I can't keep up. I just can't keep up. I keep trying to get ahead. And I can't even keep up. I try to do good. I try to be good, but all I seem to do is get behind! And as crazy as it seems, I seem to have gotten use to the idea that I'm behind, flaky and likely to stay there. So, I function in a "behind, flaky" kind of way. Which isn't really the way I want to be...it just is how I am. Or as Popeye, our favorite philosopher says, "I am what I am..." So the question then becomes: is that okay? Or should I try to catch up? And frankly, I just don't think it is going to happen...and maybe if I wait long enough everyone else will get so far ahead that they'll stop for lunch and then I'll catch up?
I remember a camping trip in Alaska. We were playing cards. Hearts--a terribly complicated game where you generally try to get the lowest number of points to win. A young friend was playing for the first time--she didn't really get the finer points of the game and was losing whole heartedly--finally after several hands said, "I think I'll sit this one out and let the rest of you catch up." Maybe she had the right idea.
Or maybe Xavier had it right when we were minigolfing and he said, "Look. I'm winning. I have the most strokes." And really, he was having the most fun--and getting the most exercise with all that swinging, I suppose. Maybe he was right.
I've been reading these great books by Eliot Pattison that take place in Tibet. Horrible things happen there. Horrible awful things have happened to people who have done nothing but tried to pray. I don't really understand the politics of it all, but in reading his delightful books, I have found a world of peace that the monks of his books inhabit. They sit and observe nature. They breathe and feel things. They say that the mountains talk to them. The rocks have life and tell secrets. I wanna go there--they are so far behind they are AHEAD of the rest of us. They transcend this life.
I think Jesus wasn't so very worried about being ahead or behind. He got left behind at the temple and didn't care. He was "about His Father's work." Maybe that is why I am behind. Because I am about My Father's work. I'd like to hope that at least sometimes, that is why I fall behind.
Yesterday, I taught a workshop to a bunch of children about family history. Yes--they didn't even snore too loudly. I've been stressing about it because I am so behind, I hadn't planned exactly what I wanted to do...but it all worked out. We played some games, colored a little and made family trees to put on our walls. I was behind, but you know what? They didn't care. They were just glad I showed up.
So, maybe it is ok. Maybe I will just keep trying. I'll try to be more accepting of myself, of my time and season. I know that I am not alone when I say: I can't keep up.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
My note to the GOP after President Obama's speech
I am not pleased to be a republican after last night. I am married to a doctor, I am legally trained and I am trying to understand this battle--and remain republican. Frankly, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am struggling with that. I have to agree with the man I did NOT vote for when he asks that you quit throwing the same non-issues out to confuse the masses: "These are common sense reforms that we can achieve right now without destroying jobs, exploding the deficit, rationing care, or taking away the freedoms American families cherish." What kind of hyperbolic crap is this? We don't need fear, we need common sense and helpful information. That is what I expect from my leaders--and why I have in the past voted republican. Please step up.
I am very aware that the decisions that are being made will affect me--not only my personal care and the care of my family but the very economic base for our home. I take this seriously. Do not keep throwing out the same crappy "they are taking over the world" and "they are going to put us in debt" lines (hello, we're already there!). Inform us, don't scare us. And don't insult the office of the President. I teach my children every day about respect. Could we display that on national tv? (I am not just talking about Mr. Wilson, all you men and women waving papers and groaning and whispering while the leader of the US is speaking.)
I very much appreciated the call to statesmanship that was presented. Please take it. Convince President Obama to protect my liberty, but not at the stake of someone else's life--and do it respectfully. Thank you for your service. May God bless you to do it well.
I am very aware that the decisions that are being made will affect me--not only my personal care and the care of my family but the very economic base for our home. I take this seriously. Do not keep throwing out the same crappy "they are taking over the world" and "they are going to put us in debt" lines (hello, we're already there!). Inform us, don't scare us. And don't insult the office of the President. I teach my children every day about respect. Could we display that on national tv? (I am not just talking about Mr. Wilson, all you men and women waving papers and groaning and whispering while the leader of the US is speaking.)
I very much appreciated the call to statesmanship that was presented. Please take it. Convince President Obama to protect my liberty, but not at the stake of someone else's life--and do it respectfully. Thank you for your service. May God bless you to do it well.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
My Husband thinks Legos are evil...
