Hello, friends.
It's been awhile, yes? It's been a crazy while. We've had some really lovely times, lots of great family moments, including J's first trip to the ocean. We've had some wild times. We've had more than a few rough days. We've had a very full life over the last few months, and it just hasn't come upon me to write. I've had a few things come to mind, but mostly, I was just too busy living, thinking, or feeling to sit and write. (Though sometimes, writing puts that thinking and feeling in its place!) It did occur to me that you need proof there's more than gloom & doom on this little corner of the internet . . . I have a few ideas in the works, but for now, for those of you who are interested, it's back to my 33 things . . .
Just to beg some grace for my absence, here are 33 things that are happening RIGHT NOW.
(Well, not exactly in this moment right now, but definitely very present and current in my life . . . in no particular order . . .)
Showing posts with label mommyhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mommyhood. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
It's April.
APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
--T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
It's April.
And if you haven't noticed, I haven't written a thing.
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
--T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
It's April.
And if you haven't noticed, I haven't written a thing.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Chiaroscuro
Pardon me as I digress from Together on Tuesday and indulge my artistic side . . . the missing posts are pending,even partially written, but this is where my heart is now . . .
Palm Sunday in our Lutheran church is so different than when I was growing up. Back then, it was my favorite. It was a party. Celebration, dancing, waving the palms, all of that good stuff. We didn't enter much into the darkness of the Lenten season, but we loved to celebrate. At Bethlehem, the day is Passion Sunday. We begin with celebrations and hosannas and end in somber reflection on the crucifixion.
This year, on Passion Sunday, after opening with joyful Hosannas, my co-soprano and I sang the opening of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater before the sermon. Pastor read the gospel, from the triumphant entry to Jerusalem, through the trial and mocking and torment and misery, to the final breath on the cross. And then, we sang The Mother, grieving, stood beside the cross, weeping, while there hung her Son.
I don't think either of us fully engaged emotionally with this piece until it was time to sing it in the service. That was self-preservation . . . it's haunting, beautiful, and profoundly, painfully sad. And when we finished, both of us were visibly moved, as were many around us.
What could be more raw and real than a mother weeping . . no, wailing . . . for her son?
Since my brother died, nearly 11 years ago, this story has had more power than ever before.
Since I became a mother myself, I can hardly take it.
But Sunday, I understood the contrast of Passion Sunday, and of all of Lent and Easter, in a new way.
On Ash Wednesday, we say "The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." We then, by choice, walk together in a period of darkness, towards the light.
In art, chiaroscuro is the way light and shade play together to create dimension, contrast. In singing, chiaroscuro is the balance of a clear, bright, bell-like resonance with a rich, warm, velvet tone. Without the dark, the light is strident, white, jarring. You can't even see it, or you don't want to hear it. Darkness is a part of art, and darkness is a part of life.
As a mom, I am still working on managing scary intrusive thoughts about the world and my sweet little boy in it. I wouldn't have considered myself a fearful person before, but on the wrong day in the wrong mood with the wrong input, I find myself deflecting thoughts of all kinds of frightening dark scenarios. I have my tips and tricks for chasing them off, but my experience tells me that darkness is very real and often, in many ways, out of my control. When it shows up, it happens just like Passion Sunday . . . and it knocks the wind out of us, to put it mildly.
BUT. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. And that is the story of Easter. A mother, and a father, loved their son, watched him grow, watched him do amazing things, watched him struggle, watched him suffer, watched him die, and lived without him . . . and then lived a miracle, and watched him change the world.
It's so easy to live in the dark, or to live with a fear of the dark. Lent helps us understand the dark, find the beauty there, and face the ugliness head-on--with our light. And Lent always, ALWAYS leads to Easter. Every time. Even when we can't see how. Even when the worst possibility has happened. The light redeems the darkness. The light was here before, and the light is coming again. The light will win, every time.
So, at Easter, I will celebrate the light in my little one, and in my own soul, and in the hearts of those around me. I am grateful for another moment, day, year of carrying that light to the dark places, and I keep the faith that redemption is stronger than pain. All will be well . . . the light will win.
Palm Sunday in our Lutheran church is so different than when I was growing up. Back then, it was my favorite. It was a party. Celebration, dancing, waving the palms, all of that good stuff. We didn't enter much into the darkness of the Lenten season, but we loved to celebrate. At Bethlehem, the day is Passion Sunday. We begin with celebrations and hosannas and end in somber reflection on the crucifixion.
