Jude's diet lately consists of these items:
yogurt
a daily multi-vitamin
crackers
bread
milk
juice
Welches Fruit Snacks
Sometimes dry cereal, macaroni and cheese or dry pasta
Yep, that about covers it. A well balanced diet, it isn't.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Guest Post
An original story by Simon, age 4
Raindrops
Raindrops were coming everywhere. Then Santa came, and then snowing came. And then a big number came.
Next there was an animal. Santa left when the animal came, and then the animal jumped away.
Next a BIG HUGE bowl came from the sky. Fruit was in the bowl! And then a big title page came. And then a big person came with a full belly like mine.
And then it was EASTER!
The End
Clearly, his character and plot development need some work, along with the fact that the story is called "Raindrops" but has actually nothing to do with rain beyond the first sentence. Nevertheless, I'd like to thank him for his contribution. There is an illustration that goes along with it too. It's hanging on the side of our fridge. It's basically two cyclops with two sticks for their bodies and what looks like a bird's nest for hair. I asked him who they were, expecting them to be Santa or the animal or the big person with the full belly or something. "No," he tells me.
"They're strangers. Not in the story."
Of course.
Raindrops
Raindrops were coming everywhere. Then Santa came, and then snowing came. And then a big number came.
Next there was an animal. Santa left when the animal came, and then the animal jumped away.
Next a BIG HUGE bowl came from the sky. Fruit was in the bowl! And then a big title page came. And then a big person came with a full belly like mine.
And then it was EASTER!
The End
Clearly, his character and plot development need some work, along with the fact that the story is called "Raindrops" but has actually nothing to do with rain beyond the first sentence. Nevertheless, I'd like to thank him for his contribution. There is an illustration that goes along with it too. It's hanging on the side of our fridge. It's basically two cyclops with two sticks for their bodies and what looks like a bird's nest for hair. I asked him who they were, expecting them to be Santa or the animal or the big person with the full belly or something. "No," he tells me.
"They're strangers. Not in the story."
Of course.
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Sunday Thoughts, and some pictures, too
I haven't had any Sunday thoughts in a while. Well, I'm sure I've had some thoughts, just not many I've written about lately. Also, it occurred to me today that I should really stop beating myself up for not being a scrapbooker or for even keeping updated photo albums. I am a blogger. So since I started this blog when the twins were 18 months old, I've documented lots of stuff, just in a different way than a scrapbook. It's less picture-y and more word-y. Just like me.
Anyway, back to Sunday. Church today. Message was about Elijah, I Kings 17 about Elijah being told by God to go to Kerith Brook and that each day ravens would bring him enough to eat, but just for the day. Eventually the brook dried up and Elihah was forced to go elsewhere, another place mandated by God where he was told he would be taken care of.
The point was that God met Elijah's needs daily, not weekly or monthly, so that Elijah was forced to trust God. Also, that God allowed the brook to dry up forced Elijah to move to his next appointment with destiny. Our pastor said that often God will lead us to a place of crushing isolation so that we can better trust his leading and bend to his will.
I dunno. I don't mean that in a cynical, eye-rolling, I'm-not-so-sure-about-that way. I mean, I really don't know. It sounds a little like the tapestry idea that chaps my hide. You know, the one that says that God is weaving a beautiful tapesty that only he can see, but we mere mortals just see the ugly underside. All those threads are coming together to form God's perfect picture.
The reason I get all pissy about that, as you might guess, is that I just can't accept that God causes or brings about the tragedies that happen in life just so it can all go toward the greater good. Maybe that is spiritual immaturity on my part. Maybe I should be willing to say that yes, God should wreak havoc on all our lives just so that we'll be humbled and crushed and better able to praise him and bring him glory, but I just can't love a god like that. It doesn't even make sense.
Instead, I like the passage a couple of chapters later where Elijah was told by God to go out and stand before him on a mountain.
"And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper."
I like the idea of life itself just leaving a trail of blood and bones and just really shitty stuff in people's lives, but that God is there in the aftermath offering peace and love and a sense of calm to a fallen world. I tend not to attribute any of life's happenings, good or bad, to God anymore. It's the only way I can hang in there with him. You may think this is shortsighted of me and you may think it's because of what happened to Seth. You'd probably be right on both counts.
