MERRY CHRISTMAS, Everybody!!!!!

monkey see, monkey dance

I saw my friend do this, and I couldn't resist.

If you want to see the girls and me dance around in elf costumes, click this link.

It took me about nine million tries before the site decided to save my pictures, and by the nine million and oneth time, my patience was waning and my skepticism was flourishing, so the photo edit was better on any number of the early tries, as I got sloppy later on, thinking, it won't save anyway.... oh well.

Tao of Poo

not Pooh.. but poo. Oh, you thought I meant this cute book? ha.. ha.. no.

you've been a SAHM not getting out enough when you start pontificating on waste.

There's that whole, 'the natural speaks of the invisible' principle, and observations in that vein teach me most about life, and well, I happen to be dealing with a lot of poo, as any mother does, and I can't turn off my observations, soooo... here I am with readers dropping like flies...
(she's not really going to talk about poo is she??)

2 things I've noticed:

The intensity/strength/potency/foulness of what comes out of us increases as we get older. The more impure that goes in, the more impure that comes out. Literally and figuratively. A newborn babes waste has virtually no odor. The more foods are introduced however, the more stink, with an exponential jump when meat is introduced. Then as adults we eat all manner of processed and unhealthy stuff and watch out - phew!

I want to say it is the same with our mind/soul. We have and continue to take in more and more impure things, and our output becomes more and more foul. I am thinking of all the sinful things of the world we are exposed to - and commit ourselves - that corrupt and pollute us spiritually.
Is it too much of a stretch if I liken the meat to our conscious, informed and still sinful choices? Wouldn't those constitute some of the real moral 'stinkers'?

I know for myself, I remember when I was younger, in grade school, and first learned about someone calculating a manipulative argument with me. They knew how I would respond to something, and lied to get a desired response. I was absolutely floored, as I couldn't even imagine thinking that way. That wasn't honest. It would not have even occurred to me to behave that way. Now, unfortunately, it does occur to me. I have to choose not to act on the sinful ideas that are now in me. Yuck. My corruption has gotten more stinky.

This one is less universal but still on the poo theme.
I know a child whom I won't overtly incriminate, but who really doesn't like to have their diaper changed. She hates hates being dirty, but the actual laying down and cleaning process she has a serious aversion to. She will lay there and cry through the whole thing. Let me go! Let me get up! And I thought, y'know, metaphysically, I can relate. I'm like that with God. I don't like my crap, but I don't like having to get it cleaned either. I wish it were as easy as wiping a wet rag over me to rid me of sinful habits/thoughts/motives/actions. But nooooo. These have ingrained for years and they are right in my nature. That doesn't excuse any of it, but gives one reason why they are not easy to get rid of. The other being that we are stubborn and evil and part of us loves our sin.

Thank God (literally!) that this is not the end, and HE doesn't leave us stranded with our poop. He will wipe our preternatural bottoms clean.. again and again. He is a good God and Father. He is patient with us while we make big mountains out of all our little molehills.

changing with the times... Christmas times!

Niamh , aka Spitty Gonzales, is 6 months now. How my life has changed:

*Sweeping the floor has become a game of keep away, as she is crawling, and chases the pile wherever I scoot it to. I have to pretty well keep it with me as I go.

*what I might have lost in laundry from poopy messes, I have gained in meal messes, as she is eating solids, and shares her meals with her shirt sleeves, because, of course, fingers make a perfect complement to any pureed veggie or grain.

*I can no longer take a step without looking to see that it is safe, as someone is always ending up under my feet, or even intentionally following my feet around, so as to enjoy hanging on my pantlegs, or pulling on my socks. Who wouldn't, really!

*I have to make rounds examining each room of the house a few times a day, to both locate her and certify that she has not found anything she shouldn't have.

This is turning out to be such a cool holiday season. I am FINALLY settling in to living here, feeling more at home. I'm not feeling like I'm stuck somewhere weird when I should be home with my family... I am home with my family. A good feeling.

We have had insane snow lately, and made snowmen, baked cookies, decorated trees, fire burning in the stove, you name it. It has been so festive and fun.

The girls c r a c k m e u p.