This year, on Passion Sunday, after opening with joyful Hosannas, my co-soprano and I sang the opening of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater before the sermon. Pastor read the gospel, from the triumphant entry to Jerusalem, through the trial and mocking and torment and misery, to the final breath on the cross. And then, we sang The Mother, grieving, stood beside the cross, weeping, while there hung her Son.
I don't think either of us fully engaged emotionally with this piece until it was time to sing it in the service. That was self-preservation . . . it's haunting, beautiful, and profoundly, painfully sad. And when we finished, both of us were visibly moved, as were many around us.
What could be more raw and real than a mother weeping . . no, wailing . . . for her son?
Since my brother died, nearly 11 years ago, this story has had more power than ever before.
Since I became a mother myself, I can hardly take it.
But Sunday, I understood the contrast of Passion Sunday, and of all of Lent and Easter, in a new way.
On Ash Wednesday, we say "The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." We then, by choice, walk together in a period of darkness, towards the light.
In art, chiaroscuro is the way light and shade play together to create dimension, contrast. In singing, chiaroscuro is the balance of a clear, bright, bell-like resonance with a rich, warm, velvet tone. Without the dark, the light is strident, white, jarring. You can't even see it, or you don't want to hear it. Darkness is a part of art, and darkness is a part of life.
As a mom, I am still working on managing scary intrusive thoughts about the world and my sweet little boy in it. I wouldn't have considered myself a fearful person before, but on the wrong day in the wrong mood with the wrong input, I find myself deflecting thoughts of all kinds of frightening dark scenarios. I have my tips and tricks for chasing them off, but my experience tells me that darkness is very real and often, in many ways, out of my control. When it shows up, it happens just like Passion Sunday . . . and it knocks the wind out of us, to put it mildly.
BUT. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. And that is the story of Easter. A mother, and a father, loved their son, watched him grow, watched him do amazing things, watched him struggle, watched him suffer, watched him die, and lived without him . . . and then lived a miracle, and watched him change the world.
It's so easy to live in the dark, or to live with a fear of the dark. Lent helps us understand the dark, find the beauty there, and face the ugliness head-on--with our light. And Lent always, ALWAYS leads to Easter. Every time. Even when we can't see how. Even when the worst possibility has happened. The light redeems the darkness. The light was here before, and the light is coming again. The light will win, every time.
So, at Easter, I will celebrate the light in my little one, and in my own soul, and in the hearts of those around me. I am grateful for another moment, day, year of carrying that light to the dark places, and I keep the faith that redemption is stronger than pain. All will be well . . . the light will win.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
ToT: Super Women!
I am fully aware I missed last week . . . it happens. But instead of being perpetually behind, I am just going to jump right in to this week and add last week's topic to the interminable list of
posts I've written only my mind. One day I will actually write it on this blog. Maybe.
That's the goal.
This week, in honor of International Women's Day, I had a few ideas . . . writing about women who inspire us, women's issues dear to our hearts, looking back at the women who came before us . . . a few others, too. But instead, we're going practical and light-hearted. Since I find each of our Together on Tuesday bloggers to be Super Women in their own rights, I wanted some of their secrets! And since we're all human, I wanted the shortcuts, too. I'm really looking forward to hearing what these ladies have to say!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
ToT: Happy Valentime's!
For me, having a kid has brought new spark to holidays. ANY of them. "Aww, it's his first President's Day!" (Being married to an historian has its quirks.) This week is wild. . . Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday, and Valentine's Day, all in a row. Bizarre.
Usually, Ben and I celebrate anything for at least a week. We have birthday weeks, anniversary weeks, Valentine's week, you get it. We're not terribly extravagant, but we like the little things. Usually, we would celebrate Valentine's with a fancy-ish date (often not terribly expensive), a cozy date, a cuddle-up-on-the couch date, a little gift exchange and some yummy homemade chocolate confection. We've even been known to escape to a little inn, just for fun.
Last year, we had an infant. Neither of us can remember what we did. We can remember at least 8 of our previous 10 Valentine's Days, but we cannot remember last year. Wow.