I dunno.
And now, for some awesome spawn pictures from this past week:
Chloe, female spawn, finally celebrates her 13th birthday with a couple of her besties.
My two brown-eyed spawn.
Jake, Steve and I go on our first college visit. Graduation is looming for eldest spawn sooner than we think.
Anyway, back to Sunday. Church today. Message was about Elijah, I Kings 17 about Elijah being told by God to go to Kerith Brook and that each day ravens would bring him enough to eat, but just for the day. Eventually the brook dried up and Elihah was forced to go elsewhere, another place mandated by God where he was told he would be taken care of.
The point was that God met Elijah's needs daily, not weekly or monthly, so that Elijah was forced to trust God. Also, that God allowed the brook to dry up forced Elijah to move to his next appointment with destiny. Our pastor said that often God will lead us to a place of crushing isolation so that we can better trust his leading and bend to his will.
I dunno. I don't mean that in a cynical, eye-rolling, I'm-not-so-sure-about-that way. I mean, I really don't know. It sounds a little like the tapestry idea that chaps my hide. You know, the one that says that God is weaving a beautiful tapesty that only he can see, but we mere mortals just see the ugly underside. All those threads are coming together to form God's perfect picture.
The reason I get all pissy about that, as you might guess, is that I just can't accept that God causes or brings about the tragedies that happen in life just so it can all go toward the greater good. Maybe that is spiritual immaturity on my part. Maybe I should be willing to say that yes, God should wreak havoc on all our lives just so that we'll be humbled and crushed and better able to praise him and bring him glory, but I just can't love a god like that. It doesn't even make sense.
Instead, I like the passage a couple of chapters later where Elijah was told by God to go out and stand before him on a mountain.
"And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper."
I like the idea of life itself just leaving a trail of blood and bones and just really shitty stuff in people's lives, but that God is there in the aftermath offering peace and love and a sense of calm to a fallen world. I tend not to attribute any of life's happenings, good or bad, to God anymore. It's the only way I can hang in there with him. You may think this is shortsighted of me and you may think it's because of what happened to Seth. You'd probably be right on both counts.
I dunno.
And now, for some awesome spawn pictures from this past week:
Chloe, female spawn, finally celebrates her 13th birthday with a couple of her besties.
My two brown-eyed spawn.
Jake, Steve and I go on our first college visit. Graduation is looming for eldest spawn sooner than we think.
Friday, November 06, 2009
The Book that Never Was
A few days ago, a friend asked me about a book I had been working on for several years after Seth died. I laughed when she mentioned it. I had almost forgotten it existed.
I worked on that thing at a fever pitch for the first few years, fearful that if I didn't document everything I could remember about what happened and my memories of Seth's life, that it would be lost forever. I'm glad I at least did that. But then I had to take it a step or two further and analyze the whole thing and philosophize and act like I had something profound to say about any of it.
The worst part, the part that makes me cringe now when I re-read the manucript is how special I thought I was for having experienced our loss of Seth. As if I was the only mother who ever lost a child. As if I am the only person in the world who has felt that intensity of pain. I'm not.
In fact, the older I get and the older my friends get, I realize that virtually everyone I know has experienced loss, often multiple losses. From the death of loved ones to the loss of jobs or careers that held much of their identity, to the dissolution of marriages to the loss of health to children who have hurt them or who are chronically ill and just disappointments of literally every variety.
The more distance I have from our loss of Seth, coming up on 10 years, the more I think I don't have profound observations about that at all. There remains a dull ache, comfortably numb most days, with occasional flare-ups of overwhelming flashbacks, anguish of epic proportions. I have experienced great loss. Big deal. Most of us have; all of us will sooner or later. It's just part of being alive.
If I ever do write a book, maybe it will be about dog care and grooming or a travel guide or maybe a collection of dirty limericks. Probably not one about loss though.
I've lost all confindence that I have anything to offer.