My husband thinks legos are evil, but I know better. A year ago some friends of ours moved away (sob. We miss you Brink Family!) and left us some of their good stuff. That is the good thing about living here--you get lots of hand-me-downs when people leave. So, amongst the strange and good, there was the amazing: A 1,078 piece Ultimate Collector Series Yoda Lego set--without instructions, but with most of the pieces. My husband was not thrilled to see it come into the house, but it was free and it was STAR WARS! He mumbled under his breath something about there being missing pieces and "where was the instruction pamphlet?" I just sighed and stuck it in the basement.
It has only been the last few months that Xavier has gotten on the Lego bandwagon. Or shall I say, he has been allowed to get on the Lego bandwagon. I have fought it tooth and nail, figuring I was going to be the one picking up the jillions of little squares off the floor and picking them out of my vacuum. Matthew fought them because he hates doing anything that doesn't have all the pieces and really, when does anything with more than 3 pieces owned by a child have ALL the pieces at once? Oh, and the fact that they cost more than gold. Xavier's friend, Adam has introduced him to the joys of Lego, and in particular Lego Star Wars. We've played the computer game and now, we play with the little plastic blocks of doom.
I had forgotten about the Yoda Lego set. It was hidden in a pile in the basement, but like any good eight year old, Xavier was where he shouldn't be and found it. He asked if he could have it. I told him he could have it if he cleaned his room and the basement and the garage....figuring I'd never have to give it to him. Less than 24 hours later all three were pretty well cleaned up and I couldn't deny he'd done a bang up job on all of them. I caved. I gave it to him. Matthew told me I was nuts and on my own. Then he took it back and informed Xavier that he could only work on it with supervision, so the pieces didn't get lost. I reminded both of them that I don't do legos--that meant Daddy was doing legos, whether he liked it or not. Matthew was not happy with the idea.
The next stumbling block was the lack of instructions, which we handled thanks to Google and the Internet. Download. Check. Print...um...ran out of ink and oh, by the way the instructions are 67 color pages long!!!! So download and find the table so he can look at the computer screen while building. Check. Enter Matthew and his laptop. Matthew agrees to put the instructions on his laptop, making it easier to see the instructions while building. Thanks Daddy. Daddy also wants to inventory all 1000 + pieces. I tell him he needs his head examined. I also tell him it is the time for him to help his son out. He moans. He groans. He procrastinates. He steps up. Two hours spent on Yoda yesterday and my eight year old is a different child. He smiles. He tells everyone about his Yoda project. He is obedient on the off chance Daddy will help some more...
This morning, Sunday morning, Xavier was less than excited to get dressed for church. Daddy hollers out the bathroom door: "If we are late to church, there will be no Yoda Lego-ing today." Need I say that I've never seen Xavier move that fast? We had minutes to spare as we sat in our cushioned seat in the chapel (yes, we were that early)--and he was an angel throughout church. Daddy and Xavier spent a couple of hours this afternoon working on Yoda. "I hate legos," mumbles Matthew as he is sticking pieces together. Then he proudly points out how much they've accomplished. After I've sent the kids to bed, Matthew sheepishly asks if I mind if we wait an extra 30 minutes before we start our movie...because he wants to work on Yoda with Xavier for a few more minutes. "I hate legos," he says, "but I promised I would work on it a little more..." Ninety minutes later Xavier fell into bed with the biggest smile on his face and my husband watched a movie with me. I don't know a lot about male bonding, but I do know two boys having fun when I see it. My husband thinks legos are evil, but I know better.
It has only been the last few months that Xavier has gotten on the Lego bandwagon. Or shall I say, he has been allowed to get on the Lego bandwagon. I have fought it tooth and nail, figuring I was going to be the one picking up the jillions of little squares off the floor and picking them out of my vacuum. Matthew fought them because he hates doing anything that doesn't have all the pieces and really, when does anything with more than 3 pieces owned by a child have ALL the pieces at once? Oh, and the fact that they cost more than gold. Xavier's friend, Adam has introduced him to the joys of Lego, and in particular Lego Star Wars. We've played the computer game and now, we play with the little plastic blocks of doom.
