Life Downside Up

More Toddler Notes

2011-12-20T13:00:00.000-05:00

Scribbling these down electronically so I won't forget them, ever ...

- Anne loves parmesan cheese. She calls it "Paw Paw cheese."

- Every night, she and I snuggle up in our new oversized armchair and read. When she's ready for her reading session, she comes to me and says, "Mommy, book-a-couch?" If she wants to read in bed later, she says, "book-a-bed?"

- Like clockwork, she started over-using the words "no" and "mine" on her second birthday. Weird.

- "Mommy stay." That's what she says whenever I tell her I have to leave for work. Breaks my heart.

- "Mommy, no puter!" That's what she says whenever I take out my laptop. I'm taking the hint and trying not to do computer work when I could be playing with her.

- "No bath." "No brush teeth." "No water." "No food." It's as if she's decided to insert "no" in front of every word in her vocabulary. (Every word except "chocolate cake.")

- Last night, she was working on some puzzles she'd gotten for her birthday. They are a little advanced for her, and she was having some trouble figuring them out. She'd get a couple of pieces, and then she'd get stumped. "Can you find the piece with the monkey on it?" I would ask helpfully. She would think a minute, and then turn and pick up a different puzzle. "Maybe here?" "Maybe this one?" (I think this was her way of subtly hinting that she wanted to do a different puzzle.)

- Her most requested food is chocolate cake. Her most requested drink is orange juice. She is definitely her mother's child. I probably got her addicted to OJ while she was in the womb because I drank gallons of it throughout my pregnancy.

- This morning, she wanted to bring her blanket downstairs. Since I didn't want her tripping over the blanket on the steps, I offered to help her carry it. "Okay," she agreed, and held up a corner of the blanket. "I carry this part." Dan and I just looked at each other. I'm not sure why that seems more advanced than all the other sentences she's uttered so far, but it does.

- She's moved up to the two-year-old class at preschool. She's now tinier and younger than all her classmates. She seems to be doing pretty well, though. Intellectually, it's a better fit for her. (Is it proper to use the word "intellectually" when referring to a two-year-old's mind?)

That's all I can think of for now. I'm sure I'll write more later.

A Couple of Pictures

2011-12-19T12:57:00.000-05:00


Anne with her birthday cake

Crawling in her tunnel, a present from GG and Paw Paw

Ready To Start Living Again

2011-12-16T23:57:00.000-05:00

Anne’s school semester ended today. My school semester ended last Monday. My tech writing job ends on Wednesday.

I am so ready to start living again.

Tomorrow is Anne’s birthday party (six days after her actual birthday), and I have no clue what I’m getting her. The extent of the planning I’ve done has been to order a cake because I knew I wouldn’t have time to bake one. I never even got around to inviting anyone outside of a few family members who would have understood if I’d had to cancel at the last minute.

Of course, I'll be working at the tech writing job in the morning. The house is a wreck, so I'm hoping the Hubster will be able to get it cleaned while I'm at the office. At some point, I need to go get some balloons. (Anne calls them "bloons." She loves "bloons.") And I need to get some crusty bread. And a birthday present, which I’ll need to wrap, of course. And I’m supposed to make soup, too. All of this at some point between work and the party.

I’m seriously having one of those “I-suck-as-a-mom” moments—moments that I’ve had entirely too often in the two years I’ve been a mom.

Anne was sick this morning, so I stayed home with her. At one point, we were watching Elmo, and she patted my leg. “Thank you, Mommy,” she said.

“For what, Miss Anne?”

“Mommy stay home. I like Mommy home. Thank you, Mommy.”

She’s the greatest kid. I suck as a mom, but she doesn’t know it yet. Hopefully I’ll be a better mom by the time she can tell.

Starting Thursday, I’ll be a “stay-at-home-mom” for two weeks. After that, it’s back to school as an adjunct instructor. And no more technical writing. I’ve resigned from that job. I think my corporate career is really over this time. There are actually a lot of things I love about the corporate life, and things I love about that job in particular, but I'm relieved that it's almost over. I don't think I could take another season of stress and long hours and time away from thing people and things I love.

Things I love ... ah, writing. And piano. Running. Listening to music. Living.

Yes, I’m ready to start living again.

More Cuteness

2011-12-08T13:21:00.001-05:00

Anne loves Kleenex, or “tissue,” as she calls it. She went through about 30 of them last night. “I blow my nose,” she would say, and then she’d blow her nose (mostly just air) into the tissue. Then she would hold the tissue to my nose and say, “Mommy blow.” I would pretend to blow my nose. And then she would do the same with Dan: “Daddy blow.”

Once we had all “blown our noses,” she would wad the tissue up and say, “Garbage.” And then: “Anudder one.” So we’d repeat the process with the next tissue.

(Funny, in my former life, I would have thought such an activity was boring and a little gross. But it wasn’t boring at all (Dan and I were laughing so hard we cried), and it wasn't really gross because there were no boogers involved.)

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We’re trying to teach Anne how to scratch our backs, since she’s the only member of our family who doesn’t have a nail-biting problem. She’s starting to learn. “I scratch Mommy back,” she’ll say, and then she’ll scratch it for about three seconds. “Enough,” she pronounces, and then, “Now Daddy back.” So she’ll scratch his for two seconds, then say, “Enough.” And then, “Scratch Anne.” So Dan and I will scratch her back.

Then we’re back to “I scratch Mommy back.”

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Speaking of backs, she has discovered the pleasure of riding piggyback on Mommy. I’ll typically gallop around the house with her on my back, singing “Ella Monk, Ella Monk, Ella Monk Monk Monk” to the tune of the William Tell Overture. (Ella Monk is Anne’s three-year-old cousin.) If I stop singing for more than a few seconds, she’ll pat my shoulder and say, “Ella Monk, Ella Monk!”

Last night while I was making dinner, she said, “Ride Mommy back,” so I let her climb on my back. Since I was doing whatever in the kitchen, I didn’t gallop around the room or anything like that. After a minute, she started hitting my shoulder and saying, “Ella Monk, Mommy! Ella Monk!”

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She crawls on me and kisses me and hugs me and says, “I love you, Mommy.” There is nothing like it.

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She’s started speaking in grammatically correct, complete sentences. My little girl is growing up.

More Cute Ann(i)e Things

2011-12-02T16:22:00.001-05:00

Oh, dear. There’s just so much to write. So much to be forgotten, and I don’t want to forget any of it, so I’ll write some of it down now.

1. The Nose Honk – Like many parents, Dan and I each make honking sounds whenever Anne touches one of our noses. (Well, Dan honks and I beep.) The other night we were all lying in the bed, just laughing and tickling and having fun. I was saying something to Dan, and Anne put her hand on my nose. I didn’t think about why she was doing that, and I just kept saying whatever to Dan. Suddenly, Anne yelled, “Honk! Mommy, HONK!”

2. She’s informed us that she wants to be called “Annie.” This morning, I went into her room as she was waking up. “Good morning, Miss Anne!” I said, as I always do. She shook her head and said, “No. Annie, Annie, Annie.” (I’m still calling her Anne, as I don’t see her as an “Annie,” and she’ll probably decide in the next week (or the next decade) that she hates “Annie.” We’ll see.) (I did call her “Annie” a couple of times, and she just beamed.)

3. She’s peeing in the potty pretty regularly. I always swore I wouldn’t be one of those moms who blogged about potty-training, and here I am. Oh well. She’s pooped in the potty a few times. We might do a “potty-training boot camp” once school is out and I’m no longer at my tech writing job.

4. She goes to preschool now. I have lots of stuff to write about that, but I’m not going to write much right now. Too many mixed feelings and uncertainties still. But it’s been a good move in many, many ways.

5. Miss Anne will be two in less than two weeks. She wants to have a Peppa Pig birthday party. Unfortunately, Peppa Pig memorabilia is super expensive unless you live in England. And we don’t live in England.

6. She has a Dora the Explorer fixation. She’s seen the show maybe three times, but she absolutely loves Dora. I can’t understand it. I can appreciate Elmo and Little Bear and Peppa Pig, but … Dora? I just don’t get it.

7. She’s also a Julie Andrews fan. This makes me very happy. She loves Mary Poppins. One day, I popped in my “Sound of Music” CD and started playing “Do Re Mi.” Anne’s face lit up and she yelled, “Mary Poppins!”

8. She’s also a Yanni fan. I’m not sure what to think about this.

9. At Kindermusik, when it’s time to put something away, the teacher will sing something like, “Bells away, bells away, time to put the bells away” (using the same tune as “A-Tisket, A-Tasket”). Well, when she’s in the tub and she’s ready to get out, Anne will start singing, “Toys away, toys away,” as she puts all of her bath toys up.

10. One night at Kindermusik, we were playing with scarves. The teacher started to sing, “Scarves away …” and Anne immediately ran to the bag where the scarves are kept and walked around the circle, holding the bag out so everyone could put their scarves away.

11. Another Kindermusik thing: Anne keeps an eagle eye on everyone to make sure everyone has what they need. Does one kid’s mommy have only one maraca while everyone else has two? Anne goes and gets her a maraca. Does another kid not have a ball to bounce? Anne gets the kid a ball. It’s the sweetest thing.

12. We got in a bit of a food argument the other night. She wanted to watch Dora. I wanted her to finish her broccoli. She loves broccoli, but she’d decided she didn’t want any. (This is really funny because my dad and I had a famous war over eating broccoli when I was about four years old. I won.) Anyway, I would say, “No broccoli, no Dora.” She went to the door to the basement and cried. “Dora! Watch Dora!” “No broccoli, no Dora,” I repeated. I felt so sorry for her, but I couldn’t exactly back down. Finally she came back to the table, grabbed her broccoli off her plate, and stuffed it into her mouth. It was the funniest thing—she had this look on her face that seemed to say, “OK, Mommy, I’ll concede this time.”

13. The next night, she wanted more rice but she hadn’t eaten any of her cauliflower (and she loves cauliflower even more than she loves broccoli). “More rice!” she said. “Eat your cauliflower first,” I replied. She ignored me: “More rice!” She turned to point to the pot on the stove. “No, Anne,” I said. “No cauliflower, no rice.” She sort of huffed, and ate her cauliflower. Then she looked at me: “More rice.”

14. Her favorite things to drink are “ah-ju” (orange juice) and “nuggie” (milk). She tasted my “Daddy Coke” (Diet Coke) once and made the most horrible face—probably not too different from the face I made the first time I ever had it, back in 1984. Then she looked at me pleadingly. “More Daddy Coke, Mommy?” I have no clue why she said that, unless the caffeine jolt just had that strong of an effect on her. (She didn’t get any more Daddy Coke.)

15. I think I’ve written enough for now. One cool thing that I don’t know if I’ve mentioned is that my daughter, who has been the spitting image of her daddy for most of her short life, has started to look like me. I never dreamed it possible, but it’s happening. It’s weird but wonderful. Wonderful but weird.

16. One more thing: She tells people “I love you.” Last night when she kissed me good night, she said, “I love you.” When she leaves preschool each day, she tells her preschool teacher “I love you.” She has no idea how profoundly that makes someone’s day, to hear a sweet two-year-old saying, of her own volition, “I love you.”

I love her. I love her so much.

December. It's Now.

2011-12-01T21:01:00.000-05:00

It's December now.

Now it's December.

It's now December.

Those versions, and more, keep playing in my head, occasionally punctuated by a "Wow!" or an "I can't believe it. Is it really ...?"

Have I survived?

No. I have not survived. Just another couple of weeks, and I will have survived.

30+ hours a week as a technical writer. 40+ hours a week as an "adjunct" instructor--teaching part-time, yes, but grading is a full-time job itself when you teach writing.

In the in-between times, I played Mommy to my rapidly growing toddler. I've missed her more times than I want to think about. In fact, next to sleep, I think Anne is what I've missed most of all for these past few months.

What else have I missed? Oh, random things. Exercise. Eating. Writing. Reading. Piano. Hiking. All those things I used to do and haven't done much of for six months.

Oh, and I missed my husband, too. That guy who lives in my house. The one who's made quite a few dinners and given Anne quite a few baths while I've worked late at my tech writing job, graded papers, or (on the very rare occasion) come home and passed out from exhaustion at 7:30 p.m.

I haven't missed housekeeping. It's missed me, though.

I am ready for this phase of my life to end. This phase, which started last May and really cranked up in mid-August, has been pretty demanding. Add to that a few bouts with the crud, childcare woes, a sick and dying (now dead) cat, the usual money concerns, and a few students occasionally taking their frustrations out on their English instructor ... and you have a pretty stressful few months.

But I've handled it relatively well. Sure, I'm 10 pounds lighter because I never had time to eat, but that's not a bad thing. For the first time in my life, I'm looking in the mirror and thinking, "Wow. I could really stand to gain a few pounds."

When I was 15, I would fantasize about being able to think such things. So I'm not going to complain about it now.

I've fallen behind in everything in life--fallen out of touch with friends and family, and I haven't completed a single book this year. (Reading, I mean--though I haven't written any books, either, come to think of it.)

I think is the first year of my life in which I haven't completed a single book.

That will change.

I'm signed up to teach a few classes in the spring, but I've made a big life-change in that I'll no longer be working at the tech-writing job. Yeah.

It'll be just school and Anne and Dan and reading and writing, and maybe the occasional piano lesson, and a good run or hike every few days.

So life should quiet down. I hope. I really need it to quiet down.

I'm ready to move on to this next phase. I think Miss Anne is ready, too. And Dan. And George the piano.

We're all ready.

Who knows, maybe I'll even start blogging regularly again. (Probably not, but one can dream.)

A Beautiful Post about the Limitations of Language and the Universality of Experience

2011-11-21T09:10:00.001-05:00

Wow, that's a long title.

I really loved "A Thanksgiving for Susie," a short piece by linguist Geoffrey Pullum, published today in The Chronicle of Higher Education's "Lingua Franca" blog. In it, he starts out with his usual curmudgeonly tone, but then the post shifts into something lovely and bittersweet.

Pullum is a contributor to one of my must-read blogs, Language Log.

I'm On, Like, a Mission

2011-11-01T12:42:00.001-04:00

It was 1983, and we were in eighth grade. I don't remember if we were in Mrs. Bonner's speech class or Mrs. Bonner's drama class, but each student had to go in front of the classroom and make some kind of speech.

I don't remember what I talked about. I don't remember anything about the speech except this:

As I sat down, Kelly Bertrand leaned over in her desk and quietly said, "That was, like, a really, like, interesting, like, speech." For a moment, I was genuinely flattered that she'd liked my speech, and I started to thank her.

But the deadpan look on her face stopped me. When she added, "Like, it really, like, WAS!" I knew what she was telling me.

Practically every other word in my speech had been a gratuitous "like."

(Why do I remember this particular exchange? I have no idea. As I was a painfully shy eighth-grader, you'd think I'd remember the terror of the speech itself. But no, I remember Kelly's comment.)

In its roundabout way, it was good advice. I would have done well to listen to the message.

Almost thirty years later, the word "like" is the bane of my speech-making existence. I not a big "um" sayer, and I don't think I ever say "er" or "ah" when speaking in front of a group. But "like"? Oh, my goodness.

I hear myself saying it when I'm standing in front of a classroom, or when I'm giving an update at a meeting at work. I cringe when I hear it; I know it makes me sound immature and probably uneducated. But it slips out still, just as naturally as "um" or "ah" or "er" slips out for a speaker whose adolescence occurred before the early eighties.

Why do I say this? Why all the gratuitous "likes"? I don't think them when I'm writing. I certainly never use them in my writing.

One reason I say "like" too many times, is that it's a habit--one that has been almost 30 years in the making. It's not as if it's something I can unlearn overnight.

Back in my shy junior-high years, it started out as a coping mechanism, and I think it still is, to a degree. Even though I now stand in front of a classroom every day, I am still the introverted, shy person I always was. The whole "outward orientation" thing isn't natural for me. So, in addition to occasionally stuttering, slurring my words, and forgetting how to spell things when in front of a group, I say the hated word: Like. Like, like, like, like, like.

I have to, like, stop saying "like."

So, today I have begun a mission--a mission to eradicate gratuitous "likes" from my speech. I've already told several people at work to call me on those extra "likes" when they hear them. I'm tempted to tell my students to do so as well, but I don't think I want to go there.

I actually found a wikihow article on how to stop saying the word "like." Gotta love the Internet.

~~OK, like, let's~~ Let's see how this mission~~, like,~~ goes.

More Cute Stuff I Don't Want to Forget

2011-10-31T11:21:00.002-04:00

All the cute things are piling up, one on top of the other. If I had enough time to journal every day, I'd be writing them all down. Alas, I must pilfer time from paper-grading in order to record these most important little moments of life.

- GG and Paw Paw (my parents) visited yesterday and last night. As we finished eating dinner last night, Anne started yelling, "Up! Up!" (Which is her way of saying she wants to be excused.) "Anne, say 'Up, please,'" I corrected her. So she said, "Up, please." And then I added, "Up, please, Mommy," and she said, "Up, please ..." and then, after looking at my mom, "Up, please, GG!"

- I made cookies last night. My parents must think I make cookies all the time, because I always make them when they visit. Thing is, the only time I have time to make them is when they visit. Anyway, Anne has a cookie at 9:00 last night, and then she wanted another one. I didn't want her to have too much sugar, but I finally relented and gave her one, saying, "Now, you need to share that with Paw Paw." She put that cookie in her mouth, started to walk toward Paw Paw in the living room, and then cut away and sprinted to her room. She wanted the cookie for herself!

- She can now climb the chair into her booster seat. Not that we let her do that, of course,

- She and I have a "little steps, big steps" walk that we do. I'll yell, "Little steps!" and we suddenly both start taking tiny little steps. Then I'll yell "Big steps!" and we kick our legs out to make big steps. Then I'll yell "Little steps!" again, and we go back to the little steps. It's a fun game, and we both love it.

- Last night when I was eating a chocolate-chip cookie, Anne pointed to my mouth and said, "Mommy! Chocolate teeth!"

- Speaking of teeth, she loves to brush her teeth. Sometimes she'll brush them two or three times in a row.

- Her toothpaste has the character "Little Bear" on the tube. I love hearing her say "Little Bear." It sounds something like, "Lidduh Beaw."

- Last night we had soup for dinner. It had pasta shells in it. My dad made up the word "Pasta-poosta," and Anne repeated it. It was so cute, so we laughed, so she repeated it. Again and again. "Pasta-poosta!"

- We'll get into these "yes-no-yes-no" conversations. For example, I'll say, "Anne, finish your green beans," and she'll say, "No." I'll say, "Yes," and then she'll say "No." Etc. After six or eight yes-no-yes-no's, I'll spring a "No" on her. She stops and looks quizzically at me. But she doesn't get tricked into saying "Yes"!

- She loves to play the piano. She loves music. I love this.

- She's actually starting to look like me, after almost two years of looking just like her daddy. It's amazing what a little bit of hair will do!

Sweet Girl at Ella's Birthday Party

2011-10-23T19:01:00.003-04:00

This weekend, we celebrated Anne's cousin Ella's birthday party. Ella will be three next week. Anne had a great time. She loves her cousin, her Aunt Megan, and her Uncle Stephen!

Thanks to Ella's paternal grandparents (B and Pop Pop) for this sweet picture!

Time

2011-10-21T18:56:00.000-04:00

For the last couple of weeks, I've kept a very detailed spreadsheet showing how I spend my time, measured in 15-minute-increments.

As I looked at the pie chart showing how my time was divided between my four primary modes (work, sleep, "mommy"/family time, and "personal" time), I yawned and thought, "I'll sure be glad when December is over."

I won't give you the number of hours each slice of the pie represents,
but I will tell you that "personal time" got four whole hours this week.

I'm loving life, but I sure am tired. And if you're waiting for me to e-mail or call you ... well, you know why I've been behind in any and all social correspondence for the past six months.

I'm ready for December 12 (the last day of the fall semester) and December 31 (the last day of development season at work) to get here!

Cute Anne Things

2011-10-18T15:18:00.002-04:00

Just jotting these down so I won't forget them ...

- She loves to help me cook and bake. I let her add all the ingredients, and she likes to watch everything combine in the stand mixer. I let her smell the spices as I use them. Fortunately, she hasn't suddenly sneezed at the precise moment the spice bottle is in front of her nose.

- She did ruin one bottle of parsley flakes. Instead of sprinkling it daintily onto the raw tilapia, she played Whack-A-Fish with it. Fortunately, we were almost out of parsley flakes anyway.

- When we eat dinner, she'll hold a spoon of her food out to me and say, "Mommy hungry?"

- She spoke her first five-word sentence (that we know of) a few days ago: "I like more yogurt, please."

- She is so over Elmo. She is so over Peppa Pig. She's all about Mary Poppins now. This is one I hope she doesn't outgrow. I've certainly never outgrown it.

- She loves, loves, loves to dance. Her favorite dance partner is Froggy. Her favorite dance move is the old twirl-till-you-fall-down number.

- She is crazy about her grandparents, GG and Paw Paw. Her first four-word sentence was a few weeks ago: "GG have more cauliflower."

- Her taste in food is nothing like mine. She eschews most sweets and would rather munch on a raw onion or celery stalk than on a candy bar. (Let's hope she stays this way!)

- She's not a complete health nut. She loves butter and would eat it by the stick if we let her.

- She loves jelly, too. If we give her jelly toast, she licks all the jelly off, and then hands us back the toast, asking for "more."

- We definitely have a little extrovert on our hands. Weird to think an extrovert could come from my loins. She definitely gets that from her daddy.

- She's started to sing! She's always loved music, but she's actually trying to sing now, and it's so cute! She does a decent "Do, re, mi, fa," and can sing the "oh-oh-oh-oh" between verses in "Alouette." (And she is so cute when she points to her mouth and says, "la bouche"!)

- On Oct. 6, she and I went to the store to get her Uncle Ghent a birthday card. She picked one out for him. It was a cute card, with a picture of a cat who looked like our Beau on the cover. When we got home, I did as I often do with birthday cards: I put it on the table and promptly forgot about it. A week and a half later, Anne said she wanted to call her Uncle Ghent (which was odd because, of all the people in my family, she sees/knows him the least). When he picked up the phone, she said, "Birthday card!" She ran to the table, where the birthday card was still sitting. So, we mailed him his birthday card. A week or so late.

- It is so cute to hear her say certain words and phrases. "Alouette" is one, and so is "cauliflower." And "alligator." And "chocolate cake." And "pretty please," as well as "please, mommy."

- Speaking of "mommy," I think she says this word an average of 270 times every five minutes.

- She adores her almost-three-year-old cousin Ella. Anne's first spontaneous "I love you" was to her last week.

- Anne is so unbelievably friendly. She says "hi" to everyone. And if a child is crying or otherwise looks unhappy, she offers her Froggy to the child. As if, since Froggy always makes her feel better, he must have the same effect on others!

And now? For an update on me? Shall we use bullet points on this one as well?

- I'm buried. Buried in school work and buried in tech writing work, so deep that I hardly know which way is up.

- I seem physically and mentally incapable of uttering the words, "Not now, sweetie, Mommy's busy working." If I'm grading papers and Anne wants to dance to "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," well, by golly, I'm going to dance.

I have a class to teach at 8:00, eight hours of tech writing after that, and 18 papers to grade before noon tomorrow. Yeah, it'll all get done.

