I finished a book at last.

Strange is our situation here upon earth.  Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to divine a purpose.  From the standpoint of daily life however, there is one thing we do know -- that man is here for the sake of other men.
-Albert Einstein

I finished the book.  In my own words, it's message: Society would have us believe that we find purpose and happiness in consumerism.  Earning, buying, getting.  But real purpose and happiness comes from service and close family relationships. 

I think I've always known that, but this book was a good reminder and a real-life example of a family who had a lot, and gave up a lot, and grew very close in the process. 

I declare myself inspired. 

Now maybe I can finish those other inspiring books that remain partially read.

Lent & self-restraint

Last year I tried to give up chocolate for Lent.  I did pretty well for awhile and then while in Peru I couldn't resist some chocolate treats.  It was a cultural thing, ya know? I didn't want to hold back.

So I decided to recommit this year.  My birthday fell on Ash Wednesday without me realizing it so I got started a day late but now I'm in wholeheartedly.  (Good thing I ate all those Godiva chocolates Richard got for my birthday in one night.)

Then I got a book in the mail from my wise older brother and his kind wife.  The book is called The Power of Half.  You can read a great article about it here.  In my birthday card my brother mentioned that Alexander Solzhenitsyn felt that what we Americans need is to better exercise voluntary self-restraint.

I have not had  made much time for reading lately and so I thought what better way to read the book than to exercise voluntary self-restraint in the process.  Terrible sentence.  What I am saying is that I am going to give up blogging for a week in order to read this book.  I would turn off my computer completely for a week but I do use it for some practical purposes.

JoJo out for self-improvement. 

relationships: revisted

I started to learn a lot about meaningful relationships and wrote about them after I was in Peru.  But I've been thinking about them lately. 

Sometimes God makes it obvious when He wants to teach you something.  I've noticed the same principle as a theme of various books and podcasts I have been reading and listening to.  That theme is presence.   Dr. Laura explained it to a woman by saying "You are not a human being, you are a human doing."  The book I mentioned before explains "Mindfulness is cultivated by paying attention -on purpose and carefully- to the contents of this moment."  I love that. 

But what I have been realizing is the way that this mindfulness effects relationships. I believe that happiness comes from quality relationships.  And quality relationships are established and perpetuated when you are able to be "present" in the moments you spend with others.  Listening.  Just being there.

I used to believe relationships were only worthwhile if they would exist in the long-term.  I also viewed relationships in a self-serving way.  How does this friendship benefit me? Both of these ideas were preventing me from enjoying some real pleasures and joyful moments. 

Even fleeting relationships can provide meaning and joy to my life.  There is a season for each relationship and the memories and influences of that relationship will always stay with me. 

Constantly wondering what the future benefits of present moments will be takes all the satisfaction out of the present moment.  Not only am I depriving myself of the feelings associated with that moment, I am failing to meet the needs of the person I am with.  I am not being for them the best friend/spouse/mother I ought to be. 

What I am grasping at here is that by carefully paying attention to the present moment I can be completely attentive to those around me, and by doing so I can find profound fulfilment in all my relationships.

I am also a sentimental person with a deep desire to maintain relationships from years past.  While I believe this is a good desire, it can also be a source of worthless guilt.  Another thing I have learned is that it is okay to let go of some relationships.  I can appreciate them for what they were when they existed and the benefit that they have been in my life.

Ahh.  That felt good to get that all out.

wally world

I decided for my birthday I really wanted fondue.  But we were out of fuel so after picking up Richard I told him we needed to stop somewhere and buy some. 

I really don't like Walmart.  But after going to two other stores that didn't have what we needed I got desperate.  I just needed the one item so Richard dropped me off at the front and I beelined to the back of the store to retrieve it.  When I returned to the front of the store I made my way to the most promising "Speedy Checkout" lane.  

After ten seconds I realized I'd made a poor choice.  The woman at the front was clearly abusing the "20 Items or Less" rule. Annoying. The line at the checkout next to me was moving much more quickly.  The gentleman in front of me, who had only bananas, noticed as well and glanced at me for my permission to move over to the other lane.  I smiled and he bailed ship. 

