Aren't kids cute? BabyPete is starting to take on a personality of his own and is always happy when being smiled at. He is quick to respond with his own grins and goos and it is so cute. Oh, and Mancub thinks we should call BabyPete Captain Tootypants. So he has a new name.
The Poopy Pirate said to me with a grin the other day, "You the grumpiest mommy I ever had." I am sure he is just repeating something he has heard from his older brother; I've noticed that he sometimes talks better than he understands. Or maybe he did mean it. It was still funny.
But Mancub (who is calling himself Scallywag Plankwalker these days--if you haven't noticed we are way into pirates around here) takes the cake. In the last week, two VERY funny things have happened.
The other day he wanted to watch "Polar Express." One of his favorites. Now, we've never pushed the Santa thing, we just let it evolve kind of naturally. Last Christmas he got really into Santa and the presents. Well, near the end of Polar Express they all get to the North Pole and meet Santa. Scallywag starts asking questions,
"How do those Reindeer fly?"
"Why doesn't the sled tip over with all those presents?"
"How come he didn't hear the bell?"
I've kind of got my mouth open finding myself in the middle of a conversation I didn't expect to have for a few years with a boy who is very interested in how EXACTLY things work. Before I can answer any of his questions he shrugs and says, "I don't know if I believe in Santa, but I believe in presents." Nothing like getting right to the heart of the matter.
But the best was last week at my parents' house. We found a model that my older brother got in the late 70's called Fort Apache. The pictures offer a far better description than anything I could hope to give. Anyway, Scallywag has found it and likes to set it up and play with the cowboys and Indians. This toy has been a little tricky for Mommy to explain. After all, I was raised with a revisionist idea of history not available to my brother in the late 70's.
One of the little accessries with the set is a butter churn. The butter churn is the same size as the little action figures and Scallywag is fascinated with it. Anyway, we get it all set up last week and Scallywag tells me that the cowboys and Indians are fighting.
"Can't they get along?"
"No, Mommy, they can't."
"Why not?"
"Because the Indians need some butter and the cowboys have it all. And they won't share. The Indians have been needing some butter for weeks!"
"And why do they need butter?"
"For their corn muffins. The Indians have all the corn and they want butter for their muffins."
"Oh."
Anyway, I was grateful to have the facts straight. It was perfectly clear to me why the soldiers and Indians couldn't get along. I too love butter. It seems hopeless.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
Austenphiles, Start YOur Engines
I was visiting with a friend here in the Village the other day and she had a book on the table that was given to her as a birthday gift. It is called Austenland. It was written by an author I've never heard of before, Shannon Hale. She has written a few other books, mostly young adult novels. One of them was even named a Newberry Honor book. Oh, and she is a young Mormon gal from SLC with two little kids. I hate her.
I was watching the movie The Queen while I was rocking my baby at three o'clock in the morning the other day and saw a preview for something else that looks very promising. Becoming Jane is due out in early August. Less novel adaptation and more made up biography about the master herself, but it looks like fun. I'm kind of an Anne Hathaway fan. I don't think I'll talk Plantboy into being at the premier or anything--our summer will be full of Jason Bourne, pirates, Spider Man, and (if I'm lucky) Harry Potter. Jane may have to wait for Netflix to bring her to my mailbox.
And here is a shoutout to Desmama for friendship above and beyond the call of duty. Thanks, girlfriend. May you find a similar good Samaritan on your moving week.
I was watching the movie The Queen while I was rocking my baby at three o'clock in the morning the other day and saw a preview for something else that looks very promising. Becoming Jane is due out in early August. Less novel adaptation and more made up biography about the master herself, but it looks like fun. I'm kind of an Anne Hathaway fan. I don't think I'll talk Plantboy into being at the premier or anything--our summer will be full of Jason Bourne, pirates, Spider Man, and (if I'm lucky) Harry Potter. Jane may have to wait for Netflix to bring her to my mailbox.
And here is a shoutout to Desmama for friendship above and beyond the call of duty. Thanks, girlfriend. May you find a similar good Samaritan on your moving week.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Invasion
I'm talking about Leptocoris trivittatus. Also known as the Box Elder Bug. This disgusting little creature takes its name from the trees they feed off of. Plantboy has informed me that these trees line the canal behind our apartment.
These sneaky bugs get in the house somehow. Once they are in, it is only a matter of time before there is a veritable infestation as the primary function of the adult seems to be flying around scaring my kids or copulating. I'm sure it is only a matter of days before my observant five year old asks me if they are wrestling when one sits on the other like that.
In Texas, I had a six year old tell me once that it was easy to tell which bugs were the love bugs. They were the ones with the two heads. Now, I may be scienceteachermommy, but I wasn't HIS mommy, so I just smiled and said, "That's right dear."
I'm not REALLY complaining. I mean, it isn't like they are malaria-infested mosquitos or anything like that. But the bugs in conjunction with the heat and the moving and the single parenting are really getting to me.
The newstory, right out of Hitchcock, will read, "Woman Instituionalized After Infestation: A woman staggered from her apartment today covered with Leptocoris sp. insects crawling in her hair. She was muttering over and over, 'All I did was lay down for a nap.' Her husband has flown in from Oregon to pick up the kids. His only comment was, 'She kept saying she was okay; I had no idea it had gotten so bad. At least the move will be easy now. It appears the bugs have taken everything.' Even his wife's sanity."
I will dream in orange and black tonight.
These sneaky bugs get in the house somehow. Once they are in, it is only a matter of time before there is a veritable infestation as the primary function of the adult seems to be flying around scaring my kids or copulating. I'm sure it is only a matter of days before my observant five year old asks me if they are wrestling when one sits on the other like that.
In Texas, I had a six year old tell me once that it was easy to tell which bugs were the love bugs. They were the ones with the two heads. Now, I may be scienceteachermommy, but I wasn't HIS mommy, so I just smiled and said, "That's right dear."
I'm not REALLY complaining. I mean, it isn't like they are malaria-infested mosquitos or anything like that. But the bugs in conjunction with the heat and the moving and the single parenting are really getting to me.
The newstory, right out of Hitchcock, will read, "Woman Instituionalized After Infestation: A woman staggered from her apartment today covered with Leptocoris sp. insects crawling in her hair. She was muttering over and over, 'All I did was lay down for a nap.' Her husband has flown in from Oregon to pick up the kids. His only comment was, 'She kept saying she was okay; I had no idea it had gotten so bad. At least the move will be easy now. It appears the bugs have taken everything.' Even his wife's sanity."
I will dream in orange and black tonight.
Sunday, July 01, 2007
More than Fireworks and Barbecues
It was with no little amount of trepidation that I attended Sacrament meeting today. The first Sunday of July is very often the America-amony meeting. (Like the Fast Sunday near July 24th is the Utah-amony meeting.) If you have ever attended church in another country for any period of time, you may feel that this American Indepence slapped into a church setting is slightly unsettling. While it is true that the United States had to be founded the way it was in order for Mormonism to have a fighting chance, there are good people and countries everywhere. So I was very pleased when today's testimony meeting actually served its actual purpose by staying church-centered, and I came away very uplifted.
I know this blog may inspire some controversy, or hopefully at least provoke a few thoughts beyond breast feeding and diarrhea and tears. Maybe that is why I'm writing it. Maybe I need to think on something outside the realm of mothering. I found a quote last week that has been much in my thoughts as I look at the current political climate and controversy in our country.
Last week I was cleaning out several file drawers of papers and getting rid of a bunch of old stuff. I came across a quote that I had copied from a Canadian Sunday School teacher. It was from a lesson in the Old Testament that was based around a war fought by the Israelites. In June of 1976, the following was written in an address about idolatry given by Spencer W. Kimball. (Bear in mind this is just 14 months after the end of Vietnam.)
"We are a warlike people, easily distracted from our assignment of preparing for the coming of the Lord. When enemies rise up, we commit vast resources to the fabrication of gods of stone and steel--ships, planes, missiles, and fortifications--and depend on them for protection and deliverance. When threatened, we become anti-enemy instead of pro-kingdom of god; we train a man in the art of war and call him a patrtiot; thus, in the manner of Satan's counterfeit of true patriotism, perverting the Savior's teaching. . . "
He then goes on to quote Matthew 5:44-45 from the sermon on the Mount about loving your enemies.
He concludes with, "We forget that if we are righteous the Lord will either not suffer our enemies to come upon us . . . or he will fight our battles for us."
Very interesting. Before I finish my thoughts tonight, I think it is important to say that I am not a pacifist. I think there are wars that need to be fought. I think that when our country has agreed to send our troops into battle we should support them with every resource at our disposal. I think the congressmen who vote to send men and women into battle are the worst kind of cowards and hypocrites if they then turn around and cut taxes, forcing the next generation to pay for their war.
I suppose these thoughts have been with me because mid-summer days and the promise of fireworks always causes me to consider my patriotism. Lately, I have begun to feel much like Bono, when he says that he is in love with this IDEA of America more so than the place.
America is the greatest experiment in civil harmony every attempted in the world's history. And more than 200 years after its inception, by some of the most brilliant (though flawed) men to ever walk the planet, it is still working. The greatest evidence I have seen in recent years of the success of this venture called America is when President Clinton handed his office over to President Bush. Although Al Gore had won the popular vote and there was a lot of bad feeling floating in the air, everything about the change in presidency was done according to LAW. There was no coup, no military uprising. And every citizen in this country was entitled to have their opinion about the outcome and to tell others their opinion by any means necessary.
This is why, in recent years, it has been very difficult for me to see the current administration say over and over that if you don't support the WAY the government is choosing to fight terrorism, then you are no better than the terrorists. It is one thing to say to Iran or North Korea or the Taliban or Al Quaida, "If you're not with us, you're against us." It is quite another for the reds to look across the aisle to the blues and say the same thing.
The beauty of America is that there is dialogue. The challenge of America is to be a part of it.
Thomas Jefferson said that America was great because the people were good. He further said that when the people ceased to be good, they would not be able to sustain their society. Indeed, this is the greatest challenge of any semi-democratic society. I would further add that when its people slip into indifference, America will falter.
That is why I say that these days I'm more in love with the IDEA of America than place of America these days. America is still the place where people can come and make something remarkable of their lives. A man can become President of the United States even if he is raised in backwater Arkansas by a single mother. America is a place where a woman and a black man and a Mormon can each step forward with ideas that make them fit to lead our country. America is a place where a man with an idea can make a million dollars if he is determined enough. But too many of us have lost the wonder of the ideal.