I know Valentine's is a "Hallmark Holiday," but I don't care. I don't have to give Hallmark any money to celebrate the love in my life! (Sidebar: have you noticed you can pay as much as you want to for a Valentine's card? I saw a whole row of $8 cards . . . at Walgreen's, for pity's sake!) I used to be more reserved about holidays, but not anymore. I've been known to send Valentines to grandparents, order flowers for friends, bake treats for the office, wear a red sweater or heart or rose earrings, that sort of thing. I like loving people, and I'm pretty grateful for the people I love, so I'll take the excuse to celebrate it.
This year, that infant is a toddler, and he is a LOT of fun. So this year we are celebrating loving him, and we have some making up to do for last year, apparently.
First, I bought some cheesy decorations. Peanuts, of course . . . the kid loves "Boopy" (who is quickly becoming "Soopy"). I got a Pooh Beah too. I splurged and spent about $4.80 total on these. Then, I got really fancy and made a wreath. (Something has happened to me as a mother . . . I used to be just about the least crafty person I know.) I love this wreath . . . simple and fun and wintery enough to use beyond February. Who knew. Then, we planned Valentine's week
My husband took me out on a real date, fancy wine and everything. LOVED it. It was a great night, much needed. And the kid woke up soon after we got home and stayed up for 2 hours . . . through his bleary eyes he said "mama be back," which tells me he was trying to wake up so he could see us and know we were home. Clearly we need to get a nighttime sitter more often . . .Anyway, that was a great night regardless. We have family nights just about every night this week. Tuesday I go to my work Valentine's party. (This is a party for our clients, young adults with intellectual disabilities. It's going to be a blast and I can't wait.) Then it's home for pancakes Tuesday night for Mardi Gras, imposition of ashes on Wednesday, and Valentine's Day on Thursday. I have a little something to give the men in my life. (I kinda rocked the husband's Valentine's gift this year, I won't lie. But it's also our 10 year anniversary this year.) We'll have a cozy family dinner and eat some little treats, and we'll share lots of cuddles and kisses and appreciation for how much we love each other. There might be a dance party, there usually is. And yes, Ben and & I will cuddle up in front of the TV . . . it's our Thursday TV date, standing for years now. (And it's his first Thursday since 30 Rock ended, so he will need some extra support . . . ) Friday is family movie night (in snippets), so J will get to watch more Peanuts Valentine's shows, and then Saturday his daycare has a parents' night out, so we'll grab a quick and cozy date after some time with friends.
Phew. Really, we are not fancy . . . though we are being a little fancier this year, to make up for whatever happened last year. We're just trying to celebrate all day, every day. As he gets older, I hope James can view Valentine's Day as an excuse to make sure people know they are loved . . . but I also hope he does that every day, throughout the year. To me, Valentine's Day is just a chance to make things a little bit special.
(Just Living tidbit . . . please consider fair trade chocolate for your Valentines this year, like Endangered Species (an Indiana company!) or Divine and or some other ethical brand, and let bakeries and specialty shops know they can do the same. We can love chocolate farmers, too.)
What about you? Our ToT Bloggers have some other great traditions . . . check them out!
Usually, Ben and I celebrate anything for at least a week. We have birthday weeks, anniversary weeks, Valentine's week, you get it. We're not terribly extravagant, but we like the little things. Usually, we would celebrate Valentine's with a fancy-ish date (often not terribly expensive), a cozy date, a cuddle-up-on-the couch date, a little gift exchange and some yummy homemade chocolate confection. We've even been known to escape to a little inn, just for fun.
Last year, we had an infant. Neither of us can remember what we did. We can remember at least 8 of our previous 10 Valentine's Days, but we cannot remember last year. Wow.
I know Valentine's is a "Hallmark Holiday," but I don't care. I don't have to give Hallmark any money to celebrate the love in my life! (Sidebar: have you noticed you can pay as much as you want to for a Valentine's card? I saw a whole row of $8 cards . . . at Walgreen's, for pity's sake!) I used to be more reserved about holidays, but not anymore. I've been known to send Valentines to grandparents, order flowers for friends, bake treats for the office, wear a red sweater or heart or rose earrings, that sort of thing. I like loving people, and I'm pretty grateful for the people I love, so I'll take the excuse to celebrate it.
This year, that infant is a toddler, and he is a LOT of fun. So this year we are celebrating loving him, and we have some making up to do for last year, apparently.