Unless Anne wants to dance.

Little Hiker, Sitting on a Bridge

2011-10-16T14:34:00.000-04:00

Those Three Words

2011-10-15T14:45:00.001-04:00

Today, Anne told me "I love you."

Unprompted.

For the first time.

I didn't cry, but I did feel like my heart was going to burst.

Her daddy and I are so blessed.

Wordless Wednesday: Contentment

2011-10-12T00:01:00.000-04:00

Wordless Wednesday: Cutie Patootie

2011-09-21T15:34:00.003-04:00

Li'l Boo at 20 months

Just Some Pictures

2011-09-06T17:43:00.000-04:00

Life is moving along much too fast for comfort, but we did get to enjoy a few days of R&R in Myrtle Beach for the Labor Day weekend. We stayed with our friends Pat and Analisa, who live in Surfside, and we got to meet some relatives: Dan's second cousin, Dawn; her husband, Logan; and their cute baby, Mia. Mia is two weeks older than Anne and they look a lot alike--except that Mia's taller and doesn't have Anne's sun-hating fair skin. Here are a few pictures from the weekend.

Anne working on her "beach bunny" look

She loved the beach and did NOT want to leave!

Mia and Anne, chilling at the wine festival.

Sleepy cousins (Actually, sleepy first cousins twice removed,
or second cousins once removed, or something like that.)

Life is hurried, but good.

Cute Things to Remember

2011-08-11T12:23:00.003-04:00

I'm writing these down now because I keep forgetting to write them down, and I don't want to forget them. Ever.

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Miss Anne got so upset because I wouldn't let her drive the van home after I picked her up one afternoon. I think my mistake was in letting her sit in the driver's seat before we left, marveling at her cuteness as she pretended to turn the wheel and hummed "vroom, vroom." But then it came time to put her in the car seat, and she protested.

Boy, did she protest, and back-archingly so (similar to this).

I finally got her into the car seat and we started home. The entire way, she bawled, "I drive! I drive! I DRIVE!" (Actually, "I dwive! I dwive! I DWIVE!")

Really, it was adorable. And heart-wrenchingly pitiful. When we got home, I let her drive her Cozy Coupe. She was somewhat, though not totally, satisfied with that.

I didn't think I'd have to deal with these kinds of struggles for another fifteen or so years.

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Anne loves lotion. She loves to put it on her toes, her knees, her hands, and her Daddy.

When we're doing lotion at night, she'll yell, "Daddy! Daddy!" And Daddy comes in from whatever he's doing so she can rub lotion on his hands. By "rub," I mean put a dot of lotion on his hand and spread it a bit with one tiny finger. And then repeat with another dot of lotion. And another. And then sometimes she'll say "Toes!" which means she wants to put lotion on his toes. One dot of lotion per toe. So he complies because he's a good daddy.

But he'd better not dare try to dispense the lotion into her hand so she can put it on him. Lotion-dispensing is Mommy's job. It's always Mommy's job.

While she's applying lotion to her Daddy's hands and feet, she counts his fingers and toes. So cute. So stinking cute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her favorite phrase these days is "I try." Or, to be more phonetically accurate, "I twy." She wants to do everything herself, including putting her diaper on and applying her diaper rash cream. And she gets vehement: "I twy! I twy! I twy! I TWY!!"

So we let her twy. Most things, at least. Not driving or applying butt paste, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ahh. There, I wrote it all down. And here's a somewhat recent picture for everyone:

Yes, she is still the spitting image of her daddy.

The New Normal

2011-08-11T11:46:00.004-04:00

Usually, you hear people talking about “the new normal” after someone has died. But I’ve discovered a whole “new normal” in the past year and a half.

Anne is now twenty months old, or close to it. I’m working two jobs, not because I want to but because I have to. This is part of the new normal. It’s the way things are going to be for a while.

Last week, I created a schedule showing when I would work at my tech-writing job, when I would work at my teaching job, and when I would do mommy/family things. “Mommy/family things” pretty much filled in whatever spaces weren't occupied by the 50-60 hours a week devoted to my teaching and tech-writing jobs.

My husband looked at the schedule and commented, “But you haven’t left any free time for yourself.”

Friends, it was the strangest thing. It was like he’d spoken to me in a foreign language. “Free time? What is this ‘free-time’ phenomenon you are talking about? I am supposed to have this ‘free time’ thing somewhere in my schedule?”

Believe me, I’m not writing this to sound like a mommy-martyr (or a work-martyr, or any kind of martyr). I just seriously had to slow down and process what he’d said. The concept of giving myself “free time” has become utterly foreign, at least for now, and for the near future.

And that, friends, is part of the new normal around here.

It’s the normal for any mom of a toddler, I would guess—and even more so for moms of multiple toddlers. And even, even more so (I think, though I could be wrong) for those moms who work full-time outside the home. (And I can't imagine how hard it must be for single moms who are all of the above.)

School begins soon, and my life is going to ricochet into warp speed when it does. (I don’t think that sentence made any sense, but I like the sound of it--linguistically speaking, if not emotionally.) I’ll be working 30 hours a week (hoping to cap it at 30) on software documentation, and I’ll spend the other 25 or 30 teaching sixty or so students—planning their classes, reviewing their homework, grading their drafts (with copious comments, of course!), and generally guiding them to become better writers.

Wow, just re-reading that paragraph, I'm amazed to think of how life, and priorities, have changed in the last few months.

Until this summer, I would read the blogs by women I found through Ann Voskamp’s wonderful blog (the Multitude Mondays and the Walk with Him Wednesdays), and I would imagine I was “one of them.” And with that imagining would come unbearable angst because, in truth, I am nothing like them—stay-at-home, home-schooling Christian moms who, while subtly lamenting about how they never have time to themselves, seem to have plenty of time to write beautiful blog posts almost daily, photograph countless bits and pieces of their daily lives, scrapbook and craft, clip coupons, garden, read books, write books, go to blogging conferences, guest-post for their fellow bloggers, and often leave copious (there’s that word again) comments on the blogs of others.

I loved these bloggers (or some of them), and I made time to read their blogs. I also made time to blog myself occasionally, but it was always time pilfered from something else: from my family (or my household chores, or sleep) if I blogged at night, and from my much-needed work breaks if I blogged during the day. I wasn’t like these bloggers.

And then I started getting these weird junior-high feelings of not fitting in.

And it wasn't just lifestyle. When I was honest with myself, I acknowledged that I was also too skeptical, and too cynical, to “fit in,” spiritually speaking.

So I stopped trying. It's like a weight has been lifted.

I've also stopped grieving the fact that I see so little of my daughter. I could keep doing that, but it's a problem that can't be fixed right now, and all the grieving does is depress me.

Oh, and I've tried to stop getting bitter or depressed when hearing a stay-at-home mom comment that she “really needs a break from the kids.” A simple eye-roll should suffice, shouldn't it?

OK, seriously ...

We all have different lives, different struggles, different challenges. I’m coming to accept that I have my own challenges in this stage of my life, and that I need to deal with my own life instead of wishing it were something different.

I think I’ve begun to embrace this "new normal" in a way I hadn’t before. In fact, it was at that moment of metaphorical embrace that the term “the new normal” came to mind. Or perhaps it was when I realized this was indeed the “new normal” that I became free to quit fighting where I am now.

This weekend, I said something to Dan about how “our biggest mistake was buying our house before the first one sold.” It did, after all, seem like so many problems, building up to my not being able to be with my little girl more, stemmed from that fateful decision.

“There are no mistakes,” he said. “There’s just life, and accepting what it is, and moving on.” (I’m not quoting him exactly. But it was something like that.)

No mistakes. Just life. Perhaps there is a God who planned for things to happen this way, or who at least, in His grace, has allowed things to turn out all right despite my unwise decisions, has allowed me to stay out of the nut house thus far. Perhaps it’s just life. My spiritual-skeptical self goes back and forth.

Whatever it is, I’ve come to a much better place than I was six months ago, or even three months ago. School has been good for me—good for getting my priorities back in order, good for allowing me to use my natural teaching abilities and to play with words and literature in the process.

And that’s the new normal. It isn’t the normal I would have picked if I’d had a choice, but it’s working.

To provide some breathing-room in my crazy schedule, I've begun the soul-feeding practice of composing haikus in my head whenever I can. I'm doing these in the spirit of an old blog-friend, I guess, only my poems are not quite as poetic as his. So I’ll end this relatively serious post on a light note and share one I wrote yesterday while in line at the pharmacy. I hope it will bring a smile to your faces, dear readers:

PMS—only
Three syllables, yet it hogs
My entire haiku

Happy trails!

Her Constant Companions

2011-08-02T10:53:00.000-04:00

Anne set up her four best friends in the glider-rocker for our book-reading session this morning: (L to R) Froggie, Elmo, Monkey, and Froggie, a.k.a. "Other."

("Monkey" is actually a Brutus Buckeye golf-head cover. But Anne doesn't know that, so we won't tell her.)

"Vacation Relaxation?"

2011-08-01T09:13:00.000-04:00

Much truth to this little chart on vacation and stress from PhD comics ...

My Good Summer

2011-07-22T09:54:00.005-04:00

What do you know? The best summer I’ve had in years is almost over.

It’s the first summer that my husband has actually been home nearly every day. Sure, he’s had a few week-long business trips and too many late-night meetings, but he’s been home. As in, not at camp for ten weeks straight. It’s been heavenly.

Also, Little Boo has gotten to be so much fun, and so cute. Sure, she was fun and cute last summer, but she has reached ever-greater heights of fun and cuteness since then. I don’t even know what to write about the Little Boo. It all sounds so normal—she loves to eat and dance and sing and laugh—but it’s all so wonderful. She has the sweetest, softest skin, and I just kiss her and kiss her and kiss her. She has the most darling little dimple, just below and to the right of her mouth. She still loves books more than anything, though I think my mom’s Book Nook (or is it Nook Book?) is a close second. Oh, and Elmo. She still adores Elmo. I’m actually starting to get a little sick of Elmo.

But, you know how songs that are played often at a particular time in your life will always remind you of that time? Well, Jason Mraz’s “Outdoors,” featuring Elmo and some other monsters, is always going to remind me of this happy summer. Always.

It’s also been a great summer because I’ve loved teaching. In May and June, I taught Expository Writing to a class of 17. It was a lot of work, getting back into the swing of teaching and having it be a compressed, five-week summer course, but it was so much fun. I truly believe I am a “natural” in the classroom. By that, I mean that it just feels so right to be up there, talking about writing, helping students to understand and practice different aspects of the craft. And I particularly love working with students one-on-one.

For the past five weeks, I’ve taught Literature-Based Research. The class is essentially an introduction to writing about literature. I’ve loved every minute of it; I’ve gotten to teach some stories, poems, and authors I hadn’t visited in a long time: Faulkner and “A Rose for Emily,” Welty and “A Worn Path,” Lawrence and “The Horse-Dealer’s Daughter,” and then Blake, Whitman, Hopkins, Keats, and of course Shakespeare. Yesterday in class, we watched A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the version with Kevin Kline as Bottom. I popped popcorn for everyone, and we just relaxed and enjoyed the show. Fun class!

The class ends Wednesday, and then I’m “off” for a couple of weeks. Then the fall semester starts. Will I be teaching? It looks like it. I’m going to try to work part-time as a tech writer and part-time as an English instructor. It will be a lot of work, but my life will be more flexible (and will allow more time for Boo) if half of it is spent on school. Plus, I really, really love teaching. While I believe I enjoy tech writing more than most, I truly love teaching.

Another benefit of teaching: I’ve found myself having glimmers of deep thoughts. I haven’t had deep thoughts in forever. I forgot how much I love pondering the meaning of life, seeing the world as one big metaphor, exploring subtleties of emotion, etc. For so long, even before Boo was born, my thoughts pretty much consisted of to-do lists, work projects, and the like. Oh, and numbers (figuring out schedules, counting down how many more tenths of a mile I have left to run, working to deadlines, minding the budget, etc.). But deep thoughts? Letting my imagination flow, “ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,—seeking the spheres, to connect them”? Nah. Not for a long time. Until now.

Yeah, it’s been a good summer.

Why We Need Books

2011-07-01T10:47:00.000-04:00

Johann Hari in The Independent:

"That's why we need books, and why I believe they will survive. Because most humans have a desire to engage in deep thought and deep concentration. Those muscles are necessary for deep feeling and deep engagement. Most humans don't just want mental snacks forever; they also want meals."

Literature and Life

2011-07-01T09:21:00.001-04:00

From "Practicing Medicine Can Be Grimm Work," an op-ed by Valerie Gribben, an English major and fairy-tale enthusiast who is now a fourth-year medical student:

Fairy tales are, at their core, heightened portrayals of human nature, revealing, as the glare of injury and illness does, the underbelly of mankind. Both fairy tales and medical charts chronicle the bizarre, the unfair, the tragic. And the terrifying things that go bump in the night are what doctors treat at 3 a.m. in emergency rooms.

And this:

Healing, I’m learning, begins with kindness, and most fairy tales teach us to show kindness wherever we can, to the stooped little beggar and the highest nobleman. In another year, I’ll be among the new doctors reporting to residency training. And the Brothers Grimm will be with me.

And He Has a Great T-shirt, Too!

2011-07-01T08:57:00.002-04:00

I'd never heard of Taylor Mali until a friend sent me a link to this video yesterday. Now I'm a fan.

Some Anne Pics

2011-06-29T09:30:00.000-04:00

Life is busy! No time to blog! But here are a few pictures from the past week or two.

Playing with shapes--she's gotten really good at this!

Can you tell she likes the Sing-Along Elmo that GG got her?

Walking her wooden frog. The girl LOVES frogs.

Reading with GG.

Feeding her baby doll a bottle.

Playing in the water at the park.

A Post on Breastfeeding

2011-06-23T08:46:00.003-04:00

Articles like this one break my heart. In it, Nicholas Kristof writes about how few babies in developing countries are exclusively breast-fed for the first six months—9 percent of babies in Niger, 7 percent in Burkina Faso, and 3 percent in Mauritania. He writes, "The biggest problem is that many mothers believe that breast milk isn't enough, and that, on a hot day, a child needs water as well." That, and mothers often delay nursing because they don't realize that colostrum is liquid gold for a newborn.

Of course, to drink water in an undeveloped country can be, and is, the kiss of death for many babies.

I was surprised to read, also, that only 13% of babies in the U.S. are breast-fed for the first six months. I would have thought it would be more. To me, it just doesn't make sense that so many moms—moms who are able to breast-feed—either switch to formula after the first few weeks or months, or else choose never to breast-feed at all. Why? Why?

Speaking of whys, Kristof writes that we're not sure why breast-feeding is not more common in developing countries. He writes:

"It’s not clear why a human instinct to nurse went awry. Does it have something to do with the sexualization of breasts? Or with infant formula manufacturers, who irresponsibly peddled their products in the past but are more restrained now? Or is it just that moms worry that their babies need water on hot days? Nobody really knows."

I imagine it's a mix of those three reasons, along with who knows how many more.

Whatever the case, it's heart-breaking that babies are getting sick and dying when such things could be so easily prevented.

On a more personal note, Miss Anne and I are no longer breastfeeding. She made it to 18 months and was nursing for only two or three minutes at night when we finally stopped. Yes, I miss it. Does she? I don't know. I'm sure she does, but she hasn't said much. Yesterday, for the first time in over a week, she softly said, "Ba-ba" (which means, "Give me some milk, please Mommy"), but when I said, "No more ba-ba," she wriggled out of my lap and went to play happily with her puzzles. It was one of several bittersweet moments I've had in the last few weeks as our nursing sessions became shorter and further apart.

Hopefully mothers across the globe will become more educated, and the rate of breast-fed babies will increase in the future. Not only is it healthier for the baby, but it builds a wonderful early bond between the baby and her mom.

Just Some Thoughts. Nothing Special.

2011-06-08T13:54:00.002-04:00

It’s Wednesday afternoon and almost time to go to the office. I’ve been up since 5:00 this morning.

I have a love-hate relationship with waking up that early. I hate doing it, but I love the way I feel for the rest of the day.

When I started this teaching gig, I told myself that I would not get up at ridiculous hours to do school stuff the way I did when I taught high school. How many times did I go to bed at 1 a.m., only to wake up at 4:30 to finish planning my five classes for the day? No wonder I was an unresponsive mess by the time that year ended.

(Note I lasted one whole year. Yep. Just one. Now you know why.)

This morning, all I needed to do was finish making a worksheet I wanted us to go over in class. We used that worksheet a few hours later, and students told me that it really helped them. While I’m glad I had it ready for class, I can’t make a habit of losing sleep in order to do “just that one more thing” to make class go perfectly.

I love teaching. I love having two part-time jobs. I love the way my workday is broken up into two halves, two places, two lives. I love having limited time in which to do things; I get so much more done. I don’t have any sense of having wasted my time this summer, at either my teaching job or at my tech-writing job. It’s been good.

Strangely enough, despite the back-and-forth nature of my new life, I’m rested and relaxed at the end of the day. I feel like I have time to breathe. Anne and I have the most delightful evenings, playing and laughing and dancing and visiting the neighbors. Because I’ve limited my work hours, I’m leaving the office earlier and having time to really cook, and not just use the recipes in the “Superfast Suppers” section of Cooking Light. It’s been good. Something about this new life clearly agrees with me.

This seems to be yet another pointless blog post. So I guess I’ll end it here and head to my tech-writing job. I’m very excited about work these days because I’m getting to learn the ins and outs of SharePoint. Fun, fun! (Really!)

Hope you’re all having a good week, dear readers!

Taking a Break

2011-06-02T13:44:00.000-04:00

School is over for the week, and I have a few minutes before I need to be at work. Time for a little writing.

Life is going splendidly. Things aren’t necessarily easy, and my smaller salary has made for some creative family budgeting, but things are good. I’m happy. I’m sure the antidepressants have a lot to do with that, but I’ve also been able to spend a lot more time with Miss Anne this summer. That’s been the best part.

Miss Anne is almost 18 months old now and is reaching new heights of cuteness every single day. She’s talking. I can’t understand a lot of what she says, but she’s definitely talking. She points to the light and says “liii” when she wants me to turn the light on. She points to the door and says “cat” when she hears the cat scratching at the door. (This helps me because I never hear it.)

She’s become an expert at saying “more” (actually, “mo”). She loves Elmo and alternately calls him “Elmo,” “Mo-mo,” and “Mo.” (I think she just likes to say “mo,” maybe because her best friend's name is Mo.) She’s saying a few two-syllable words now, where the syllables aren’t simply repeated (such as “Daddy”). At night, before bed, I’ll rock her and she’ll reach up to my face and point to my eyes, ears, nose, mouth, chin, cheeks, neck, and hair, and say, “Eye. Ear. No’. Mou’. Chin. Chee. Neh. Hah.”

It’s the sweetest thing.

She’s also putting her sandals on all by herself and is getting better at putting on her pants. If I help her a little with the legs, she stands and pulls them up on her own. Brilliant, huh?

She loves to dance. She loves to play the piano. She’s awesome.

So, yes, life is good.

School is going well, too. It’s been hectic, but not as hectic as I imagined it would be, considering the class (an eighteen-week freshman comp class squeezed into five weeks). It’s hard to believe the “semester” is nearly over and that I’ll be teaching class #2 of the summer (“Writing about Literature”) in a couple of weeks. Guess I ought to start working on the syllabus for that one, huh?

That’s about it for my update. I’m off to work now. Hope everyone has a good weekend!

Random Details by Number, and a Fun Elmo Video

2011-05-20T11:00:00.000-04:00

Well, here I am again.

I’ve made a few life changes, and it’s left me little time or inclination for blogging.

1. I’m no longer a full-time technical writer. This is a temporary (summer-only) change, but a much-needed one. I’m working half-days at my tech-writing job.

2. As much as I’d like to spend the other halves of those days with my daughter, I’m not. I’m instead working as an adjunct instructor at the local community college, teaching freshman comp.

3. It’s a good setup, though we’ve had to make some sacrifices for it. I’m very thankful to my company for letting me do this part-time thing.

4. I really, really love teaching. My challenge will be not to push myself too hard. This is a five-week summer session (read: one semester of freshman comp, squeezed into five weeks), and I have 19 students in my class. It will be hard not to push myself too hard.

5. I’m back on antidepressants. Started last week after yet another mini-meltdown. I had a long talk with my doctor, who believes I’ve been suffering from postpartum depression since April 2010. I can believe it. But what could I do? I wasn’t going to stop nursing my sweet one so I could take Prozac.

6. So … we’re weaning. It’s breaking my heart, but it is what it is. Anne has stopped asking for “ba-ba” most nights and some mornings. I’ve quit pumping and taking Fenugreek. The end is near. Sniff, sob.

7. Once we’ve weaned, I look forward to resuming my coffee habit. And having more than one glass of wine if I want.

8. Honestly? I’d like to have about four glasses of wine.

9. On another note, my brilliant daughter now knows her shapes. And how to put on her sandals. And lots of other things I didn’t think she was supposed to know yet.

10. She’s also a huge Elmo fan, thanks to my mom, who showed her “Sesame Street” when we were in Louisiana on vacation. We no longer have TV, but we own three Elmo DVDs (and counting).

11. I might like Elmo as much as Miss Anne does.

12. We love this Adam Sandler video in particular. Enjoy!

Hidden Doors, Secret Rooms

2011-05-11T12:01:00.000-04:00

One thing I have always wanted: a house with hidden doors and secret rooms. Or at least a house that looked like it had hidden doors and secret rooms.

I mean, who wouldn't want a wardrobe that opened into Narnia? Or at least a bookcase that opened into a study?

Yeah, I was drooling over this post on 10 Coolest Hidden Doors and Secret Passageways.

HT: Mental Floss Blog

Fantasy SAHM-hood

2011-05-06T11:00:00.000-04:00

I’ll begin by admitting that I’m insanely jealous of stay-at-home-moms (SAHMs) and spend way more time than is healthy imagining how wonderful my life would be if I could be a SAHM. These imaginings are probably outlandish fantasies; in reality, I think I’d probably go stir-crazy after a week of staying at home. Still, I entertain these fantasies. Every now and then, I get a real-life taste of them. I got one today. And oh, was it sweet.

This morning, Anne woke up with a cold and an understandably cranky attitude. I e-mailed my boss and Anne’s sitter to tell them I’d be staying home with Anne this morning, and then I took my crying, sniffling daughter to her room and nursed her until she fell back to sleep. I held her for a long time while she slept, just looking at those sweet, swollen, red-rimmed eyes and that raw little nose and mouth. Today I guess you could say she had “a face only a mother could love.” And how I loved that snotty little face. I just love being able to comfort and hold my little Boo.

After I put her in her crib (where she slept for two more hours!), I went to the kitchen and put the dishes away. Then I did some house-cleaning—something I never, ever have time for unless I take a lunch hour to do it, or stay up until midnight. I did some non-work work on the computer (another thing I never have time for). All in all, a relaxing couple of hours of SAHM-hood.

Anne woke up a few minutes before my scheduled doctor’s appointment. Her nose was still running, but her crankiness was much diminished and she still didn’t have a fever, so I got her dressed and we headed to the doctor’s office. (This was the OBGYN’s, so I wasn’t concerned about there being a bunch of sick people in the waiting room.) (No, I’m not pregnant. Not even close.) (It was kind of cool to be able to introduce Anne to my doctor, who hadn’t seen her since she was born.) After my appointment, I called Anne’s sitter, Angela, to tell her that Anne was feeling better and I’d drop her off in a little while.