The American culture marketed abroad this days is rife with immorality, substance abuse, disrespect and money. Lots of money. America has graduated from being the wide-eyed can-do anything optimist to the global peddler of excess and vice. We have somehow distorted the American dream to mean that we can have whatever we want and as much of it as we want regardless of how that affects others.
Nine months ago I stood on the steps of the Lincoln memorial and imagined Martin Luther King in that very spot so many years ago. His words echoed through my head. I've since learned that the second half of his speech was unscripted. As he begins to plead, "Let Freedom Ring!" his speech sounds like a mighty prayer and not just an admonition to politicians.
And maybe this is where the heart of the gospel collides with the heart of America--AGENCY. If any of us would truly be free then we must surrender to the will of God. We must be righteous and plead with the Lord to fight our battles and guide our leaders. We must pray for our enemies. We must love those who hate us. We must commit our vast resources, not to things that would destroy, maim and kill, but to causes that would create, restore and bring life.
As mothers, we are the ones who will decide how the next generation views the world. So take that into consideration as we celebrate the holiday with our little ones. How will we make them patriots and Christians at the same time? What formula will we use to teach them to appreciate their country but love all of humanity? What can we do daily to raise a generation who will make peace with their neighbors?
Happy Fourth of July.
I know this blog may inspire some controversy, or hopefully at least provoke a few thoughts beyond breast feeding and diarrhea and tears. Maybe that is why I'm writing it. Maybe I need to think on something outside the realm of mothering. I found a quote last week that has been much in my thoughts as I look at the current political climate and controversy in our country.
Last week I was cleaning out several file drawers of papers and getting rid of a bunch of old stuff. I came across a quote that I had copied from a Canadian Sunday School teacher. It was from a lesson in the Old Testament that was based around a war fought by the Israelites. In June of 1976, the following was written in an address about idolatry given by Spencer W. Kimball. (Bear in mind this is just 14 months after the end of Vietnam.)
"We are a warlike people, easily distracted from our assignment of preparing for the coming of the Lord. When enemies rise up, we commit vast resources to the fabrication of gods of stone and steel--ships, planes, missiles, and fortifications--and depend on them for protection and deliverance. When threatened, we become anti-enemy instead of pro-kingdom of god; we train a man in the art of war and call him a patrtiot; thus, in the manner of Satan's counterfeit of true patriotism, perverting the Savior's teaching. . . "
He then goes on to quote Matthew 5:44-45 from the sermon on the Mount about loving your enemies.
He concludes with, "We forget that if we are righteous the Lord will either not suffer our enemies to come upon us . . . or he will fight our battles for us."
Very interesting. Before I finish my thoughts tonight, I think it is important to say that I am not a pacifist. I think there are wars that need to be fought. I think that when our country has agreed to send our troops into battle we should support them with every resource at our disposal. I think the congressmen who vote to send men and women into battle are the worst kind of cowards and hypocrites if they then turn around and cut taxes, forcing the next generation to pay for their war.
I suppose these thoughts have been with me because mid-summer days and the promise of fireworks always causes me to consider my patriotism. Lately, I have begun to feel much like Bono, when he says that he is in love with this IDEA of America more so than the place.
America is the greatest experiment in civil harmony every attempted in the world's history. And more than 200 years after its inception, by some of the most brilliant (though flawed) men to ever walk the planet, it is still working. The greatest evidence I have seen in recent years of the success of this venture called America is when President Clinton handed his office over to President Bush. Although Al Gore had won the popular vote and there was a lot of bad feeling floating in the air, everything about the change in presidency was done according to LAW. There was no coup, no military uprising. And every citizen in this country was entitled to have their opinion about the outcome and to tell others their opinion by any means necessary.
This is why, in recent years, it has been very difficult for me to see the current administration say over and over that if you don't support the WAY the government is choosing to fight terrorism, then you are no better than the terrorists. It is one thing to say to Iran or North Korea or the Taliban or Al Quaida, "If you're not with us, you're against us." It is quite another for the reds to look across the aisle to the blues and say the same thing.
The beauty of America is that there is dialogue. The challenge of America is to be a part of it.
Thomas Jefferson said that America was great because the people were good. He further said that when the people ceased to be good, they would not be able to sustain their society. Indeed, this is the greatest challenge of any semi-democratic society. I would further add that when its people slip into indifference, America will falter.
That is why I say that these days I'm more in love with the IDEA of America than place of America these days. America is still the place where people can come and make something remarkable of their lives. A man can become President of the United States even if he is raised in backwater Arkansas by a single mother. America is a place where a woman and a black man and a Mormon can each step forward with ideas that make them fit to lead our country. America is a place where a man with an idea can make a million dollars if he is determined enough. But too many of us have lost the wonder of the ideal.
The American culture marketed abroad this days is rife with immorality, substance abuse, disrespect and money. Lots of money. America has graduated from being the wide-eyed can-do anything optimist to the global peddler of excess and vice. We have somehow distorted the American dream to mean that we can have whatever we want and as much of it as we want regardless of how that affects others.
Nine months ago I stood on the steps of the Lincoln memorial and imagined Martin Luther King in that very spot so many years ago. His words echoed through my head. I've since learned that the second half of his speech was unscripted. As he begins to plead, "Let Freedom Ring!" his speech sounds like a mighty prayer and not just an admonition to politicians.
And maybe this is where the heart of the gospel collides with the heart of America--AGENCY. If any of us would truly be free then we must surrender to the will of God. We must be righteous and plead with the Lord to fight our battles and guide our leaders. We must pray for our enemies. We must love those who hate us. We must commit our vast resources, not to things that would destroy, maim and kill, but to causes that would create, restore and bring life.
As mothers, we are the ones who will decide how the next generation views the world. So take that into consideration as we celebrate the holiday with our little ones. How will we make them patriots and Christians at the same time? What formula will we use to teach them to appreciate their country but love all of humanity? What can we do daily to raise a generation who will make peace with their neighbors?
Happy Fourth of July.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Top Ten Things You Might Overhear at STM's House
10. Do you want jam or honey on your peanut butter?
9. Not right now, the baby is crying!
8. How 'bout "I've Been Working On Railroad" one more time?
7. Do you guys want another movie?
6. Pizza or chicken nuggets for dinner?
5. "We're not in right now, please leave a message at the beep."
4. But Mommy, it is too hot to sleep!
3. Don't touch my pee pee. (This is the Poopy Pirate's favorite line during diaper changes.)
2. Don't hurt your brother!
1. Is it bedtime yet?
9. Not right now, the baby is crying!
8. How 'bout "I've Been Working On Railroad" one more time?
7. Do you guys want another movie?
6. Pizza or chicken nuggets for dinner?
5. "We're not in right now, please leave a message at the beep."
4. But Mommy, it is too hot to sleep!
3. Don't touch my pee pee. (This is the Poopy Pirate's favorite line during diaper changes.)
2. Don't hurt your brother!
1. Is it bedtime yet?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Day 3 of Who Knows How Many
I have been home from our Oregon house hunting trip for a few days. It is safe to say that I haven't posted sooner because the results of the trip are not what I expected.
We are in the process of closing on a house, an adorable little house in a great neighborhood. So why not more enthusiasm? Having last bought a house in Texas six years ago, I think it will take me some time to recover from the sticker shock. And the word "adorable" is totally appropriate when we are talking just UNDER 1100 square feet. I've never seen such an efficient floor plan. I think we could have some long, rainy winter days cozied up in our little house.
Now, many of you know, Plantboy stayed in Oregon to begin his new job. He has already been given overtime work for this weekend, been offered a trip to the coast by our realtor, found some members to bunk with instead of living in an extended stay hotel for the next month and been invited for a very nice dinner two doors up from where our new house we'll be. The weather is topping out at a lovely 80 degrees in Eugene this week.
My own journey has not been quite as smooth . . .
Here are just a few of today's highlights.
1. Mancub (Remember, he is nearly six) pooped his pants outside this morning and was told he had to stay inside for the day. It was like 9 am. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who really got punished for this today.
2. Poopy Pirate has decided to be TWO with a vengeance this week. He can't seem to ask for anything without having a complete come apart. His pale face turns scarlet in about 3.2 seconds during these outbursts and HE DOESN'T LIKE HAVING THE FAN ON. At least the fever he was running Monday (102 degrees) is gone. No apparent reason for that.
3. Two words: cracked nipple.
4. It was 95 degrees today. Our apartment has no A/C. Al Gore would be very proud of our tiny carbon footprint, but on a day like today, I say "To $#%%^^* with global warming."
5. Nine diapers. (Over and above supervising Mancub cleaning out his underwear. And then scrubbing poop off the counter and the floor.)
6. A whole cup of milk spilled at least gave me an excuse to mop the kitchen.
7. I discovered the perfect method for putting my baby to sleep. Put him on his tummy. I know that I will hear all kinds of flack for this one. I have to admit, however, that my other two were right around a month when I discovered this wonderful trick. I think I should do an entire blog about all the lies I've told my pediatrician.
8. Mancub promised to get the Poopy Pirate a snack if he woke up from his nap while mum nursed BabyPete. No sooner had Baby Pete latched his voracious little gums to his mother when Mancub woke up Poopy Pirate and then refused to help him get some Graham crackers and milk though he'd asked nicely and then began sobbing uncontrollably. Mancub likes power.
9. This one is a REAL highlight. My mother came up for about an hour and a half today to watch the kids (who were wonderful for her, of course) while I went to get groceries. They were doing so well I even stopped at Down East Home to buy a couple of WonderTees (can you have too many of these?) and covet some damaged furniture. On the way home I went to Arby's for a roast beef sandwich as big as my head and devoured it as quickly as any good carnivore would.
We are closing on the house on Friday the 13th. Any superstitious feeling about this? Anyway, here are a few pics. I remember the whole house being darker--wall paint, furniture, etc. It does have two fabulous skylights and stainless appliances and nice lighting fixtures. It also has two lime green walls in the second and third bedrooms. Nice. Just because paint CAN be mixed any color, doesn't mean it should be.
We are in the process of closing on a house, an adorable little house in a great neighborhood. So why not more enthusiasm? Having last bought a house in Texas six years ago, I think it will take me some time to recover from the sticker shock. And the word "adorable" is totally appropriate when we are talking just UNDER 1100 square feet. I've never seen such an efficient floor plan. I think we could have some long, rainy winter days cozied up in our little house.