First, I bought some cheesy decorations. Peanuts, of course . . . the kid loves "Boopy" (who is quickly becoming "Soopy"). I got a Pooh Beah too. I splurged and spent about $4.80 total on these. Then, I got really fancy and made a wreath. (Something has happened to me as a mother . . . I used to be just about the least crafty person I know.) I love this wreath . . . simple and fun and wintery enough to use beyond February. Who knew. Then, we planned Valentine's week
 |
| I think this qualifies as my first craft as an adult, aside from cakes or party stuff. Had to add the gray, a little nod to the Buckeyes, of course. (Thank you, Pinterest.) |
Phew. Really, we are not fancy . . . though we are being a little fancier this year, to make up for whatever happened last year. We're just trying to celebrate all day, every day. As he gets older, I hope James can view Valentine's Day as an excuse to make sure people know they are loved . . . but I also hope he does that every day, throughout the year. To me, Valentine's Day is just a chance to make things a little bit special.
(Just Living tidbit . . . please consider fair trade chocolate for your Valentines this year, like Endangered Species (an Indiana company!) or Divine and or some other ethical brand, and let bakeries and specialty shops know they can do the same. We can love chocolate farmers, too.)
What about you? Our ToT Bloggers have some other great traditions . . . check them out!
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
ToT: Bucket List
Every once in awhile, it hits me that for all my perfectionism and detail obsession, I am not a long-term planner. I was not the little girl who dreamed of my wedding or being a mother; whenever I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I didn't have an answer. I can be almost neurotic about doing my best in the moment and setting myself up for success, but I'm not always sure what the goal is, for good or for ill.
So, I don't have much of a bucket list. Many of my hopes and dreams are intangible . . . world peace and justice and happiness and all of that. Some of my hopes are well beyond my control and are more about faith. Some are extremely mundane. The vast majority of my hopes are about the people I love . . . watching my boy grow up healthy, strong, and happy, seeing my parents thrive well into the years, living in love with my husband for the rest of our long lives, celebrating joys with dear friends . . . with family, love, and laughter all over the place.
That said . . . there are a few things I've always wanted to do, some of which I just discovered. (Thank you, Together on Tuesday! Check out the links to the right for more ideas.) Here is my completely tangible, and personal (not idealogical), Bucket List.
So, I don't have much of a bucket list. Many of my hopes and dreams are intangible . . . world peace and justice and happiness and all of that. Some of my hopes are well beyond my control and are more about faith. Some are extremely mundane. The vast majority of my hopes are about the people I love . . . watching my boy grow up healthy, strong, and happy, seeing my parents thrive well into the years, living in love with my husband for the rest of our long lives, celebrating joys with dear friends . . . with family, love, and laughter all over the place.
That said . . . there are a few things I've always wanted to do, some of which I just discovered. (Thank you, Together on Tuesday! Check out the links to the right for more ideas.) Here is my completely tangible, and personal (not idealogical), Bucket List.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
ToT: Last Year, This Year
Hello, 2013.
Last year was challenging, inspiring, surprising, healing, tiring, fun, so many things.
It was also pretty tough.
Last year was challenging, inspiring, surprising, healing, tiring, fun, so many things.
It was also pretty tough.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
ToT: Tradition!
So, today is one of those days . . . in a good way, maybe. My to-do list was woefully neglected, just a few things knocked off, but my kid and I had fun (stair climbing and dance parties!), I got a few calls made, and I got to spend a few short minutes with a good friend. No one ever regrets leaving a to-do list when they die, I think, unless those items meant something to the people they loved. So oh well that I still have plenty to do, right?
(Also, I am so technologically incompetent it is getting embarrassing. Am I the only one who can barely function on Skype these days? I have people to call!)
I say that because I have a slight tinge of guilt about blogging . . . I have work to do (for work) and things to do around the house, I have projects I'd like to work on (important ones like things for our Russian friends or the baby book, plus some little things like mending and stuff like that), I have a husband I'd like to hang out with, and I haven't done my nails in weeks. It's not pretty, people. But I'm blogging . . . because it's just a few minutes of slowing down and reflecting on the simple pleasure of holiday traditions. If you're among the lovely people on my to-call list, I am thinking of you as I write! (And if you can make Skype work for me, YAY!)