Anna plays with Niamh, gets her laughing and vice versa. Anna is sooo good with ehr, I kinda can't believe it. Niamh is so happy and good too. Loves to laugh. Now that she is crawling she will play on the floor by herself with toys. Yay for entertaining one's self!!! My arms are getting a few more breaks (HALLelujah!) and she is more content, longer.

Here she is in her Christmas dress:

I think she looks so much more grown up dressed up like that. Beautiful!

and here we are decorating the other day:

I love this season! Ignore the vacuum and holloween chip box that had th Christmas balls in it.

A very merry season to you all!

Thanks, Anna

last night in conversation:

*while patting my tummy* "Mommy, are you going to have more babies?"
*confused, replies* "Not that I know of, Sweety. Why?"
"Cause your belly is so BIG!"

...

Gee, thanks for noticing, Anna. Maybe Niamh was an inconsiderate tenant and left a bunch of her stuff behind when she moved out.
Or maybe I had too many candybars. Naaah. Can't be. You can never have too many candybars. :P

A video on education

Heya-

for anyone interested in education, your own or your children's, or the future of the world, I think that this is a super video. It is 20 minutes long, but there is a lot of good humour, and is also stimulating intellectually. A must-see for teachers and recommended for parents. I really enjoyed it, obviously, if I'm blogging it. I must think there is something of import there. The only downside is the BMW commercial at the end.

creepy coincidence

So I know these 2 ladies. One of them is from Nova Scotia, one is from Kansas. They don't know each other at all. I am their Kevin Bacon.
They have the same name.
They are both singers, both altos.
They are both blonde.
They have remarkably similar personalities, in my opinion. Remarkably.
They both had a terrible 1st marraige.
They divorced.
They remarried and had the marriage that people dream of, love love love, and were the envy of most all their friends because of it.
Their 2nd husbands were diagnosed with really similar fatal diseases, giving them 2 years to live, within a couple years of being married. One of these husbands has already died. The other is still in the 2 yr window.

I mean really. Is that not freaky? The universe is a vellly intellesting place. Creepy too, sometimes.

Any sugar daddies out there??

This is a shameless plug. My hypocritical apologies for the fishing.

Follow this here link to the Litriocht (Every Irish book in print) website, to a wishlist I have compiled. It is kinda like registering for a wedding or something... if you happen to want to buy something for Anna for Christmas or just in general, here are a few great ideas! This is a bunch of Irish books, to further the cause of bilingualism. You can pick something off my wishlist and buy it for me - er, her. There are something like 400 more books on the site in that age category. I sifted through to the 10 or so that I thought best. Although, I'm sure there are 100 others just as nice.

For Christmas delivery, time is running out! Hurry! Make a rash decision! Prices starting at only 3 Euros!

No one understands me.

Maybe I should paint my nails black.
Watch this if you don't get what I mean by that. Don't watch it with young children around. But from my background, that is hilarious.

I should clarify, since I am yet to make any sense so far this post. Some people understand me and my extremely small audience jokes, just no one with whom I'm regularly in contact.

When I'm running around the yard with Anna, I find myself making all these jokes that I crack up at, but no else gets, because they are referring to things like :

-my Grandpa's made-up language
-expressions excessively used to the point of humor by one of the sports announcers on Ireland's Raidi0 na Gaeltachta.

and other things that would just confuse the vast majority of people. Oh well.

Niamh doesn't care. She laughs with/at me even when I make these inacessible jokes. Usually. Sometimes even she gives me the blank stare.

A River Runs Through It

Did you know I had a river in my back yard?
ya, me neither.




Anna found it. You see, we have kinda clay-ish soil, and after a bunch of rain, which we have had the past week, any holes or in this case, trenches, become reservoirs. So Chris dug this trench around our garden a couple years ago to help with drainage. It was a great help to the garden. Anna calls it "the river."













These holes-come-puddles are the finest features of the yard, if you are 3. Funny, they were kinda one of my least favourite parts. While I fastidiously avoid them, she makes a bee-line for them as soon as she is released into the yard, and will spend most of her time outside jumping in them.




See exibit A:

This is her rear about half-way through this escapade.
It got a lot worse. I suppose this is just normal kids, but I always tried to stay so clean, it is funny to me.