Now, many of you know, Plantboy stayed in Oregon to begin his new job. He has already been given overtime work for this weekend, been offered a trip to the coast by our realtor, found some members to bunk with instead of living in an extended stay hotel for the next month and been invited for a very nice dinner two doors up from where our new house we'll be. The weather is topping out at a lovely 80 degrees in Eugene this week.
My own journey has not been quite as smooth . . .
Here are just a few of today's highlights.
1. Mancub (Remember, he is nearly six) pooped his pants outside this morning and was told he had to stay inside for the day. It was like 9 am. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who really got punished for this today.
2. Poopy Pirate has decided to be TWO with a vengeance this week. He can't seem to ask for anything without having a complete come apart. His pale face turns scarlet in about 3.2 seconds during these outbursts and HE DOESN'T LIKE HAVING THE FAN ON. At least the fever he was running Monday (102 degrees) is gone. No apparent reason for that.
3. Two words: cracked nipple.
4. It was 95 degrees today. Our apartment has no A/C. Al Gore would be very proud of our tiny carbon footprint, but on a day like today, I say "To $#%%^^* with global warming."
5. Nine diapers. (Over and above supervising Mancub cleaning out his underwear. And then scrubbing poop off the counter and the floor.)
6. A whole cup of milk spilled at least gave me an excuse to mop the kitchen.
7. I discovered the perfect method for putting my baby to sleep. Put him on his tummy. I know that I will hear all kinds of flack for this one. I have to admit, however, that my other two were right around a month when I discovered this wonderful trick. I think I should do an entire blog about all the lies I've told my pediatrician.
8. Mancub promised to get the Poopy Pirate a snack if he woke up from his nap while mum nursed BabyPete. No sooner had Baby Pete latched his voracious little gums to his mother when Mancub woke up Poopy Pirate and then refused to help him get some Graham crackers and milk though he'd asked nicely and then began sobbing uncontrollably. Mancub likes power.
9. This one is a REAL highlight. My mother came up for about an hour and a half today to watch the kids (who were wonderful for her, of course) while I went to get groceries. They were doing so well I even stopped at Down East Home to buy a couple of WonderTees (can you have too many of these?) and covet some damaged furniture. On the way home I went to Arby's for a roast beef sandwich as big as my head and devoured it as quickly as any good carnivore would.
We are closing on the house on Friday the 13th. Any superstitious feeling about this? Anyway, here are a few pics. I remember the whole house being darker--wall paint, furniture, etc. It does have two fabulous skylights and stainless appliances and nice lighting fixtures. It also has two lime green walls in the second and third bedrooms. Nice. Just because paint CAN be mixed any color, doesn't mean it should be.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
And Pictures!
For details, read the previous post.
I had a cool experience the other day. I was walking around the temple with my family when I saw somebody that looked familiar. Unsure if it was him, I haven't seen this person in seven years, I called his name from a distance and sure enough he turned around. It was one of my students from my first year of teaching! He had been a senior in high school then and I hadn't seen him since he went on his mission; about the time Plantboy and I moved to Texas. Anyway, he was there with his wife and two kids. He was doing great and is looking to apply to PhD programs in environmental science--the same subject I taught him in! Granted he had very high interest before I ever met him; I don't think I influenced him one way or the other, but it was really rewarding to see how successful he is and that he has followed his heart. His wife was absolutely lovely and his kids were really cute.
It is exciting to get a tiny taste of the fruits of some of our labors. Mancub told his Sunday School Teacher the other day that the picture she was holding up was the Liahona and that is worked by faith and obedience. The Poopy Pirate sang all of the words to "I Am a Child of God" in nursery the other day. Don't give up moms! These little ones have such hope and promise. We must all hold out for those occasional glimpses we get into their potential.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
And Introducing!
We had a fairly strange 48 hours after my last blog. I went to the doctor as said. Not only was the baby too "high," but I had made no progress in a week. The other reason my doctor didn't want to strip my membranes is because she wasn't convinced the baby was even head down anymore. Great.
The ultrasound confirmed Baby Pete's acrobatics and she scheduled me to come in the next morning. They would flip him (a very weird procedure they do from the OUTSIDE believe it or not) if they could and induce me, or if that didn't work, she would C-Section me the next morning. Getting better all they time. So that night I put a frantic phone call in to DesMama to get the low down on the C-Section. (Thanks again, DM, you really allayed a lot of my fears.) Also, I relaxed quite a bit. One way or another in 24 hours I would have a baby.
So, of course, I actually went in to labor that night. (It was after the season finale of L O S T--conincidence? Hmm . . . . ) I called the hospital at about 1 am. My doctor was not only at the hospital but answered the phone. She is wonderful, incidentally. She told me to come in; no sense to spend half the night in labor to just get a C-Section.
Anyway, when I got there they gave me a drug to stop my labor so they could apply all kinds of pressure to my tummy. Her first try didn't work and they gave me some fentanol because I was shaking so badly afterward. I don't know why? Maybe because it seems so totally unnatural to have somebody doing that to you and maybe because they had already hooked me up to the IV which automatically makes me feel like a sick patient instead of a pregnant woman.
Her second try was successful and baby was now head down. Time to RESTART labor. By the time they located a Pitocin pump that was working it was nearly three a.m. At about 5:30 in the morning I got the worst epidural I've ever had. Between the epidural and the other drugs, about 8:30 I started feeling that whole ghost leg syndrome thing and was sure I was going crazy. The fact that I was by myself didn't help. (Weeks ago we scheduled a physical for Plantboy that morning. He had to have the physical completed before he could be officially offered the Oregon job. So we couldn't exactly cancel.)
My brief journey into the land of nervous breakdowns was one of the worst hours of my life. If any of you have ever actually had a breakdown, I got a tiny taste of empathy and I will never again say, "that could never happen to me."
Once Jeff showed up, my attitude improved immensely. We also turned on the TV to try and distract me. This technique actually worked pretty well because we turned on the most obnoxious presidential press conference (it was on every station) and I channeled my energy into disagreeing with the current leader of the free world.
Baby Pete entered the world at 9:58 am with a head full of light brown hair weighing in at 7 pounds and 11 ounces--making him more than half a pound smaller than either of my other kids. Baby Pete has also been easier on me in every way so far than my other two bambinos. The thing that is hard about three? Getting everything done. Right now it is okay because Plantboy is home, but when he heads for Eugene and leaves me alone for a few weeks it could get a little dodgy.
Hah! Another lengthy post, but everyone loves to tell their birth stories and in this medium nobody interupts with one that is inevitably better. I promise to dutifully read your posts about your births as well.
I'm sure you will all understand if my blogging is a little spotty this summer, but don't give up on scienceteachermommy. Check in every few weeks and I'm sure I'll eventually find time to be a regular again. So now it is back to the world of laundry, dirty dishes, dirty diapers, constipation, nursing and whatever other pleasant thing is part of motherhood.
I've got adorable pictures, but I'm having trouble making them work. They aren't attaching to my gmail either. I will try to get it together for the next post.
The ultrasound confirmed Baby Pete's acrobatics and she scheduled me to come in the next morning. They would flip him (a very weird procedure they do from the OUTSIDE believe it or not) if they could and induce me, or if that didn't work, she would C-Section me the next morning. Getting better all they time. So that night I put a frantic phone call in to DesMama to get the low down on the C-Section. (Thanks again, DM, you really allayed a lot of my fears.) Also, I relaxed quite a bit. One way or another in 24 hours I would have a baby.
So, of course, I actually went in to labor that night. (It was after the season finale of L O S T--conincidence? Hmm . . . . ) I called the hospital at about 1 am. My doctor was not only at the hospital but answered the phone. She is wonderful, incidentally. She told me to come in; no sense to spend half the night in labor to just get a C-Section.
Anyway, when I got there they gave me a drug to stop my labor so they could apply all kinds of pressure to my tummy. Her first try didn't work and they gave me some fentanol because I was shaking so badly afterward. I don't know why? Maybe because it seems so totally unnatural to have somebody doing that to you and maybe because they had already hooked me up to the IV which automatically makes me feel like a sick patient instead of a pregnant woman.
Her second try was successful and baby was now head down. Time to RESTART labor. By the time they located a Pitocin pump that was working it was nearly three a.m. At about 5:30 in the morning I got the worst epidural I've ever had. Between the epidural and the other drugs, about 8:30 I started feeling that whole ghost leg syndrome thing and was sure I was going crazy. The fact that I was by myself didn't help. (Weeks ago we scheduled a physical for Plantboy that morning. He had to have the physical completed before he could be officially offered the Oregon job. So we couldn't exactly cancel.)
My brief journey into the land of nervous breakdowns was one of the worst hours of my life. If any of you have ever actually had a breakdown, I got a tiny taste of empathy and I will never again say, "that could never happen to me."
Once Jeff showed up, my attitude improved immensely. We also turned on the TV to try and distract me. This technique actually worked pretty well because we turned on the most obnoxious presidential press conference (it was on every station) and I channeled my energy into disagreeing with the current leader of the free world.
Baby Pete entered the world at 9:58 am with a head full of light brown hair weighing in at 7 pounds and 11 ounces--making him more than half a pound smaller than either of my other kids. Baby Pete has also been easier on me in every way so far than my other two bambinos. The thing that is hard about three? Getting everything done. Right now it is okay because Plantboy is home, but when he heads for Eugene and leaves me alone for a few weeks it could get a little dodgy.
Hah! Another lengthy post, but everyone loves to tell their birth stories and in this medium nobody interupts with one that is inevitably better. I promise to dutifully read your posts about your births as well.
I'm sure you will all understand if my blogging is a little spotty this summer, but don't give up on scienceteachermommy. Check in every few weeks and I'm sure I'll eventually find time to be a regular again. So now it is back to the world of laundry, dirty dishes, dirty diapers, constipation, nursing and whatever other pleasant thing is part of motherhood.
I've got adorable pictures, but I'm having trouble making them work. They aren't attaching to my gmail either. I will try to get it together for the next post.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Too Much Information
Still no baby. Tomorrow puts me six days overdue my earliest estimated due date. I always said I thought I'd be closer to June than the doctor told me, but the reality of it is miserable.