I had forgotten about the Yoda Lego set. It was hidden in a pile in the basement, but like any good eight year old, Xavier was where he shouldn't be and found it. He asked if he could have it. I told him he could have it if he cleaned his room and the basement and the garage....figuring I'd never have to give it to him. Less than 24 hours later all three were pretty well cleaned up and I couldn't deny he'd done a bang up job on all of them. I caved. I gave it to him. Matthew told me I was nuts and on my own. Then he took it back and informed Xavier that he could only work on it with supervision, so the pieces didn't get lost. I reminded both of them that I don't do legos--that meant Daddy was doing legos, whether he liked it or not. Matthew was not happy with the idea.
The next stumbling block was the lack of instructions, which we handled thanks to Google and the Internet. Download. Check. Print...um...ran out of ink and oh, by the way the instructions are 67 color pages long!!!! So download and find the table so he can look at the computer screen while building. Check. Enter Matthew and his laptop. Matthew agrees to put the instructions on his laptop, making it easier to see the instructions while building. Thanks Daddy. Daddy also wants to inventory all 1000 + pieces. I tell him he needs his head examined. I also tell him it is the time for him to help his son out. He moans. He groans. He procrastinates. He steps up. Two hours spent on Yoda yesterday and my eight year old is a different child. He smiles. He tells everyone about his Yoda project. He is obedient on the off chance Daddy will help some more...
This morning, Sunday morning, Xavier was less than excited to get dressed for church. Daddy hollers out the bathroom door: "If we are late to church, there will be no Yoda Lego-ing today." Need I say that I've never seen Xavier move that fast? We had minutes to spare as we sat in our cushioned seat in the chapel (yes, we were that early)--and he was an angel throughout church. Daddy and Xavier spent a couple of hours this afternoon working on Yoda. "I hate legos," mumbles Matthew as he is sticking pieces together. Then he proudly points out how much they've accomplished. After I've sent the kids to bed, Matthew sheepishly asks if I mind if we wait an extra 30 minutes before we start our movie...because he wants to work on Yoda with Xavier for a few more minutes. "I hate legos," he says, "but I promised I would work on it a little more..." Ninety minutes later Xavier fell into bed with the biggest smile on his face and my husband watched a movie with me. I don't know a lot about male bonding, but I do know two boys having fun when I see it. My husband thinks legos are evil, but I know better.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Mom was right.
"Mom was right." A phrase that I've known all my life. Why is my mom always right? And really. I'm the mom. When do I get to be right all the time? Tonight our ward (church group for you not-so-Mormons) had a Fiesta with a little hispanic music, some hispanic food in the cultural hall. We were so cultured. I decided, due to my lack of time because of my multiple trips to Walmart (another long story in which my mother was right.) to make sopapillas--or in other words: fried bread with cinammon sugar. I grabbed some frozen rolls (gotta love Rhodes Rolls), a bottle of Canola oil, a pan and some newspaper along with the sugar and cinammon and we headed to the church. But not before my mother threw out her last words: Ummm, are you sure you want to do that? You know you are not suppose to cook at the church. I can just see it now: all that newspaper, the oil and a stove--and YOU. You know you are going to set off the smoke alarm and have the fire department come for a visit...they make such a mess.
Whatever, Mom. I'm a big girl. I can handle it. I can even clean up my own messes. Yeah. Famous last words. All was peachy. The fried bread was nice and golden brown. The culinary reviews were solid: "MMMM...SO GOOD! How ever did you make these? Are they hard to make? What is in these?" Fantastic. I do love a little gustatory praise. Helps with my long lonely nights doing laundry. The party was awesome. Yeah Creed and Tiffany! Those two know how to party. We were baillando-ing here and limbo-ing there. A little bit of this and a little bit of that.
Soon, I was done frying my dough, and I turned off the stove and began to clean up. See Mom. All's well. Not so much...As I slid the pan of hot oil off the burn to the back burner to cool off, a minute (I mean very small) amount of oil splashed onto the burner and began to smoke. It didn't look like much, so I grabbed a rag and began to wipe up the mess. And then I noticed it...the Limbo song had a really irritating beat...and the lights were flickering a bit.
