfortunately the one that hasn't been looked at in years from a financial maintenance perspective.
Last year Boom kind of planted a seed in his students telling them how easy it would be for the district to get rid of us. The kids panicked and told their parents that Eisenhower was doomed. The parents had heard similar rumors from higher up than my Boom, and a meeting was called. They acknowledged that it had been a consideration, but that they weren't planning on doing so anymore. (Yeah, like they would have said anything different with hundreds of angry parents there.)
So for the first time in 3 years a maintenance guy comes and fixes fountains, says scaffolding that had been there for 2 years is illegal, etc. Proof that maybe they are taking these parents seriously and will keep Eisenhower open to please the masses (the masses that pay the taxes that go to their shiny and completely upkept school and field.)
And then they tried to raise money this year with pay to park or pay to play. Pay to play was shut down, but pay to park was passed, at $200 per person for the year. Twice the amount a college student pays for a year. This, too, though, was eventually revoked as parents and kids protested.
And then Hurricane Katrina hit. And now they are claiming that because they didn't raise their expected $80,000 from the pay to park, combined with raised energy costs, they now have a $800,000 budget dilemma, and I quote "are open to ideas from the public." There are holding meetings next week so that when they DO decide what to do, they will be able to say, "At least we gave you a chance to offer input." Which they won't listen to, anyway.
No, as the newspaper said, in the opinion of the newspaper, there are too many teachers for too few students in too many schools. They will start by removing "unneeded" things like extracurricular activities. Then they will shut down more schools and get rid of more teachers.
Which will leave us with more students per teacher in less schools...which to anyone with half a brain equals less quality learning and less capable teachers in too cramped buildings. Let alone the idea that they actually want people to move into the Warren area...I wonder where they think they'd put all THOSE students?
And I noticed the paper once again omitted an important fact: The administrators in our county earn a comfy six digit salary, much higher than Erie schools. Our teachers in this same county are at the lowest of the schools in the area, which means that the gap between administrators and teachers is the biggest of all the NorthWestern PA schools....and yet this never hits OUR paper (it's been in the Erie paper at least twice.)
So if our administrators really cared about our children's education...don't you think they could give up some of that ridiculously high salary to help them out? I'm sure between them all (and they haven't lost any jobs despite the decreasing school numbers and the teacher firings) they could come up with $800,000.
But that's not what it's about, really, is it. It's not about the kids. It should be, but it won't be. It will be in their name, and their the ones affected most, but it's about the money. It always has been.
And I wonder if tonight I saw one of the last games played on a lonely field of camaraderie, community, and friendly competition. I wonder if I heard one of the last bands to play from a school that has meant so much to so many people, and I can't count the number of times I heard of people purposely coming to this school over the one next to their home. I wonder if I drove home for one of the last times feeling like I belonged to a community that am proud of, despite my not wanting to move here originally.
I hope not. But many people are already assuming as much. And in the end, it's the kids who will suffer, all in the name of big "E" Education.
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