And yes, I know all the tricks for starting labor. My sister yesterday told me what she did to get herself going a week early with her 2nd baby. Lets just say that the title of this blog is very appropriate. Now I will give you all too much information. Tomorrow the doctor is going to STRIP MY MEMBRANES. Okay, I have heard that this hurts like the devil. My own doctor says it only has a 30% success rate. I can hardly wait.
So I guess I am not so much looking for advice as for some fellow commiseration. Does anybody else go this far overdue?????????????
And yes, I know all the tricks for starting labor. My sister yesterday told me what she did to get herself going a week early with her 2nd baby. Lets just say that the title of this blog is very appropriate. Now I will give you all too much information. Tomorrow the doctor is going to STRIP MY MEMBRANES. Okay, I have heard that this hurts like the devil. My own doctor says it only has a 30% success rate. I can hardly wait.
So I guess I am not so much looking for advice as for some fellow commiseration. Does anybody else go this far overdue?????????????
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
On The Road Again
Plant boy got a job! A great job. We couldn't be happier. Of course, that job is in Eugene Oregon which presents its own set of challenges. We are hoping to get in a house so that we aren't nomads much longer. Oregon, with its wonderful beaches, mountains, bike trails and gardening should satisfy my wanderlust (Aussies call this walkabout) without needing to actually change locations every six months. Does anybody know anybody who lives in Eugene or could tell me anything specific about the area? This looking for homes long distance stuff is a little dodgy.
My goal for the next post is to figure out how to load pics so you can see the baby. He hasn't come yet, but I was up from 1-3 am last night with contractions that finally subsided. Any day now . . .
My goal for the next post is to figure out how to load pics so you can see the baby. He hasn't come yet, but I was up from 1-3 am last night with contractions that finally subsided. Any day now . . .
Monday, May 07, 2007
Tagged
Three Things I’m Really Looking Forward To:
1. Plantboy getting a job (hopefully I'll be able to report on this in my next post).
2. Moving into an actual house.
3 Having a baby (due in just TWO short weeks) and summer vacation--this is all wrapped up into one for me.
Three Books That Made Me Laugh Out Loud:
1. Eats, Shoots and Leaves
2. Confessions of a Shopaholic
3. Cold Sassy Tree (It made me cry too. GREAT read.)
Three Things I'm Afraid Of:
1. Global Warming (C'mon! Have you seen that commercial with the train? And the adorable little girl on the tracks? It is completely terrible. What about the documentary "An Inconvenient Truth." The science is very convincing.)
2. UFO Sightings (Four words: "Fire in the Sky." It is a creepy beyond all reason based-on-a-true story UFO movie. We knew a guy in Texas who knew the guys the events actually happened to in Snowflake Arizona. ALL members. Explain that!)
3. Hubby dying while my kids are young/miscarriage
Three Things I Love:
Okay, everyone will put family first on this list, but these should be three unique things about me, right?
1. Reading, especially on a rainy day or in the bathtub
2. Writing anything and getting letters back from people I've written too.
3. Washing my hair with Paul Mitchell's tea tree shampoo. Or even better, having somebody else wash with this stuff. And yes, if you use your imagination here, that is when it is REALLY the best. I could also include pedicures under this category. Pampering now and then is really great.
Three Things I Really Don't Love:
1. Doing dishes by hand. I've been without a dishwasher for 18 months and I hope it is something I never take for granted again.
2. Mushrooms. It is a fungus for crying out loud.
3. Labor. The first six weeks post-partum and the obligatory conjugal visit after the doctor says, "Good to go!" Starting nursing. Truthfully, I don't much like motherhood until about 3 months. So if you don't want to check back all summer it might not be a bad idea.
Three Things I Don’t Understand:
1. How computers work, or anything electronic really. And the wireless internet thing! That just blows my mind.
2. People that think they are being nice to their kids when they don't give them parameters and discipline.
3. How an egg and sperm is smart enough to grow into a human.
Three Things On My Desk:
1. Some papers that have been there for some time that I KNOW I will eventually need.
2. Pictures of my kids.
3. My lunch; that isn't just this minute. I've generally got something to eat or drink hanging around.
Three Projects I'm Currently Working On:
1. I have two chapters to finish in a fantasy novel, but I have serious writer's block.
2. Growing a baby; I don't have to think about it much, but it sure takes a lot of effort.
3. Two scrapbooks--a family one and the Poopy Pirate's.
Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
1. Speak Spanish
2. Travel. Now that is pretty nebulous, but it would take more pages than we have here to list all the places I'd like to see.
3. Go on a mission with Plantboy
Three Things I Can Do:
I really hate these talent questions. I've never really had the kind of talents that are easy to list.
1. Teaching (except for how a computer works).
2. Write. Although the jury is still out on how talented I really am in this area.
3. My scrapbooks are nice, it is kind of an artistic outlet for me. Still, it seems a bit cheeseball to add this to list. Like I'm one of those Mollys with the big eighties hair and the appliques on my sweaters.
Three Things I Can't Do:
1. Hide my feelings diplomatically. I'm getting better at this, mostly by avoiding people who really annoy me, but I don't have to bite my tongue as often as I used to.
2. Stop myself from making comments in church. I'm actually working really hard on this because sometimes I think I am one of "those" people. You know who I mean, "Can't she just shut up? She wasn't asked to teach the lesson!"
3. Consistently keep a clean house or decorate very well. So even when the house is clean it is like, "This is it?"
Three Recently Discovered Musical Groups I Think You Should Listen To:
1. I love this new song called, "I'll Follow You into the Dark" which I think is by Death Cab for Cutie. There is a line in it that says, "If there's no one to join you when your soul embarks . . . "
I love this idea of embarking instead of departing or dying.
2. Keith Urban. I don't generally like country music, but there are a few singers I never miss. He is my new favorite.
3. How about old standbyes? Midnight Oil. U2. Matchbox 20. Journey. Eagles.
Three Things I've Done Which Were Stupid and Which You Probably Shouldn't Attempt:
1. Breaking an engagement. Wait, actually in this case the stupid thing was getting engaged to that guy in the first place. So dating the wrong guy is the stupid thing.
2. Attempting to open a bottle cap with my teeth. Yeah, I'm a rocket scientist.
3. Going in a strange man's house in the projects to teach the gospel. Let's just say that sometimes the Lord protects us even when we are disobedient, ignore the Spirit and are just downright stupid.
Three Favorite Foods:
1. Frijoles a la charra or tamales (I learned to make both of these while living in the Lone Star State. They are both so good it is hard to choose. The beans are best in real tortillas, the kind you cook and the tamales have to be steamed in real corn husks!)
2. Turkey steak cooked in homemade pesto with cream cheese-rosemary-parmesan mashed potatoes.
3. A homemade chicken pot pie in a real pie crust.
Three Shows I Watched As A Kid:
1. Sesame Street (that is why I'm such a liberal)
2. Mr. Rogers (this is why I'm such a geek)
3. The Cosby Show (I'm not sure what this says about me, but I love it.)
Three Shows I Watch Now:
1. Lost. I've seen every episode. It is kind of a religious experience at my house.
2. Shark (sometimes CSI too, but I've been missing it more and more lately)
3. And re-runs I love to watch--Wings, News Radio, Seinfeld and Dharma and Greg
Three People who Shaped Who I Am (I added this one--I'm curious about what people will say):
1. Mission President
2. Two different friends from high school--one for good, one for less than good, though I am mostly over that now.
3. My mother
Three People I'm Tagging:
1. on.the.run
2. forecast calls for rain
3. belly acre farm
1. Plantboy getting a job (hopefully I'll be able to report on this in my next post).
2. Moving into an actual house.
3 Having a baby (due in just TWO short weeks) and summer vacation--this is all wrapped up into one for me.
Three Books That Made Me Laugh Out Loud:
1. Eats, Shoots and Leaves
2. Confessions of a Shopaholic
3. Cold Sassy Tree (It made me cry too. GREAT read.)
Three Things I'm Afraid Of:
1. Global Warming (C'mon! Have you seen that commercial with the train? And the adorable little girl on the tracks? It is completely terrible. What about the documentary "An Inconvenient Truth." The science is very convincing.)
2. UFO Sightings (Four words: "Fire in the Sky." It is a creepy beyond all reason based-on-a-true story UFO movie. We knew a guy in Texas who knew the guys the events actually happened to in Snowflake Arizona. ALL members. Explain that!)
3. Hubby dying while my kids are young/miscarriage
Three Things I Love:
Okay, everyone will put family first on this list, but these should be three unique things about me, right?
1. Reading, especially on a rainy day or in the bathtub
2. Writing anything and getting letters back from people I've written too.
3. Washing my hair with Paul Mitchell's tea tree shampoo. Or even better, having somebody else wash with this stuff. And yes, if you use your imagination here, that is when it is REALLY the best. I could also include pedicures under this category. Pampering now and then is really great.
Three Things I Really Don't Love:
1. Doing dishes by hand. I've been without a dishwasher for 18 months and I hope it is something I never take for granted again.
2. Mushrooms. It is a fungus for crying out loud.
3. Labor. The first six weeks post-partum and the obligatory conjugal visit after the doctor says, "Good to go!" Starting nursing. Truthfully, I don't much like motherhood until about 3 months. So if you don't want to check back all summer it might not be a bad idea.
Three Things I Don’t Understand:
1. How computers work, or anything electronic really. And the wireless internet thing! That just blows my mind.
2. People that think they are being nice to their kids when they don't give them parameters and discipline.
3. How an egg and sperm is smart enough to grow into a human.
Three Things On My Desk:
1. Some papers that have been there for some time that I KNOW I will eventually need.
2. Pictures of my kids.
3. My lunch; that isn't just this minute. I've generally got something to eat or drink hanging around.
Three Projects I'm Currently Working On:
1. I have two chapters to finish in a fantasy novel, but I have serious writer's block.
2. Growing a baby; I don't have to think about it much, but it sure takes a lot of effort.
3. Two scrapbooks--a family one and the Poopy Pirate's.
Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
1. Speak Spanish
2. Travel. Now that is pretty nebulous, but it would take more pages than we have here to list all the places I'd like to see.
3. Go on a mission with Plantboy
Three Things I Can Do:
I really hate these talent questions. I've never really had the kind of talents that are easy to list.
1. Teaching (except for how a computer works).
2. Write. Although the jury is still out on how talented I really am in this area.
3. My scrapbooks are nice, it is kind of an artistic outlet for me. Still, it seems a bit cheeseball to add this to list. Like I'm one of those Mollys with the big eighties hair and the appliques on my sweaters.