“Don’t bother coming out here,” said Angela. “We’re in town, and I can pick Anne up from your house in a half hour.”

A half-hour. More than enough time to swing by Riverblaze Bakery for a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll. (Of course I hadn’t had breakfast because I wanted to weigh as little as possible at the doctor’s.)

So Anne and I went to Riverblaze. I got coffee and one of their divine cinnamon rolls for myself, and I got a hunk of French bread for Anne (because my weird child does not like sugar). We sat at a little table (I actually had her sit on three large cookbooks so she’d be tall enough) and ate. And talked. And smiled and giggled and kissed. And chatted with the bakery owner’s four-year-old little boy. It was the sweetest little mid-morning mommy-daughter breakfast date.

I imagined that, if I were a SAHM, we’d go on these little breakfast dates to Riverblaze more often. Of course, if I were a SAHM, we might not be able to afford little luxuries like that. But maybe we would.

There’s no big point to this story. It’s just a memory that I’ll treasure for a long time. And by blogging it here, I can re-read it every now and then and remember.

Angela has picked up Anne, and I’m getting ready to head back to work. I’m happy to go back to work; I’ll just be there a half-day, and then I’ll be with Miss Anne again.

It was a good half-day of fantasy SAHM-hood.

One Last Post Before Things Get Crazy Again

2011-05-05T07:44:00.002-04:00

It’s been so long since I’ve posted anything that I’m just going to hit some random points of what’s been going on in my life. My life is going to get busy in the next few days, so I’ll take advantage of this quiet early morning and post a few things.

- Work has been deliciously slow. Now, I generally hate for work to be slow, but after seven months of long hours and much weekend work, I’m more than happy to sit back and relax a bit. I even left work at 5:00 on Tuesday afternoon. I haven’t left work that early in forever! After I picked up Anne, we actually had time to go to the playground. And I wasn’t exhausted—what a great feeling, not to be exhausted, and to be able to enjoy my little girl to the fullest!

- Last week was our Louisiana vacation. It wasn’t quite as relaxing as I’d hoped; once you’re a mom, vacations are never quite vacations again. But it was so awesome to be with Anne every day. She loved it too; in fact, she’s been extremely clingy ever since we got back home. Monday morning, she didn’t want to let go of my leg. Somehow she knew we were back to our usual schedule and that she was going to be away from me all day.

- My husband’s phone died as we were boarding the plane from Atlanta to Baton Rouge. Folks, this was his ~~CrackBerry~~ BlackBerry. Could this phone failure have been a gift from God? I like to think so.

- I ate too much while in Louisiana, but I also managed to work out a few times. Not enough to burn off all those fried-shrimpy po-boys and chocolate eggs I consumed, but enough that I didn’t begin hating myself for being such a pig. There’s something wrong with that, isn’t it—that overeating on my part seems to be a justifiable reason for self-loathing.

- But I don’t run just to ward off the self-loathing (though it helps). I run because, well, I love to run. I’m signed up to run a 5K later this month—my first road race in a year—and I’ve been training when possible (which hasn’t been as often as I’d like, but oh well). Last night I ran a 5K in 29:35 (or something like that), which thrilled me. I’ve been feeling good and enjoying interval work in particular (where I run slow for a bit, then fast, then a slow recovery, then fast, etc.).

- I didn’t check e-mail much last week, and I read almost no blogs. It was wonderful. I realized how unimportant blogs really are to me. So when I got back home, I went to Google Reader and deleted about 60 blogs, leaving about 20 of the ones I really enjoy—blogs that I feel actually add something valuable to my life.

- Speaking of being unplugged (sort of), we cancelled our DirecTV this month. We no longer have any channels—just a useless wide-screen in the ~~man~~ Anne cave. We haven’t missed TV yet.

- Well, that’s mostly true. Anne discovered Sesame Street, specifically Elmo, last week at her grandparents’. She has a Tickle-Me Baby Elmo, but she’d never seen him on TV. Well, she freaked when she saw him on TV. Laughed, pointed, grinned, jumped up and down, etc. She even yelled “Elmo!”—one of her first-ever two-syllable words that aren’t a repeated syllable.

- So I kind of wish we still had PBS so she could watch the occasional Elmo. Thank goodness for sesamestreet.org.

- Except with the Internet is down, which it was last night.

- So we read books and played ball instead, which was ~~probably~~ better.

- I have a few pictures to share. Like this list, they’re pretty random. Enjoy.

Anne and "Gee" walking to the zoo

"Gee," Froggie, Anne, and me. She loves to hold our hands when we walk.

One of the main reasons I come to Louisiana: Zeke's Sno-Cones.
(Nectar for me, please!)

Zeke's, in all its glory

Anne. I thought this was a cute picture.

An alligator. No, this is not from the zoo. This was one of the "sights"
on a hike on the Lake Martin Levee Trail.

A Wednesday Toddler Tuesday

2011-04-20T12:26:00.000-04:00

I haven’t much been in the mood lately to write a Toddler Tuesday. Not sure why. But I have a few minutes, so I’ll write a few things.

Miss Anne is now 16 months old. She no longer looks like a little baby, though she is still quite small for her age. She has yet to hit the 20-pound mark on the scale. She has, however, gotten really good at weighing herself. She’s clearly imitating her Daddy, who weighs himself every morning. (No, Mommy does not go near the scale. Mommy is allergic.)

Speaking of Daddy, he’s been scarce these past few days. He left Friday morning and didn’t come back until Sunday afternoon because of work. And then he left Monday morning and didn’t see her awake again until today (thanks to two late meetings on Monday and Tuesday nights). This morning, when I brought her to our bed as always, she yelled, “Dada!” and crawled over to him and kissed his face. She couldn’t stop grinning and leaning against him and kissing him. He said it was a nice way to wake up.

She’s quite the kisser, our little Anne. There is nothing sweeter than getting a kiss, unasked for, from her.

She loves to sing “If You’re Happy and You Know It” because she can clap her hands and stomp her feet. I added another verse, “If you’re happy and you know it, kiss a frog.” She runs to wherever her Froggie is (sometimes in the next room), grabs him, and kisses him. Then the brings him to me so I can kiss him, too. So cute.

She’s a little obsessed with frogs. When we’re reading a book, if there’s a frog on the page, she squeals and points to it. If we go to Wal-Mart and she sees a frog stuffed animal, she squeals and runs to it. The girl loves frogs.

She loves to squeal when she’s happy, too.

She also loves clocks (the round kind, with the hands). Whenever she sees one, she squeals, points to it, and yells, “Cah!”

She also likes to play chase, with me chasing her. I’ll say, “Better watch out, Mommy’s gonna catch you!” and she takes off running, squealing with delight the whole time. I run after her, and when I catch her, I hug her and she just cackles with glee. So much fun. It’s during our games of chase that my face starts hurting from smiling so much.

When it’s time for a bath, I’ll say, “Anne, are you ready for your bath?” Up she goes, straight to her room, to open the drawer where we keep her towels and washcloths. By the time I get to the bathroom, she’s standing by the tub, towel and three or four washcloths in her hands.

She seems to be allergic to something other than the milk, eggs, soy, cats, and dogs that showed up on her allergy panel. The other night, she had a strong reaction (hives on the face and hands) to leftover spaghetti, which she’d eaten a couple nights before with no issues. She did get spaghetti sauce all over her face and hands this time, which she doesn’t always do, so I’m thinking the sauce may be irritating her skin. Sigh.

Miss Anne is still breastfeeding in the mornings and at night. Some days she doesn’t seem as interested, but on the weekends we’re back to several times a day. I don’t know when we’ll stop—it may be next month, it may be six months from now. I’m in no hurry, except for the fact that I really need to be on antidepressants, and I can’t start them until she’s weaned. Sigh again.

Anne continues to love music. I’ve gotten to where I can play piano for her a few minutes a night, and she loves it. She also likes to have music playing as she goes to sleep at night. She actually goes to the CD player in her room and presses “Play” before she crawls into my lap to read or nurse. And if the CD skips, she gets a little flustered, stops nursing, and waits for me to “fix” it. Sadly, one of our oft-played CDs of “sleepy classical music” (that’s what it says on the cover) is dying and skips (and gets stuck) a lot.

I don’t need no stinkin’ “sleepy classical music” CD anyway. Tonight she’ll listen to a “real” classical CD from my collection.

Anyway, back to Anne. That sweet darling.

Actually, I think this is the end of today’s Toddler Tuesday. I adore Miss Anne and am so excited that my busy season at work is over, and I’ll now get to spend more than a couple of hours with her each night.

Sorry I don't have any pictures to share today. Scroll down to my most recent "Multitude Monday" post, and you'll see a few there.

Six Years Ago Today: The Beatles Invasion of 1985

2011-04-19T11:17:00.002-04:00

I can't believe it's been six years since I wrote "The Beatles Invasion of 1985." It's one of my favorite blog posts I've ever written, so I thought I'd share it with you today. Click the link above and enjoy!

Multitude Monday #18

2011-04-18T13:00:00.001-04:00

Today I'm most thankful for the end of tax season (#300 in my list!). I don't know if that's a gift from God, but I sure am thankful for it. Combine tax season with development season, and that's about seven months of long work hours and time away from my little girl. I'm ready for a more flexible few months.

Dan had to work all weekend, but Anne and I still managed to have a wonderful couple of days together. Our exciting activities included a birthday party for a three-year old, and trips to the gear store, the health food store, the bakery, and the dollar store. (I think everyone in the dollar store knew Anne's name by the time we left; I must have said things like, "Anne, come back here," "Not in the mouth, Anne," "Anne, take Mommy's hand now," "Anne, put that back up," etc., the entire time I was there.)

Here are a few other things I'm thankful for these days:

301. dogwoods blooming

302. azaleas blooming

303. irises blooming

304. spring, spring, spring!

305. "Wild Geese," by Mary Oliver--a poem that has been on my mind a lot lately

306. Ella Monk--my sweet niece with the jazzy name and the beautiful smile

307. Sunday afternoons at the playground with Anne, Ella, and my sister, Megan

308. smiling so much my face hurts at the end of the day

309. the way Anne wants to carry her new Camelbak water bottle everywhere--just like Mommy

310. little girls in party hats

Anne at the birthday party

Making friends

311. profiles

No, she didn't keep the party hat on for long

312. the privilege of being Anne's mommy

313. healing

314. dancing

315. Schumann's "The Happy Farmer"--never one of my favorites, but Anne loves it, so I've dug out my old sheet music and am dusting this one off.

316. Anne's "funny face"--and how much it looks like my trademark funny face

I'll try to find a picture of my funny face for comparison ...

317. the brave American soldiers who fought in WWII (I'm reading a book about it now and am wide-eyed at how much I've taken for granted for most of my life.)

I know I ended that on a serious note, but hey ... I write these as they come to mind. For more gratitude thoughts around the blogosphere, check out Ann Voskamp's blog.

Hope everyone has a good week!

Sad, and Counting the Time

2011-04-14T19:33:00.000-04:00

I've been so busy, and feeling really sad. Missing my sweet daughter as we work these long (10-hour) work days this week. I hate missing that sweet girl.

Trying to focus on being thankful that I at least get to see her a few hours a day. It's better than never being able to see her at all. She's alive and healthy and happy (other than some general crankiness this week--seems she misses her mommy, too).

I love my sweet baby. I miss her. And I'm so ready for these long hours to end.

Today, tomorrow, and Monday. And then our company goes back to a "normal" work schedule.

I'm counting the hours. And counting the minutes (about 110 as of right now) until I can hold, and hug, and kiss my sweet li'l boo again.

Multitude Monday #17

2011-04-11T17:06:00.002-04:00

I had the most delightful weekend with Miss Anne. We spent all day Saturday together while Dan worked at camp, and then the whole family spent the day together Sunday. Friends, I cannot tell you how rare it is that we have a Saturday like the one we just had--where Anne and I can stay home and have nowhere to go and no one to meet. And it was nice to have family time on Sunday. Sadly, that's not such a common thing, either.

I also got a bit of free time. Sunday morning before church, I got to go out for a short run. While Anne napped that afternoon, I got to lie down for a nap myself. I didn't fall asleep, but at least it was "down time."

(One thing I realized while trying to nap: I have trouble falling asleep at night because, just as I'm drifting into dreamland, I wake up with something like being on the verge of a panic attack. When I wake up in the morning, I can barely open my mouth because I've been clenching my jaw all night. I knew this was happening, but I don't think about it in the light of day. Two hours of trying to fall asleep, and waking up in a mild panic every 15-20 minutes, triggered the memory of what happens to me throughout the night.)

I'm looking forward to a time (if one ever comes) when I'm not teeth-clenchingly stressed. All this decluttering has helped, but I still have a long way to go. Perhaps gratitude will be easier once I get "there." (Ha.) For now, here are a few items I was particularly thankful for last week:

271. weekends with no plans

272. learning to pour water (Anne's latest achievement)

273. healthy, home-cooked food

274. the way the sidewalk glistens in the morning sunlight

275. the sound of my own footfalls as I run

276. wildflowers blooming--particularly the violets

277. phlox, too

Anne and Froggie, picking flowers

278. one little curl

279. a husband who thinks I am beautiful

280. safe journeys home

281. a letter from my Compassion child, written a few days after her birthday, telling me of the specific gifts I "gave" her through a monetary birthday gift

282. how she signed it, "Consuelo, 10 years old"--forgetting she'd just turned 11

283. Romans 8:28 ... and the knowledge that it's all going to work out

284. Anne's two-year-old cousin Ella's compassion: When Anne forgot "Froggie" at their house two weekends ago, Ella took care of him (even taking him to dinner with them, and keeping him in her bed at night) for Anne for the entire week before we could get him again.

285. my husband's generosity. Sometimes it makes me crazy, but I'm ultimately thankful to be married to such a generous man.

286. the first warm days of the year

287. spending them at the playground with Anne

Yes, it was warm enough for a sleeveless top!

And sandals! Giddy-up, you old frog!

Climbing the steps to the "big" slide

288. my friend Jammie, and her journey

289. loving friends so much that their joys are your joys

290. and their sorrows your sorrows, and their tears your tears

291. Anne's kisses

292. Dan's kisses

293. oranges--I have been eating them daily, and they are so yummy!

294. Anne's little "twist-move" on the slide: a third of the way down, she lies down and twists over to her belly

Anne, ready to go down the slide

295. in letting go of books, being able to let go of certain ideas I had about myself ... and being okay with that

296. the way Anne laughs when I pretend to eat her fingers and toes

297. the way Anne laughs, period.

298. Anne's crazy hair that goes every which way, no matter what we do

299. when my mostly unsnuggly (unless you're Froggie) toddler wants to snuggle ... ahhh, it's the sweetest gift in the whole world.

I'll stop here, and save the triumph of reaching #300 for next week. :-)

Decluttering V: Finding Time in a Cluttered Schedule

2011-04-07T00:01:00.000-04:00

As I re-read my “Decluttering” posts, I realize that they’re mostly rambly and pointless to anyone but me. My apologies. The blog is serving as a sort of journal lately, and as a means for decluttering my own thoughts. It helps to write it all down here, even if it doesn’t make for the most interesting reading.

I am about halfway through Tsh Oxenreider’s Organized Simplicity. Some of the book has been helpful—the suggestion to create a family purpose statement, for instance. Other parts have been less so. It's pretty much geared toward stay-at-home moms. It’s hard to be a “home manager” when you're rarely at home.

Still, much of the book has been helpful so far. One exercise it has you do (starting on p. 55) is to make lists of three things:

1. Everything you’d like to enjoy each month but currently aren’t doing
2. Basic tasks you think you need to do to live
3. All the things you do in an average month

One you’ve made the three lists, you compare them, circling the items on your third list that aren’t present on the other two. “Those,” she writes, “are the potential time-eating culprits.”

So, let’s look at my lists.

Here’s List 1 (Things I’d like to enjoy each month but currently am not doing)

List 1 (click to enlarge)

Here’s List 2, of basis tasks I think I need to do to live:

List 2 (click to enlarge)

And List 3, all the things I do in an average month:

List 3 (click to enlarge)

The highlighted items are the “potential time-wasters.” Er ... maybe some of those should have been in one of the previous lists. Let’s look at them all:

- Check e-mail: I discussed this in my previous post. I could definitely check my personal e-mail less often, particularly since I don’t typically have much in my inbox.

- Care for Anne: This probably should have been in List 2 ... or List 1!

- Wait for computer to load: Maybe I need to use our PC and accept that my laptop is ready to go home to the Great Toshiba Factory in the Sky.

- Check Facebook: I’m spending between zero and 15 minutes a day on Facebook. I don’t know if it’s really a time-waster for me at this point; it’s useful for some things, and I’ve gotten pretty good at using it efficiently.

- Wonder what’s for dinner: I do this a lot, particularly since Anne can’t have dairy, eggs, or soy. Meal-planning is tough when neither parent gets home until 7:00 at night. We do sometimes plan a week’s meal in advance and can do that more. I’ll need to make time on Saturday to do the planning so I can get the necessary groceries on Sunday.

- Snack: I need to snack less. That’s a given.

- Look up egg-free, dairy free, and soy-free recipes online: Since I don’t have any “specialty” cookbooks and am not eager to buy yet more books, I used the Internet a lot for finding recipes. I’ll generally do this a few minutes before I leave work, frantically trying to figure out what’s for dinner, and if I need to run by the grocery store on my way home.

- Listen to podcasts in the car: Not sure if this is a time-waster. I’m in the car roughly 30 minutes a day. Podcasts make me think and help the time go by.

- Call my mom while driving to or from Angela’s: Now that’s what I call family quality time! This is what I do when I’m not listening to podcasts.

- Take Anne to playground: A time-waster? I don’t think so!

One area I can improve is in meal planning. For part of the year, this is a real challenge; for much of January 1 through mid-April, I work 9–7 or 10–8, and for much of late September through December 31, I work between 45 and 60 hours a week. Dan helps, but his work schedule is pretty crazy; for the past three years, he’s been gone for 10 weeks every summer, plus he works 20 or more weekends a year and has many meetings where he doesn’t get home until almost 10:00 at night on weeknights.

(It’s amazing we recognize each other at the end of the day. And that Anne realizes that, yes, we are her parents.)

(OK, now I'm depressed.)

Anyway, I definitely can improve in the area of meal-planning. I can do the recipe research on Saturdays, in time for the Sunday night shopping trip. That’s just one thing, but it’s one more thing than what I was doing previously.

Here concludes yet another rambling post on decluttering and time management. Unfortunately, it left me feeling kind of discouraged. The next post will probably be on the family purpose statement—something I'm very excited about!

Anne's Cute Spaghetti Picture

2011-04-06T19:45:00.000-04:00

I think all toddlers in the U.S. are required to take a cute spaghetti picture. And all moms who blog are required to post them. So, in keeping with the requirements ...

Yes, she loves spaghetti!

Decluttering IV: Clearing the Mind

2011-04-06T06:56:00.000-04:00

My mind is cluttered: messy, disorganized, and full of junk that's better thrown away. I want to declutter my mind without losing all the valuable stuff ... which means it probably won't do to drown it all in a bottle (or five) of fine red wine.

Ah, well. Making lists and setting priorities may not be as fun, but it'll be a lot more effective (I hope).

Prompted by the books Freedom from Tyranny of the Urgent and Organized Simplicity, I've done a few simple exercises to start clearing the mind-clutter.

1. Making an inventory of what I do with every minute of every day.
2. Making three lists: What I wish I had time for, what I need to do to survive, and what I actually do with my time. List #3 was easy since I'd taken the "time inventory" several weeks before.
3. Work (with Dan) on writing a family purpose statement.

I'll write three blog posts focusing on each exercise. Today I'm writing about the time inventory.

I learned a few things from the time inventory:

- I spend a more time with Anne than I realized. This was a relief. I'm constantly beating myself up for not being there for Miss Anne. Even though I do work long hours, I spend the majority of my non-work, non-sleeping, non-housework time giving her my undivided attention.

- I check my e-mail a lot. Rarely do I visit Gmail for more than one or two minutes, but I do visit a dozen or so times throughout the day. Funny because I'm such a poor e-mail correspondent that I rarely have any e-mail, and I delete any junk mail unread. Still, that's 15-30 minutes per day (several hours a week!) that I waste checking an empty inbox.

- I don't spend nearly as much time blogging and looking at Facebook as I thought.

- I spend a lot more time than I realized waiting for my slow computer to do things like open Word or load a web page. Maybe it's time to get a new computer?

- I don't sleep enough. (As if I needed a time inventory to tell me that.)

- This is probably just a typical "mom" thing, but ... I don't stop all day. From when I wake up in the morning until I fall exhausted into bed at night, I don't stop for "me time." I have about 30 minutes myself at night after Anne goes to sleep and before I crash. I generally spend that half-hour running on the treadmill (a real one, not a metaphorical one ... though I guess I'm on that one a lot, too) and waiting for things to load on my computer.

- I could do a better job of setting aside "me time" on weekends, but I don't do it because "Anne time" seems more important than "me time" (and "Dan time"--sorry, Hubby.) I see her so rarely during the week that the thought of finding a babysitter for Saturday morning so I can get my hair cut or go on a long run is just ... unthinkable.

- I spend a lot of time snacking. It takes just a few minutes to go to the pantry for a cracker, or the fridge for leftovers, but it adds up. I knew I was snacking too much. The time inventory confirmed that, and told me I was spending too much time snacking as well.

- "Important things" like piano, writing, prayer, Bible reading, and time with Dan all fall last in the priority list.

When I did a similar "money inventory" years ago, I was shocked to see how much money per month I was spending on things like coffee, bagels, and lunch. The inventory was a wake-up call, and it caused me to change my habits drastically. I was hoping this "time inventory" would do the same thing. However, as I look at my time usage laid out in front of me, I'm seeing that I really don't have a lot of free time, and that I'm actually pretty good at managing what little time I have. I can shave a few minutes here and there by curtailing the e-mail-checking and snacking, but there aren't any huge swaths of time there that I wasn't aware of before.

Still, I need to work out a way to fit in more of the important things. I'll focus on that in my next "Decluttering" post.

Meanwhile it looks like this mind-decluttering thing is going to be harder than the money thing, and probably harder than the stuff-decluttering thing.

Decluttering III: Our Neat House

2011-04-05T08:37:00.003-04:00

It isn't that neat, but it's better.

My apologies for the weird coloring in some of the pictures. For some reason, our flash wouldn't work for a couple of hours.

For comparison pics, click here.

Here's our kitchen counter:

We use the bread machine several times a month, but not enough to justify having it take up half the far counter space. So it, and the food processor (which I use once every few months, maybe), are in a storage bin in the bottom of my closet. We decided that I use the mixer enough to keep it out.

This table was in a "nook" in the living room previously. It was where I would do my writing. Since I've been too busy and/or exhausted to do any writing of late, we decided to move the table back into the kitchen. We threw a cute $2 tablecloth from Big Lots over it, and voila! We now have a spot to eat breakfast.