I love holiday traditions . . . most of ours are very simple, but the joy of sharing them with James who has new eyes for everything is enough to make me want to burst. When I was little, we always initiated the Christmas season with a decorating party. My mom made all kinds of little treats (cheese and crackers and cookies and hot chocolate and egg nog and simple, yummy things) and we put on our Christmas records (lots of great Choral arrangements, like the Boar's Head Carol and Masters in this Hall and Britten and Handel and all kinds of things) and we decorated! We weren't Martha Stewart or anything, but just about everything on the tree has a memory attached, and we took the time to notice. When we were done, we would cuddle up in our jammies and watch our Christmas shows. I have so much happy nostalgia around this, it's ridiculous. I knew that this was THE tradition I would carry on in my family, so we do.
We watch A Charlie Brown Christmas every year. This year, our Peanut is pretty excited about "Boopy!" so that makes it extra fun. And my mom's favorite, and I mean FAVORITE, is The Snowman . . . the wordless story about James, a little boy whose snowman comes to life for just one night. It's bittersweet, but mostly sweet. This was the first show our James snuggled in and watched from start to finish, and he has seen it quite a few times already. He loves it, and his grandma loves that he loves it, and I love watching the two of them bundled up in a snowman blanket to watch it.
There are other things we like to do . . . we have our Christmas morning traditions (brunch at home in our PJs and then on to Grandmas) and extended family traditions (New Year's in Ohio with a mini Christmas pageant by all the cousins) and I try to see all of my aunts and uncles and grandparents and cousins, too. We used to take the long way home after midnight Christmas Eve service and look at all of the lights, but we may have to adjust again this year with a little one in tow.
I am looking forward to new traditions as they emerge . . . how will James respond to the first snow of the year? Will he love the zoo, or the Eiteljorg, or the Circle, or Jolly Days? Will he dance to this ridiculous Cha-Cha Slide Santa from Aunt Marilynn every year? (So far, the answer is yes. Two for two.) I want to do them ALL. I don't like to force them, but I don't want to miss any of them.
This is the paradox of parenting . . . well, one of them . . . I want to experience every last little thing and document it and remember it, but if I put so much energy in to making things happen then I will miss the little things along the way (like impromptu dance parties and playing outside in DECEMBER, for pity's sake). Ideally, I would have a cute little photo of our decorating party this year, but I don't--aside from the ones in my head. Those are irreplaceable. (And blogging along the way will help, too.) In my dream world, I will find the perfect balance of making memories and living in the moment. For now, hanging our "Joy" ornament that we bought when we found out we were having a baby, or hanging the Snoopy and Lucy that were my brother's and mine as kids, or hanging the gifts we got for our wedding or in places we used to live or from around the world is as good of a holiday scrapbook as any.
What do YOU love to do every year? Check out the other Together on Tuesday bloggers for their traditions!
(Also, I am so technologically incompetent it is getting embarrassing. Am I the only one who can barely function on Skype these days? I have people to call!)
I say that because I have a slight tinge of guilt about blogging . . . I have work to do (for work) and things to do around the house, I have projects I'd like to work on (important ones like things for our Russian friends or the baby book, plus some little things like mending and stuff like that), I have a husband I'd like to hang out with, and I haven't done my nails in weeks. It's not pretty, people. But I'm blogging . . . because it's just a few minutes of slowing down and reflecting on the simple pleasure of holiday traditions. If you're among the lovely people on my to-call list, I am thinking of you as I write! (And if you can make Skype work for me, YAY!)
I love holiday traditions . . . most of ours are very simple, but the joy of sharing them with James who has new eyes for everything is enough to make me want to burst. When I was little, we always initiated the Christmas season with a decorating party. My mom made all kinds of little treats (cheese and crackers and cookies and hot chocolate and egg nog and simple, yummy things) and we put on our Christmas records (lots of great Choral arrangements, like the Boar's Head Carol and Masters in this Hall and Britten and Handel and all kinds of things) and we decorated! We weren't Martha Stewart or anything, but just about everything on the tree has a memory attached, and we took the time to notice. When we were done, we would cuddle up in our jammies and watch our Christmas shows. I have so much happy nostalgia around this, it's ridiculous. I knew that this was THE tradition I would carry on in my family, so we do.