While the cashier rang up the woman's 30 (at least) items, a young boy played around with all the toys on the shelves.  His t-shirt read "Lock up your daughters" and his grandmother was repeating his name constantly trying to get him to leave the stuff alone.

Just as the cashier bagged the last of her items and the grandmother slid her card, the little boy walked up to the refrigerator that contained pop and other beverages.  He reached inside and grabbed some strawberry milk. 
"Put that back!" His grandmother called out desperately.  He stared at her and before she could get to him (I don't mean to imply that she moved quickly) he opened it and began to drink.  She laughed awkwardly and paid for the drink and went on her way.

I was validated in my feelings about that store and went on my way.  With all due respect Grandma, I know it has everything under the sun.  But sometimes I am just not in the mood for a lesson on charity.

Our fondue was delicious.

I don't want to think about it

Last night when I was in bed I started thinking about all the things I didn't want to think about.  I decided to make mental list of the things I didn't want to think about.  This was the list.

The Bachelor. (I hate that stupid show. I wish I had never watched it.)
Issues at work.
The mistakes the pairs made in figure skating.
My messy house. 
What time Miriam was going to wake me up.
The two little girls in Utah who died of pesticide poisoning.
Potty training.
That I should have gone to bed an hour ago.
How much chocolate I ate tonight.
How much I ate tonight in general.
The young man in Boise who killed his 8 month old baby and then himself.
If I had any clean clothes. 
When I was going to go to the grocery store. 

Luckily I fell asleep before I had the chance to really think about any of the things I didn't want to think about. 

Only one more night of being alone with my thoughts.

the first giggle

A baby’s first giggle is like an addictive drug. It provides a high so thrilling as soon as you come back down you start dreaming of your next fix. You go to extreme measures to experience it again. For awhile it’s all you can think about.

The difference though, is that the ecstasy doesn’t diminish after the first time. That is to say, with my third child the thrill was just as intense when I heard her first laugh as it was with my first and second.

would you rather potty train a child or... anything, I would rather do anything.

It is a terrible inconvenience to Eli to have his diaper changed. Even if his latest bowel movement is chafing his tender behind. Today he approached me with a question, I answered and he withdrew. Trailing behind him was an odor indicating a diaper change was needed. I picked him up, cautiously, and the following conversation ensued.


Me: Eli are you stinky?
Eli: No.
(Since that is a matter of opinion and he therefore had not yet lied to me, I decided to ask a more fact based question.)
Me: Eli is there poop in your diaper?
Eli: I don’t want my diaper changed!
(Still he maintains honesty by dodging the question. He has had many a lecture from his father about lying.)
Me: Eli is there poop in your diaper?
Eli: I don’t want to talk about it.

It is definitely time for potty training. Someone inpire me with the motivation to go forward. I hate potty training. It was what I was least prepared for as a parent when I did it with Cameron. And I still have scars.

generosity

Cameron has an issue with giving.  I already mentioned his problem with leaving the cookies for Santa that he wanted to save for himself.  Last month he went to a birthday party for a friend.  He was terribly troubled at the idea of giving the gift I had bought to his friend.  The only way I could ensure that he would hand over the present willingly at the party was to tell him that maybe he would get that same thing for his birthday in April. 

Today at his preschool they are having a Valentine's party.  I bought some little sticker books for him to give to his friends. Yesterday he discovered the stickers and his world came crashing down when I told him they were to give away.  All through lunch he whined and pouted.  I told him that his friends would bring him valentines too, but he could not be consoled because I could not say for sure that they would give him stickers.  Not wanting the focus to be on what he received I tried to reason with him about the joy of giving. 

"Cameron, instead of thinking about what your friends are going to give you, think about how much your friends will like the stickers you give to them.  You shouldn't be selfish and think about yourself, you should think about others."