Here's the ugly dresser, all cleaned off:

My bedside table is a little better, though it could still use some work:

This is Rabbit Pig:

I have a story about Rabbit Pig that I'll share with you some other day. We found him in the decluttering process, and I tossed him onto the bed because I didn't know what else to do with him. (He had a brief stint in the "Goodwill" bag, but I took him out. I can't get rid of Rabbit Pig. Ever. So Rabbit Pig is now the centerpiece of our otherwise ugly bed.)

(We bought the ugly bed at a liquidation sale in 2006. We were suffering from several years of poor sleep on an old double bed. We were desperate, so we bought the bedroom suite I hated the least. I learned a lesson: No matter how desperate you are, never buy "permanent" type furniture out of desperation. And if you have to say, "Well, this one is the least ugly of what's available," then you probably shouldn't buy it.)

Here's my dresser again, all cleared off. The bookcase is still there:

Now we're downstairs in the "office" section of the finished basement. Believe it or not, I got rid of about 40 books. I know ... 40 isn't a lot. But it's a start. We still need to get rid of the jumperoos and walker. All the other junk from the previous picture is gone, mostly to Dan's Rotary Club for their big yard sale later this spring.

We decided to move the treadmill to the "office" section. So I guess it's an "office/gym" section now, particularly since the ball and my handweights are right there with the treadmill.

So, that's today's decluttering post. I've been working, with some success, on decluttering my mind. More on that later.

MM #16: Wayah Bald and Winding Stair

2011-04-04T12:57:00.006-04:00

Yesterday, we took a short hike on the Rufus Morgan Trail to see Rufus Morgan Falls. Alas, we forgot the camera in the car and took no pictures.

After that hike, we headed up to Wayah Bald, since it was a gorgeous day and the views promised to be spectacular.

And they were. (We remembered the camera this time!)

View from Wayah Bald Observation Tower

Anne and I walked the path to the tower. In front of us is a northbound AT thru-hiker; there were lots of them in town this weekend. The two guys in front of him are Chili and Pepper, friends of ours who are hiking from Springer to Damascus (about 500 miles) right now.

Anne was more interested in exploring the rocks and grass than she was in walking up the hill. No, I'm not picking my nose in this picture. I think I'm biting my fingernails. Attractive, huh?

Dan and Anne taking in the view.

Is her Eagle Scout daddy teaching her to use a compass already?

Waterfall (me), Scout (Anne), and Chili on Wayah Bald

This morning, it was time for the hikers to go back "home" to the Appalachian Trail. I dropped Chili, Pepper, and Hopeful (a thru-hiker and an old friend who stayed with us all weekend) at Winding Stair Gap before taking Anne to her sitter's for the day.

Anne and Chili (her new best friend) at a chilly, windy
Winding Stair Gap. (Happy 12th birthday, Chili!)

Chili, Anne, and Pepper

Hopeful prepares to hit the Trail again.

Anne helps Chili ready his pack (She's trying to
give him a tube of hand sanitizer!)

Anne and her second-favorite "Grandpa," Hopeful

Me, Hopeful, and Anne. Time to say good-bye.

It was a great weekend, and I have a lot to be thankful for.

251. cold breezes on warm days

252. thru-hikers (my tribe)

253. clear days where you can see forever

254. short trails to waterfalls

255. the first wildflowers of spring--the redbuds are starting to bloom, and we spotted a few yellow violets and a trout lily on the Rufus Morgan Trail)

256. trail maintainers

257. Chili and Pepper - good friends, and a father/son duo who thru-hiked the AT last year, when Cameron ("Chili") was 11 years old.

258. Hopeful - a hiking friend from 'way back, who thru-hiked in 2003 and is thru-hiking again this year

259. having time to bake up a batch of oatmeal cookies

260. having time to share conversation with Hopeful over a cup of coffee

261. other friends we got to see this weekend - Jennifer Pharr Davis, Tenacious Tanasi, Ox, Miss Janet, Circuit Rider, Sherlock, Smokestack, Mother Nature, and others

262. trail names--I just love that I have all these treasured friends, and I don't even know most of their real names

262. a "For Sale" sign in front of the house (though I'll be much more grateful for a "Sold" sign!)

263. Anne's delight at seeing a tall waterfall up close

264. having a few minutes to play the piano (while someone else does the dishes!)

265. the way Anne dances when I play ragtime on the piano

266. the quick friendship that struck up between Chili and Anne

267. how Anne immediately ran to Hopeful, arms outstretched, when she first saw him. ("She knows a grandpa when she sees one," Hopeful said knowingly.) (She'd only met him a couple of times before, and very briefly then.)

268. this book, which a friend of mine recommended. It might have to join Learned Optimism, Your Money or Your Life, and Organizing from the Inside Out as one of the few self-help books that have actually helped this inflexible old self.

269. the ability to explore and appreciate the wonder of God's creation

270. being able to share that wonder with friends--and with Anne

Decluttering II: The Mess

2011-03-29T15:47:00.004-04:00

I could sit here and write that the state of my house is not reflective of the state of my mind, but that would be a lie.

I'd love to say I'm one of those absent-minded professor types whose surroundings are a mess, but who knows just where everything is.

Yes, I'm one of those absent-minded professor types, but I rarely have any idea where my keys are. Or the book I'm reading. Sometimes I even misplace my dinner, only to find it in some weird place, like on top of the bookcase.

Here are some "before" pictures. Life has not gone as planned these past few days, so there are no "after" pics yet.

And if someone gives me that old "Don't-be-such-a-perfectionist-because-now-that-you're-a-mom-your-house-isn't-going-to-look-like-House-Beautiful-and-you'll-just-have-to-learn-to-live-with-a-bit-of-mess" line, I'm going to throw a dirty sock at them. I'm sure that, at any given time and any given place in my house, a dirty sock is within arm's reach.

Bookcases and random baby stuff that needs to be put away (or given away)

More bookcases and random baby stuff.
Anyone need a jumperoo ... or two?

Stacks of books on every surface ...

.... along with random folders and baking soda boxes

Grad school notes (top shelf), old yearbooks and photo albums
(bottom shelf), and doubled-up journals dating back to the 1980s

The pool table. Our house came with it. Obviously, we don't play pool.

This is kind of a neat stack. These cassette holders are now empty.
They were full last week when we started purging.

The book-and-album shelves don't look too bad.
Other than the shelves themselves being ugly and cheap.

On to the bedroom ... this is the top of my dresser.

My bedside table. Sometimes I wish I could see the clock from my
bed, but I can't. It's hidden behind stuff.

The floor next to my dresser. Leftovers from this past weekend,
when we went to visit my parents. (The books on the bookcase all used
to be on my tiny bedside table. I finally put a bookcase in there so I
could clear off the bedside table. Lotta good that did, huh?)

The top of my bed. No, there is no underwear in this picture.
(I had to look closely to make sure, though!)

Now for the kitchen. This counter isn't that messy. It's just cluttered.

I had more pictures, but I started to get depressed. You might have noticed that some of the bookcases are missing books. I've removed about 60 of them and am giving a lot of them away to friends. Here's a big stack from my religion/theology collection that I've decided to part with:

It hurt to get rid of some of these.

I sincerely hope to have some "after" pictures soon. Or at least an "after" to photograph! Stay "tuned."

Toddler Tuesday

2011-03-29T07:06:00.004-04:00

It's been a few weeks since we've had a Toddler Tuesday, and I'm afraid it will be a few more before I can sit and write a nice, long update about Miss Anne. Here are a few quick bullet points:

- Anne had her 15-month appointment last week. She weighs 18 pounds, 11 ounces (3rd percentile) and is 30.5 inches tall (46th percentile). She's still a very little girl! The doctor said we shouldn't be concerned about her weight. I'm not. Honestly, I'm kind of glad that we don't have to worry that she's eating too much.

- She's talking up a storm. All one-syllable words so far, but my ... that girl can communicate! One month ago, we counted 22 words. Now she's saying at least 40, maybe more, including mama, dada, gee (GG), paw (Paw Paw), up, Keith, Mo, Anne, Nee (Nina), toes, key, baba (milk), frah (Froggie), car, no, yeah, knee (not to be confused with Nee), talk, cat, woof (her word for dog), and teeth.

- We visited her GG and Paw Paw last weekend. She calls them "Gee" and "Paw." How cute is that? She would point to my mom and say "Gee!" Made my mom's day every time.

- She can pucker up for a kiss. I would say, "Go kiss Paw Paw," and she'd walk across the room to him, lips puckered the entire time.

- She can blow kisses. She blows kisses all the time.

- She used to wave by opening and closing her hand. Now she has more of a "Miss America" wave.

- She's starting to take more of an interest in puzzles. She still hasn't quite gotten the hang of them yet.

- She's not asking me to read to her as much as before. She prefers to read books on her own. Fine by me. I sit in the glider and read my book while she sits on the floor and reads hers.

- Her favorite foods are spaghetti, ham, broccoli, cauliflower, and Ritz Crackers. She has no taste whatsoever for anything sugary, including fruit and chocolate chip cookies.

- She says "yeah" and "no" and seems to know what they mean.

- She knows all her body parts.

- She's started to undress herself. That's OK with me as long as she doesn't take her diaper off while she's in bed at night. So far, so good.

- Last night I asked her if she could say "Nina." She got a huge grin on her face, pointed at me, and yelled, "Nee!"

- We're still breastfeeding. I'm thinking our days are numbered, though, because I need to start taking a not-safe-for-breastfeeding medication soon.

- She loves to go down the "big slide" at the local playground. All by herself. Feet first, on her stomach. The girl has no fear.

- She loves to climb. She is constantly climbing--steps, into chairs, onto the coffee table. Heaven help us.

- Changing her diaper has become a major ordeal. She writhes and turns and won't let me change her. I'm having to strap her down like she's a mental patient.

- Two weekends ago, we went hiking in the Siler Bald area of western NC, and our little girl hiked, for the first time, the entire width of the Appalachian Trail.

- She's the greatest 15-month-old. Ever. In the whole wide world.

Book Decluttering I: The Calm Before the Storm

2011-03-25T17:45:00.008-04:00

We're going to declutter our library this weekend.

We have a lot of books. Thirteen hundred of them, at least. That's about how many we had when we Dewey Decimal'd them in 2009. And I've gone one a few too many amazon.com shopping sprees since then.

Oh, amazon. Why do I feel tempted, right now, to log on and order six books on decluttering?

Sigh. Don't go there, Nina. Just don't go there. Stay away from amazon.com. At all costs.

Our house goes "live" on April 1 (meaning it will be on the market and available for viewing). And, even though I love a house full of books (really? do you think?), we have two very good reasons to declutter our book collection:

1. An uncluttered house makes a better impression on potential buyers.
2. Books are heavy. If this house sells and we need to move, I don't want to have to move them.

I'm not looking forward to this. Sure, it will take a lot of time, but that's not my concern.

My concern is that so much of my sense of who I am, and my sense of self-worth, is wrapped up in all those books.

It's true. I like being Someone Who Owns Lots Of Books. I like what that says about me. Or what I imagine it does.

When I'm gazing at my bookcases (not that I've had time for that in a while), I feel a cozy sense of security and well-being. I feel a sense of fulfillment.

It's true. My books make me feel good. They make me feel whole.

They also make me feel smart. And oh, how I love feeling smart.

I'll admit something else: If I visit your house and see that you don't have a lot of books, or you don't have the right books, I'll be tempted to judge you.

(Oh, great. Now I’ll never get invited anywhere again.)

Seriously, though. Getting rid of books this weekend will be like getting rid of my fingers.

I’ve been preparing myself, mentally and emotionally, for this. One thing I did was surf the Internet earlier this week for tips on book-decluttering. I found some good tips. My favorite (and I don't remember where I found it) was to write down the title of each book I don't want to part with because "I'm planning to read it someday."

Then, start an amazon.com wish list with those titles. Or just store them somewhere.

If I ever decide I really, really, really need the book, I can always buy it again.

And if I've had the book for 20 years and still haven't read it yet ... chances are I won't want to buy it again anyway.

If I think about it and can find the camera, I'll plan to take some pictures of the decluttering process. It ain't gonna be pretty. If I post the pics here, I'll be sure and have a "Warning" message at the top of the post.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Decluttering and Merges

2011-03-23T08:05:00.004-04:00

My six months hiking the Appalachian Trail were probably the most clutter-free six months of my life. (OK, so my baby crib was probably pretty clutter-free, but I don't know.) Everything I needed for six months was either in my backpack or in a "bounce box" at the next post office. It was Spartan living, and I loved it. Never, not once, did I waste 20 minutes looking for my keys.

In real life (as in, not trail life), I am a magnet for clutter, and I spend an inordinate amount of my time looking for stuff--keys, money, cell phone, iPods. (I hate that iPods are getting smaller and smaller. I miss the good old days when I carried a boom box the size of a large briefcase.) Every few years, I have to re-read Organizing from the Inside Out and start my life over. It's a wonderful book, and one of three self-help books that have actually stuck with me through the years. I'm just chronically unable to keep up with the good habits it fosters.

There are two areas of my life that aren't typically cluttered: my bookcases (most of the time), and my thoughts when I'm writing.

Everything else? It's like I have a disability with concrete things (DWCT disorder?). Ask me to store a phone number in my head, and I'll keep it there for eternity. Ask me to hold your money or your purse or your keys, and you're taking a big risk that you won't see those items again for a long time. I will forget I have them, absently set them down somewhere, and not be able to retrieve them when you ask me to do so five minutes later.

We're putting our house up for sale soon. At the moment, it's so buried in clutter that no one will want to buy it. Please understand that we are NOT like those crazy pack rats on that TV show. But I swear our stuff is replicating in our closets, on our countertops, in the gear-storage room.

So we need to declutter. Fortunately, I seem to be experiencing a "merge" of sorts, where things I'm thinking and doing are falling in line with things I happen to read here and there. For example, Marla is reading a book on decluttering. I just read Freedom from Tyranny of the Urgent, which was quoted recently on another blog I read (I can't remember which, but it was a mergey post on decluttering). I randomly picked up another book last night, one that isn't a self-help type book, and the author began by saying her life had become too cluttered with "stuff."

So, all this merging must mean God wants me to declutter, too. Right?

I followed Marla's links to Tsh Oxenreider's Simple Mom site and printed out some PDFs she'd made of decluttering checklists. And last night at 10:30, Hubster and I got to work—not on anything from the checklists (yet), but on something we’ve needed to tackle for years: our cassette tapes.

We're keeping only the homemade "mix" tapes, and only for a few days (since we have about 200 of them). I'm going to keep the jackets of some (where the names of the songs are listed), so I can reproduce the order of the songs on my iPod. Once I find it.

Question: Are you a clutter-magnet? What are some techniques you use to prevent clutter in your home? If you're over 35, did you carry a giant boom box in the 80s, too? Or just a Walkman the size of a pocket dictionary?

Happy Belated Birthday, Bach!

2011-03-22T07:27:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was J.S. Bach's birthday. I was so busy all day that I completely forgot about it until late last night.

To celebrate, I'll listen to you-know-who all day. It's been a while since I've done that.

Anne, by the way, has learned to say "Bach."

Apologies for the poor picture quality. I have a cheap cell phone.

She likes to flip through the Inventions book when she's "playing" the piano. It looks like she's trying to find just the right piece to play.

Multitude Monday #15

2011-03-21T20:38:00.004-04:00

Well. It has been a long day, and a long week. Time dragged and time flew. I feel like I missed twenty gazillion hours of work (and lost that much PTO), but I was really gone for only a day (Friday, the day of my mom's surgery).

And the weekend? Crazy scheduling, four house guests Friday night, a business/pleasure trip for Dan, and my sister's daughter with strep throat. Sigh.

Thanks to my dear friend eArThworm, I have a great little notebook for writing gratitude lists. It's small and light enough that I can carry it just about anywhere. So, while I was waiting for my mom's surgery to be over, or getting ready to go to sleep at 1 a.m., or taking a "mommy break" while Anne read books to herself, I would steal a few minutes to write down the blessings I could count at the moment.

And there were quite a few!

235. a baby's snaggletoothed smile

236. solitude, even at the office

237. hiking trails

238. stirrings of an old dream I thought had long died

239. possibility

240. a dryer rack full of clean dishes

241. finding the other sock

242. brown-mottled bananas

243. everyday items that have meaning--the mixer, a gift from my brother; a hand towel, a gift from Mrs. Shirley from more than a decade ago

244. a hand-print picture on the fridge, a gift from Ella

245. a handful of Kashi Cinnamon Harvest cereal

246. the sound of coffee dripping

247. being the only one awake in the morning

248. generosity

249. parents who model unconditional love

240. knowing that, if anything happens to my mom in surgery, she knows I love her

241. a two-year-old's prayers for her grandmother

242. seeing my mom's eyes open after they wheeled her back from surgery

243. long talks with my dad

244. steel-cut oats

245. apples

246. old friends visiting, talking trail

247. seeing bleuets and violets outside my office building this morning

248. SPRING!

249. REBIRTH!

250. being Anne's mom

My Mommy Is Sick

2011-03-15T18:28:00.003-04:00

We're not sure what's wrong with her, only that she had to be rushed to the hospital in Asheville an hour or so ago. The doctors aren't sure what's causing her pain, but they're trying to find that out, and hopefully we'll know more later tonight.

Those of you who pray, please keep my mom in your prayers. She's been in a lot of pain. One thing we do know is that she needs gallbladder surgery; however, she can't get the surgery until they find the source of her other pain.

I love my mom. :-(

3/18 Update: My mom has had a rough week. She's scheduled to have gallbladder surgery early this afternoon. I've haven't have much time for personal e-mails this week, so I apologize for not responding to those of you who e-mailed me asking about my mom. I'll post an update later to let you know how she's doing. We appreciate your prayers.

3/19 Update: The gallbladder surgery went well. We are thankful that they were able to do the surgery laproscopically, which is an easier surgery with a shorter recovery time than traditional surgery. She is in a lot of pain at this point. If you pray, please pray that she has a smooth recovery and that the pain remains under control ... and soon is a thing of the past.

3/20 Update: My mom was discharged from the hospital late this afternoon. Yay! She's home resting and recovering. Thank you for your prayers.

Toddler Tuesday

2011-03-15T14:24:00.001-04:00

I'd hoped to write something this morning, but I slept like the dead until 8:00. So here I am, posting a few quick thoughts during my lunch hour.

Miss Anne turned 15 months old last Saturday.

She has learned to blow kisses. She repeats everything we say (or tries to). She's become very cranky at night, so we think she might be teething again.

She seems to be trying to potty-train herself. Heaven help us.

Last night, I was holding her near the fruit basket, so I asked her if she could point to a banana, and then an apple, and then an orange. And she knew them all! This isn't something I've taught her. Maybe she learned it at Angela's. Maybe she just picked it up. Either way, I was surprised.

Her favorite foods these days are broccoli, cold cuts (which I give her sparingly because of the sodium), and ... yes, Ritz crackers. Anne apparently did not inherit my sweet tooth; she'll turn down a cookie in favor of a Ritz or Goldfish cracker any day. And she prefers vegetables and meat (salmon! beef! pork! chicken! turkey!) to fruit.

Is this really my child?

She's learned to run, and she loves to climb. She's now more interested in walking (rather than climbing) up and down the steps, but her legs or so short that we need to hold her hands. That's fine with her. She likes taking the big steps.

She also loves to climb onto her rocking chair and rock, rock, rock. Sometimes she lets me sit in front of the chair and push it to rock her. The other day I watched her do the same thing with a teddy bear.

We got out the Mardi Gras beads a couple of weeks ago, and she can't get enough of bead-wearing.

She's such a sweet girl. I love her so much.

This kind of a disjointed little report, but it's lunch and Miss Boo is waking up and it's time to nurse. (Yes, we're still nursing.)

Oh, speaking of "boo," she likes to hide behind the shower curtain. When she peeks out at me, she says, "Boo." Not "Boo!" Just "Boo." With a period. It's the cutest, sweetest thing ever.

"Slavery to God is perfect freedom."

2011-03-14T16:00:00.001-04:00

"St. Augustine expressed a paradox of the Christian life: 'Slavery to God is perfect freedom.' In other words, commitment to the will of God--the purpose for which we are designed--offers freedom to become the person we are meant to be--freedom to travel along the road of God's choice."

- Charles E. Hummel, Freedom from the Tyranny of the Urgent

Multitude Monday #14

2011-03-14T07:25:00.003-04:00

This is my first Multitude Monday in two weeks. Or maybe three. Once again, I managed to let myself get swept up in the urgency of life's demands and forget to be still, and be thankful. It was no easier last week; my mom had to go into the hospital with gallbladder-related pain in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, and then I ended up with a lot of tooth pain, for which I'm getting a root canal today. We're hoping my mom can have her gallbladder surgery scheduled for tomorrow or Wednesday.

I didn't go to work on Tuesday, which meant I had to work Saturday so I didn't lose PTO. (I've been the red for PTO for most of the time since I got back from maternity leave ... long story.)

So, I had a one-day weekend. My mom is at my sister's house, an hour and a half away, and I was too tired for three hours on the road Sunday afternoon, so Dan, Anne, and I spent the day together. After church, Anne had a nap, and then we packed up and headed out to the Appalachian Trail.

Crossing a bridge (Yes, I was a little nervous!)

But enough of my life. Onward to thankful thoughts ...

224. the fact that my mom was at our house, and not alone, when she started having the gallbladder pain. She was in so much pain she couldn't move, not even to reach over for a phone.

225. the fact that gallbladder surgery (laproscopic) is apparently relatively simple these days.

226. insurance that pays 80% of root-canal costs.

227. a beautiful Sunday afternoon for hiking on the AT

228. my 15-month-old blowing kisses for the first time

229. running up the trail with Anne in my backpack, both of us saying, "Woooo! Woooo!" and laughing

230. Anne's "hoo" echo: If Dan or I need to call the other person in the house, or on the trail, or (yes) in public, we'll yell, "Hooty hoo! Hooty hoo!" Anne seems to have picked up on it, and she echoes us when we say it, only she says, "Hoo!"

231. the way I've stopped craving orange juice in the mornings since giving up sweets for Lent

232. Lent

233. my "confession" friend, Katie

234. hiking -- the strong feeling in my legs and lungs, the weight of the pack on my hips, the feel of the Leki poles in my hands, the sheer joy inherent in the rhythm of walking on a trail

This is a short list today, but I need to get ready and go into work early. Hope everyone has a great week!

Here are a couple of pictures, since I haven't posted any in a while:

Anne loved riding in her new backpack
(a barely used Deuter Kid Comfort II, found on craigslist)

Dan showing Anne how to read a map

I hope to post a few more pictures for tomorrow's Toddler Tuesday. Meanwhile hop on over to Ann's blog to read more bloggers' thankful thoughts today.

Five Minute Friday: The Mirror

2011-03-04T11:47:00.013-05:00

This week I'm participating in The Gypsy Mama's Five-Minute Friday writing exercise. I actually participate every week, but I rarely post what I write because it's well-nigh impossible for me to write anything for publication without obsessively editing it first.

But this one came out pretty "finished-sounding," so I'll publish it here. The Gypsy Mama's topic for today was "When I Look in the Mirror, I See ..." The idea is to write for five minutes flat, not editing, and to publish what you come up with.

What I wrote ended up being kind of depressing. But I like it anyway. (And I promise to go back and "edit" only if I see a typo.)

*************************************************

When I look in the mirror, I see ...