We watch A Charlie Brown Christmas every year. This year, our Peanut is pretty excited about "Boopy!" so that makes it extra fun. And my mom's favorite, and I mean FAVORITE, is The Snowman . . . the wordless story about James, a little boy whose snowman comes to life for just one night. It's bittersweet, but mostly sweet. This was the first show our James snuggled in and watched from start to finish, and he has seen it quite a few times already. He loves it, and his grandma loves that he loves it, and I love watching the two of them bundled up in a snowman blanket to watch it.
 |
| {From The Snowman by Raymond Briggs} |
I am looking forward to new traditions as they emerge . . . how will James respond to the first snow of the year? Will he love the zoo, or the Eiteljorg, or the Circle, or Jolly Days? Will he dance to this ridiculous Cha-Cha Slide Santa from Aunt Marilynn every year? (So far, the answer is yes. Two for two.) I want to do them ALL. I don't like to force them, but I don't want to miss any of them.
This is the paradox of parenting . . . well, one of them . . . I want to experience every last little thing and document it and remember it, but if I put so much energy in to making things happen then I will miss the little things along the way (like impromptu dance parties and playing outside in DECEMBER, for pity's sake). Ideally, I would have a cute little photo of our decorating party this year, but I don't--aside from the ones in my head. Those are irreplaceable. (And blogging along the way will help, too.) In my dream world, I will find the perfect balance of making memories and living in the moment. For now, hanging our "Joy" ornament that we bought when we found out we were having a baby, or hanging the Snoopy and Lucy that were my brother's and mine as kids, or hanging the gifts we got for our wedding or in places we used to live or from around the world is as good of a holiday scrapbook as any.
What do YOU love to do every year? Check out the other Together on Tuesday bloggers for their traditions!
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
33 Things
Hello, old friends.
I've missed writing. I have been occupied with other things. I left a job I loved for a job that was a better fit for my family and my life, and the transition took a lot of energy. We are settling in now and I am so thankful for the opportunity to do what I love and care for my family at the same time. But more about that later.
Danielle at My Peaches and Cream wrote a few weeks back about how hard it is to blog when all this heavy-duty life is going on all around you. I've been living that lately. Lots of serious stuff in lots of places, and our little family keeps trying to share the love where it needs to be shared. It feels silly to sit and type when real life is happening--except that real life is always happening, and writing helps keep me sane.
So, I'm back. At least for now. I'm squeezing this in a small window between rushing home from a rehearsal and hanging out with my husband. And my heart is full, full, full for a dear friend and her family who are grieving a tremendous loss. And I'm getting old, people. In the spirit of my pending 33rd birthday, and in in the interest of writing at all, I give you 33 Things.
1. Life is amazing.
2. A wise woman once told me we never feel we have enough time with the people we love.
3. Think about that as you decide what's important to do RIGHT NOW. Today. Tomorrow.
4. Also, all of the time we get with the beautiful people placed in our lives is a gift.
5. I have always thought people deserve respect just for being human.
6. That includes people who are different from us.
7. There are good, kind, intelligent, caring people on all sides of any issue.
8. There are people who get the brunt of other people's frustration far too often.
9. Those are the people I feel drawn to protect.
10. They probably don't need my protection--they have done just fine without me for a long time.
11. So instead, I will constantly work for what I believe is just and true.
12. And, I will constantly look around, listen to other people, and learn about what justice and truth really mean.
13. That's what I love about being a social worker.
14. I hope I can be the kind of mom whose children grow up knowing integrity, compassion, and courage.
15. If people were as engaged in service as they are in political rhetoric, the world would be a better place.
16. I am extremely grateful for my parents.
17. I am extremely grateful for my friends.
18. I am extremely grateful for my mind and education.
19. I am extremely humbled and grateful that I continue to grow and change.
20. My mom said a few years back that there is no reason the coming years can't be the happiest of our lives.
21. That was a big deal, because we have a big hole in our family that will never be filled.
22. I thought that was a pretty courageous statement.
23. I think that's what hope means.
24. I'm glad my husband challenges me.
25. Being a mother challenges me in ways I never could have conceived before.
26. Watching my child grow is ridiculous and inspiring and humbling and fascinating and joyful.
27. I guess I have been feeling soulful these days.
28. Impermanence is the only permanence.
29. It is an honor to grow older.
30. I wonder if being an adult means there is more heavy-duty life going on around us all the time.
31. Maybe that's why there are children--to bring the joy and light.
32. I love my boy so much it hurts. Really.
33. In honor of a dear friend:
"I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, only more love."