A friend's husband (who is in the know about these things apparently) came into the kitchen and was waving a tray at the fire alarm above my head. I looked at him completely confused, and then, as I saw the BLACK SMOKE cloud above my head, I caught on: I had set off the fire alarm. Not only that--it had set off the security system and no one knew how to turn it off. So we did what any normal bunch of Mormons do when confronted with the difficult--we turned up the music and kept limbo-ing. The alarm was going off. We were dancing. I found a baby to hold. (Hey, I don't limbo and Soloman Trockel is cute!) The firemen came. My good friend Taylor saw them standing at the door watching us dance. He explained what happened and they went on their merry way. The alarm subsided. What on earth must they have thought?
The phone rang. I'm not sure how we heard it--the music was pretty loud. Taylor took that call too. One of our local church leaders had gotten the call that the security system alarm had gone off--and the fire department had been there? Did he need to come? Once again, Taylor assured him "all was well." Taylor informed me I owe him big for that phone call. I believe him.
Can I tell you where I was at this point? In the kitchen, hiding? Scrubbing oil, trying to disappear! So, it would be lovely to say that at this point, the laughter of all of us ended and we went out our evening partying, I mean fiesta-ing...however, we weren't quite done. No, Matthew decided to clean the burners and make sure they were clean by testing them out. Yes, you guessed it: he set off the fire alarm again. Like the good wife I am, I stood by the open kitchen window, pointed at my husband and said, "He did it this time." Thank goodness, we had learned a little and called the fire department--so they didn't have to come again. We did get another call from the church leader. He was very explicit that we would be taking the burners home with us and getting them clean FAR away from the meetinghouse. So, now I have 4 electric range burners that are mostly clean, I think, but no way to check because I have a gas range, but I know I am NOT going to check them at the church!
I was assured by all that my fried bread was worth it and the excitement just added to the fiesta, but really. What is a girl to do? Not only did I break the rules and get caught, once again: Mom was right.
Whatever, Mom. I'm a big girl. I can handle it. I can even clean up my own messes. Yeah. Famous last words. All was peachy. The fried bread was nice and golden brown. The culinary reviews were solid: "MMMM...SO GOOD! How ever did you make these? Are they hard to make? What is in these?" Fantastic. I do love a little gustatory praise. Helps with my long lonely nights doing laundry. The party was awesome. Yeah Creed and Tiffany! Those two know how to party. We were baillando-ing here and limbo-ing there. A little bit of this and a little bit of that.
Soon, I was done frying my dough, and I turned off the stove and began to clean up. See Mom. All's well. Not so much...As I slid the pan of hot oil off the burn to the back burner to cool off, a minute (I mean very small) amount of oil splashed onto the burner and began to smoke. It didn't look like much, so I grabbed a rag and began to wipe up the mess. And then I noticed it...the Limbo song had a really irritating beat...and the lights were flickering a bit.
A friend's husband (who is in the know about these things apparently) came into the kitchen and was waving a tray at the fire alarm above my head. I looked at him completely confused, and then, as I saw the BLACK SMOKE cloud above my head, I caught on: I had set off the fire alarm. Not only that--it had set off the security system and no one knew how to turn it off. So we did what any normal bunch of Mormons do when confronted with the difficult--we turned up the music and kept limbo-ing. The alarm was going off. We were dancing. I found a baby to hold. (Hey, I don't limbo and Soloman Trockel is cute!) The firemen came. My good friend Taylor saw them standing at the door watching us dance. He explained what happened and they went on their merry way. The alarm subsided. What on earth must they have thought?
The phone rang. I'm not sure how we heard it--the music was pretty loud. Taylor took that call too. One of our local church leaders had gotten the call that the security system alarm had gone off--and the fire department had been there? Did he need to come? Once again, Taylor assured him "all was well." Taylor informed me I owe him big for that phone call. I believe him.
Can I tell you where I was at this point? In the kitchen, hiding? Scrubbing oil, trying to disappear! So, it would be lovely to say that at this point, the laughter of all of us ended and we went out our evening partying, I mean fiesta-ing...however, we weren't quite done. No, Matthew decided to clean the burners and make sure they were clean by testing them out. Yes, you guessed it: he set off the fire alarm again. Like the good wife I am, I stood by the open kitchen window, pointed at my husband and said, "He did it this time." Thank goodness, we had learned a little and called the fire department--so they didn't have to come again. We did get another call from the church leader. He was very explicit that we would be taking the burners home with us and getting them clean FAR away from the meetinghouse. So, now I have 4 electric range burners that are mostly clean, I think, but no way to check because I have a gas range, but I know I am NOT going to check them at the church!