A gaunt, aging woman with bloodshot eyes and sprigs of gray hairs sprouting from my scalp, and from my temples in particular. Dark circles under my tired eyes. Unsmiling face. Plum wore out.

Hair hanging past my shoulders, much longer than it should be, because I haven't been to a hairdresser since last July. My hair looks as exhausted as I feel.

I don't like looking in the mirror. I never really did.

When I was a teenager, I spent hours at the mirror, fixing my makeup just right, moussing and gelling and curling and teasing my hair. Or, on darker days, berating my own reflection for its chubby cheeks, its fat thighs. I remember all the weighing and looking, weighing and looking. How many hours did I spend weighing myself and looking in the mirror, hopeful that somehow I'd become a little bit thinner? And always hating my reflection, no matter what I saw?

When I was in my twenties and thirties, I didn't have time to look in the mirror. Or if I did, I suppose I liked what I saw well enough and went on with my life.

Now that I'm in my 40s, I look in the mirror each morning and see an old woman. Forty isn't old, I know, but I feel like I've aged a few decades in the last five years.

I'd always looked a good ten or twelve years younger than my actual age. No more.

Depression, sleeplessness, and far, far too many hours spent at the office, or in the classroom, or mindlessly in front of a computer. Not nearly enough time spent in the woods, writing, making music, doing what I love.

This neglect, it's showing in this reflection in the glass. Too many years of being tired, too many years of stretching myself thin, too many years of living with eyes closed to beauty and hope.

Maybe I should have looked in the mirror more.

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Want to join me and others in Five-Minute Friday? Go to The Gypsy Mama's blog and find out how!

Happy National Grammar Day!

2011-03-04T08:11:00.000-05:00

It's National Grammar Day in America. How are you going to celebrate?

Start by reading Grammar Girl's Top Ten Grammar Myths, and feel free to use all the appropriate passive voice constructions, split infinitives, and grammatically correct long sentences you want today ... and every day!

A Future Blogger?

2011-03-04T07:41:00.001-05:00

A Poem: "The Agony," by George Herbert

2011-03-03T18:35:00.000-05:00

I just realized I missed the anniversary of George Herbert’s death by two days. But I guess I don’t need an anniversary as an excuse to post one of my favorite Herbert poems.

The Agony

        Philosophers have measured mountains,
Fathom'd the depths of seas, of states, and kings,
Walk'd with a staff to heaven, and traced fountains
        But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove:
Yet few there are that sound them; Sin and Love.

        Who would know Sin, let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A man, so wrung with pains, that all his hair,
        His skin, his garments, bloody be.
Sin is that Press and Vice, which forceth pain
To hunt his cruel food through every vein.

        Who knows not Love, let him assay,
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike
Did set again abroach; then let him say
        If ever he did taste the like.
Love is that liquor sweet and most divine,
Which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine.

(By George Herbert, 1593-1633)

(Taken from The English Poems of George Herbert, ed., C.A. Patrides)

Priority Check

2011-02-25T07:50:00.002-05:00

Last night I logged on to Facebook to wish a couple of friends a happy birthday (even though their birthdays were mostly over). As usual when I log on to Facebook, I decided to scroll down the page to see what everyone was up to.

I don't know why I do this, any more than I know why I keep eating Ritz crackers after 11:30 at night. But I do. Though I'm admittedly getting better (about Facebook, not about Ritz crackers).

Anyway, I was reading status updates I (mostly) wasn't interested in, many of them written (mostly) by people I don't know that well, when I felt Miss Anne's little hand patting my leg. I looked down at her. She had a book to read. Another book.

"Wait, Miss Anne," I said as I clicked "Like" or posted some two-word comment to someone's status update. "Just a minute."

Thirty seconds later, she patted me again.

"Just a minute, Miss Anne. Right now, Mommy's ..."

And I stopped. Looked up. Right now Mommy's ... what?

I closed my laptop. I picked up Miss Anne and hugged her. I apologized. Told her she's so much more important to me than stupid old Facebook.

She didn't understand what had just happened, but I did, and I felt so bad about it I almost cried.

What I hope she did understand, ultimately, was that she was more important than whatever Mommy was doing on the computer. Even if it took Mommy a minute to realize it.

And then we read her book. For the three hundred and twenty-first wonderful time.

A Suggestion in Our Local Paper

2011-02-24T16:28:00.000-05:00

This made me chuckle:

Toddler Tuesday

2011-02-22T06:22:00.003-05:00

My darling toddler is waking up between 2:30 and 4:30 every night. Some nights I'll feed her. Some nights I'll lie in bed and beg her silently to go back to sleep. Every once in a blue moon she'll do that, but not usually.

Last night was a 2:30 wake-up. I wasn't surprised, as she ate very little for dinner. So I asked if she was hungry, and she patted her belly, which is her way of saying, "Yes, Mommy, I'm hungry." So I nursed her ... and once she finished her milk, she started crying again.

And she cried. She cried so hard she threw up. Milk-vomit, all over her, all over me, all over our sheets. At 3:00 a.m. Again.

She's such a sweet boo, but this up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-every-night thing has got to come to an end. Tonight, and every night until we get into a new routine, we're having spaghetti for dinner. Spaghetti is the only food she'll wolf down. Everything else gets picked at. She's finally beginning to eat like her picky parents ate when they were kids. I knew it was coming. It had to.

But if we give her spaghetti, she'll get a full belly. And if she has a full belly, she'll sleep through the night. Right? We'll see.

I never went back to sleep and instead did some writing from 4:30 until now (6:15 or so). I'm supposed to run three miles after work tonight. We'll see how that goes.

Anyway, here are a few pictures of Anne from the past couple of weekends.

Taking a hike with her daddy

Loving the swing

Playing with Daddy (and the cat)

There aren't many "new" things to report this week. She still weighs her usual 17 and a half pounds, though she's gotten a bit taller. She babbles constantly but isn't saying any actual words yet, other than "Dada" and "Mama" and the occasional bark or moo. She knows just about all of her body parts.

She's still book-crazy, to the point that I actually worried a little this weekend that she's spending too much of her life with her nose in a book. Yes, I have an M.A. in English and taught English and am always reading at least one book and own upwards of 1,500 books. But I'm wondering if Anne should show just a little interest in something other than books. Puzzles, for instance. Or balls. Or MEGA Bloks.

I won't complain, though. I've probably spent too much of my life with my nose in a book, and I don't think it's hurt me too much. And I do love having a little bookworm. Like Mommy, like Daughter. :-)

Reading at the library one Saturday

On the kitchen floor

In her rocking chair

Multitude Monday #13

2011-02-21T13:42:00.001-05:00

My mind feels so foggy this morning that it's hard to focus on gratitude, or lack thereof, or anything other than the task immediately at hand. I'm on a short work break and am feeling anxious. I need to get back to work. I need to finish up an article and edit another one. I need to get the information I need to build a software update set to be released this afternoon. I need, I need, I need.

I need time. I feel so desperate for time. I am starving for time.

Not the best state of mind for embarking on my 41st year of life.

While I had precious little time to myself this weekend, I did have some wonderful moments with Anne and Dan--visiting Anne's old sitter, having a picnic at Standing Indian Campground, rocking my sleeping baby in the middle of the day ... things like that.

Here are a few things I was thankful for this past week:

211. a home so close to the Appalachian Trail, and National Forest land, and campgrounds

212. watching her maneuver her baby steps over dead leaves, rocks, and sticks

213. the opportunity to volunteer for Compassion International on February 18—my birthday, and the birthday of my Compassion child, Consuelo

214. 40 or so new children sponsored Friday night at the Compassion event!

215. old songs that bring back good memories

216. falling asleep while she nurses

217. that he washed all five loads of clothes this weekend

218. books, books, books

219. writing for 30 minutes on Saturday morning, and making more progress than I normally make in an hour or two of writing

220. working out a particular conflict in my novel, trying to pinpoint the exact nature of the conflict in my head, and then reading about the same type of conflict, much more masterfully articulated, in Anna Karenina a few hours later

221. great writers like Tolstoy and Shakespeare, who teach me more about myself by holding up the mirror of my own humanity

222. hiding with baby in a game of hide-and-seek with daddy

223. the fact that we play hide-and-seek all the time now

OK, I'll stop. I'm honestly struggling with thoughts of gratitude today. When I wrote #221, I couldn't help but think, "but I really hate bad writers, specifically ________ and _________." When I wrote #215, I was tempted to add, "even if the old songs aren't very good."

See what I mean?

Gratitude goal for this week: to focus more intentionally on the gifts—something I admittedly haven't done for a couple of weeks.

In fact, my friend Audra's post today (specifically her third paragraph) pretty much sums up my life for the past couple of weeks.

Let’s end on a happier note. Can you see the joy in this child’s face? I think my baby likes to be outdoors!

Toddler Tuesday ... on a Wednesday

2011-02-16T07:37:00.006-05:00

It's early Wednesday morning, and Dan has already left home, Anne in tow. He has a meeting in the vicinity of Anne's sitter, so he's dropping her off today.

Absence is making this mommy's heart grow ever fonder. I'll see her at 1:00 this afternoon if Angela decides to take the kids into town. If not, I'll see her when I pick her up after work at 7:45 tonight.

I hate missing my sweet daughter, but I'm thankful that, at the end of the day, always, she is there: waiting for me, grinning, happy to see her mommy again.

Anne turned 14 months old on Saturday. This past week, she gave me a "kiss" for the first time. We've been working on this for a while. Then one day I said, "Anne, can you give Mommy a kiss?" And she walked over to me and rested her lips on my cheek for a couple of seconds.

Can I ever describe the joy that overcame me in that moment? You'll just have to take my word for it.

And later, when Dan was in the room, I said, "Anne, can you give Daddy a kiss?" And she did the same to him. Made his day.

This whole weekend was a series of similar sweet moments; I wrote about some of them (and posted a few pictures) yesterday. It was my first "free" (non-working) weekend since September, and I made the most of it by spending every moment I could with my family. Anne and I read books, played with toys, and nursed to our hearts' content. We went with Dan to the playground both days. We went grocery shopping together. We went to the library. We just had fun.

Oh, and Dan built her a bookcase Sunday afternoon. That's something she'll be able to treasure for the rest of her life.

Here are a few more memories from the past week:

- At home, when I said, "Anne, would you like to go to the playground?", she squealed, ran to the front door, and began banging on it. (Let's go, Mommy, let's go! Now, Mommy!")

- Her favorite food is spaghetti. The other night, when she ran out of pasta in her bowl, she pointed to the big bowl of spaghetti that was on the table, and then tapped her finger in her bowl.

- She's begun trying to say words. She said something like "Anh" and patted her chest. She's also said something like "please" ("pee").

- She's demonstrating the cutest little sense of humor. She likes to hide from us (always in the closet). We'll go around the house calling, "Anne? Where's Anne? Has anyone seen Anne?" And then she'll come out of the closet, grinning.

- She'll pretend to offer us something--her toothbrush, a Cheerio, etc.--and then snatch it back, grinning, just as we're about to take it. She doesn't know how to say "Psych!" yet, but she definitely has the idea.

- She loves the slide at the playground. This weekend, I noticed that she's no longer falling back as she slides. She's now able to keep her body at a mostly 90-degree angle when she goes down.

- She's still a huge bookworm. She loves her new bookcase and takes 10 or 15 books off of it each night for us to read.

- She's begun waking up in the night again. I can't tell that she's teething, but I know something must be going on. Three nights in a row now, she's been up between 2:30 and 4:30. I'd hoped to start getting up early (around 5:00 a.m.) to write. Needless to say, that hasn't happened.

- She was coughing a lot last week, so we took her to the doctor. He said she had the beginnings of bronchiolitis and gave us a prescription for an antibiotic. It's the first antibiotic she's ever taken, and Dan and I weren't crazy about giving it to her. But she's no longer making a rattly noise when she breathes, and her coughing has diminished, so we're glad she's better.

- She weighed in at 17 pounds, 9 ounces at the doctor's office. Still a little bitty thing!

- She's begun to run. It's an awkward toddler-run, but it's a run. And, as you might expect, it's unbelievably cute.

- Both nights this weekend, my face hurt from so much smiling.

That's all I can think of for now. If I think of more, I'll update this post accordingly.

Multitude Monday #12 ... On a Tuesday

2011-02-15T08:23:00.005-05:00

Yesterday morning, Dan went with me to the courthouse.

Yes, quite the Valentine's Day gift. Good thing we're not big on that holiday.

But I needed his presence there more than I needed flowers or candy. (Definitely more than I needed candy.)

Yesterday, we watched as Mary's killer pleaded guilty for taking Mary's life on March 31, 2009, when he hit her head-on. He was in a truck, she in a sports car. His blood-alcohol level was through the roof. She was on her way home from a wake.

Every time the judge said "March 31, 2009," my chest tightened a little. How I wish I could rewind time to the day before and plan things differently. Do things differently.

I wanted to throw up when the sheriff's deputy who'd been first to the scene described what he'd found. The deputy himself, a seventeen-year veteran of law enforcement, looked pretty sick himself. "It was some of the worst I've seen in 17 years," he told the judge.

Mary's killer was sentenced as expected. The laws of the state don't allow more than 38 months in jail. That doesn't seem enough for snuffing out a young woman's life, does it. But he is behind bars now, and I hope that, now that this day is behind us, Mary's family can get some degree of closure. Whatever that means.

That morning of tears and reliving the ugly past came on the heels of what was probably the most joy-filled weekend of my life since becoming a mom. So I'm feeling a weird mix of loss and gratitude.

A weird mix of loss and gratitude. That's pretty much what I've felt regarding Mary, ever since March 31, 2009.

Thankful thoughts for this week:

191. that we can grieve together

192. that, on Mary's last day alive, I got to spend more time with her than I ever had in our young friendship

193. that there is always work do, people to care for, life to tend to

194. that, as far as we know, Mary didn't suffer

195. mild February days that Mary would have loved--pale sky, wispy clouds, with just a hint of a breeze ... perfect for hiking

196. a two-day weekend, after almost five long months of six-day work weeks

197. family time: Dan, Anne, and me, just being together (Do other families really do this on a regular basis? It's hard to imagine.)

198. crying out "Weeeeeee!" with my daughter as we go back and forth on the swing

199. a little girl riding high on her daddy's shoulders

200. feeling, at a moment, that I am as happy as I've ever been

201. little leather shoes that fit her just right

202. receiving my first-ever kiss from my daughter

203. "yes" answers to prayer (there are the "no" and the "later" answers, which I am also thankful for ... but it's nice to get a "yes" every now and then)

204. front porches

205. a new, Daddy-built bookcase, and

206. lots of books to fill it, and

207. room for more books

208. when opportunity knocks again. persistently. daring me to ignore it.

209. justice - that it is real, and the need for it is wired into our brains

210. mercy - that God forgives

Have a good week, everyone. To read more bloggers' thankful thoughts (or link your own), just click the banner below.

Saturday Links & Ramblings ... On Monday

2011-02-14T12:00:00.002-05:00

I had to step away from the blog world for a while last week; responsibilities at work and home required my attention, so I haven't been able to update this blog, or read others' blogs, for a few days. I can't promise that I'm back for good, but I am happy to announce that the higher-ups should be reducing our work hours in the next few days.

Just a few links for this week ...

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As a new mom, I appreciated Mark Altrogge's list of ways that we can provoke our children to anger. Here are just a few that made me think:

- By being offended at their sin because it bothers us, not because it offends God.
- By failing to ask their forgiveness when we sin against them
- By self-centered reactions to their sin (How could you do this to ME?)

Read the rest at The Blazing Center.

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In another good post for new moms, particularly those who have (or are planning to have) more than a couple of children, mom-of-five Allison Horton offers Tips & Tricks From a Mom of Many.

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On an entirely different subject, I was saddened and moved by this story about child-author Barbara Follett, a talented writer who mysteriously disappeared as a young woman, and was never seen again. Her first novel, The House Without Windows, was published when she was barely twelve years old.

Years later, after her father left her and her mother, Follett had to take a secretarial job. About that experience, she wrote something that resonated a bit with this creative-type-turned-technical-writer:

“I thought [my dreams] were all safely buried, but sometimes they stir in their grave, making my heartstrings twinge. I mean no particular dream, you understand, but the whole radiant flock of them together—with their rainbow wings, iridescent, bright, soaring, glorious, sublime. They are dying before the steel javelins and arrows of a world of Time and Money.”

Follett's story is a sad one, but so worth the read. You can find it here.

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This post by Greg Lucas had me in tears, and I don't even like dogs.

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Dana Huff recently reminded me of a reading challenge I meant to join but forgot about. For the 2011 Where Are You Reading Challenge, you basically use Google Maps to mark the settings of books you've read this year.

My reading progress has been abysmal this year; I haven't finished a single book. I'm about halfway through both the Bible (in 90 days) and One Thousand Gifts. Poor Anna Karenina is my third priority. I've barely kept up with the Bible and manage to read just two or three pages of One Thousand Gifts a day. It's very frustrating not to be able to read more, but I'm just so tired in that tiny window of time I get to myself (usually after 11:00 pm). Once they cut back our hours at work, the reading should pick up.

Here's my map so far. I'm probably cheating because I haven't technically finished any of these books, but it helps me feel less discouraged to see the locations marked.

(As a post-Saturday aside, Ann Voskamp, author of One Thousand Gifts, has an article in The Huffington Post today.

That's it for Saturday Links and Ramblings on Monday. If all goes according to plan, I'll publish Multitude Monday on Tuesday, and Toddler Tuesday on Wednesday.

Have a good week, dear readers!

Sonnet 27

2011-02-09T08:37:00.001-05:00

I'm trying to make more time in my time-starved life for poetry. Why? Because poetry pulls me in and stops time ... or seems to. And lets me breathe.

Yesterday, in the 30 minutes I was able to grab for lunch, I pulled out my trusty Norton Anthology of Poetry and opened to Shakespeare's sonnets. When I read the familiar Sonnet 27, I thought of Anne, and how thoughts of her throughout the day--when I look at her picture on my desktop, or when Angela e-mails me about something cute that she did--really do bring me "such wealth/That then I scorn to change my state with kings."

Enjoy!

Sonnet 27

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Toddler Tuesday

2011-02-08T07:11:00.004-05:00

Somehow, miraculously, Anne seems to be a happy, well-adjusted little toddler, despite all the time away from her mom, and despite her mommy being so exhausted after work that our "quality time" is of questionable quality.

It's been a rough week for me, but Miss Anne is her cheerful, curious self, toddling away, reading and learning and amazing us with her capacity to understand things.

The big milestone for this past week was the nose-blow. Yes, she blew her nose. She really hates the suction-bulb, so I guess she figured she'd better learn to blow or else have her nose suctioned for the rest of her life.

The first few times, we held the tissue to her nose and said, "Blow your nose, Li'l Boo." Now she goes over to the tissue box, gets her own tissue, and wipes and blows her own nose. She still needs a bit more dexterity in her fingers to do this well, but I'm proud of her all the same.

Now, if only she would change her own diapers ...

She actually got to see a "Potty-Training Boot Camp" in action this past weekend when we went to visit Megan (my sister) and Ella (her daughter, and Anne's cousin) in Brevard. They were at a friend's house, and Ella and Marlee (who is Ella's age, almost two and a half) were going through PTBC together.

Long story short--Anne got to see lots of potty-going that day. Since then, she's crawled into her own potty several times a day. (Yes, you read that right. She's less interested in sitting on the potty than she is in putting her feet in the bowl and sitting in it.) (I am talking about the baby potty, not the grown-up potty ... just in case you were wondering.)

We've sat her on it a few times, just to see if she would leave a "gift" in there, which would of course prompt us to clap and cheer and encourage her to make a habit of using the potty, but she hasn't done anything yet. We're not planning to start potty training anytime soon, but if she decides she wants to start using the potty ... who are we to argue?

Anne continues to be a bookworm. We read for an hour or so every night. After each book, I lower her to the floor and she picks out another book. Then I put her onto my lap and we read some more. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Last night, Dan and I read her Doggies, by Sandra Boynton. It's a really funny book, where most of the "words" are actually dog sounds, like "Arf arf arf," "Yap yap," and "Grrr!" So Dan and I were taking turns making the dog noises, when, out of nowhere, Anne let out a big "Woof!" of her very own.

Our daughter can bark. I'm so proud.

She's also begun to use some of the sign language we used with her ages ago (as in, six months ago). We haven't done any sign language since then, but I guess the signs were planted like seeds in her brain and eventually grew to fruition. She's suddenly doing the "all done" sign when she's full and the "hungry" sign when she's hungry. Go figure.

I don't have any pictures for today, but you can scroll down to yesterday's post to see one from Saturday's PTBC. We also have some adorable pictures of her sitting in the baby potty last night before her bath, but those aren't going to make it to the Internet. Sorry.

My sister did post a few pictures from the weekend; you can find them here.

Multitude Monday #11

2011-02-07T13:56:00.003-05:00

Feeling angry and bitter and hate-filled today. Ah, lovely. Definitely not in a state of mind for feeling gratitude. I feel more like writing a list of gripes.

It seems like time has been my enemy these past few days; I've consistently been 15 to 30 minutes behind on everything. We were late for Dan's work banquet Saturday night, late getting to the babysitter's, late visiting my sister, late visiting my brother, late to Deborah's, and then late to church yesterday. I can't stop feeling behind--on work, e-mails, responsibilities in general. I just got back from lunch, which I spent frantically running errands and making a too-long list of the things I still need to do today. I meant to go home to see if I have fever (I feel kind of like I do), but I ran out of time. So here I am.

Anyway, enough rambling. Here are a few things from this past week that I felt thankful for:

173. my health--I am blessedly healthy for an almost-41-year-old

174. a husband who continues to be patient with me. If I were he, my patience with my insufferable wife would have run out long ago.

175. long roads for long runs

176. Anne's first efforts at blowing her own nose

177. half a dozen small bags, full of clothes she's outgrown

178. a closet no longer stuffed full of clothes she's outgrown!

179. finger paints

180. myrecipes.com - how did our mothers and grandmothers plan meals and shopping lists without online recipe sites?

181. being able to visit with both my brother and my sister in the same day

182. cars that work

183. friends who babysit

184. a game of hide-and-seek between one-year-olds (in the church sanctuary, no less)

185. the end of football season

186. a friend with whom I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not

187. an impromptu visit with Cousin Ella

Ella and Anne, Saturday afternoon

188. Chopin's Op. 10, No. 1 Nocturne in B-flat minor

189. a visit with Deborah, who was my piano teacher before I had to quit in 2008

190. time to write this list

Hope everyone has a good week, and enough time for what's important.

Saturday Link, with Nary a Ramble

2011-02-05T09:09:00.000-05:00

Don't miss this week's Saturday Review of Books, hosted by Semicolon!

No Saturday Links and Ramblings on this blog today ... I've had an atrociously busy week and haven't even had time to read my "daily must-read" blogs, much less jot down URLs and post thoughts. I'll post links for the week soon, but it might not happen for another few days.

Hope everyone has a great weekend!

Book Review: Clare Beaton's Mother Goose Remembers

2011-02-04T13:48:00.024-05:00

Mother Goose Remembers (with CD), by Clare Beaton
Published by Barefoot Books (September 1, 2006)
Recommended for ages 4 - 8

Clare Beaton’s Mother Goose Remembers was first published in August 2000. At that time, I was in Vermont, just 500 or so miles into my southbound hike of the Appalachian Trail. I was 30 years old, single (with no plans to be married ... ever), and childless (with no plans for children ... ever).