He responded "Mom. It's hard... it's just hard... I just.... it is hard for my heart to think about others."

authentic bean dip

Richard and I love Mexican food.  We especially love Mexican restaurants that offer complimentary bean dip.  I typically eat so many chips and bean dip that I am satisfied and pack up my entree in a box and save it for lunch the next day.  I decided I want to make authentic Mexican bean dip.  (Turns out in Mexico they prefer black beans but Americans prefer pinto.)  In any case, I've always felt that chips and dip would make a fine meal on their own.  So we did that for dinner one night while Richard was away.  Not that he would object.  I cooked some asparagus for good measure and we ate on the floor because that meant fewer dishes.  One big bowl of bean dip, one bag of chips, and one plate of green veggie. 

This picture isn't very appetizing.  But don't be deceived, they were delicious.  And they are loaded with fiber and protein. And a bag of pinto beans is $0.74 to boot! I'll put a recipe below for any interested parties. (I also melted cheese on top.)  The boys loved it.  The asparagus, not so much.

1. Soak the bag of pinto beans in water overnight.

2.  The next day cook them by simmering them in the water for about an hour, hour and a half.

3.  Separate the water and beans and save both.

4.  In a skillet heat 4 Tbls. vegetable oil.  (The recipe I used called for lard, a tastier but less healthy option. I had no lard lying around so I used vegetable oil.  The second time I did this I used bacon fat I had saved.  Yum.)

5.  Add 1/2 onion chopped and 3 cloves of minced garlic to the oil/lard/fat.

6.  Saute until the onions are clear, about 5-10 minutes. 

7.  Add the beans one spoonful at a time, mashing them between spoonfuls.  I used a potato masher. It's important to do it a spoonful at a time so they "fry" in the oil.  (Hence the term "re-fried".) Keep adding beans until they are all in the skillet.

8.  Add the left over water the beans were cooked in if you have it, or just add water until they reach your desired consistancy.  They will set up as they cool so make them a little creamier than you ultimately want. 

9.  Add salt.  The beans need a lot of salt unless you are eating them with very salty chips, then you can lay off the salt. 

We only ate about half our beans at the first sitting, the rest I put in the freezer.  I saved those for Richard and he thought they were great after thawing.

the travelin' man

At Richard’s office Christmas party in 2008 he was given the nickname of the “Travel Warrior”. He was the most traveled employee in the Boise office. How he got to that point is a long, and probably boring story. But it had been a rough year, many weeks in Lewiston and Spokane. 2009 was much better but he still accumulated a fair amount of frequent flyer miles.


I don’t like to complain about his travel for three reasons.

#1. He has never had to travel out of the country to a war zone. Many married men do.
#2. We are still married. Many couples are not.
#3. He is still living. Some women’s husbands are not.

But I’m going to speak freely for a moment.

February 17th is my birthday and Richard will return home that night from his last scheduled trip to Spokane after completing his last busy season on the out-of-town client. There is a good chance that he will have to make a trip back to Spokane here or there, but as of right now he is only scheduled to travel one week for a training in the fall. I could not dream of a better birthday gift. It is an occasion we have been praying for for years.

Only women who have husbands who travel know how hard it is to have a husband who travels. We have always managed fine and been blessed to have good family and friends to help. I sort of settle into a routine and adjust. But as soon as he returns I am reminded of how much better life is with him around.

Last night we loaded the kids in the van and drove him to the airport. We drove the lonely drive home and when I pulled into the driveway I sat still for a minute. The kids were all unusually quiet and somber and I felt a weight settle on me. Another week of single parenting.

But it is only one more full week. It is the last mile of the marathon before the final sprint to the finish that will be the first few days of next week.

I feel so blessed.

I am so happy.

thank goodness it's Friday

Here's what we did last Friday night.  I highly recommend it, if you don't mind someone kicking you in the back all night.  (Richard was out of town, this was Eli.)