Three Things I Can't Do:
1. Hide my feelings diplomatically. I'm getting better at this, mostly by avoiding people who really annoy me, but I don't have to bite my tongue as often as I used to.
2. Stop myself from making comments in church. I'm actually working really hard on this because sometimes I think I am one of "those" people. You know who I mean, "Can't she just shut up? She wasn't asked to teach the lesson!"
3. Consistently keep a clean house or decorate very well. So even when the house is clean it is like, "This is it?"
Three Recently Discovered Musical Groups I Think You Should Listen To:
1. I love this new song called, "I'll Follow You into the Dark" which I think is by Death Cab for Cutie. There is a line in it that says, "If there's no one to join you when your soul embarks . . . "
I love this idea of embarking instead of departing or dying.
2. Keith Urban. I don't generally like country music, but there are a few singers I never miss. He is my new favorite.
3. How about old standbyes? Midnight Oil. U2. Matchbox 20. Journey. Eagles.
Three Things I've Done Which Were Stupid and Which You Probably Shouldn't Attempt:
1. Breaking an engagement. Wait, actually in this case the stupid thing was getting engaged to that guy in the first place. So dating the wrong guy is the stupid thing.
2. Attempting to open a bottle cap with my teeth. Yeah, I'm a rocket scientist.
3. Going in a strange man's house in the projects to teach the gospel. Let's just say that sometimes the Lord protects us even when we are disobedient, ignore the Spirit and are just downright stupid.
Three Favorite Foods:
1. Frijoles a la charra or tamales (I learned to make both of these while living in the Lone Star State. They are both so good it is hard to choose. The beans are best in real tortillas, the kind you cook and the tamales have to be steamed in real corn husks!)
2. Turkey steak cooked in homemade pesto with cream cheese-rosemary-parmesan mashed potatoes.
3. A homemade chicken pot pie in a real pie crust.
Three Shows I Watched As A Kid:
1. Sesame Street (that is why I'm such a liberal)
2. Mr. Rogers (this is why I'm such a geek)
3. The Cosby Show (I'm not sure what this says about me, but I love it.)
Three Shows I Watch Now:
1. Lost. I've seen every episode. It is kind of a religious experience at my house.
2. Shark (sometimes CSI too, but I've been missing it more and more lately)
3. And re-runs I love to watch--Wings, News Radio, Seinfeld and Dharma and Greg
Three People who Shaped Who I Am (I added this one--I'm curious about what people will say):
1. Mission President
2. Two different friends from high school--one for good, one for less than good, though I am mostly over that now.
3. My mother
Three People I'm Tagging:
1. on.the.run
2. forecast calls for rain
3. belly acre farm
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Visiting Teaching--The Good, the Bad and the Indifferent
I need to share two experiences--one good and one bad. The bad first; it will shed light on why I have such fond memories of the other.
Here we are in the middle of a job hunt, a few weeks from baby, potentially needing to move and school ending. It is a little stressful right now. My VT calls me and apologizes for missing last month (I've seen her twice in the last year) and asks if I'm available Thursday. Well, no, thank you, I'm actually not. I have to go to the doctor, my husband is working in the evenings, and on days when I don't see my kids before 5 pm it is really hard to commit to anything else. She says, "Well, I guess (insert partner's name here) will try to follow up then later in the month."
"I'm free all next week," I'm nothing if not accomodating.
"We're moving next week."
"Oh, great; husband is done with school then?"
"No, he has a while to go."
"Are you changing schools?"
"No, just moving to a different apartment."
"Where at?" I'm still very friendly at this point, trying to get to know this woman who has made no effort to know me.
She then gives an address about six blocks from here. I hate to complain, but she has no children, until recently didn't work, her husband works evenings and she has been a student. Is she really so busy that she cannot come to visit? And, despite Sunday being their last official Sunday, is it so hard to stop by for 20 minutes next Wednesday afternoon to say, "You must be having a really difficult time right now. How can we help transition you to your new visiting teachers so that you have some help?"
I'd like to walk a mile in her shoes, but I'm swelling out of my own so badly I'm afraid I would just ruin hers and she'd have one more reason to dislike me.
Good experience:
Champions Ward split just two weeks before the Poopy Pirate was born. I remember this time vividly for some other events that happened. I also remember sitting through nearly two hours of "Sacrament meeting" in the heat of the gymnasium while my feet swelled through my shoes to find out which ward we'd be in. Because the ward was new, everyone was officially released. Yet, Jenny Scharman, my visiting teacher in shining armor who didn't miss a month in over two (or was it three?) years despite nearly alwasy coming by herself was there every step of the way. She stayed overnight with ManCub when it was hospital time despite the last minute notice. She made sure we had meals arranged for over a week when I came home, just days before Christmas. And were these officially "Parkway" women? NO! They were women who loved me and had supported me. In addition to Jenny's love, Sarah Berry was there to help with my delivery and take the most beautiful newborn pictures anyone ever saw. She called every day for a week to make sure I was okay.
Did any of them do any of this because they had been assigned? Again, a resounding NO! They did it because these special women understood in a remarkable way that Relief Society is not something you attend; it is something you belong to. It is not about ward boundaries and callings, it is about Christ entering your heart and changing who you are down so deep that you desire above all else to love and serve. In those few short days after my second son's birth, I learned about true sisterhood.
Granted, my less than stellar VT here in this ward is very young, and I doubt she has ever lived outside of Utah. She has probably never had a need for such service. Having not experienced such a time she is unable to understand the importance of lending that support to others. Perhaps one day she will, and she will never blow off a sister in need just because she moved two blocks too far to the south.
Here we are in the middle of a job hunt, a few weeks from baby, potentially needing to move and school ending. It is a little stressful right now. My VT calls me and apologizes for missing last month (I've seen her twice in the last year) and asks if I'm available Thursday. Well, no, thank you, I'm actually not. I have to go to the doctor, my husband is working in the evenings, and on days when I don't see my kids before 5 pm it is really hard to commit to anything else. She says, "Well, I guess (insert partner's name here) will try to follow up then later in the month."
"I'm free all next week," I'm nothing if not accomodating.
"We're moving next week."
"Oh, great; husband is done with school then?"
"No, he has a while to go."
"Are you changing schools?"
"No, just moving to a different apartment."
"Where at?" I'm still very friendly at this point, trying to get to know this woman who has made no effort to know me.
She then gives an address about six blocks from here. I hate to complain, but she has no children, until recently didn't work, her husband works evenings and she has been a student. Is she really so busy that she cannot come to visit? And, despite Sunday being their last official Sunday, is it so hard to stop by for 20 minutes next Wednesday afternoon to say, "You must be having a really difficult time right now. How can we help transition you to your new visiting teachers so that you have some help?"
I'd like to walk a mile in her shoes, but I'm swelling out of my own so badly I'm afraid I would just ruin hers and she'd have one more reason to dislike me.
Good experience:
Champions Ward split just two weeks before the Poopy Pirate was born. I remember this time vividly for some other events that happened. I also remember sitting through nearly two hours of "Sacrament meeting" in the heat of the gymnasium while my feet swelled through my shoes to find out which ward we'd be in. Because the ward was new, everyone was officially released. Yet, Jenny Scharman, my visiting teacher in shining armor who didn't miss a month in over two (or was it three?) years despite nearly alwasy coming by herself was there every step of the way. She stayed overnight with ManCub when it was hospital time despite the last minute notice. She made sure we had meals arranged for over a week when I came home, just days before Christmas. And were these officially "Parkway" women? NO! They were women who loved me and had supported me. In addition to Jenny's love, Sarah Berry was there to help with my delivery and take the most beautiful newborn pictures anyone ever saw. She called every day for a week to make sure I was okay.
Did any of them do any of this because they had been assigned? Again, a resounding NO! They did it because these special women understood in a remarkable way that Relief Society is not something you attend; it is something you belong to. It is not about ward boundaries and callings, it is about Christ entering your heart and changing who you are down so deep that you desire above all else to love and serve. In those few short days after my second son's birth, I learned about true sisterhood.
Granted, my less than stellar VT here in this ward is very young, and I doubt she has ever lived outside of Utah. She has probably never had a need for such service. Having not experienced such a time she is unable to understand the importance of lending that support to others. Perhaps one day she will, and she will never blow off a sister in need just because she moved two blocks too far to the south.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Nesting From Necessity
When the doctor said "37 weeks" at my Wednesday appointment, I kind of panicked. So today I am nesting. And not really because I feel that big energy rush that sometimes hits during this time of pregnancy, more because I don't have a choice. In the book "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever" the Herdmans are trying to understand why Mary and Joseph had to put Jesus in an old feedbox. Then, the oldest sister remembers they had to put the youngest sister, Gladys, in a drawer when she was born. My space-efficient apartment is cluttered enough right now to not even allow room in a drawer.
I'm so grateful that kids don't care, however. Mancub said the other day, "Maybe [the Poopy Pirate] and I will have to start sharing a dresser so there is room for the baby's clothes." I just hugged him and gave him a kiss. His clothes are already jammed into a two-drawer end table from my master bedroom set. In five years he has never had a proper dresser. Does he care? Of course not; he just wants to share so that we can make room for the baby brother he is already so excited to have that he laughs and wiggles every time he touches my tummy.
Back to my rearranging . . . .
I'm so grateful that kids don't care, however. Mancub said the other day, "Maybe [the Poopy Pirate] and I will have to start sharing a dresser so there is room for the baby's clothes." I just hugged him and gave him a kiss. His clothes are already jammed into a two-drawer end table from my master bedroom set. In five years he has never had a proper dresser. Does he care? Of course not; he just wants to share so that we can make room for the baby brother he is already so excited to have that he laughs and wiggles every time he touches my tummy.
Back to my rearranging . . . .
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
When You've Only Got 100 Years to Live . . .
I saw a great movie last night called "Stranger than Fiction." I think Emma Thompson is always fabulous and Will Farrell is great in this. I'm sure you all saw the previews--Harold (played by Will) begins hearing a voice (Emma Thompson) like an omniscient narrator in his life. He doesn't think he is going crazy, and the voice is just a major annoyance until it says, "Little did he know that his death was imminent," or something to that effect. Because the voice has been right about other things, he thinks the voice will be right about this too.
Unable to locate the author, he instead finds a literature professor (the excellent Dustin Hoffman) to help him figure out what to do. The professor helps him to see that what he really needs to do is make the most of his tragedy--in other words, to live the life he always wanted to live but never did. And then, when he has become the person he wanted to be, to embrace the death that is awaiting him--a poetic and meaningful death.