Ah, how things have changed! Now I’m enjoying this very book with my sweet daughter, who insists that we read it at least once every single night. Here she is, reading it with my mom:

Anne Megan at one year, reading with her "GG"

The book, a collection of Mother Goose rhymes (some of which were new to me), has a homey, old-fashioned feel to it; this is due to Clare Beaton’s original, hand-sewn designs. She uses felt, lace, buttons, bric-a-brac, and who knows what else.

The pictures are a lot of fun to look at, and I appreciate them more with each dozen times I read the book. They're simplistic but not boring; there’s always something new and intricate to discover, such as the bric-a-brac used to represent the ground, or the buttons used for flower petals. Every page (or almost every page) has a little floating feather hidden somewhere on it, and that’s something a child can look for with each rhyme.

I really like the wording of the rhymes, as they haven't been modernized or much changed (that I can tell) from when I learned them as a child. There are a few differences, but they are minor, and most likely common variations on the rhymes. In case you're wondering, here are a couple of differences that I can think of right now:

- In "Hey Diddle Diddle," I learned "The little dog laughed to see such sport," while the book has "The little dog laughed to see such fun."

- "To Market, To Market" is missing the final two lines as I learned it ("To market, to market, to buy a plum bun / Home again, home again, market is done").

See? Nothing major. I never really knew what a plum bun was, anyway. (Though I do wish she'd used "sport" instead of "fun." Somehow, "sport" sounds so much more properly English.)
Mother Goose Remembers is recommended for ages 4 – 8, but, in keeping with her mature reading tastes, fourteen-month-old Anne loves it; it’s a hands-down favorite for her. We read it from front to back every night, and then from back to front, and often from front to back and back to front again. Anne turns the pages herself and stops on the pages she likes most. Her favorites have changed over time; at the moment, she’s digging “Sing a Song of Sixpence,” “Pat-a-Cake,” and “Ring Around the Rosy.”

The book comes with a CD of the rhymes being sung. I must admit, I haven’t listened to it more than a couple of times; not that it’s bad (it’s actually quite good—not annoying like a lot of children's music CDs out there), but because our CD player is in our living room, and Anne and I typically read in her bedroom. I keep meaning to download the tunes to my iPod so we can play the rhymes for her in the car.

Oh, and Anne loves to open and close the plastic CD holder at the front of the book. :-)

Though I'm sure she'll eventually tire of the CD holder, I think Anne and I are going to enjoy this book together for years to come. It’s a rare children’s book that, after 100 or more reads, can continue to be engaging for both the parent and the child. For us, Clare Beaton’s Mother Goose Remembers is one of those books.

(As an added note: Like The Hidden Alphabet, Mother Goose Remembers gets my creative mind going. I’m not an "artsy-craftsy" person at all, but I can’t help but think of how fun it might be to have Anne, when she's a little older, try her hand at making art similar to Beaton’s—when we're not out hiking the trails, that is!)

Thuddy Thursday: From the Piano Archives

2011-02-03T14:02:00.002-05:00

Wouldn't you know it: The day after I decide to post weekly on my piano progress, I get a deep cut on the tip of my right index finger and can barely type with it, much less strike piano keys. The finger is healing, but I had only one day of practice this week and am hoping to make up for the lack of practice in the coming week.

I don't want to miss my second "Thuddy Thursday" post, however, so I'm going to post one of my favorite "piano posts" from my old blog. I wrote this in 2004, not long after I started taking lessons again. Enjoy!

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"Beautiful!"

That's what my pianner teacher wrote as her assessment when I played the Bach Sinfonia today at my pianner lesson.

Beautiful! I done went and played that dad-burned Bach beautiful-ly!

Now, let me 'splain sump'n here. People who know me know that I, on occasion, have indeed played beautifully. Not braggin', just statin' a fact. But Bach's a feller that I have avoided like the plague for much of my pianner-playin' life. OK, so I avoided the feller's music, not the feller himself.

Here's why:

When I was a wee little punkin' of a girl, not knee-high to a grasshopper, my pianner teacher would put all us students in pianner festivals and what-not. Basically, this meant stressin' over ... um, I mean preparin' ... a couple of pieces of music appropriate to our respective levels. I hated to practice when I was little, so I always made these festival stress ... I mean preparations ... a whole lot more trouble than they shoulda been. You know, I was one of them students who wouldn't practice and wouldn't practice and wouldn't practice then suddenly would practice like crazy to have the pieces ready in time. And they were always ready, might I add. (I'm pattin' myself on the back right about now.)

An' then, for the festival, all the little pianner students in the gret stet of Lou-zee-ana would descend on Ella Shoe and go into little rooms in the esteemed MVSIC AND DRAMATIC ARTS building and play for a judge.

Now, I don't know 'bout you, but there are two things I love most 'bout playin' pianner:

1. Playin' fer myself
2. Showin' off fer other folks

There is one thing I most certainly do NOT love 'bout playin' pianner:

1. Playin' fer one other person, 'specially when that person is (1) better than you and (2) hidin' behind a stupid clipboard on which to mark every dumb mistake you make, and it don't matter if you played it perfectly at home yesterday or not. Ain't no showin' off factor to it a-tall. An' you don't git points for learnin' it in flat under two weeks.

Despite my dislike for these here festivals, I usually earned myself a "Superior" ratin', which was the A-1 highest ratin' there was, thank you very much. If you got a "Excellent," that meant you did "so-so." If you got a "Good," well then, buddy, maybe you're playin' the wrong instrument. 'Least that's how I saw it, as a seven-year-ole.

'Cept for that dad-burned Bach Festival. It was all Bach, nothin' but Bach. I think it was in December every year, though I could be wrong. I prob'ly blocked it out of my memory, kinda like you do with nightmares.

Every year I'd stress ... I mean, prepare ... fer the dreaded Bach Festival. I didn't like Bach so much as a kid. OK, well, I liked some of the Minuets and I loved sump'n called "Musette in D," but there was this one called "Bourree" that I just could not stand, no way, no how. I had to play it for the Bach Festival one year.

I think I played in that Bach Festival for four years. Or five. And do you know what?

They kep' givin' me a "Excellent." Even though I was the best pianner player there.

Well, maybe I wasn't near the best (sheesh, I was only a kid), but those "Excellents" sure do a number on your pianner-playin' self-esteem.

I don't know why I got "Excellents." One judge wrote I played too robot-o like, an' another said I played too emotional-like. Cain't have it both ways, judges. An' if I'm too emotional, well, I cain't he'p it if I was born to play Beethoven. Sheesh.

Or heck, maybe all that last-minute learnin' just didn't cut it. (I know, I know, I know, all you pianner teachers are noddin' with vehemence right now, thinkin', "yep, that's it, you annoying little pianner student brat who never practiced," but what do you know.)

But I just sort of accepted that I'd never be more than "so-so" at playin' Bach.

And I put Bach's music on my black list and avoided it like the plague for many a year. And when I did hafta learn Bach, I struggled an' fought with it 'till I got to where I could play it "so-so," an' then I'd plumb give up.

(I'm a "all-or-nothin'" kinda girl, as they say.)

So it was a big ole deal when my pianner teacher wrote "Beautiful!" in my pianner notebook today. Done brought a li'l ole smile to my face.

But I sure am glad she didn't write "Excellent."

Toddler Tuesday

2011-02-01T07:49:00.006-05:00

Lately I’ve been feeling more angsty than usual about missing my sweet girl on weekdays. We’re working long hours these days (as we always do at this time of year), and there are some days where I see Miss Anne for only three hours. It just makes me sick to think that I’m not raising her, and that she’s spending the majority of her days with someone else. While I’m very happy with the woman who watches her all day, I’m well aware that this is not the ideal situation. Ideally, I would be at home with Anne.

I’m not even what I think of as the traditional “stay-at-home-mom” (SAHM) type. But it just seems so wrong that I’m not functioning as the primary caregiver in my own daughter’s life.

“But you’re doing this for her,” a well-meaning SAHM told me.

Uh, no. I’m doing this because our pre-baby bills were perfectly affordable as long as we both worked. But, unless one of our two houses sells (that’s right, our first house still hasn’t sold, and it’s been on and off the market for two and a half years) or we win the lottery (which we probably won’t, since we don’t buy lottery tickets), I need to continue my full-time job.

Ah, well. I do like my job, and I’m glad to have it. I love the people I work with, and I often love the work itself. Things could be much, much worse. But I feel like a part of me, and maybe a part of Anne, is atrophying—or just not developing right—because we get so little time together.

But enough of me and my angst. It’s Toddler Tuesday, so I’ll talk about that sweet toddler of mine.

Anne is now 13 and a half months old. She's too big for her infant car seat, but she's only 17 and a half pounds, so we have her in a rear-facing toddler car seat. I’m kind of glad she’s so small—it’s still easy to carry her with one arm if I need to. It’s pretty funny, though, to see her walking (and even running!) as well as she does, since she looks more like a nine-month-old than a thirteen-month-old!

At the playground

This weekend, Anne and I met my sister and my niece, Ella, at the park in a town halfway between our two towns. We had a great time! The weather was sunny and in the sixties—a perfect day. The ground was wet, and there was still some snow here and there, but we didn’t let that bother us.

Crawling through the tunnel

Looking in the mirror with her cousin, Ella

Anne loves to swing!

One night last week, we were reading her favorite Mother Goose book. When we got to the “Pat-a-Cake” page, she began clapping, and then she started rolling her hands like we do in “Pat-a-Cake.” I sat there gaping. When did she learn to do this? We’d done “Pat-a-Cake” a few times, a few weeks before, but hadn’t done it since. (She turns the pages of the book, so some pages get skipped every time, and “Pat-a-Cake” was one that got skipped a lot.)

“Very good, Anne!” I exclaimed, and she just grinned. She knew she’d done something impressive!

One sweet thing—whenever we’re reading, sometimes she’ll turn and look up at me and just smile. Then she’ll look back down at the book. I love that smile. It like she’s saying, “Isn’t this fun, Mommy?”

She’s also begun giving me knee-hugs. I love knee-hugs more than anything. She runs to me, wraps her arms around my knees, and just holds on. Knee-hugs are the greatest thing in the world.

Several of my December 2009 mom-friends have been posting about the tantrums their thirteen-month-olds are beginning to have. Anne hadn’t thrown any full-fledged tantrums ... yet. She has had a few unwarranted crying fits, though, and always when one of two things happens: I take away her book (if it’s time to bathe, or put her coat on, or something like that), or I take away her toothbrush. Yes, her toothbrush. Next to reading, her favorite activity is brushing her teeth.

I could go on ... and on. I’m so in love with this child. Here’s a picture of the two of us, from a couple of weeks ago:

Nina, Anne, and Froggy

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

Reading Update: January 2011

2011-01-31T21:51:00.004-05:00

I read a lot in January. And finished nothing.

Which is okay, because I didn't expect to finish anything this month. At the same time, I wish I'd devoted more time to reading.

I'm on track for reading the Bible in 90 days. I fell behind a few times and got ahead a few times (only to fall behind again), but, as of today, I'm right where I'm supposed to be: starting the book of 1 Chronicles. It has definitely been a whirlwind, and I'm not sure how much I'm getting out of the experience (yet), but I'm keeping up.

I'm a little less than halfway through Anna Karenina. This is one I wish I'd spent more time reading. I love this book, and I hate to put it down whenever I have to stop reading. But the Bible commitment has been the first priority, and its 12 or more pages per night generally take up what little reading time I have.

Oh, and there's one other usurper of my reading time: One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are. This book was written by Ann Voskamp, a blog-friend of mine who is suddenly right in the limelight with her book ranked in the amazon.com and USA Today bestseller lists. Wow! I've been reading a page or two at a time. Generally, it's been this book (and not Anna Karenina) I've picked up when I have only five minutes to read.

I'm half-heartedly continuing Your Secret Name for the read-along. I say "half-heartedly" because this book really isn't "speaking" to me at all, and it feels like a chore to keep reading. I'm thinking I might put this one down for the time being.

Reading goals for February: Continue with the 90-day challenge, make more time for Tolstoy, and continue my leisurely walk through One Thousand Gifts. And try to write at least one, maybe two, reviews for the Saturday Review of Books at Semicolon.

Do you have any reading goals for February?

Multitude Monday #10

2011-01-31T13:58:00.003-05:00

I stepped out into the rain early this morning and caught that smell--that moist, earthy Appalachian forest smell that I first learned to love while living in Virginia in the late 1980s, and that became familiar to me as breathing when I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2000. A part of me wanted to pack up my wet tent, find my hiking poles, and lug my heavy backpack onto the trail for another cold, gray day of following the white blazes.

Yes, I miss even those days.

I wasn't very good about writing things down this week, so the ones below are from memory:

148. past adventures, and friends made there

149. unseasonably warm, sunny days in the dead of winter

150. cold, drizzly, bruised-sky days in the dead of winter

151. seeing a child's joy as she goes down a slide for the first time

152. tea parties, the kind with imaginary cups of tea, hosted by a two-year-old

153. computer techs who treat us non-techies like we're human

154. they way my husband drops everything when I propose an impromptu family trip to the playground

155. Bach's three-part invention in G minor

156. the way a Bach keyboard piece reveals more and more depth the more you practice it, and how the result is greater and greater satisfaction with each playing

157. a friend I can confide in

158. when time-away-from-Li'l-Boo flies and it seems like no time before we're together again

159. feeling the strength coming back to my legs after running consistently for several weeks

160. the ready availability of clean water for refilling my 32-ounce bottle multiple times a day

161. a job that offers new challenges periodically, and (usually) isn't the same old thing every day

162. drizzly-cold Monday mornings

163. being able to call the Appalachian Mountains "home"

164. toy trains

165. seeing her recognize that a word isn't just a fun sound to make, but something that has real meaning

166. the way the rain makes the whole world gleam

167. meals shared with family

168. my daughter's love of books

169. the way she hugs her friend Mo, or her cousin Ella, in greeting

170. Neosporin for a stubborn finger-cut

171. a clean bathtub

172. a husband who can cook

To read more bloggers' endless gifts (or to link to a few of your own), just click the "Multitude Monday" link below.

Saturday Links and Ramblings

2011-01-29T07:25:00.005-05:00

Why am I always surprised when it’s Saturday again? I mean, it’s seven days after last Saturday. What else would it be? I'm happy to report that today is a beautiful, mild Saturday. Dan and I hope to take Li’l Boo for a hike after I get home from work.

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A friend and I have decided to take James 5:16 to heart and “confess [our] sins to one another, and pray for one another so that [we] may be healed.” Readers, have you ever done anything like this with another person, or in a small group? I am looking for advice on this practice. I was able to glean some wisdom from Jonathan Dodson’s “Gospel-Centered Accountability,” but I’d like to hear from some of my female friends who have done things kind of thing before.

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Many people posted their thoughts for Sanctity of Human Life Week. This post about adoption, by Greg Lucas, had my throat all lumpy and my eyes all teary. As an adoptee, I felt thankful, once again, to my birthmother, and for the choice she made to give me life—and for the even more difficult choice she made to give me up.

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It seems like a lot of bloggers, at least in the circle of Christian bloggers I follow, are either adoptive parents or are in the process of becoming adoptive parents. It’s like adoption is in the air. In his recent article on the theology of adoption (discussing the book Reclaiming Adoption, Fred Sanders agrees:

“But I think something like the latter, a revival, is happening right now in evangelical theology. There is a movement underway in which Christians, and even whole congregations, are committing themselves and their resources to caring for orphans, partly by adoption.”

I’ve thought about this a lot lately. Honestly, I don’t know if adoption is in the cards for us. It’s not something I feel particularly “called” to do. To be completely frank, I’m still trying to recover from the shock of becoming a mom after 30+ years of not feeling “called” to have children at all.

(That said, I’m sure glad my parents didn’t feel the same way I do.)

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Be sure and check out this week’s edition of the Saturday Review of Books at Semicolon. If you’ve reviewed a book on your blog this week, you can leave a link on her blog and share your review with readers like me who read the book reviews throughout the week when I need a break.

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I’ve joined a club, everyone. I’m not a club-joiner, but I couldn’t resist hopping on the bandwagon of the Curious Ladies’ Aid Society (formerly the Communist Ladies’ Aid Society) (yes, the name was a joke), founded by my friend Tonia at Study in Brown. (Check out the cool C.L.A.S. lady in my sidebar.) The requirement? Take time to send old-fashioned, handwritten letters to friends. And mail them. You know—envelopes, stamps, that sort of thing. I think you can get them at your local history museum, or maybe at the Post Office. I’m not sure. Anyway, I wrote my first letter last week while my computer at work was out of commission. My next letter, which I’ll write this weekend, will be to my Compassion child, Consuelo!

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Skye Jethani writes about how he prefers dead authors to living ones:

“If someone has been dead for a while and his book is still in print and widely read, then it’s probably worth reading.”

Amen to that! In the comments, I listed a few dead authors I really love and included a couple of Lewis quotes that came to mind:

"Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books."

And:

"It is a good rule, after reading a new book, never to allow yourself another new one till you have read an old one in between."

For my non-lurking readers (and you lurkers, too!), I'm curious: Who are some of the dead authors that you love most, and/or have taught you the most?

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In closing, here’s a quote from Jon Acuff, whose blog, Stuff Christians Like, has become one of my “daily must-reads” since I discovered it a few weeks ago:

“If you’re going to risk and maybe fail, fail at something that matters. Fail gloriously so that even in failure, lives change.”

Have a good weekend, everyone!

Thuddy Thursday: 1.27.11

2011-01-27T07:41:00.002-05:00

Fitting, don't you think, that I write my first Thuddy Thursday on Mozart's birthday? I think so, too!

Where to begin?

Where do you begin when you feel like you’re diving right back into the middle?

I worked very hard at piano from 2003 to 2008 or so and even had realistic dreams of auditioning for several amateur piano competitions. But then ...

I’ll be honest. My job, which I started in 2007, pretty much swallowed up my life. I’m not saying that as a complaint; I’m just stating a fact. But once I started working this job, piano was moved to the back burner of my priorities.

When I moved, a year later (2008), to the same town where I work, my devotion to piano got knocked off that stovetop and onto the dirty kitchen floor, where it was kicked unceremoniously under the fridge and has stayed ever since.

It’s been almost three years. Part of me feels like a complete loser—all that work, those five years, for what? So I could stop playing for three years, forget how to play all the pieces I worked so hard to learn, and let my technique go down the drain? Who does that?

But another part of me is glad to be back. Part of me is thankful that I haven’t completely lost my technique, or even my pieces.

So, rather than waste my time obsessing over how bad I am compared to three years ago, I’m going to enjoy practicing whatever I decide to practice, and be thankful that I’m becoming reacquainted with something I love.

So, without further ado, here’s my Thuddy report for the week:

Scales, inversions, and arps: With scales and arpeggios, I typically play one octave of parallel motion (whole notes), two of contrary (half notes), three of parallel (triplets), and four of contrary (quarter notes). For scales, arpeggios, and chord inversions, I’ll also play a major key and the relative minor.

My scales, arps, and inversions sound surprisingly good. My fingers tire more easily than three years ago (of course), but I’m happy the feel the notes falling naturally under my fingers, particularly with the hard-earned contrary motion scales.

Bach: I’ve decided to re-learn the Bach Sinfonia (three-part invention) No. 11 in G minor. This is one I learned several years ago, and one of the few pieces I “kept up” after learning it, mainly because I love it so much. After three years of not playing, though, I’m having to clear the undergrowth of lazy technique and forgotten notes and fingering. This week, I’ve spent a total of about 35 minutes working on the first 48 measures of the piece, focusing mostly on measures 17 through 48.

Shostakovich: For my other piece, I’m working on “Waltz - Scherzo,” the fifth little piece of Shostakovich’s “Seven Dolls’ Dances.” It’s a very sweet, early intermediate/late beginner piece. It’s almost too easy, but I’m working on playing it perfectly. With technically simply pieces, it’s too tempting to get lazy and just play it without worrying about playing it well, the way an established concert pianist might play it.

But I want to play to the highest standard I can. And that’s much more feasible with a piece that’s easy on the fingers. Hence my working on this piece.

I also need a few “easy victories” at this stage in my piano life.

Want to know the biggest reason I’m learning this piece? It’s this: I really love the whole suite of pieces and would like to learn all of them. That’s my plan, actually—and this one’s the second one I’m learning.

This week, I put in about 55 minutes of work on the first and middle sections of the Shostakovich. Next week, I hope to focus on it a little less, and on the Bach a little more.

My biggest challenges so far:

Sloppiness and Laziness: Particularly with the Bach, I tend to want to be lazy. This is partly because I’m tired, and partly because I’ve learned the piece before and want to rely on hand-memory, rather than focus on the notes themselves, and how they interact with the other notes. But I know, if I can discipline myself to take the harder route, my understanding of the piece, and my playing of it, will end up being superior to what it was before.

Fingering: This might be a sloppiness/laziness problem as well. I have all the fingering written in for both pieces (from years ago), but I’m not following what I’ve written. So I’ll change it and practice with it the new way a few times ... and realize the previous fingering was better. I need to decide what fingering I want to use and stick with it; otherwise, I’ll have weak links in my playing. And weak links are bad!

I’m really happy to be playing again. Both pieces are actually coming along quite well, and I think the sloppiness/laziness issues will abate as I get back into the habit of disciplined practicing.

And now, in case you’d like to experience for yourself the beauty of the Bach sinfonia I’m learning, here’s an early recording of Glenn Gould playing (and intermittently humming to) it. I love this tempo, which is a bit slower than the tempo of his later recording. At about 45 seconds in is measure 17 ... the unspeakable beauty of that high “B” at the start of the measure gets me every time. It is sheer joy to play it well.

Thuddy Thursday to Come

2011-01-26T13:41:00.024-05:00

I’m finding that I’m a lot more likely to post things if I have a theme for a day, such as Multitude Monday and Toddler Tuesday. I’ve been playing with properly alliterative ideas for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, and I think I’ve come up with one for Thursdays.

Thuddy Thursday.

World, meet Thuddy. Thuddy, meet world.

Thuddy Theodora (known affectionately as "Thuddy")

Thuddy is the name of the piano in the chapel at the Baptist church down the road from work. As you can see in the photographs, Thuddy is a very Southern Baptist piano, complete with open Bible, candles, greenery, and American flag.

Thuddy from the side

Cleaned up a bit, and with a good camera (better than the cell phone that took these pictures), she could be a model for the cover of a church bulletin, could she not?

I named this piano Thuddy several years ago. Her full name is actually “Thuddy Theodora.” She’s a good little piano, just a bit ... thuddy. Muffled-sounding. But I’m not complaining; I’ve had many wonderful experiences practicing on Thuddy, and I hope to have many more.

So, what is Thuddy Thursday going to be?

Just as I devote Tuesdays at this blog to talk of my toddler, I’m going to devote Thursdays to talk of my work on Thuddy. In other words, I’m going to bore you with reports of my piano-practice sessions. I might get a little creative some weeks and focus more on a particular composer I like or a piece I want to learn. But, for the most part, I’m going to write about practicing. I need to do this for my own accountability. Sorry if I put you, dear readers, to sleep in the process.