I worked on that thing at a fever pitch for the first few years, fearful that if I didn't document everything I could remember about what happened and my memories of Seth's life, that it would be lost forever. I'm glad I at least did that. But then I had to take it a step or two further and analyze the whole thing and philosophize and act like I had something profound to say about any of it.
The worst part, the part that makes me cringe now when I re-read the manucript is how special I thought I was for having experienced our loss of Seth. As if I was the only mother who ever lost a child. As if I am the only person in the world who has felt that intensity of pain. I'm not.
In fact, the older I get and the older my friends get, I realize that virtually everyone I know has experienced loss, often multiple losses. From the death of loved ones to the loss of jobs or careers that held much of their identity, to the dissolution of marriages to the loss of health to children who have hurt them or who are chronically ill and just disappointments of literally every variety.
The more distance I have from our loss of Seth, coming up on 10 years, the more I think I don't have profound observations about that at all. There remains a dull ache, comfortably numb most days, with occasional flare-ups of overwhelming flashbacks, anguish of epic proportions. I have experienced great loss. Big deal. Most of us have; all of us will sooner or later. It's just part of being alive.
If I ever do write a book, maybe it will be about dog care and grooming or a travel guide or maybe a collection of dirty limericks. Probably not one about loss though.
I've lost all confindence that I have anything to offer.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Another Holy and Profound Truth
There is a whole lot of grace involved in parenting my eldest child right now.
What he deserves: beatings about the head and neck.
What he gets: love, in spite of it all. Also a few tongue lashings and revoked privileges, but love. Always love.
What he deserves: beatings about the head and neck.
What he gets: love, in spite of it all. Also a few tongue lashings and revoked privileges, but love. Always love.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Retraction
I'd like to take back that earlier post. I'm leaving it up, because that's how I felt a couple hours ago. Then I remembered what my verybestfriend Stacey told me a while back about the power of our own thoughts and about whatever I think of myself, positive or negative translates into how I am perceived. It becomes true. And, she reminded me that I have a daughter who I need to be a good example to about body image, health, positive thinking, and all that bullcrap.
So, I take it back. I'm trying to do better, S. I really am. It just gets the better of me sometimes. I think you figured out this whole thing years ago.
So, I take it back. I'm trying to do better, S. I really am. It just gets the better of me sometimes. I think you figured out this whole thing years ago.
Oh, Get a Grip for Cryin' Out LOUD
I just stepped on the scales.
Yikes.
I knew that the jeans were getting tighter. I could feel my energy level falling.
But now I have confirmed what I was afraid to face for weeks, no months.
I'm a fatass.
You'd think as a person who is fully aware of the finite number of things we can actually control in this life, that I take this particular issue by the horns and hump it into submission. So to speak.
But, no.
I swear I'm going to take up smoking. I've been threatening it for years. I need some other default for stress besides eating and drinking just won't do at all. Oh, sure I could try prayer or meditation or a consistent exercise program, but that would be too good for me.
Also, it's not just the widening hips and waistline, but it's also the face.
The wrinkles. The nose! Are you even kidding me? My NOSE is getting bigger. I took a couple of pictures of me and Jude at the preschool field trip to the pumpkin patch today and I swear, the thing is trying to take over my whole face. Is this what aging is doing to me?
And if you're like me, you've reconnected with about a hundred of your old friends from high school and college, ALL of which look better now than they even did then, and they looked pretty great then? How!? How do they do it????
Remember Kathleen Turner? Body Heat, Romancing the Stone, Peggy Sue Got Married Kathleen Turner. Total hottie in her day. I wasn't a fraction as pretty as her EVER, but Father Time has done a number on her.
Kathleen then:
Kathleen now:
Did you notice the expansion of her nose? I know that she has had some health problems which may have contributed to that. And Kathleen, if you're reading this, you're still beautiful in my book. Big noses, unite!
So here are some pictures of the field trip today, big nose and all. I'm trying to just get over myself, I really am. It is what it is. And it's not like I ever depended on my looks for anything. I wasn't America's Next Top Model. I wasn't a pretty cheerleader popular type in high school. I always got more attention for my sense of humor than anything else, bizarre as it was and is at times.