So the question I will send out into the void today is, "What would you do if you learned you just had three weeks to live?"
Personally, I'm torn. Would I strip the life savings to go to New Zealand? Would I stop putting off that sky diving trip? Would I go to the temple every day? Would I call every old friend just to see how they are doing? Would I take the train to Machu Pichu to see the city at the top of the world? Would I climb the steps of a monastary in Tibet, to learn what the universe wanted to tell me? Would I take treats to all my neighbors and finally learn the names of every one of them? Would I go to a Broadway play? Would I do my visiting teaching? Would I finally climb that fourteener I never got to the top of this summer? Would I go to Tahiti and take a surfing lesson? If it was winter would I snowski one last time with wild abandon down the steepest slopes I dared? If it was summer would I spend a day waterskiing until my legs turned to Jell-o?
OR . . . .
Would I just pull my little family close and love them and love them until they could hardly stand it? Would I cook their favorite meals every night and read stories all day if they wanted it? Would I take them on nature walks and try to give my children one last glimpse into my personality? Would I sing my favorite hymn over and over until they had it committed to memory? Would I be more patient? More charitable? More Christlike?
I hope that I don't die in the next three weeks. I can see I have much to do and much to become.
Unable to locate the author, he instead finds a literature professor (the excellent Dustin Hoffman) to help him figure out what to do. The professor helps him to see that what he really needs to do is make the most of his tragedy--in other words, to live the life he always wanted to live but never did. And then, when he has become the person he wanted to be, to embrace the death that is awaiting him--a poetic and meaningful death.
So the question I will send out into the void today is, "What would you do if you learned you just had three weeks to live?"
Personally, I'm torn. Would I strip the life savings to go to New Zealand? Would I stop putting off that sky diving trip? Would I go to the temple every day? Would I call every old friend just to see how they are doing? Would I take the train to Machu Pichu to see the city at the top of the world? Would I climb the steps of a monastary in Tibet, to learn what the universe wanted to tell me? Would I take treats to all my neighbors and finally learn the names of every one of them? Would I go to a Broadway play? Would I do my visiting teaching? Would I finally climb that fourteener I never got to the top of this summer? Would I go to Tahiti and take a surfing lesson? If it was winter would I snowski one last time with wild abandon down the steepest slopes I dared? If it was summer would I spend a day waterskiing until my legs turned to Jell-o?
OR . . . .
Would I just pull my little family close and love them and love them until they could hardly stand it? Would I cook their favorite meals every night and read stories all day if they wanted it? Would I take them on nature walks and try to give my children one last glimpse into my personality? Would I sing my favorite hymn over and over until they had it committed to memory? Would I be more patient? More charitable? More Christlike?
I hope that I don't die in the next three weeks. I can see I have much to do and much to become.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Whats the Deal With That?
This is a big line in Seinfeld standup from the mid-nineties. I think I've found an appropriate usage.
I cannot remember if the news in Houston was like this, (although as an aside, what is the deal with Marvin Zindler?) but there is a really interesting thing they love to do on the Utah news. This thing is called "on location."
My understanding of "on location" is that you send the news reporter out into the world to cover a story. Somehow, being on location should give better insight into what is going on with a particular newsbite. Utah stations, however, seem to think that any time they go "live" to a story it is improved, even if the story is airing six to 24 hours later.
I first noticed this interesting phenomenon a few weeks ago when they had a woman reporting from the scene of the accident. The only interview in the story is one that was taped several hours earlier and the only shots, other than her talking, were of things that happened earlier in the day. She did pause to point meaningfully to some glass shards you could barely see in the dark. Plantboy and I laughed about how silly it was for her to go out to this rough neighborhood in the middle of the night to do a story that could easily have been recorded at lunch time.
Two nights ago took the cake, though. The newscaster says, "Lets go live to Thingy (or whatever her name is) for her story on domestic abuse (or whatever it was)." The camera flashes to Thingy who is live, on what looks like the patio of the Triad Center, freezing her butt off in a heavy parka with the wind whipping the hair about her face. She then proceeds to give a very profound report about domestic violence from the patio--no interviews, no footage of her having been anywhere else, and the downtown panoramic in the background had nothing to do with her story.
????????????????
What is the deal with that?
I cannot remember if the news in Houston was like this, (although as an aside, what is the deal with Marvin Zindler?) but there is a really interesting thing they love to do on the Utah news. This thing is called "on location."
My understanding of "on location" is that you send the news reporter out into the world to cover a story. Somehow, being on location should give better insight into what is going on with a particular newsbite. Utah stations, however, seem to think that any time they go "live" to a story it is improved, even if the story is airing six to 24 hours later.
I first noticed this interesting phenomenon a few weeks ago when they had a woman reporting from the scene of the accident. The only interview in the story is one that was taped several hours earlier and the only shots, other than her talking, were of things that happened earlier in the day. She did pause to point meaningfully to some glass shards you could barely see in the dark. Plantboy and I laughed about how silly it was for her to go out to this rough neighborhood in the middle of the night to do a story that could easily have been recorded at lunch time.
Two nights ago took the cake, though. The newscaster says, "Lets go live to Thingy (or whatever her name is) for her story on domestic abuse (or whatever it was)." The camera flashes to Thingy who is live, on what looks like the patio of the Triad Center, freezing her butt off in a heavy parka with the wind whipping the hair about her face. She then proceeds to give a very profound report about domestic violence from the patio--no interviews, no footage of her having been anywhere else, and the downtown panoramic in the background had nothing to do with her story.
????????????????
What is the deal with that?
Thursday, April 12, 2007
You Can't Have It All
A couple of years ago I read a quote by a feminist writer who said that for all of the positive things that came out of the feminist movement (and there are some things ladies--even the most conservative among us would not want to go back to the 1950's), the biggest disservice was that it perpetuated this idea that it was possible to have it all. Many feminists overlooked marriage and children and are now in their 40's and 50's wondering why they are alone. OR, they attempted to have it all and now have these really dysfunctional kids who never had real parenting or daughters with the attitude that they don't want to produce grandchildren. You've got these really smart "progressive" women contributing fewer and fewer great attributes (and the genes to match them) to each successive generation.
Anyway, I've had some you-can't-have-it-all-moments lately. My boss thinly veils how over the moon happy he is that Plantboy has not found a job yet and may end up doing something part time for bubkus here in the Land of the Frozen Chosen. He is happy because this means I will be staying. He says every day how much they don't want to lose me. Yesterday, he offered me a study skills class I have been wanting to teach ever since I got on campus. They are completely changing the format of how they are offering it (to fit my "unique" set of qualifications) and want me to do all of the curriculum planning and have given me a budget for textbooks and disposables--my choice. To me, it is really a promotion. It means extra money, but it also means extra work. It was a real pat on the back for me professionally to get this chance.
BUT . . .
If I was the man of the house this would be an awesome opportunity. Instead, my heart is torn. The job I have here is the job I was supposed to get 10 years from now when my kids were all in school and I could stay there forever. I don't even think I'd feel so shaken up if I wasn't going to have a 3 month old baby next fall when school starts. I want to be home taking Man Cub to kindergarten; I want to be home reading to and playing games with Poopy Pirate; I want to be the one BabyPete takes his first steps to.
And I won't be if I have to work full time. Part time would be a great trade off, but that would mean Plantboy has to find something very close and very soon with adequate pay.
Don't get me wrong; I am so grateful for my job skills and my work ethic. My wonderful parents saw to it that I did not enter the "real" world unprepared. I'm grateful that if my hubby's full time employment has to be put off a few more months then we are not entirely destitute. I'm grateful for a job with such regular hours and copious amounts of time off. I'm grateful to really enjoy what I do since I have to spend so much time at school each day.
Sometimes, though, the things we SHOULD be grateful for, don't always match up with what we WANT. I know that my desires are righteous, but I also know that we live in a natural world and there are consequences for everything. No matter how great we felt about it, going back to school was a risk. No matter how ideal a job in the Denver area would have been for us, Plantboy was not the only one who applied and the world is competitive. No matter how much I want to have it all--, lots of time with my family, active in the church, service to my neighbors, and, yes, the successful career . . . (you all know the list), I can't have it all. NOBODY can.
Anyway, I've had some you-can't-have-it-all-moments lately. My boss thinly veils how over the moon happy he is that Plantboy has not found a job yet and may end up doing something part time for bubkus here in the Land of the Frozen Chosen. He is happy because this means I will be staying. He says every day how much they don't want to lose me. Yesterday, he offered me a study skills class I have been wanting to teach ever since I got on campus. They are completely changing the format of how they are offering it (to fit my "unique" set of qualifications) and want me to do all of the curriculum planning and have given me a budget for textbooks and disposables--my choice. To me, it is really a promotion. It means extra money, but it also means extra work. It was a real pat on the back for me professionally to get this chance.
BUT . . .
If I was the man of the house this would be an awesome opportunity. Instead, my heart is torn. The job I have here is the job I was supposed to get 10 years from now when my kids were all in school and I could stay there forever. I don't even think I'd feel so shaken up if I wasn't going to have a 3 month old baby next fall when school starts. I want to be home taking Man Cub to kindergarten; I want to be home reading to and playing games with Poopy Pirate; I want to be the one BabyPete takes his first steps to.
And I won't be if I have to work full time. Part time would be a great trade off, but that would mean Plantboy has to find something very close and very soon with adequate pay.
Don't get me wrong; I am so grateful for my job skills and my work ethic. My wonderful parents saw to it that I did not enter the "real" world unprepared. I'm grateful that if my hubby's full time employment has to be put off a few more months then we are not entirely destitute. I'm grateful for a job with such regular hours and copious amounts of time off. I'm grateful to really enjoy what I do since I have to spend so much time at school each day.
Sometimes, though, the things we SHOULD be grateful for, don't always match up with what we WANT. I know that my desires are righteous, but I also know that we live in a natural world and there are consequences for everything. No matter how great we felt about it, going back to school was a risk. No matter how ideal a job in the Denver area would have been for us, Plantboy was not the only one who applied and the world is competitive. No matter how much I want to have it all--, lots of time with my family, active in the church, service to my neighbors, and, yes, the successful career . . . (you all know the list), I can't have it all. NOBODY can.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Just Like Santa Claus
The idea for this blog actually comes from a very lengthy conversation my husband and I had on Saturday night. We've had some setbacks on the job hunt this week. Oh, and we have to be out of our apartment by June 1st. Oh, and the baby is coming on the 26th. None of this was ever going to be a problem because Plantboy would have a job, but now it is anybody's guess where we will be even a month from now.