First we rushed to the Kuna library ten minutes before closing to get a couple movies.  I told the boys we had to hurry because it was closing soon.  As we were checking out the movies they shut off the lights and made an announcement over the loudspeaker that they were closed.  Cameron burst into tears, thinking we were too late. 

Cameron chose Sleeping Beauty and Eli chose some movie about a pond and talking frogs with some kind of moral message about responsibility.  (I let them watch that one without me.) 

We dragged my mattress out to the living room and stuffed ourselves with junk food while we watched Sleeping Beauty.  I love those Disney classics.  Then the boys's eyes started to get heavy so I put on The Cosby Show Season One.  Another classic that, for me, guarantees loud laughter. 

For the sake of those who keep up on the American Academy of Pediatrics recommendations on television viewing for infants and children, Miriam did not participate.  She was just around for the photo-op and then went to bed in her own quiet room, free of kicking toddlers. 

two months

I'm going to be that enamored mother who posts pictures of her baby at each month. 

I

can't

help

myself.

In accordance with our family tradition she maintains 5th percentile in height and weight.  She does however, have a smaller head than Eli as he was in the 50% and she is only 11%.  And although her eyes look dark in the pictures they are still blue.  The pediatrician says if they haven't turned brown by month six, they won't ever turn brown.  I adore Cameron and Eli's deep brown eyes, but I would be delighted if Miriam's stay blue. 

But you know how it is.  We love her regardless.  

time for an intervention

You know how it goes.  You start to slip into a bad habit, a negative behavior or a foul mood little by little.  Then something dramatic happens that jolts you back to your senses and you pull yourself up by your bootstraps and vow to wipe your slate clean and start afresh back where you used to be before you started to slip or maybe even better than you ever were before.

Or maybe it's just me.

But this is what happened to jolt me back to my senses.  Let me detail.  Black exercise pants, green t-shirt under an orange and blue hoodie. 

I've really let myself go.  I actually left my house in this get-up.  And what you can't see are the spit-up stains decorating the black knit pants with a whitish glaze. 

Sisters, don't judge. I will reform.

Let me guess, you think I look young?

(She looks so little on that giant hotel bed.)

On Saturday this little lady flew with me to Spokane to spend a couple days with this guy.  We left the little boys behind with Grandmas.

(I think c jane was right about the Avatar 3D glasses. But we enjoyed the movie.)

I love to travel.  I never grow weary of airports.  I must confess that getting a baby through security was enough to make me sweat.  Bag in crate, shoes off, shoes in crate, baby out of carseat, carseat out of stroller, crates on conveyor belt, carseat on belt, big heave and stroller on belt all while holding baby.  Then we walk through the detector and here we go.  Stroller off conveyor belt, carseat off belt, baby off belt, oops just kidding! Baby in carseat, carseat in stroller, shoes on feet, bag on shoulder and we're off. 

But aside from that I still get excited about flying.  I could write a weeks worth of posts about airports and travel.  But I will save those ruminations for another time and share with you just one story.  Traveling with an eight week old infant was like traveling with a sign around my neck that said "Ask me about my baby."  Here is one conversation that took place in an airport restroom between myself and a woman in her 60's wearing pink lipstick.

Woman: How old is he?

Miriam peers up at us from beneath a bright pink blanket.

Me: She is eight weeks.

Woman: Your first?

Me: No, I have to little boys, four and two. 

I know, I am older than I look. 

(I say this immediately in response to her disapproving expression.)

Woman:  How old are you?

Me:  Twenty-eight.  (I'm not actually twenty-eight yet, but I like to go for shock value with these people, the higher better.)

Woman: Oh. Wow.  You look about sixteen.

Me: Yes. (Thinking, the last guy at least said eighteen.)

Woman: Well, Lord bless you dear. I had four. 

It was a great weekend.  Richard is in the throes of his busiest time of year so it was a real blessing that from 4:00pm Saturday to 7:00am Monday we were together, just the two (and a quarter) of us. 

(An airport restroom is really a terrible place to nurse a baby. Come on la Leche League, at least get a chair in there.)