Now all this running and play in a water-logged yard would have been great, if the bottom of my boots didn't look like this:

For your benefit and clarification, I have circled the areas on the soles where there is no longer any rubber. These shoes have served me faithfully, year round, for approximately 7 years though, so I am not criticizing. But still. I have tromped over the globe and danced many's the dance in them, but I think they have now had the biscuit (a local expression).

If anyone has about $200 burning a hole in their pocket, these would do me nicely for a replacement. :)

Mommy Superpowers

So far as I can tell, there are a few special dispensations that God gives mothers upon the birth of their children, like Lactation. But there are others.

I've seen in myself, a super power to catch dangerous flying objects, including the child themself.

Once, a wine bottle came flying off the top of our fridge headed straight for Anna's wee head. I turned, lept and *pak* - caught the flying bottle in mid-air, just like some great wide-receiver or something. Everyone looked at me with gaping mouths, in disbelief. If you know me, you know that I am NO athlete, which made this all the more difficult to swallow.

Another time Anna was rough housing with Chris on the bed, and she took a leap, and her lil' head was headed straight for the footboard. I spun around from a couple feet away, apparently having seen and perceived from the eyes on the back of my head, and shot my hand out, intercepting her head just before it bashed, like something from a superhero movie.

We can only call on these powers when they are needed. They are not just there all the time to show off with or anything.

God also gives us the ability to see invisible things. We can find lost things that take on an invisible cloak to the rest of the family. "Where's my ____?" The seeker can look and look and look to no end, staring at the desired item even, repeatedly, and not see it. Moms, however, can find these invisible things. It's a gift.

On another note, my Dad is here visiting! So if you find me absentee, that is largely why, for the next 2 weeks. Yeah! So nice for my family to meet my family, my kids, esp. with a new baby! This is the first anyone on my side has met her. :( Distance can stink. Poor Dad, this is the first time he has been to visit since 2 years ago, when Anna was only 19 months old. Crazy, eh?

Autumn Fun

The weather is soooo gorgeous... no bugs, not hot, not cold.. I'm in my glory. We had a lot of fun running around this afternoon. Here are a couple of the photo ops. And no, the world isn't tilted... I was. Well, it IS tilted.. but.. nevermind.

bet you can't stand on your head like meee!!

for "fun"

If you happen to be a grammar goose like me, you might enjoy this blog as much I did.

By grammar goose, I mean someone who thinks grammar is a perfectly reasonable subject for comedy. It is, isn't it? Loaded with surprises and unforeseen turns that keep one on the edge of their seat! Grammar! Somebody needs to turn Chris Rock onto the topic of the future- it's where stand-up is going, I'm convinced.

mmm... fingers...

I think she's gonna be tall.

Deep thoughts, #1

this foot


is the same foot as was felt and described in this, and in this prenatal post ? That was little Niamh stretching her yet-to-be-exposed-to-the-world legs.

How totally amazing. Just hit me. Life is so amazing.

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I'm starting a new segment that will recur in this blog. Here is the first installment.

Deep Thoughts, with Jen Dandy*

"According to research from Columbia University, children who eat dinner with their family on a regular basis are 60% less likely to smoke cigarettes, 50% less likely to use drugs, and 66% less likely to drink alcohol."
Interesting. I don't think this is the whole picture by any means, or full reason behind these children leading healthier, less substance-abusive lives. I wonder what else was different and common among these homes, in the lifestyles and beliefs of the parents, who all ate together. What else did they do differently than the other half-ish of the population? What fundamental belief systems, of which eating together was just one expression, were in place, and what other habits were factors? Hmmm...
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*I've noticed two major components to humour. Timing, and understatement. Don't overexplain something. Leave some tidbit to be assumed by the reader. I'm about to drain any potential humour out of this by ignoring that. Jen Dandy is a double reference. It rhymes with Jack Handy, from SNL, and sounds a lot like jim dandy, an expression we always used back home, which means something that is notable and exceptional. Aren't I witty? It's awe-inspiring. Where do I come up with them, I really don't know.

WEEE!!!

I have this crazy hankering to spend a day at Lake Jacomo water slides, or riding the Fury of the Nile over and over and over as nauseum.

or go roller or ice skating.

This sounds like more fun to me than... I dunno. It sounds really really fun!

Aren't you better off for knowing this?

Happy Thanksgiving, Canadians!

I am definitely joining in the thankfulness. Only fair, since I'm definitely joining in on the turkey, veggies and pie.