Back in the day, I kept something of a log of my piano practices at my Piano Practice blog. I just re-read a few posts from it and am amazed at how much time I was able to put into piano, back in that former life. One hundred and twenty minutes? Seventy minutes? In one sitting? And hoping for another practice session before bed?

Those days are over, folks. Right now I’m happy to get two days a week of 40 minutes each: five or six minutes of scales and arpeggios, 20 minutes on one piece, and 15 minutes on another. And the prospect of taking piano lessons again? Not for a while. Maybe I’ll be able to put more time, money, and effort into piano in the future. For now, I’m happy with what I can get.

So, tomorrow will be the premiere of Thuddy Thursday at Life Downside Up. Stay tuned!

Not a Bad Birthday Gift!

2011-01-26T06:19:00.002-05:00

A few months ago, I learned that Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith would be putting on a concert right here in our rural little town in western North Carolina. Now, I was seriously into Amy Grant's music back in my former life. And I cried many a tear at summer camp in 1984 and 1985, listening to Michael W. Smith's "Friends" song as I bid good-bye for the year to my dear friends Noodles and Casserole.

Anyway, back to 2011. The concert is scheduled for February 18--my birthday.

My birthday! Obviously, I was meant to go to this concert.

But then I checked the ticket prices: $50. Per ticket.

No way. No way were Dan and I going to spend $100 for a concert. I mean, I really loved Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith when I was 15, and maybe I would have spent $50 per ticket then, but now? Hmm .. no.

So I put it out of my mind and figured we'd find something else fun--and much cheaper--to do that weekend. Like sitting on the couch and reading books.

Then ... then!

Monday I got an e-mail with the subject line, "Volunteer Opportunity with Compassion International."

"Yes!" I thought. A chance to volunteer with Compassion! I was ready to hit "Reply" before I even read the e-mail.

But I decided to open the e-mail first, and ... there's going to be a Compassion table at the Amy Grant/Michael W. Smith concert! And they need people to "assist potential sponsors at the Compassion table with the sign-up process"!

Needless to say, I volunteered. Yes, I hit "Reply" before I finished reading the first paragraph. Then I went back to read the rest of the e-mail and learned that volunteers will have access to the concert, though a seat isn't guaranteed if it's sold out.

So, we'll get to go to the concert after all. For free.

Most important, I will be spending my birthday--and the birthday of my Compassion child, Consuelo, who was also born February 18--sharing Compassion with others, and maybe even finding sponsors for children who desperately need them!

Yep. I think this opportunity is a pretty good birthday gift for me, and a pretty good way to celebrate my 41st birthday--and Consuelo's 11th. Don't you?

Toddler Tuesday

2011-01-25T08:32:00.002-05:00

Anne has begun saying words.

She’s recognized that “da-da” isn’t just a fun repetition of syllables, but an actual person, her daddy. I’ll hand her something and say, “Take it to Da-da, Li’l Boo,” and she takes it to Da-da. It’s really funny because I’ll hand her something that Da-da doesn’t particularly want—like one of those surfboard-sized maxi-pads she keeps getting into when the rifles through our bathroom cabinets. And Da-da has to act all thankful: “Why thank you, Li’l Boo, for this nice maxi-pad!” Kinda reminds me of when Beau the Cat used to bring us dead birds and mice. Our hearts broke for the little creatures, but we had to show appreciation all the same.

But enough of “da-da.” Let’s move on to “ma-ma.” Because she has begun calling me Mama! Yes, after months of “da-da-da-da-da,” she finally said “Mama.” And she definitely associates that repeated syllable with me. Dan will pick her up and she’ll reach out to me, plaintively calling, “Ma-ma! Ma-ma!” She says “Ma-ma” as she walks toward me and grabs my knees in a leg-hug. (I love that!) If she wakes up in the middle of the night, I’ll hear whimpering and “Ma-ma.” Who can say no to that?

I’m sure there will come the day when I want her to stop saying “Mama” so much. But we’re not even close to that at this point!

Here are a few more words she’s actually said (or tried to say):

choo (when she plays with Mo’s trains; I think it’s shorthand for “choo-choo”)
vroom (or something like that, when she plays with Mo’s cars)
bye-bye (when waving bye-bye to me this morning)
goose (pointing at Mother Goose in one of her books)
shoe (when I put her shoes on)
teeth (I said, “Let’s go brush your teeth,” and she put her hands to her mouth and said “tee!”)
pee (She said this last night when we got to “P” in The Hidden Alphabet. I think she’s familiar with this word, too, since we talk about “going to pee.”)
ba-a-a-a (the sheep sound)
moo (the cow sound)

There are more words, but I can’t think of them off the top of my head right now. She’s also learned just about all of her body parts. And she rubs her belly when she’s hungry—Angela taught her that.

Anne continues to be “into” books. She seems to have the bibliophile gene, which I guess is not surprising. She reads all day at Angela’s. When we got home last night, she went straight to her room, grabbed a book, and stood by my rocking chair, looking expectantly at me. So we read before dinner, and then we read after dinner. Book after book after book.

I’m sure this is just a phase, but ... I hope it’s not just a phase. It wasn’t just a phase with me. I’ve loved books all my life—not just the stories, but the binding, the smell of the pages, the appearance of the ink, everything. Maybe she’ll grow up with that same appreciation (even though she'll probably be asking for her own e-reader by the time she's five). I think it helps that we have hundreds of books around the house.

I’m really looking forward to taking her to the zoo this spring or summer. It feels kind of silly, introducing her to all these animals, and the sounds they make, when all she can see are pictures in books. I want her to see real animals and hear real sounds (and smell real smells!). Right now she knows that a cow says “moo,” but she doesn’t know what that really means.

Once the weather is warmer, I’m taking her to see cows. There are plenty of them in this rural part of the country. Horses, too. And flowers, and lizards, and mushrooms. There’s a whole world out there for her to discover, and I am eager to begin sharing it with her.

Multitude Monday #9

2011-01-24T08:00:00.008-05:00

(mostly written last Thursday)

Lunchtime on Thursdays begins at 2:00.

Of course, I eat lunch before that. I eat as I work, grabbing bites between keyboard taps and mouse clicks. And then at two, I punch out and go ... away.

Some days are for piano practice. Some are for writing. Today is for writing.

As I walk the few hundred feet to the little pub where I write, I call Anne’s sitter, Angela, to see if Anne is having a good day.

“We’ve come to town!” Angela’s familiar English accent. “Shall we come for a visit?”

Shall we come for a visit?

“Of course!” I can’t get the words out fast enough. A little part of me rebels—“But you’re supposed to write for an hour today!” But, on this busy day when I’ll be working until 8:00 p.m., I know writing will have to wait.

My heart soars. My little daughter is coming to see me!

I walk into the pub to find two moms meeting for coffee, their little ones in tow. I get into a conversation with them as I wait for my own coffee and learn that we have a few things in common besides being moms of children under twenty pounds.

Then I get my coffee and go to my table to write for a few minutes before my own seventeen-and-a-half-pounder shows up.

I hear them talking, these moms. About the meals they prepare for their children. About how they’ve been teaching them Pat-a-Cake and how this child is saying this or that child is doing that.

I bite my lip and keep writing, or try to. All those long hours of being able to watch a child grow ... I’m missing it. And I hate missing it. I hate not being there for Miss Anne. I hate the feeling that I’m missing her life.

I keep looking at the door, waiting. Half of me afraid she won’t be here in time, and that I’ll have to run back to work just as she’s coming in the door.

Thankfully, that doesn’t happen. She, Angela, and Angela’s little boy, Mo, arrive with a half-hour to spare. Anne sees me and, grinning wide, begins to run, arms outstretched. I take her in my arms and hold her close, smelling her hair and her skin, feeling like it would be the most natural thing in the world for her to melt into me, to return to her first home on this earth, the womb, where I can hold her closer than close, all day long.

It turns out Angela knows one of the moms I’ve been talking to—they see each other at the library and the playground occasionally—so she chats with the two moms while I hold and cuddle Anne. My little girl is hungry for milk, so I nurse her in the darkness of the pub. I watch her little jaw and cheeks move as she sucks, stroke her blond hair with my hand. Her eyes are closed. She looks so peaceful. This is the image I’ll take back to work with me today.

Too soon, it’s time for me to head back to the office. I hug Anne long and tight, hand her off to Angela, and turn to put my jacket on. Anne complains and hold her arms out to me. Once my jacket is on, I take her back into my arms, glancing at the clock on the wall. Three minutes before I need to punch back in.

I set her down, and she walks toward one of the babies, curious. I tell the moms I’ll be in touch (I had them write down their names and e-mail addresses so we can plan a Saturday hike with children in the spring), squeeze Mo’s shoulder, and work out the final baby pick-up details for tonight with Angela.

And then I leave.

My heart breaks each time I leave her. But there is room for gratitude here. Even here. There is gratitude that ...

131. In Angela, Anne has a loving, devoted caretaker all day long while I work.

132. In three-year-old Mo, Anne has a best friend and a big brother.

133. I have a job, and a good one at that. I’m thankful for this because we do have debts to pay off, and not having a job is not an option for me, at least not for the time being.

134. We have health insurance. Thanks to my job, our health insurance is very good and very affordable—a big plus when your immediate family includes a toddler and an almost-50-year-old with a family history of heart disease.

135. Ninety percent of my job is writing and editing. So I like my work. Some days—a lot of days, actually—I love it.

136. Even though I’m not there, Anne still gets to do the things I would have her do: go to the library, play at the playground, be with other children, read until she can’t keep her eyes open any longer.

137. Like me, Angela is all about organic foods, Mary Poppins, minimal (if any) TV, and appropriate books and toys. So I don’t have to worry that she’s feeding bad stuff to my daughter’s body or mind.

138. Angela brings Anne to visit me at work. A lot. Can you think of a better way to take a work break, than to hold and nurse your own child? It sure beats hanging out at the water cooler, talking about football scores.

Is it any wonder that the name Angela means “angel”?

A few more things from this weekend:

139. acoustic pianos--what a wonder of technology!

140. purple (my favorite color)

141. running--how good it feels to move the legs, open up and work the heart and lungs, feel the blood coursing. Saturday’s long run was delayed until late Sunday night, but it was worth the wait.

142. the blue tips of fire flame

143. old quilts, handmade by Dan’s great-grandmother

144. planks of a wood floor lined up, no two grain patterns quite alike

145. the cello--how it instills the combined feeling of loss and comfort

146. the yeasty smell of bread baking

147. windows—giving us a glimpse of the cold outside while we stay warm and dry inside. Open in summer and spring so we can enjoy a bit of outside on days we must stay in.

There are so many benefits to writing down these gratitude lists throughout the week, to be posted each Monday. One of them is that, as I re-read them, I’m taken back to where I was when I first wrote them down.

Join me in writing a list, or read others' lists for today. Just click the "One Thousand Gifts" image below.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Saturday Links and Ramblings

2011-01-22T12:34:00.004-05:00

The Saturday Review of Books is up at Semicolon. Consider participating; if you reviewed a book on your blog this week, all you need to do is go to Semicolon and link it from there.

Speaking of book reviews, did you read my recent review here on The Hidden Alphabet? I’d decided in late December that one thing I’d like to do more of in 2011 is write reviews of the books I read. Then, once January started, I felt a little discouraged since the two main books I was reading—The Bible in 90 Days and Anna Karenina--are each about 1,000 pages long, meaning I wouldn’t get to write a review of anything for weeks or months.

Then I realized: Baby Anne and I read books, lots of them, every day! And some of them are really, really good! So I decided, since I can’t review any grown-up books just yet, I can review some of Anne’s. And that’s what I did last night.

Don’t tell, but I’m reading a few (really, just a few) pages of Ann Voskamp’s new book, One Thousand Gifts, each day. I couldn’t wait; I’ve looked forward to reading this one for months. So far, it’s been well worth the wait. Check out today’s (in)courage for warm words from Ann and a slide show that includes some silly 40-year-old girl who is jumping-up-and-down happy to get a new book!

This morning before work, I went to Riverblaze, a local bakery that serves coffee, for an hour or so of writing, as today would be my first day to write in my brand-new notebook. I sat for a long time—thinking a little, waiting a little, pen in hand. And then I started writing.

Here’s something I wrote toward the end of the two pages I filled:

I’ve been thinking about it, and there is one thing I would like to do, or not do, with this notebook:

I don’t want to waste my time on “morning pages.” Not that I don’t want to write in the mornings. I just no longer want to waste my time, or my mind, on the stream-of-consciousness, nonstop-for-three-pages morning pages touted in The Artist’s Way. Rarely have they helped. I want to write the way I did before I read The Artist’s Way: Intentionally. Deliberately. With long quiets. Time for thinking. Slow time for slow-to-come thought, and slow-to-think-out words and sentences and paragraphs.

Not that there won’t be time for manic writing frenzies or brain dumps or laundry lists and schedules, but ... no more habitual hurry. No more “I don’t know what to write I don’t know what to write I don’t know what to write.” No more “What else? What else?” No more thinking the pages are somehow incomplete if I don't fill "all three" of them.

I read The Artist’s Way for the first time in the early 1990s, when it was still hot off the presses. I’ve read it several times, and it’s served a positive role in jump-starting me out of the creative slumps I occasionally fall into.

I took the book’s concept of Morning Pages—writing three pages of stream-of-consciousness thoughts every single morning—seriously. And I’ve incorporated them into my life for the past almost-twenty years.

But I think I incorporated them too much because now, when I sit down to write in my notebook, I feel frenzied, like I need to start pumping out words of stream-of-consciousness nothing. That frenzied feeling has become natural. Also natural is the sense that, if I write fewer than three pages, I’ve somehow failed (not “capital-F” failed, but still). I finish with a sense of incompleteness.

Rarely do I ever just sit and just think and write anymore. I love journaling, but I don’t want it to be the only writing I do.

My time for writing is limited. When I sit down to write, I want to write real things. Not whatever things. And that’s what I’m going to start doing.

That’s what I did today.

The title of this weekly post is “Saturday Links and Ramblings.” Some weeks it will be link-heavy, and other weeks it will be ramble-heavy. Today was obviously ramble-heavy.

Happy weekend, everyone!

Book Review: The Hidden Alphabet

2011-01-21T19:19:00.002-05:00

The Hidden Alphabet, by Laura Vaccaro Seeger
Published by Roaring Brook Press; Reissue edition (November 23, 2010)
Recommended for ages 4 - 8

This is Anne's favorite book. Anne is one year old.

Anne reading the "H" page of "The Hidden Alphabet"

This is also one of my favorite of Anne's books.

That's my way of saying that, yes, this is kind of a children's book, but it's not just a children's book. It's a fascinating little "read" for all ages. It's a lift-the-flap book, yes, but it's not your typical lift-the-flap book.

Laura Vaccaro Seeger, author (and illustrator) of Anne's other favorite book, First The Egg, plays with the idea of negative space in this book of letters and pictures. Each page is covered with a black flap that contains a cut-out square or rectangle. Inside the cut-out is what looks like an object that begins with the letter for the page. For example, there's a picture of a fish inside the cut-out for the "F" page.

Then you lift the flap. In a seeming trick of the eye, the object in the cut-out becomes the negative space for the actual letter.

Does that make sense? It's an optical illusion in action!

The "fish" turns into the space between the two horizontal lines of the letter "F."

For "Q," a quotation mark turns into the inside of the letter "Q."

With most of her books, Anne turns the pages quickly, more interested in her newfound ability to turn pages than she is in the book's actual content (er, the pictures). Even if I'm reading to her, she wants to push on.

And if it's a book I've already read to her a hundred times? She makes it clear, halfway through, that she's bored with it, and let's move to the next book now, please Mummy.

But The Hidden Alphabet? This book is 32 pages long--much longer than her "touch and feel" board books--but she never gets bored with it, and we've read it at least a hundred times. And she never asks me, halfway through, to read something else. She doesn't rush through the pages of this one.

She touches the drawing in the cut-out, lifts the flap, looks at the picture, puts the flap down, and gently turns the page.

Oh, and she likes to stick her arm through the cut-outs, too. But hey, she's one. One-year-olds do that kind of thing. Fortunately, the pages are pretty thick and durable.

On amazon.com, I read that The Hidden Alphabet is recommended for ages 4 - 8. Obviously, in our family at least, it appeals to a much wider age range than that. (Though I must admit, Anne did rip the "G" flap the other day, so I can see why it isn't recommended for children under four. If you do buy this for your young child, you might want to always read it with him or her, rather than letting the child look at it alone.)

Here's a trailer for the book. It's kind of a spoiler because it pretty much shows you the entire book. But at least you'll be able to see what I haven't been able to describe very well here. Enjoy!

(If you watch the trailer, let me know which letters are your favorite! My favorites are F/Fish, M/Mouse, and P/Partridge!)

Five-Minute Friday

2011-01-21T08:35:00.025-05:00

Lisa-Jo at The Gypsy Mama is doing a fun little Friday writing-thing. She provides a prompt, and you write for five minutes. Her topic for today is to "think of the most unique person you encountered while you were out and about this week, and write them into life for us."

Since I don't have anything to post today, I'll bite.

START

Out and about? Out and about? Who has time to go out and about? Work and home, work and home, work and home, and that's it. Maybe go to the coffee shop where everybody knows my name and I know theirs. Same old same old. Yep. My boring, predictable life.

I went yesterday morning and there were two young men sitting there, two young men who clearly lacked exercise and sun exposure and possibly several days of sleep. Two young men I'd never seen before in this place where everyone knows everyone else.

I could tell by looking at them that they were into computer games and science fiction. And maybe philosophical conversations, the kind we got into in college late at night.

I don't know how I could tell. I just could.

I went to the counter, popped off my earbuds from my iPod, and bid Helen good morning. Helen is in her seventies, working three mornings a week at the coffee shop because she likes the conversation and doesn't have much else to do.

"The usual?" she said.

"Of course!"

Then she made an odd, worried face and whispered something. I can't read whispers, so I shrugged and pushed a scrap of paper and a pen toward her. She finished grinding the coffee beans for my Americano, then scrawled, "Weird!" She glanced toward the two men sitting in the front of the shop.

I smiled. "Why?"

"Singing," she wrote, and then said in a voice just louder than a whisper. "One of them sat there and sang to himself for five minutes while the other one kept his head on the table. Singing!" The last word came out in a hiss. "And they've been here for two hours!"

"It takes all kinds, I guess," I said in my library-voice, and we both grinned. Then we resumed our "normal" voices, chatting as usual while she finished up my drink.

On my way out, I smiled at the singer and his friend (though I didn't know who was which), but they were busy talking and seemed to look right through me as they continued their conversation.

As I walked past them, I caught a word that sounded like "nanotech." I didn't know if their topic was science fiction, computer games, or late-night philosophy, but was sure it was one of them.

Or maybe they were talking about iPods. I shrugged, put my earbuds back in, and walked out the door.

STOP

(OK, so that was just about the worst thing I've written in a long time.)

Just to add ... even if I try to "tell it like it is (or was)" when I write, I just can't. I must admit that I stretched the truth a little bit here and there in this exercise. OK, so I made up probably 62 percent of it. Sorry 'bout that. But rather than call me a liar, let's just say I'm a "natural-born fiction-writer," OK? OK!

Oh ... and I just realized I didn't write about "the most unique person I encountered" this week. That person would be my daughter. Sorry, Anne. You were usurped by a couple of sci-fi chanteurs who really do exist. But if you'd said "nanotech" ... ? Yeah, I'd have blogged about you then. Seriously.

Restoring ... Piano

2011-01-19T13:58:00.006-05:00

Some of what I practiced today: from
Bach's Three-Part Invention in G minor

I played piano—no, I practiced piano—today at lunch.

I think my blood pressure must have gone down a few numbers.

I didn’t want to go back to work. I like work--particularly lately, as I’ve taken on some new responsibilities for support season. But I didn’t want to go back. I wanted to stay in the little chapel at the Baptist church and practice those twelve or so measures of Bach. I could have stayed there for hours.

Piano has been a part of my life, on and off, since 1974. I opted not to major in music in college, but only because I loved English just a little bit more than I loved piano. I minored in music, though, and took private piano lessons throughout those four years.

After college, I found piano teachers, mostly graduate music students at LSU. I loved to play, but, more importantly, I loved to practice and learn. And I always felt more comfortable doing so under the guidance of a more learned pianist.

I stopped taking lessons in my late twenties. I hadn’t stuck with a single piano teacher for more than a few months (mainly due to scheduling and my lack of money). I still played, though, all the time (I had an acoustic and a digital in my apartment). But I thought my days of formal study were over.

Then I got married and moved to North Carolina in fall of 2003. In late December of that year, just a few days before Christmas, I met with my new piano teacher for the first time. I told Deborah that I wanted to seriously study piano, the way I had in college. I wanted her to push me, and I was willing to put whatever time and effort I needed into piano.

And she did, and I was. For five good years, I worked hard and reached a level of skill I'd only dreamed of before. I documented a lot of that experience on my old blog before creating a whole new blog, just to write about piano.

But then ... I stopped. All of it. There were several reasons--some deep, some not. Maybe I'll write about them here later. What's important, for now, is that I'm playing again.

I have several things going for me regarding the piano. For one thing, God’s given me some degree of talent. For another, I love the piano. Love it. And I love to practice. Yes, I actually enjoy doing scales and arpeggios, and drilling the same two or three measures for fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty minutes. Sitting down to play a piece? Yeah, that’s nice, too. Particularly if it's Bach.

Still, I’m more into the journey than the destination when it comes to piano. And I started back on the journey this week. After a couple of years of ~~not practicing as much as before~~ hardly touching the piano at all, I’ve begun practicing during my lunch hour again. It’s only three days a week, but that’s three more days—and almost three more hours—than I’ve been getting. And I’m thankful for that.

For now, I’m working on “restoring” one piece I learned several years ago, and I’m working on a new piece, a very easy one, mainly so I won’t get discouraged. My fingers feel like they need a good dose of WD-40. Discouragement is a real possibility. I don’t want to go there.

I’ll be posting on my piano progress once a week or so. I’m a little nervous about telling you that, dear readers, because I’ve “come back” to piano several times in the last couple of years, only to have it not last. But I have a good feeling about this time.

And yes, coming back to piano is part of the whole “restore” thing. (But you probably knew that, didn’t you, dear readers—at least those of you who know me well!)

Your Secret Name Post: One Day Late!

2011-01-19T13:54:00.002-05:00

I'd planned to post on Your Secret Name yesterday, but I ended up working a long day and just didn't have it in me once I finally got a break. So here we are, a day late.

Today I’ll be writing about Chapters 5, 6, and 7 of Kary Oberbrunner’s Your Secret Name as part of Marla Taviano’s read-along.

Oberbrunner begins Chapter 5 with the question of “Who am I?” and soon gets to his theme that, “on some level, we’re all imposters” (60). Why is this? Because, not knowing who we really are (i.e., not knowing the Secret Name God has for us), “we all wear a certain set of masks” (60). He goes on to say that “many of us wear our masks far too frequently—and we’ve lost touch with our potential for who God created us to be.” I thought there was a lot of truth in that statement. At some point, if we wear them long enough, the masks cease to feel like masks at all.