That isn't really the point of this blog--that is just the background.
I have been thinking a lot about prayer and scripture study lately. Especially scripture study. Or rather, my lack thereof and the reasons for this. It didn't always use to be as hard to motivate myself as it has been lately. And, while obviously, I just need to get get more personal discipline and righteousness, I've lately started to realize something.
Keeping the commandments in order to get blessings is not the right motivation.
I think we have to be really careful about this. I'm going to make a list and you check them off if you have heard of them before, "Reading scriptures in the morning makes your whole day go better." "Praying and fasting about important decisions always means you will make the right ones." "If you pay your tithing, things just seem to work out for you financially." "If you do your visiting teaching early in the month, you'll have plenty of time left over for everything else." "The more obedient you are on your mission, the more baptisms you'll have." "The more you tract in the rain, the better looking your husband will be." (My personal fave.) "When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." Okay, I could go on (and on) but I will stop, you get the picture.
Now before you freak out and call me the worst kind of blasphemer, just think through this with me for a minute. Maybe your day goes better just because your attitude is improved--maybe the events are exactly the same ones that would have occured anyway. Maybe you'll sometimes make the wrong decisions, but you can still have confidence knowing you did everything you could to make the right ones. I can testify without a doubt, that things don't always work out financially when you pay your tithing, even if you do EVERYTHING else right; maybe your lesson is that you learn to eat beans and rice and it gives you empathy for others. Doing your VT early perhaps just helps you put into perspective what actually matters and you find time to do everything because you have taken some things off the list. Maybe, on a mission, obedience is its own reward, the one you can actually take with you to hang your life on, and a lot of baptisms sometimes has a lot to do with the charm and charisma of the missionary. Sometimes the window doesn't open. Sometimes you have to take a sledgehammer to the wall to get out of a difficult situation. It sure makes you tougher, but it would have been a heck of a lot easier to have a nice window to climb out of.
I'm not sure about the tracting in the rain one . . . my husband is incredibly handsome and I door knocked A LOT in the rain.
Okay, what I think I am trying to say is that if we are doing things to get the blessings, then we have really missed the point. I once had a friend who was an atheist. He said that the only truly good person was the athiest who did good deeds. Why? Because he had absolutely no thought of reward. He isn't waiting for a benevolent God to reward or punish him, nor does he have any expectation of Heaven. Interesting idea. It was nearly 15 years ago I had that particular conversation with that particular friend and I still remember the pause it gave me even though I was very young.
Elder Eyring once gave a talk on faith called, "But if not . . ." The point was that our faith often moves us to action, but if things don't work out like we expect then we cannot lose faith. I have done this recently. I think my loss of faith stems from thinking, "Wait a minute! Wasn't I promised?"
I think the resounding answer from the Heavens has to be "NO!" We weren't promised. We weren't promised deliverance from the calamaties that come with a mortal life. We weren't promised that we wouldn't be witness to and even victims of terrible tragedy and difficulty. We weren't promised that we would be able to overcome EVERY personal defect in this life alone. We weren't promised a big stocking full of presents if we were nice.
So what were we promised? Eternal life. That is the real promise. The Lord says that to get there we have to come to him with a broken heart and contrite spirit. That means humble, submissive, meek, patient, charitable, penitent, willing to put God's will first and everything that comes with it.
Am I using this blog as justification for my slack habits? NO. I think I have finally found out what my motiviation needs to be though. Reading scriptures, praying, doing good doesn't change God's attitude toward me (he loves me ultimately--no change is needed there!) nor does it convince him to hurl blessings out of the sky. My life is what it is: a combination of choices and circumstances that make me who I am and create my daily reality. What God will change is my heart.
I cannot read the scriptures and pray and attend church and the temple because I am hoping that Father in Heaven will send Plantboy a job and me a big fat house. I need to do all these things so that I have the courage to get out of bed one more day and go to work, even though it is not ideal. I need to do these things so that if there is inspiration to come I will be in the right place to recieve it. I need to do these things so that I'm strong enough to raise three boys to be missionaries, and to give them a smile and a cuddle every time they need it. I need to do these things so that whether I live in a trailer park or a mansion I can have a smile on my face and dignity in my heart knowing who I really am. I need to do these things so that I feel purpose and joy in my life, even when it is really not the life I thought to one day have.
Sorry about the two long blogs in a row; like Nem, my readership is going to go WAY down before it ever had a chance to go up. Anyway, if you plow your way through the above, make sure you let me know your thoughts on faith. I've been thinking about it a lot lately.
That isn't really the point of this blog--that is just the background.
I have been thinking a lot about prayer and scripture study lately. Especially scripture study. Or rather, my lack thereof and the reasons for this. It didn't always use to be as hard to motivate myself as it has been lately. And, while obviously, I just need to get get more personal discipline and righteousness, I've lately started to realize something.
Keeping the commandments in order to get blessings is not the right motivation.
I think we have to be really careful about this. I'm going to make a list and you check them off if you have heard of them before, "Reading scriptures in the morning makes your whole day go better." "Praying and fasting about important decisions always means you will make the right ones." "If you pay your tithing, things just seem to work out for you financially." "If you do your visiting teaching early in the month, you'll have plenty of time left over for everything else." "The more obedient you are on your mission, the more baptisms you'll have." "The more you tract in the rain, the better looking your husband will be." (My personal fave.) "When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." Okay, I could go on (and on) but I will stop, you get the picture.
Now before you freak out and call me the worst kind of blasphemer, just think through this with me for a minute. Maybe your day goes better just because your attitude is improved--maybe the events are exactly the same ones that would have occured anyway. Maybe you'll sometimes make the wrong decisions, but you can still have confidence knowing you did everything you could to make the right ones. I can testify without a doubt, that things don't always work out financially when you pay your tithing, even if you do EVERYTHING else right; maybe your lesson is that you learn to eat beans and rice and it gives you empathy for others. Doing your VT early perhaps just helps you put into perspective what actually matters and you find time to do everything because you have taken some things off the list. Maybe, on a mission, obedience is its own reward, the one you can actually take with you to hang your life on, and a lot of baptisms sometimes has a lot to do with the charm and charisma of the missionary. Sometimes the window doesn't open. Sometimes you have to take a sledgehammer to the wall to get out of a difficult situation. It sure makes you tougher, but it would have been a heck of a lot easier to have a nice window to climb out of.
I'm not sure about the tracting in the rain one . . . my husband is incredibly handsome and I door knocked A LOT in the rain.
Okay, what I think I am trying to say is that if we are doing things to get the blessings, then we have really missed the point. I once had a friend who was an atheist. He said that the only truly good person was the athiest who did good deeds. Why? Because he had absolutely no thought of reward. He isn't waiting for a benevolent God to reward or punish him, nor does he have any expectation of Heaven. Interesting idea. It was nearly 15 years ago I had that particular conversation with that particular friend and I still remember the pause it gave me even though I was very young.
Elder Eyring once gave a talk on faith called, "But if not . . ." The point was that our faith often moves us to action, but if things don't work out like we expect then we cannot lose faith. I have done this recently. I think my loss of faith stems from thinking, "Wait a minute! Wasn't I promised?"
I think the resounding answer from the Heavens has to be "NO!" We weren't promised. We weren't promised deliverance from the calamaties that come with a mortal life. We weren't promised that we wouldn't be witness to and even victims of terrible tragedy and difficulty. We weren't promised that we would be able to overcome EVERY personal defect in this life alone. We weren't promised a big stocking full of presents if we were nice.
So what were we promised? Eternal life. That is the real promise. The Lord says that to get there we have to come to him with a broken heart and contrite spirit. That means humble, submissive, meek, patient, charitable, penitent, willing to put God's will first and everything that comes with it.
Am I using this blog as justification for my slack habits? NO. I think I have finally found out what my motiviation needs to be though. Reading scriptures, praying, doing good doesn't change God's attitude toward me (he loves me ultimately--no change is needed there!) nor does it convince him to hurl blessings out of the sky. My life is what it is: a combination of choices and circumstances that make me who I am and create my daily reality. What God will change is my heart.
I cannot read the scriptures and pray and attend church and the temple because I am hoping that Father in Heaven will send Plantboy a job and me a big fat house. I need to do all these things so that I have the courage to get out of bed one more day and go to work, even though it is not ideal. I need to do these things so that if there is inspiration to come I will be in the right place to recieve it. I need to do these things so that I'm strong enough to raise three boys to be missionaries, and to give them a smile and a cuddle every time they need it. I need to do these things so that whether I live in a trailer park or a mansion I can have a smile on my face and dignity in my heart knowing who I really am. I need to do these things so that I feel purpose and joy in my life, even when it is really not the life I thought to one day have.
Sorry about the two long blogs in a row; like Nem, my readership is going to go WAY down before it ever had a chance to go up. Anyway, if you plow your way through the above, make sure you let me know your thoughts on faith. I've been thinking about it a lot lately.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
There Are Scarier Things Than Monsters
This blog is going to be a book review. And lengthy. That will probably put most of you off right there. But it is my blog, darn it, I guess it can be whatever I want it to be! My book club this month read "Twilight" by Stephenie Meyer. Now, just 4 days after our meeting, the sequel "New Moon" has likewise spread like wildfire among our group.
Both books are page turners, to say the least.
Meyer's plot is clever and fresh with a young protagonist--all of these things make for excellent popular reading. Or even good critical reading. She has certainly created a formula here that will no doubt carry her easily through the rest of the series; there are five books planned.
Now, here is where we move from book review to personal musing. (Again--my blog, my rules.) Maybe if I had read the sequel yesterday when it was sunny I wouldn't feel quite the way I do. Instead I read it today when it rained all and the snow has begun tonight. It is a good setting in which to read dark stories about werewolves and vampires.
Through both books I keep feeling this mild disturbance tugging at the fringes of my mind. I have been unsure about my disturbance until I neared the end of the second volume. Now, I have begun to put a finger on my trepidation and hope that by writing some of my thoughts I will get even closer to my faint distaste.