CHEESE WARNING: if you can't handle it, quickly find another page to read, cause it's comin.

I have been experiencing this absolutely giddy joy over my kids. I could just giggle, I can't get over it. Having a baby in the house is so amazing. It's almost like it is just sinking in, 4 months after the fact. It is so amazing and wonderful. God graced with me an understanding of how FAST this time will fly by, and it really helps me enjoy it, and not wish it away. I will be no time at all, and she will be talking, learning to read and having totally different requirements, like Anna, and I will have to look at pictures to try and remember these baby days. Each phase is so engrossing with its own new developments, whatever came before passes into inactive memory so quickly. I'm so enjoying every moment. With this kind of perspective I find it isn't taxing when she wakes up AGAIN, or needs to be picked up again... I can sleep later. I can't carry those chubby cheeks and legs around for long. That gorgeous toothless smile, the wide-eyed look of intense excitement and thrill when you hold her hands and she can stand up. The way they contentedly, and with great focus, settle into nursing, all business-like and no messing around.

more simple pleasures:
a steamy washcloth on my face when I wash before bed
hugs
golden glistens on hair in the sun
smiles
music, beautiful sounds
nature's vibrant and pure colors (God's painting :)
delicious smells
the warmth of fire
the refreshing splash of clean water
a fresh breeze with the smell of chlorophyll

I'm just having a hefty portion of thanksgiving this year. Thank You, God. Life is amazing. Full of drama (that's our fault), but amazing. You made one heck of an awesome world. I love it.

nuttin much

What's with nouns strangely becoming verbs that don't really seem to match up?

I noticed there are a few nouns that got imported to mean, move fast. Among them: jet, boot, and book. Jet I can see. "I gotta jet." Jets move fast. That makes sense.

Boot, well, I can at least see a reference to kicking up ones heels, or move your boots with speed. "I gotta boot'er."

But then there's book. "You better book'er!" Meaning, of course, hurry up!

?

Isn't a book maybe one of the slowest things you can think of? You are generally required to sit still and not move to read one. Or referring to the book itself, it certainly isn't going anywhere, especially not fast.

Just silliness from English. It's full of that silly stuff. Probably cause it was made by people, who are silly.

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Repeat after me: Chocolate is not god

I guess I'm having some trouble with this one.

What makes me think I'm apotheosizing a sugared bean powder? you may ask.

Well, I find myself saying: ooh, it's time for some chocoalte :
-when I am depressed or stressed
-when I want to celebrate
-when I'm lonely
-when I want to relax

all times that, to me, sound like a good time for prayer or communion with God. Not a time to eat. A good time to eat is when you are HUNGRY. mmm... fascinating. That reason, however, was not included on my list. I'll be addressing this issue with myself. Don't worry.

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I'm contemplating what I'm calling the principle of reflection.

2 Corinthians 3:18 But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.

"Bad company corrupts good morals."

"A little leaven leavens the whole lump."

There is a fact of the company one keeps influencing them, for good or for bad.

I've also been thinking about perspectives, and how we project our perception onto the world, and read what we see through our imposed lens. I'm wondering to what extent we endeavor to find ourselves in other things, or how we presume our own qualities in other things/people. For example when Chris assumes that I would not enjoy a potluck at church just because he wouldn't. There is more to this, I had all these thoughts, but someone seems to have pulled the plug on my brain, and everything ran out. I can't find it now. Maybe later.
Besides, Anna says, "Mommy, you're writing too much letters."

Put that in your pipe

Paparazzi got you down?
Tired of seeing your face all over the headlines every time you drive drunk or get a haircut?
Wish there was some place to which you could wisk away and escape the spotlight?

Why don't you try buying an island in Tracadie!

Where???

Exactly.

This is apparently what Ethan Hawke thought was a good idea. When he and Uma were together, Chris saw her here at our 'corner' store (there is no actual corner - I'm lucky the road is paved) and she got directions somewhere.
At one of my ceilidhs, who did I spy leaning against the back wall but Richard Gere. Chris served him tea, as he was helping in the kitchen that night.
Another night I was almost made late having to wait for J-Lo and Ben Afflek's large boat to pass.