I've missed writing. I have been occupied with other things. I left a job I loved for a job that was a better fit for my family and my life, and the transition took a lot of energy. We are settling in now and I am so thankful for the opportunity to do what I love and care for my family at the same time. But more about that later.
Danielle at My Peaches and Cream wrote a few weeks back about how hard it is to blog when all this heavy-duty life is going on all around you. I've been living that lately. Lots of serious stuff in lots of places, and our little family keeps trying to share the love where it needs to be shared. It feels silly to sit and type when real life is happening--except that real life is always happening, and writing helps keep me sane.
So, I'm back. At least for now. I'm squeezing this in a small window between rushing home from a rehearsal and hanging out with my husband. And my heart is full, full, full for a dear friend and her family who are grieving a tremendous loss. And I'm getting old, people. In the spirit of my pending 33rd birthday, and in in the interest of writing at all, I give you 33 Things.
1. Life is amazing.
2. A wise woman once told me we never feel we have enough time with the people we love.
3. Think about that as you decide what's important to do RIGHT NOW. Today. Tomorrow.
4. Also, all of the time we get with the beautiful people placed in our lives is a gift.
5. I have always thought people deserve respect just for being human.
6. That includes people who are different from us.
7. There are good, kind, intelligent, caring people on all sides of any issue.
8. There are people who get the brunt of other people's frustration far too often.
9. Those are the people I feel drawn to protect.
10. They probably don't need my protection--they have done just fine without me for a long time.
11. So instead, I will constantly work for what I believe is just and true.
12. And, I will constantly look around, listen to other people, and learn about what justice and truth really mean.
13. That's what I love about being a social worker.
14. I hope I can be the kind of mom whose children grow up knowing integrity, compassion, and courage.
15. If people were as engaged in service as they are in political rhetoric, the world would be a better place.
16. I am extremely grateful for my parents.
17. I am extremely grateful for my friends.
18. I am extremely grateful for my mind and education.
19. I am extremely humbled and grateful that I continue to grow and change.
20. My mom said a few years back that there is no reason the coming years can't be the happiest of our lives.
21. That was a big deal, because we have a big hole in our family that will never be filled.
22. I thought that was a pretty courageous statement.
23. I think that's what hope means.
24. I'm glad my husband challenges me.
25. Being a mother challenges me in ways I never could have conceived before.
26. Watching my child grow is ridiculous and inspiring and humbling and fascinating and joyful.
27. I guess I have been feeling soulful these days.
28. Impermanence is the only permanence.
29. It is an honor to grow older.
30. I wonder if being an adult means there is more heavy-duty life going on around us all the time.
31. Maybe that's why there are children--to bring the joy and light.
32. I love my boy so much it hurts. Really.
33. In honor of a dear friend:
"I have found the paradox that if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, only more love."
~Mother Teresa
Another day, I'll be back with a lighter heart. For now, my heart is grateful for my mama, my family, my friends. I'm a lucky one.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
ToT: Alias
One of the fun parts of this Together on Tuesday gig is we write about things we wouldn't think of on our own, and we get to know some other ladies while we do. Really, if you're thinking it looks fun, you're right, it is. Plenty of bloggers jump in and out as they can, so there's no pressure. For me it provides a good reason to take the time to write, which is something I love to do that keeps me sane. So there's another plug. If you're interested, join us! Contact one of the bloggers on the list to the right and we can pull you in.
This week: nicknames. I've seen that these terms of endearment can speak to the intimacy and affection in a relationship. Interesting . . . because I've never had too many. (And it's definitely not cute when strangers offer Sweetie Pie and Honey and whatever, so that theory doesn't always hold, I guess.) (And now I am wondering . . . what if I actually do have lots of nicknames, but the kind that no one tells you about? Hmmm . . .)
With a classic and popular name like Sarah, you would think there would be more, but Sarah Barah never really stuck. I've had a few, though. My mom used to call me Punkin, and I might hear Little Bit now and again when I'm sick (which I was a good part of last year, so I heard it a lot!). Sarahbeth is the usual, though. My grandpa calls me Sally--he's old school. Every once in awhile Ben has a few cutesy names for me, like Sarie Strawberry or something. (Ha, I've outed you!) And I have a whole string of nicknames for him, some old and some new . . . Butch, Binj, Vernon, Lewis, and a few others I'll protect. Genna used to be a big one . . . our Russian friends named Ben Gennadiy, Genna for short, because Venyamin was "too old-fashioned."