And I'll let you in on another little secret, Blog, since I'm in a full disclosure kind of mood at the moment: I hate when I gain weight (I'm not quite at my heaviest at the moment, not including pregnancy, but close) but I also kind of like it. I feel more comfortable somehow. Like cozy or something. The extra weight around the middle feels like it's supposed to be there, like that's how I'm made and fighting it is futile.
The self-loathing needs to stop. It's giving me more wrinkles. And besides...I'm good enough, and smart enough, and gosh-darnit, people like me.
Oh, well. My husband still seems to love me, so I've got that going for me. Which is truly nice.
Holding a baby chick
On the hayride
Bean bag toss
Yikes.
I knew that the jeans were getting tighter. I could feel my energy level falling.
But now I have confirmed what I was afraid to face for weeks, no months.
I'm a fatass.
You'd think as a person who is fully aware of the finite number of things we can actually control in this life, that I take this particular issue by the horns and hump it into submission. So to speak.
But, no.
I swear I'm going to take up smoking. I've been threatening it for years. I need some other default for stress besides eating and drinking just won't do at all. Oh, sure I could try prayer or meditation or a consistent exercise program, but that would be too good for me.
Also, it's not just the widening hips and waistline, but it's also the face.
The wrinkles. The nose! Are you even kidding me? My NOSE is getting bigger. I took a couple of pictures of me and Jude at the preschool field trip to the pumpkin patch today and I swear, the thing is trying to take over my whole face. Is this what aging is doing to me?
And if you're like me, you've reconnected with about a hundred of your old friends from high school and college, ALL of which look better now than they even did then, and they looked pretty great then? How!? How do they do it????
Remember Kathleen Turner? Body Heat, Romancing the Stone, Peggy Sue Got Married Kathleen Turner. Total hottie in her day. I wasn't a fraction as pretty as her EVER, but Father Time has done a number on her.
Kathleen then:
Kathleen now:
Did you notice the expansion of her nose? I know that she has had some health problems which may have contributed to that. And Kathleen, if you're reading this, you're still beautiful in my book. Big noses, unite!
So here are some pictures of the field trip today, big nose and all. I'm trying to just get over myself, I really am. It is what it is. And it's not like I ever depended on my looks for anything. I wasn't America's Next Top Model. I wasn't a pretty cheerleader popular type in high school. I always got more attention for my sense of humor than anything else, bizarre as it was and is at times.
And I'll let you in on another little secret, Blog, since I'm in a full disclosure kind of mood at the moment: I hate when I gain weight (I'm not quite at my heaviest at the moment, not including pregnancy, but close) but I also kind of like it. I feel more comfortable somehow. Like cozy or something. The extra weight around the middle feels like it's supposed to be there, like that's how I'm made and fighting it is futile.
The self-loathing needs to stop. It's giving me more wrinkles. And besides...I'm good enough, and smart enough, and gosh-darnit, people like me.
Oh, well. My husband still seems to love me, so I've got that going for me. Which is truly nice.
Holding a baby chick
On the hayride
Bean bag toss
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
New Celebrity Boyfriend
Once I posted here that Peter Saarsgaard was my celebrity boyfriend.
You know, this guy:
I'm sorry to say that our relationship has come to an end. It was impulsive to pick him just based on a couple of movies and a cute face.
I would like to make the official announcement that my new celebrity boyfriend is, in fact, a fictional character named Dr. Greg House. I have grown to love him over these past 6 seasons and I find him to be completely damaged, inaccessible, irascible, and thoroughly dreamy.
Note: These celebrity boyfriends are not to be confused with my actual, real life, wonderful husband of 18 years, also dreamy.
You know, this guy:
I'm sorry to say that our relationship has come to an end. It was impulsive to pick him just based on a couple of movies and a cute face.
I would like to make the official announcement that my new celebrity boyfriend is, in fact, a fictional character named Dr. Greg House. I have grown to love him over these past 6 seasons and I find him to be completely damaged, inaccessible, irascible, and thoroughly dreamy.
Note: These celebrity boyfriends are not to be confused with my actual, real life, wonderful husband of 18 years, also dreamy.
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