Despite the deeply romantic element in these stories (a thing that usually gets me sailing on cloud nine for days after I read such a novel), I do not find myself with a good feeling at the end of them. There is something so obsessive about the love the two protagonists share for one another that it is almost destructive. The Romeo and Juliet allegory in the second tome became almost unbearable. And while Bella, our brave and impulsive heroine, isn't so naive that she doesn't draw this comparison herself, there is a faint sense that she prefers the Romeo and Juliet story above all others, despite its idiotic and unneccessary ending. (No disrespect meant to Bill--I think he meant to point out Romeo and his Juliet for their foolishness.)
And I really hate what was done to Jacob. Since the beginning of the last book, I have loved this character. His connection with the earth and his vibrant humanity (even with his werewolf nature) have been a very bright spot in two otherwise very dark books. I think Mike's line in the second book when he tells Bella that "Girls are cruel," just about sums up a big part of this story for me. Some have complained that Bella is weak . . . well, Bella is human for sure. But she is frightening simply for the power she wields over any man who ends up remotely connected to her life.
Now, on a more personal note, another reason to find Meyer's stories somehow out of jive with what I can relate to. Many years ago I was engaged to a man I loved with everything in me. We were compatible in many ways and I was HIGHLY attracted to him. In my whole life I don't think I've met anyone with quite as much charm. I had a wedding dress and we set a date. (This week would be our ninth anniversary, actually.) I'd begun seeing photographers. And then he began dating somebody else--or did he just want to first and that was the reason we broke up? It doesn't matter at all now. Except for one thing: he left a gaping hole in me that Bella is so fond of bringing up in "New Moon." (The way she brings up having her breath taken away in the first; oh, and don't forget that she says "crap" about 20 times in the last 50 pages of the book. Not your most clever expression. Blood sucking vampires? More like holy s**t! Meyer doesn't shy away from the occassional damn or hell, which make some sense for these characters, but if the beautiful Bella pops out with "crap" one more time then I am going to start wondering what anyone can possibly see in her. But I digrees.)
Anyway, after this abrupt breakup, I did the zombie thing. My grades were impeccable that quarter. I went through the motions of every part of my life, knowing that if I for one minute gave into that aching explosion in my heart the hurt would overwhelm me until it crushed me. My friends and family spent months not daring to look me right in the eye for fear they would shatter the tremulous control I had on my life, or fear that I would start to cry and they would have to somehow find the right words to say--an impossible task. I know that I am not the only person this has happened to. Probably most everyone lives through something like this once.
Then, the healing started, even when I wasn't sure I wanted it to. Even when I knew that if he walked back into my life at any point during that time I would shatter to pieces all over again. I forgot his voice and his walk. I threw away 18 months worth of letters from him, willing the memories away. I recognized our relationship for how difficult and unhealthy it had actually been and I came to gradually accept that there might be a different path forward from the one I had expected.
And I learned the most powerful lesson of all: I was stronger than a broken heart. And while it would be a VERY long time (I even still dream about him some time) before I could let go of that last shred of memory and re-collect all the pieces of my heart, I knew that I would make it. I also came to see that what I really wanted to become was a happy, stable person all by myself. I never again wanted to depend completely on another person to fill my days with color. It is not fair to expect another person to complete every wish fulfillment; after all, I cannot do that for anyone else either.
Whew. Cathartic to get that all out. What I am saying is this--why are Bella and Edward so special that the loss of their love never heals? Why couldn't Bella have loved Jacob? Why couldn't Juliet have found a great measure of contentment as Paris' wife? At least then she would have lived! I want Isabella and Juliet and every woman to know the joy that comes from being in charge of their own lives.
Don't get me wrong--I think men are great. I love my husband dearly and we grow closer all the time. He is wonderful. But he is not a replacement for me. And any human heart can heal if we want it to be so and give it enough time. Maybe Bella is less human than Edward thinks she is . . . .
Still, the third installment comes sometime this summer and I am sure I will read it. *Sigh* I love a romance as well as the next girl, however twisted it may be. I guess I am as exactly as human the next 17 year old girl. Which, as Desmama said of "Twilight," that it painfully points out how much of that girl never left!
Both books are page turners, to say the least.
Meyer's plot is clever and fresh with a young protagonist--all of these things make for excellent popular reading. Or even good critical reading. She has certainly created a formula here that will no doubt carry her easily through the rest of the series; there are five books planned.
Now, here is where we move from book review to personal musing. (Again--my blog, my rules.) Maybe if I had read the sequel yesterday when it was sunny I wouldn't feel quite the way I do. Instead I read it today when it rained all and the snow has begun tonight. It is a good setting in which to read dark stories about werewolves and vampires.
Through both books I keep feeling this mild disturbance tugging at the fringes of my mind. I have been unsure about my disturbance until I neared the end of the second volume. Now, I have begun to put a finger on my trepidation and hope that by writing some of my thoughts I will get even closer to my faint distaste.
Despite the deeply romantic element in these stories (a thing that usually gets me sailing on cloud nine for days after I read such a novel), I do not find myself with a good feeling at the end of them. There is something so obsessive about the love the two protagonists share for one another that it is almost destructive. The Romeo and Juliet allegory in the second tome became almost unbearable. And while Bella, our brave and impulsive heroine, isn't so naive that she doesn't draw this comparison herself, there is a faint sense that she prefers the Romeo and Juliet story above all others, despite its idiotic and unneccessary ending. (No disrespect meant to Bill--I think he meant to point out Romeo and his Juliet for their foolishness.)
And I really hate what was done to Jacob. Since the beginning of the last book, I have loved this character. His connection with the earth and his vibrant humanity (even with his werewolf nature) have been a very bright spot in two otherwise very dark books. I think Mike's line in the second book when he tells Bella that "Girls are cruel," just about sums up a big part of this story for me. Some have complained that Bella is weak . . . well, Bella is human for sure. But she is frightening simply for the power she wields over any man who ends up remotely connected to her life.
Now, on a more personal note, another reason to find Meyer's stories somehow out of jive with what I can relate to. Many years ago I was engaged to a man I loved with everything in me. We were compatible in many ways and I was HIGHLY attracted to him. In my whole life I don't think I've met anyone with quite as much charm. I had a wedding dress and we set a date. (This week would be our ninth anniversary, actually.) I'd begun seeing photographers. And then he began dating somebody else--or did he just want to first and that was the reason we broke up? It doesn't matter at all now. Except for one thing: he left a gaping hole in me that Bella is so fond of bringing up in "New Moon." (The way she brings up having her breath taken away in the first; oh, and don't forget that she says "crap" about 20 times in the last 50 pages of the book. Not your most clever expression. Blood sucking vampires? More like holy s**t! Meyer doesn't shy away from the occassional damn or hell, which make some sense for these characters, but if the beautiful Bella pops out with "crap" one more time then I am going to start wondering what anyone can possibly see in her. But I digrees.)
Anyway, after this abrupt breakup, I did the zombie thing. My grades were impeccable that quarter. I went through the motions of every part of my life, knowing that if I for one minute gave into that aching explosion in my heart the hurt would overwhelm me until it crushed me. My friends and family spent months not daring to look me right in the eye for fear they would shatter the tremulous control I had on my life, or fear that I would start to cry and they would have to somehow find the right words to say--an impossible task. I know that I am not the only person this has happened to. Probably most everyone lives through something like this once.
Then, the healing started, even when I wasn't sure I wanted it to. Even when I knew that if he walked back into my life at any point during that time I would shatter to pieces all over again. I forgot his voice and his walk. I threw away 18 months worth of letters from him, willing the memories away. I recognized our relationship for how difficult and unhealthy it had actually been and I came to gradually accept that there might be a different path forward from the one I had expected.
And I learned the most powerful lesson of all: I was stronger than a broken heart. And while it would be a VERY long time (I even still dream about him some time) before I could let go of that last shred of memory and re-collect all the pieces of my heart, I knew that I would make it. I also came to see that what I really wanted to become was a happy, stable person all by myself. I never again wanted to depend completely on another person to fill my days with color. It is not fair to expect another person to complete every wish fulfillment; after all, I cannot do that for anyone else either.
Whew. Cathartic to get that all out. What I am saying is this--why are Bella and Edward so special that the loss of their love never heals? Why couldn't Bella have loved Jacob? Why couldn't Juliet have found a great measure of contentment as Paris' wife? At least then she would have lived! I want Isabella and Juliet and every woman to know the joy that comes from being in charge of their own lives.
Don't get me wrong--I think men are great. I love my husband dearly and we grow closer all the time. He is wonderful. But he is not a replacement for me. And any human heart can heal if we want it to be so and give it enough time. Maybe Bella is less human than Edward thinks she is . . . .
Still, the third installment comes sometime this summer and I am sure I will read it. *Sigh* I love a romance as well as the next girl, however twisted it may be. I guess I am as exactly as human the next 17 year old girl. Which, as Desmama said of "Twilight," that it painfully points out how much of that girl never left!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Saturday, March 10, 2007
In a New York Minute
My thoughts are heavy this morning. I just learned that one of my friends in Texas lost her husband to leukemia this week. She isn't much older than I am and she just had a baby eight months ago--her third child. Her oldest daughter is still in primary I believe. In addition, my mother told me of a family in the ward I grew up in who just lost their father. He was in his mid-forties and they still had a child in kindergarten. They were the cute young family that all of the young women in my ward looked up to--we all wanted to be just like her with her three little boys impeccably dressed and her pregnant tummy.
Many of the experiences we have in our lives shape and mold us, but so much of what we spent time on it just fluff. You know, the stuff we must do to survive, but not really live. Or the things that waste our time but don't really make us better people. Our own trials sometimes seem so dramatic, when in reality they are just peripheral to our the true purpose of our mortal experience.
As I ponder on my friend and the loss of her husband this week I hope to draw my own family close, to seize and cherish the moments that matter. My thoughts are many and varied this morning. I hope that you have been able to catch the gist of what I am saying. Perhaps a feeling more than a written expression.
Many of the experiences we have in our lives shape and mold us, but so much of what we spent time on it just fluff. You know, the stuff we must do to survive, but not really live. Or the things that waste our time but don't really make us better people. Our own trials sometimes seem so dramatic, when in reality they are just peripheral to our the true purpose of our mortal experience.
As I ponder on my friend and the loss of her husband this week I hope to draw my own family close, to seize and cherish the moments that matter. My thoughts are many and varied this morning. I hope that you have been able to catch the gist of what I am saying. Perhaps a feeling more than a written expression.
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