I was just reminded of Fred. For some reason, Nancy and I went through a phase where we called everyone Fred. Each other, our parents, our siblings, strangers, everyone. I don't know why--and I expect I started it. To this day, her parents and some of their friends still call me Fred.
Our baby boy has a slew of nicknames, too. Sweet Baby James has been popular, as has J (and many variations), Baby J, Big Boy, Baby Boy, Little Guy, Jamesie, James A, Stinks McGillicutty, just about anything that comes out of my mouth. He has his Butch moments, too. But his main nickname: Peanut. Peanut Butter, Peanut Sauce, Peanut Head, or just Peanut. Because he's Our Peanut.
Who knows if it will stick. He's quickly outgrowing his Peanut stature, but he held onto it for a good run there at the beginning. I'll never forget when one of my music teachers told me I was no bigger than a peanut . . . even though I was 20 . . .and it sure seemed true for him at the beginning. But now, he's a big lug. Something tells me he will still be my Peanut when he's long passed my peanut-sized self. Lucky me.
This week: nicknames. I've seen that these terms of endearment can speak to the intimacy and affection in a relationship. Interesting . . . because I've never had too many. (And it's definitely not cute when strangers offer Sweetie Pie and Honey and whatever, so that theory doesn't always hold, I guess.) (And now I am wondering . . . what if I actually do have lots of nicknames, but the kind that no one tells you about? Hmmm . . .)
With a classic and popular name like Sarah, you would think there would be more, but Sarah Barah never really stuck. I've had a few, though. My mom used to call me Punkin, and I might hear Little Bit now and again when I'm sick (which I was a good part of last year, so I heard it a lot!). Sarahbeth is the usual, though. My grandpa calls me Sally--he's old school. Every once in awhile Ben has a few cutesy names for me, like Sarie Strawberry or something. (Ha, I've outed you!) And I have a whole string of nicknames for him, some old and some new . . . Butch, Binj, Vernon, Lewis, and a few others I'll protect. Genna used to be a big one . . . our Russian friends named Ben Gennadiy, Genna for short, because Venyamin was "too old-fashioned."
I was just reminded of Fred. For some reason, Nancy and I went through a phase where we called everyone Fred. Each other, our parents, our siblings, strangers, everyone. I don't know why--and I expect I started it. To this day, her parents and some of their friends still call me Fred.
Our baby boy has a slew of nicknames, too. Sweet Baby James has been popular, as has J (and many variations), Baby J, Big Boy, Baby Boy, Little Guy, Jamesie, James A, Stinks McGillicutty, just about anything that comes out of my mouth. He has his Butch moments, too. But his main nickname: Peanut. Peanut Butter, Peanut Sauce, Peanut Head, or just Peanut. Because he's Our Peanut.
 |
| My sweet, thoughtful Peanut. Thanks, Purple Peaches! |
Who knows if it will stick. He's quickly outgrowing his Peanut stature, but he held onto it for a good run there at the beginning. I'll never forget when one of my music teachers told me I was no bigger than a peanut . . . even though I was 20 . . .and it sure seemed true for him at the beginning. But now, he's a big lug. Something tells me he will still be my Peanut when he's long passed my peanut-sized self. Lucky me.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
ToT: Laundry List
If you haven't noticed, my fellow Together on Tuesday bloggers are pretty busy. There have been vacations, moves, babies on the way, and just craziness in life. I have been enjoying my Monday evening blogging pomodoro as part of the rhythm of my week, and I'm pretty proud of that--though there will be some hiatus in the future. (Yep, I blog for Tuesdays on Monday. Sue me.) Anywho, in deference to playing catch-up, and with regards to the great Carla Morgan (from whom I stole the idea), I give you the Laundry List.
(Which, as we discussed on Carla's private blog, doesn't make much sense. Who lists their laundry? Then I remembered I did list my laundry . . . when Hotel Tsentralnaya washed and ironed ALL my clothes--underwear and socks too--on a visit to Kirov, Russia. So that's what a real laundry list is.)
(Which, as we discussed on Carla's private blog, doesn't make much sense. Who lists their laundry? Then I remembered I did list my laundry . . . when Hotel Tsentralnaya washed and ironed ALL my clothes--underwear and socks too--on a visit to Kirov, Russia. So that's what a real laundry list is.)
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