This area is known for not giving a rats patoots who you are - in terms of fame. Your family name is a whole other issue, that we are not broaching today: that matters immensely. But just because Hollywood thinks you are somebody, around here, we could care less. You're really not in Hollywood anymore, Zha zha. Just another Shmoe. For that reason, I suppose, celebs are drawn to the area. No one is taking their picture or even staring. Same treatment as anybody.

SO the story goes, that a friend of Chris' from work was having a house party to which Ethan Hawke was invited and actually came.

So he lands in with incredibly muddy boots. He comes tromping in to the lady's house tracking mud everywhere.
"Yo, Buddy!" she says," Leave the boots at the door! Jaysus look at the mess, what!?"
Well, Ethan was less than gracious. He told her to clean it!
"I'm not cleaning that *&~@!"
So, Mr. Savvy reaches into his pocket, throws out some cash onto her side table and says, "There - I'll pay somebody to clean it."
"You absolutely will not- you WILL get your #^* out of my house!"
And she kicked him out.

So there. Smoke that.

Bowman girls

Tanny up!

O Blogger, Where Are Thou?

I am back.
One thing that kept me away lately was having my phone line yanked from my house by a passing tractor trailer. Crazy eh? Now we are back on the grid, connected to the interweb. Yeehaw!

Does anyone else find patterns in their life to be self perpetuating?
For example: When I am doing well, I seem to just get better. I am on the ball: the house is sparkling, I bake and cook up a flurry of culinary varieties, I speak Irish like I'm smart or something, read to my girls so they will be smart or something, exercise, juice, take time outdoors - and all with a big smile. I feel confident because I'm accomplishing all this stuff, and things are going great. With this confidence and good energy, I can just keep accomplishing more!

Then these times happen when I'm not doing well. My brain seems to be on slow motion, I can't manage to think of Irish, and start to feel stupid. I am exhausted, so I don't clean or cook, so the house gets messy and we don't get nutritious food prepared. The mess then gets overwhelming, so I eat 'comfort food' [read: chocolate], I don't spend any time in the sun, can't find the strength/gumption to juice or clean, and my response to the under-achieving ends up perpetuating the exhaustion, stress and discouragement.

What happens to break these cycles I'm not sure, but they seem to spontaneously turn around. One day you are Mrs. Over-Achiever-Cleaver, the next, you feel you are barely hanging on.

Weird.
Just life, I guess. Life, and hormonal fluctuations, likely.

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I have been really preoccupied by world issues lately: hunger, poverty, disease, injustice. One evening in particular, Niamh had been playing on the floor happily, but then the fun ran out, as it does, and she started crying. It took me a minute to get to her, but as soon as I was there to talk to her, she was smiling again. Just wanted someone to talk to her and engage her.

Then it just struck me, the countless orphans in the world, and all they are doing without. They aren't any person's #1 priority, there isn't anyone that they know will always come for them, or for whom there is that feeling of security and familiarity. Most are probably in the care of some nurse, state employee or volunteer, many of whom are great I'm sure, but it is just not the same as the one Mommy or Daddy all the time, who loves you like nobody else. I just thought how very fortunate my girls are to have both parents, in the same home, who adore them. It is just so sad to think of the baby out there just like Niamh, who doesn't have a mommy to come smile at her when that might be all she needs, to know you are there.

There now, aren't you glad I came back so I could depress you? Better luck next time maybe.

What a cheap-scot!

So three lads walked into a pub and ordered a pint: an American, an Irishman, and a Scotsman. Now, this pub was not renowned for its cleanliness, and there were a number of flies buzzing around.

Well, it just so happened (now wasn't this convenient for the joke?) that a fly landed in each of our fellows' drinks.

Appalled, the American dumps out his pint and orders another one.

The Irishman, taking it in stride, picks out the fly, flings it away and continues drinking.

The Scotsman carefully picks the fly out of his drink, holds him up, and giving him a hateful glare says, "Spit it out, ye little bugger."

happy in my little house

This makes me crazy.