Chapter 5 soon becomes confessional, with Oberbrunner writing about how he became a cutter (a person who cuts his own flesh as a form of self-injury)—and, in his words, an imposter, pretending to be everything he wasn’t. And then he switches to the Jacob/Esau story and makes the parallel of how Jacob was also an imposter, pretending to be Esau so he could get Esau’s blessing from their father.

In chapter 6, after writing about the dehumanizing nature of namelessness, Oberbrunner returns to the Jacob/Esau story. Then he moves to Satan’s rebellion against God and subsequent expulsion from heaven, and then to Adam and Eve’s attempt, under Satan’s influence, to unsuccessfully “buy” their Secret Names. Next, he moves back to his own life and his cutting, and how he had something of a breakdown (which was bad) and was able to begin getting help (which was good). Then he goes back to Jacob and Esau, where Rebekah, to save her favorite son’s skin, has Isaac send him away to Paddam Aram.

Honestly, I found chapter 6 a little disjointed. While Oberbrunner’s own story is compelling, the switching around from story to story made this chapter a little hard to follow.

In Chapter 7, Oberbrunner write about three “heartbreaks” he got his senior year of high school:

- He lost his sense of identity when a mugging left him injured and unable to wrestle for the school team. (Wrestling had become kind of an identity for him.)
- He lost his sense of acceptance when a stuttering problem resurfaced at play practice and he dropped out of the school play.
- He lost his sense of independence when his Trek mountain bike was stolen.

Then he goes back to Jacob, who, he writes, was also stripped of his identity, acceptance, and independence. Oberbrunner then tells the story of Jacob’s stairway dream, and how God promises him all the things He will do for him—and how Jacob’s attitude begins to change after that.

For this blog post, I began to write about how I could understand a lot of what Oberbrunner was going through, and began (again) to tell my story of a particularly painful time in my life, back in my late teens and early twenties. But then, three pages in, I realized that, as with my last post (which I deleted), my story isn’t one I want to tell publicly, as it would hurt too many people involved. So all I can say for now is that I could identify with Oberbrunner’s struggles as I read about them, as some of my experiences were similar. And that I admire him for having to courage to share his story publicly.

After writing about Jacob’s dream of the stairway, Oberbrunner writes, “This tends to be the pattern. We get a tiny peek at what could be—the possible—while taking a vacation from what is—the actual.” (90) And later, “Yet for the moment we must be content to simply understand where we are and how far we must travel in order to arrive at our destination.”

That is certainly true, and something I’ve been thinking about lately. I feel like I’ve recently gotten that tiny peek at what could be, and I’m currently in a holding pattern, thinking about how to prepare for the journey.

I also liked this quote:

“God presents our Secret Name in snippets for fear of information overload; the more we envision our new name, the more we want it. The hope is that such a glance, however brief, will inspire us to get on the path of discovering who we were created to be.”

It reminded me of Mark 8:25, which I encountered while doing a word-search on the word restore (since it’s my word for the year). Here’s the whole story:

“They came to Bethsaida, and some people brought a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. He took the blind man by the hand and led him outside the village. When he had spit on the man’s eyes and put his hands on him, Jesus asked, “Do you see anything?” He looked up and said, “I see people; they look like trees walking around.”

“Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly.”

I always thought it odd that Jesus couldn’t heal the man the first time around, but then I've read that maybe it was necessary that the man get only a glimpse first. Maybe going from utter blindness to full sight would be too much to handle in one step. Maybe a slow transition is necessary. And maybe I just need to sit and wait and be content with glimpses of restoration I’m getting now, knowing that there is more to come.

As he ends Chapter 6, Oberbrunner doesn’t go into detail about how to get on that path, yet; maybe that’s what he does in the next chapter. I’ll be writing my thoughts on Chapters 8 and 9 here next Tuesday. Meanwhile, hop on over to Marla’s blog if you’d like to read others’ thoughts (from yesterday!) on the chapters I've covered today.

So Happy!

2011-01-18T08:41:00.007-05:00

UPS delivered my first copy of Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are yesterday! This is a silly picture of me jumping up and down in excitement after getting the book:

Jumping: Yes, it's the only way
I can achieve full-bodied hair.

I say "first copy" because I ordered several, all gifts, months ago when I first learned that it was available for pre-ordering. I've been following Ann's blog since 2005 or so, and I've been eagerly awaiting publication of her book.

But ... would you believe that this dorky, scatterbrained reader forgot to order a copy for herself?

I did.

Happily, I won a copy--one of my very own!--in one of Marla's give-aways. And that's the copy I got yesterday!

Last I checked, One Thousand Gifts was was #11 in the amazon.com bestseller rankings. I won't be surprised when it hits #1. Ann is a gifted writer, and I'm thrilled to see that so many are ordering her book, and will be blessed and encouraged and changed by her words.

Congratulations, Ann. As you can see from my picture, I'm very excited about this book, and I can't wait to begin reading.

Toddler Tuesday

2011-01-18T06:30:00.003-05:00

What a night we had last night. Anne was crying at around 1:45, so I got up and rocked her a bit. She kept crying, so I took her to our bed to nurse her. Long story short—she ended up projectile vomiting all over herself, me, and our bed. Somehow she managed to miss Dan. It was a little after 2:45 by the time I’d cleaned up and changed her, put her back to bed, and showered—while Dan stripped the bed, threw the sheets in the washing machine, and put new sheets on.

Parenthood has gotten easier in some ways since Anne became a toddler, but it’s gotten harder in others. I guess each stage has its challenges, and each its delights. I’m so thankful for a husband I can depend on, no matter what stage we're in. So glad he was willing to take care of the bed last night while I was washing vomit out of my hair.

In other toddler news, it looks like Miss Anne is a reader. (See yesterday's post for pictures.) She pretty much prefers her books to any of her toys. This thrilled me until I realized she also prefers the bottom drawer of my bathroom cabinet (the one where we store extra toothbrushes and an extra pack of surfboard-sized maxi-pads I got after Anne was born, but never got around to using). So, it’s good that she likes books better than toys. I don’t know if it’s so good that she likes spare toothbrushes and giant pads better than toys, or if that says something about whether she truly is a reader or not. Time will tell, I guess.

But she really does love books. We read fifteen or twenty each night. Her favorites are First the Egg, The Hidden Alphabet, and Mother Goose Remembers. First the Egg and The Hidden Alphabet, both by Laura Vaccaro Seeger, were gifts from my brother. Mother Goose Remembers, by Clare Beaton, was a gift from my mom. They’re reading it together here:

Anne turned 13 months last week. She rarely crawls anymore; she’s all about walking. And, occasionally, falling. She’s doing something like a run, too—a fast little pitter-pattering, shuffling kind of toddler-run. It’s so cute. (There. I knew I couldn’t write a “Toddler Tuesday” without including at least one instance of the word cute. And there it is.)

She’s eating pretty well. She loves meat. Loves it. I think I mentioned this previously. It doesn’t look like we have a budding vegetarian on our hands, particularly since she’s allergic to soy. I’m concerned about her getting enough calcium once she’s weaned. She doesn’t seem to be taking to fortified rice milk.

Yes, she’s still nursing. She still wants to nurse, and I’m not about to discourage her. We’re still in our pattern of mornings, evenings, and just-before-bed during the week, and more on weekends. As long as neither of us feels compelled to quit, we’re going to keep going. The only drawback at this point is having to pump twice a day. It’s inconvenient, particularly now that we’re working shifts at work. Also, since Anne’s not wanting so much breast milk (not even from a sippy cup) during the day, a lot of my pumped milk is not being used. For the first time since Anne was born, I’ve been able to store up bag after bag of my milk in the freezer. I’m not sure what we’re going to do with it all, but it’s there.

Anne continues to be a delight. I love her more every day. The downside is that it is more difficult to leave her every morning. The upside of that is some pretty sweet reunions at the end of each day. Absence definitely makes the heart grow fonder. And that’s the silver lining I’m focusing on for now. (How’s that for back-to-back clichés?)

I love my sweet girl!

Multitude Monday #8

2011-01-17T07:25:00.007-05:00

What a week. Last week was a time of emotional ups and downs. It was also a week of long hours at work; I totaled almost 50 for my six days of work. It's hard to miss my daughter so much, but it makes the times I do have with her that much more special.

Here are some things I was thankful for this week:

109. the crunch of days-old snow

110. warm sun melting snow on a still-cold day

111. how cold doesn't bother the evergreens

112. the sound of baby stirring early in the morning

113. stroking baby's head and back while she nurses--comfortable, warm, and secure

114. baby's first attempts to "moo" when asked, "What does a cow say?"

115. the way she grins when she knows she's accomplished something big (like mooing for the first time)

116. the fact that our town has two coffee shops that are great for writing, even though neither is technically a coffee shop

117. the folks at the Baptist church down the road; they always let me practice on their grand piano during my lunch breaks.

118. when depression unexplainably lifts (many thanks to new friends Audra, Deborah, and others for your prayers regarding this ...)

119. handwritten letters

120. an unlikely, unexpected "slow day" during the busy season at work

121. a brand-new notebook for writing

122. long, slow runs

123. little rocking chairs, passed down through the generations

She climbed into this chair on her own yesterday morning.

124. king cake

Homemade!

125. knit caps in Mardi Gras colors

We got the little cap at Trail Days in Damascus, VA, last year.

126. a rare warm(ish), sunny day in January for going to the park

Behind the plastic "bubble" at the playground.

127. a little girl who loves books

Reading "Touch and Feel Kitten" in her rocking chair

128. when I catch her reading on her own

Reading "The Hidden Alphabet," a present from her Uncle Ghent

129. my friends in the AT hiking community, and their love for little "Scout"

Hopeful and Jen with "Scout" at the 2011 Southern Ruck

130. relaxing after a good meal

If you'd like to read others' "Multitude Monday" posts, click the "One Thousand Gifts" image below; this will take you to Ann Voskamp's blog. At the end of Ann's post for today is a trailer for her recently published book, One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are. I got an e-mail from amazon.com yesterday, telling me my copy has shipped. Woo hoo!

Have a good week, everyone.

Saturday Links and Ramblings

2011-01-15T15:30:00.034-05:00

Let’s see if I can make this a regular feature of this blog ...

My latest bout with severe depression started last September, when my daughter was nine months old. It got worse for several months and then, suddenly, in the last week or so ... it seems to have lifted. I feel hopeful for the first time in months.

Speaking of hopeful, my dear friend Lamar Powell, whose trail name is fittingly “Hopeful,” will be setting out on his second thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail this spring and will be keeping an online journal of his hike. Hopeful is a wonderful writer; I never tire of reading his trip reports, his insightful thoughts, and his evocative descriptions of the natural world. I don’t typically following hiking journals, but this is one I’ll be reading every time it’s updated.

Just to make sure, I’ve just added a link to Hopeful’s journal to my sidebar. While I was at Trailjournals (where he and many other hikers store their journals online), I decided to go ahead and add my own past journals to the ~~Look at Me!~~ Writings, Editings, etc., section of my sidebar.

Here’s another good link: Sherry at Semicolon hosts the Saturday Review of Books each week. If you’ve reviewed a book this week, please consider adding your link at her blog.

More links? I learned recently that two real-life friends have begun blogging: Renee in North Carolina, and Allison in Louisiana. Renee’s Family Devotions offers wisdom and suggestions for sharing passages of scripture with folks of all ages, from adults down to toddlers. At The Horton 7, Allison describes life in her family of seven (which includes a set of newborn twin boys). I feel overwhelmed with just one baby; I can’t imagine five. But Allison's posts are entertaining and often—I hate this overused phrase, but it’s true in this case—laugh-out-loud funny.

Well, I’m just home from work and waiting for Old Dan and Little Anne to come home. They’re at the 2011 Southern Ruck at Nantahala Outdoor Center. I wish I could be there; this is the first weekend in many years that I haven’t been able to make it. But I had to work, and it didn’t make sense to go up there after work, at least not with a one-year-old. So Dan and Anne made the "SoRuck" their first “daddy date” and went without me. I know they had a great time, but I hated missing this annual gathering of trail friends. Maybe next year.

That's it for this week's Saturday Links and Ramblings. See y'all Monday, if not sooner.

My Word for 2011: Restore

2011-01-14T13:52:00.009-05:00

The light there isn't so good, but the pub/coffee shop is slightly musty smelling and not crowded a perfect spot for writing. So I've begun going there a couple times a week during my lunch hour, not to eat but to write.

And today, while there, I realized I'm almost to the end of my latest notebook. The notebook feels light and fat, the pages worn, with smudgy edges.

It's taken awhile this time, to get through this notebook.

Journaling, I can usually fill a 100-page college-ruled notebook, cover to cover, not using the faint pink margins, in just over two months. This one took me almost six.

The last one took close to a year. I'm getting better. Getting back into my lifelong habit that eventually resulted in this little collection of almost 30 years of my innermost thoughts:

In the past couple of weeks, a handful of bloggers I follow (see links at the end of this post) have been writing about having a single word for 2011. This word is their theme, or their guide, keeping them in touch with what they deem, in that hopefulness of late December, is going to be important in the year ahead.

I was not going to jump on that bandwagon. A word for 2011, or for any year? While I appreciated what other bloggers were writing about their year-words, and even admired them for it, I didn't feel compelled to follow that path.

Fair enough, right?

So why did the word "RESTORE" keep working its way into my thoughts? "Rest," I thought one day early this month after reading about yet another blogger's chosen word. "I'm not having a word for the year, but if I did, it would be 'rest.' Lord knows I need it."

Later, as I wrote in my journal, and thought, and wrote some more, my non-word "rest" stretched into "restore," and I realized: Maybe I don't want a word for the year, but it looks like I'm going to have one. And that word is restore.

It almost seems like the word picked me. Maybe because I needed it. And I do need it. Much more than I need plain old rest.

Restore. I liked it. It seemed right.

I don't mean that I want life to go back to what it was before it became "downside up." I don't want to undo anything that's been done. But some restoring is needed in this tired old girl--physically, emotionally, spiritually (and any other -ally words you can think of).

I hope to write more (lots more!) on that later. Including how that little word broke into my thoughts one restless night last week as I struggled over a major life decision, and how it guided me to make the right decision. And how I probably would have decided differently, had that word "restore" not interrupted me.

And how the word "restore" led me to that little table at the musty-smelling pub/coffee shop near work today, and how I'm going to start going there twice a week during my lunch hour to write. Because few things are as restoring to me as an hour or so with a notebook, a pen, and my thoughts.

For now, I'm just sharing the news with the many, many (OK, ten or so) readers of this blog: My word for 2011 is restore.

(My apologies for the low quality of the pictures. I'm not a photographer, not even an amateur one, and my cell phone camera isn't the best.)

A few others' words on their words:

Ann at Holy Experience
Chris at Compassion International
Megan at Sorta Crunchy
Sarah at Welcome to Love

Reading Update

2011-01-13T08:33:00.027-05:00

OK, moms of small children, I have one question for you: How do you find time for books?

I've taken to carrying my copy of Anna Karenina everywhere with me. I read while waiting for my lunch to heat up. I got to read for ten minutes yesterday after punching out from work, waiting for my computer to finish crashing so I could restart it and go home. I read last night by the light of my dashboard while driving the icy roads home from the office. (Not really. I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention.)

And that's just Anna Karenina.

I'm about a fourth of the way through AK and hate that I'm having to read it in such fits and starts. Oh, to be able to relax in front of a fire, on a comfy couch, with hours ahead of me for reading this wonderful story! That's not gonna happen anytime soon, so I take what I can get.

In the challenge to read the Bible in 90 days, I'm ... keeping up! It hasn't been too difficult; with the 90-Day Bible, I need to read just twelve pages a day. This Bible doesn't have any commentary, other than the basic meanings of names and measurements, so it's easy to read quickly. (I love commentary, but my goal for this reading is to read broadly rather than deeply, to get a "big picture" of the entire story, from Genesis to Revelation. And the 90-Day Bible is great for that.)

I've been doing my Bible reading at night before bed, which has been both a good thing and a bad thing. Good because it's a set time in which I'm not continually interrupted. Bad because Leviticus is not the best thing to read when one is already tired. (But good because, well, if insomnia is a problem ...)

I'm also keeping up with the Your Secret Name read-along and will continue to post my thoughts on it most weeks.

Finally, I've been reading Depression: A Stubborn Darkness, by Edward T. Welch, recommended to me by my pastor. I'm just a couple of chapters in, but I'm thinking I might write a review of it once I've finished it. I typically read a few pages of it at night, after the Bible and before sleep.

It's been a challenge to make time for reading. It seems like I'm at work all the time (we're in early support season, which means 10-hour shifts five days a week, plus four-hour shifts on Saturdays), and when I'm not at work I'm in full-time mommy/wife/homemaker mode. Reading early in the mornings is usually out of the question because Anne is (again) not sleeping through the night, and I need every last bit of sleep I can get before going to work.

Taking Anna Karenina everywhere with me, participating in a read-along that asks us to cover only a few chapters a week, and doing the 90-day Bible challenge have all been good and necessary approaches to helping me make time for reading in this very busy season of my life. My general mood has improved, and I think it's partly because I've been able to find snatches of time for books. My attitude has definitey begun to change in recent weeks; rather than feeling frustrated that I never have time to read, I'm feeling thankful for every spare moment I can get.

What are some tried-and-true approaches you've used to fit reading into a busy schedule?

Have You Read ...

2011-01-12T13:16:00.001-05:00

... any of your birthday bestsellers?

BiblioQuest has a neat tool that gives you a list of New York Times bestsellers for the week of your birth. If you live in the U.S., be aware that you need to enter your birth date "backwards" -- for example, if your birthday is January 12, 1980, you'll need to enter it as 12/01/1980.

I must admit, I haven't read a single one of my birthday bestsellers, though I have seen one of the movies made: The Godfather. (The book was #2 when I was born.)

So, have you read any of the bestsellers listed for your birthday week?

Why I Removed My Last Post

2011-01-12T08:50:00.001-05:00

The gears clicked in my head all morning, and part of the afternoon, yesterday. I was excited about writing my post for Your Secret Name. For whatever reason, this whole bloggy read-a-chapter-or-two-and-then-write-about-what-you-read thing excites me. Perhaps that's because I rarely find people who are reading the same books I am, and I've often wished I there were folks I could discuss my reading with.

So, I wrote out a post over my late lunch hour, tweaked it a bit, and put it out there.

And felt kind of sick. For several reasons. The main one being that I wrote about something from my past that I realized I'm not comfortable sharing here.

The post was up there for about six hours, and I got a couple of very nice, supportive comments, which I appreciated.

But, in the end, I decided to remove the post. It wasn't fair to my family, my daughter, or anyone else who was involved at that phase of my life, for me to keep it up there.

My apologies to those of you who got a "File Not Found" message when clicking the link at Marla's blog.

Toddler Tuesday

2011-01-11T08:27:00.003-05:00

Here we are, dear readers, at yet another Toddler Tuesday. I'm actually writing this on Monday, and I hope I'll have some pictures to add before publishing this post.

The lovely Miss Anne is one day shy of thirteen months old. Thirteen months: That's the age Cousin Ella was when Anne was born. And I thought Ella was so old then! Walking and everything!

And now I have my own little walking, stair-ascending and -descending, hair-brushing, gesture-making, ball-rolling little boo.

I would take a picture of her going up the steps, but she moves so fast that I fear the picture would be little more than a blur. She's slower going down the steps, but not by much.

She's learned to "roll" a ball. It's very cute; she stands completely still, a serious look of concentration on her face, and releases her hold on the ball by miniscule degrees until it finally drops out of her hands and rolls away (usually after hitting her foot). And then she flies into action: grinning, clapping, squealing, and running after the ball so she can "roll" it all over again!

She loves to have her ears cleaned with a Q-tip. I know I'm not supposed to do this often (if at all), but I've twirled the Q-tip gently in her ears a couple of times when I thought I'd gotten water in them when rinsing her hair. Well, now she puts her finger to her ear and tilts her head to look toward the sink, where I store a plastic container of Q-tips. When I reach for a Q-tip, she squeals approvingly. Yep, she's got me trained.

I mentioned in a previous Toddler Tuesday that she's trying to brush her own hair. Well, she likes to brush Mommy's hair, too.

She also likes to put things on her head. And on my head. And on her daddy's head. The other night, we all sat in the kitchen, holding spoons and cups on our heads. Such is family life with a one-year-old.

And here's a picture for you: This is Miss Anne discovering pizza.

(Yes, I know she's allergic to milk (therefore, cheese) ... but Dan's heart was set on letting her try bona-fide square pizza from Ohio, so we let her have a little bit. (I think she would have eaten the whole slice if we'd let her!)

Multitude Monday #7: Snow Day Edition

2011-01-10T08:39:00.008-05:00

This morning was a rough one. Only after I got to work did I realize what a great blog photo-op I'd missed. Ah well, next time ... though I hope there won't be a next time.

I was halfway to work (which is normally a three-minute drive from home) when I ran into a snow bank and got stuck. After a short wait, help from a tow truck, and $55 to the towing company, I made it to work. It was frustrating, but I'm glad to be here safely, and I'm thankful that the tow truck was able to come so quickly, and that the towing company guys were so nice. One of them even drove me the rest of the way to work because I was concerned about sliding again!

I haven't lived in Louisiana since 2003, but I still use the old "I'm from Louisiana" excuse when I mess up when driving in the snow. And I used it this morning. After they pulled me out of the snow bank, one of the guys asked, "Do you think you can make it to work now?" and I gave them an "Are you kidding?" look and said, "I'm from Louisiana."

"Oh, OK. I'll be happy to drive you myself, ma'am. You just get in the passenger seat and we'll be on our way."

Here are a few things I've been particularly thankful for this week:

92. snow (It's a pain when you have to drive in it to get to work, but it sure is beautiful.)

93. opportunities and possibilities

94. poetry

95. a boss who is patient and understanding (I think it helps that my own boss also has a small child.)

96. not needing to put in as many hours at work as I'd planned (This happened Saturday! I drank in every extra moment I got to spend with my little daughter!)

97. two little one-year-olds, playing together

98. my daughter's delight (complete with grinning, squealing, and clapping) at learning she can roll a ball

99. having a good vehicle for getting from place to place, snow or not

100. the feeling of bliss, comfort, and rightness that settles in whenever I sit down to work on a creative-writing project (Yes! I got to put in some "novel work" for a half-hour yesterday!)

101. the company I work for

102. being able to look back on a difficult decision and realize that I made the obvious right choice (even though it didn't seem so obvious at the time of the decision)

103. a change (for the better) in perspective

104. the sense of possibility in friendship--when you meet someone and have a really good feeling that, "this person and I are going to be really good friends."

105. when you learn that the other person feels the same way

106. Mary -- You were one of those to whom #104 and #105 of this list definitely applied. Sadly, our budding friendship was cut short by a drunk driver. Today would have been your 30th birthday. Rest in peace, my friend.

107. verses like Ecclesiastes 3:4 and Matthew 5:4, which remind me that mourning and grief are a real and necessary part of life, and that having faith in Christ doesn't mean such things will conveniently take leave of our lives. For whatever reason, that truth can be so hard to swallow.

108. and to end on a lighter note ... the sheer fascination that a flushing toilet can hold for a curious one-year-old

Hope you have a wonderful (albeit snowy, for those of you in the southeast and elsewhere) week, dear readers! And, if you think about it, please say a prayer for Mary's family (and particularly her mom, Rose), who continues to struggle with the loss of this beautiful young woman.