I was assured by all that my fried bread was worth it and the excitement just added to the fiesta, but really. What is a girl to do? Not only did I break the rules and get caught, once again: Mom was right.
Monday, July 20, 2009
I love Matthew
I love Matthew. He, of the quiet sense of humor. The sarcastic yet sweet man who comes out of his shell at rock concerts...Yes, rock concerts. So, don't tell, but we went to a rock concert in Syracuse, NY yesterday. Yes, it was Sunday, but it was Bob. You know, Bob Dylan! Also Willie Nelson (an hour of my life I'll never get back.) John Mellancamp was pretty awesome though. He even sang his song, "I'm Fightin' 40..." for Matthew. Bob rocked as usual, however he was definitely more...sedate than usual. He even sang a song from his religious period. We were glad as we were feeling a little guilty about our Sunday Cultural adventure. Okay, "we" meaning "me"--Matthew was having a spiritual experience. He dances! He sings! He notes which songs I like to put on my IPod. He chats up the guy next to him. (Not the girls though. I'd get grumpy.) He moves me out of the way of the brawls (only 2) and the puking people (only 2)...and he holds my hand. I love Matthew.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
ArtPark
I LOVE ARTPARK. So, for those of you who aren't in the know about ArtPark, it is this WAY COOL place in Lewiston, NY where every Saturday in July, every child's art fantasy comes true. They put out the paint. They put out the FACE paint. They put out the glue, tape, scissors, craft-you-name-it and then put out a zillion smiley people to help you make cool crafts. One of the workers there told me, "You can tell who are the regulars by the clothes the kids are wearing. If they come up over the hill and look like they've already lost a war with a paint can, they are definitely regulars. The ones in white or photo-clothes, we urge to go home and change and come back..."
Did I mention ArtPark is FREE! Definitely in my summer budget, so we went today, and Cutty Tapey (Otherwise known as Orion) came home covered in homemade tattoos (take rubber stamps, apply ink, stamp on body, color in with markers...EVERYWHERE! Yes, even the forehead.) Xavier made a cool fish hangy-thing and they all got to paint. As in, paper attached to the wall of a big old shed with clothespins and huge pots of paints in a rainbow of color sitting on a bench for use by all. No dropcloth. No "ooh, be careful." No "here put on a smock." Just "here, have a paintbrush and a piece of paper." The best part: I didn't have to clean up. We got there a little late, but still had a ball. I know where I'm going next Saturday. Want to come? I overheard this comment: "I love it here, Mom. I know Honey. I love to draw on myself. I know Honey. Wait, where else do I let you draw on yourself? Only here, Mommy. That's why I love it here." I LOVE ARTPARK.
Did I mention ArtPark is FREE! Definitely in my summer budget, so we went today, and Cutty Tapey (Otherwise known as Orion) came home covered in homemade tattoos (take rubber stamps, apply ink, stamp on body, color in with markers...EVERYWHERE! Yes, even the forehead.) Xavier made a cool fish hangy-thing and they all got to paint. As in, paper attached to the wall of a big old shed with clothespins and huge pots of paints in a rainbow of color sitting on a bench for use by all. No dropcloth. No "ooh, be careful." No "here put on a smock." Just "here, have a paintbrush and a piece of paper." The best part: I didn't have to clean up. We got there a little late, but still had a ball. I know where I'm going next Saturday. Want to come? I overheard this comment: "I love it here, Mom. I know Honey. I love to draw on myself. I know Honey. Wait, where else do I let you draw on yourself? Only here, Mommy. That's why I love it here." I LOVE ARTPARK.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Little Italy
While driving into Niagara Falls the other day, we passed under the "Little Italy" sign that marks entrance to a small downtown section filled with shops with names like "Spallino" and "Giorgio" and "Bellini". Xavier says, "Are we in Italy, Dad?" Matthew explains that no, this is just an area where there were lots of Italian settlers and that they called the area "Little Italy" to honor them. "Oh," says Xavier, "well, why aren't there any Olive Gardens then?" My son. He knows his Italian food.
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