But it also makes me feel happy and safe in my little house, not making waves, not having my voice squashed by some corporate and/or political monster (if those terms can be distinguished anymore, I'm not sure - corporate and political I mean, not political and monster :)

It is a scary world. The corruption blows my mind. Once again, I am sooooo (insert a thousand o's) thankful to have my peaceful little life. If my biggest problem in the run of a typical day is sleepiness, a cranky toddler or a leaky pooy diaper, I have it very easy. I cherish my freedom. Although my ability to voice my faith publicly is diminishing as ultra-tolerance is the word of the day and absolutes, as well as anyone who believe in them, become criminal, I can still practice my faith with more freedom than so many in the world. I can put my kids down for a nap in the afternoon without hearing gunshots or bombs going off outside their windows. We have windows. We have a house. A new one. A full fridge with a variety and interesting selection of foods. I can go to church openly, read my Bible (quietly to myself) in public. I think those days are numbered, but I am enjoying them immensely in the meantime. Thank You, God, for a peaceful country, and all the blessings I enjoy in my life.

Irish donut, anybody?

I am craving a soft serve cone today so bad it isn't fit. It's all Anna's fault. The power of suggestion. She likes to pretend about all these treats she has 'made', so she is forever offering me these delectable imaginary treats I have to pretend to eat, and then I get hungry for them, for REAL. *sigh* Doesn't help with that whole post-partum weight loss thing.

She is doing fine, in reference to 2 posts ago. Yay!

SO...
There seems to be two camps (I will oversimplify and reduce many perspectives to two) , that I didn't even realize existed. There is a whole world out there of blogging moms who jokingly say they are endeavoring to 'lower the bar' for parents everywhere, call themselves white trash mom, and the like, with pride (not that there's anything wrong with that). But they have set themselves up against another camp they refer to as the Martha Stewart Moms. I know people have given me some irritated comments in the past about being too smiley, (do you ever wipe that stupid thing off your face???) and disgusted at various habits, like anything one makes from scratch or whatever else they see as being Mrs. Cleaver-ish.

Look, people-who-might-criticize-but-aren't-reading-this, People are just living their lives how they want. Aren't we all. Don't be a hate-a.

I bet if you talked to those women you consider Martha Stewart Moms, you would find they have their fair share of insanity in their life, and there are more than ample times where their hair is afro-ed and their house a mess. Maybe you just missed that day. They undoubtedly have a list of failures, inadequacies or challenges you may not see but are potentially painful hurdles for them. Everybody does.

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Funny quotes from Anna:

"Yook, dat man has a smushtash." (moustache)

after finishing an English muffin Daddy had given her, "Uhm, Daddy? Can I have another... uh...Iwish .... donut?"
She wasn't certain, but knew it was some kind of British-Isles-vicinity pastry.

can't handle it.

Just too beautiful.

The following 2 pictures are from Niamh's bathtime, and Anna was helping me bathe her.

Aren't they sweet?

What a day will bring...

One never knows.

Last night Chris and I got home to late to find Anna still up because.. she was peeing blood. She was, however, completely cool about it, and even thought it was fun that her "pee is pink!!" Yay! I guess... She had no pain or discomfort of any kind, and was perfectly happy and energetic. However, he still took her in to outpatients, as it was a little too dark for us to feel comfortable putting it off.

Back home after a short exam, I find out that more than likely, it is just a small broken vessel from one of the bazillion tumbles a 3 year old takes in the run of a day. It should heal itself with some rest (any pointers on how to get the tazmanian angel to sit down?) and gradually clear up over a few days. We are to take her back if it doesn't. But even as of this morning it is waaay better than it was, so now Mommy can say YAY!

If anyone hasn't seen this yet, you should check it out. Anyone, specifically or especially mothers. Just funny. I swear this lady is going to end up on Oprah. Mark my word.

Best of both worlds

I wish you could have them. Kinda. Allow me to essplain.


Reflections on hedonism


I was thinking last night, how I was wearying of different aspects of my current life, (the inturrupted short sleep thing is starting to take its toll) and daydreaming about a time with a more open schedule, more freedom to say, go to a dance, a session, go out to eat or meet friends for coffee. I realized that at one time I had that, and when I was there I daydreamed about having a husband and a house and kids. I would think, "If only I could have that..." I didn't realize how much I loved being able to run over to the coffee shop or session whenever I felt like it.


So what do we conclude - the grass is always greener. I find we want whatever we don't currently have. In the summer, people complain about the heat and bugs, and pray for the soon coming of autumn to relieve them. During the winter, they bemoan the cold and the precipitation and extol the virtues of beautiful summer. I know not everybody is like this, but I do hear this a fair amount. And I hear it in my own head, regarding the phase of life issue.


My conclusion, after one night of introspection (so this certainly is the end-all truth of the matter, after all THAT impressive deep thought):


Every phase has is its pros and cons, and it is given to us in that way so we learn to appreciate what we currently have and find the good in it, to be thankful. If we had it all, we would be so spoiled we would be unable to enjoy it. Besides being more rotten people. Think Ms. Hilton par example.


THank you, thank you, you can call me your Buddha if you like. I am so enlightening after all.
You can't, however, rub my belly. It ain't like dat.

Debunking the myth

True or False:

You can eat a candy bar every day and stay in your current pant size.

False. You will not be able to stay in this size for very long if you maintain this routine.

Darn.

*sigh* oh well. I gave it a good effort anyway. And I did confirm the factuality of that statement, in case you were wondering. I have completed the trials.

Way to go, Ms. Clouseau

How do I say this cutely - I poured an entire large coffee from Tim Hortons on my creamy khaki capris clad lap about half way through the 90 min. drive to my ceilidh (fiddle concert) last night. Good job. I thought I could just send the dancer that is always there home to get me a pair of pants to borrow, but Chris thought it better to check local clothes merchants first. So I ended up having to pick up a pair of semi-strange denim highwaters for $25. Not something I would normally do, but I was in a pinch, as my entire underside was a tad bit coffeefied, I was headed on stage in like 20 minutes, and most other options in this tourist trap were upwards of $100, most of them slight little summer dresses or -Ack! - shorts! Heaven help us, my white legs in shorts... let's not go there. SOME of us are not blessed with Maori colouring. :)

Ms. Clouseau is of course a reference to the accident prone Jacques Clouseau in the Pink Panther detective movies from the 70's.

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I always thought those people were weird who could rhyme off incredibly detailed information about sports history/trivia, like who pitched for what team, what game, what year and their stats.

Then I realized I'm basically like that for fiddle stuff. I have scared people on more than one occasion. I'm wicked at playing "Name That Fiddler" within a certain stylistic spectrum. I trip people out when I tell them who is playing piano or fiddle on some home tape I have never heard, and what year it likely was. So I guess I'm a higher ranking geek than I knew.

Hey, can you get a cookie for that? I should look into it. I would love a cookie.

-------------

Anna has started a delightful new game of quizzing/drilling me on Irish vocabulary! I love it, and think it is hilarious too. She will go on for Quite a goodly time asking, "What is fridge in Iwish? What is window in Iwish? What is couch in Iwish?" etc. indefinitely, til I get a sizeable unsolicited, but much appreciated review session of every noun she can think of. Isn't that funny or is it just me?

Oh foolish girl...

I stood still in the middle of my kitchen with an anticipitory excitement: Free time! Could it be??? I was in shellshocked disbelief for a moment. So - what will I do??? Daring not to waste a crumb, I quickly decided what the funnest thing at the moment would be.

I put on the kettle for a pot of hot starbucks coffee, a gift from a beautiful friend, -thank you! - and ran to my closet to fish out the afghan I had been working on before someone else came and decided to occupy my hands for 16 hours of the day. Not that I begrudge said person, but still.

I french-pressed my coffee, poured the fresh cream, got my crochet hook and strolled very pleased over to the table to sit with Anna, and sip my hot joe.

heard in the distance :

**waaa! waaa!**

She woke up.

Oh well.

There was a beautiful moment of grown up, relaxed quiet and indulgence. But then after some nursing, of COURSE, there is always nursing, she had such big smiles and coos for us, I knew this was much better than any old afghan. And I still got to sit and sip my coffee while she had her num nums. Yay for baby smiles! They are the best.

In other news, the ceilidhs are going great. They totally recharge my batteries. I guess I have come to a point in my playing or reached a level where it doesn't take as much to maintain the performance level. Certainly a couple years ago, I would never have been able to play these with as little practice as I have had. Whether it is God's pure grace, or I just got better, I'm doing way better than expected. Another yay!

Surgery recovery was remarkable. I'm great. Disgusting tasting chinese herbs are making nursing comfortable and enjoyable. Yay! Niamh is sleeping well at night. Daytime naps are another story... although God gave us swings to save us from the Valley of the Shadow of Desperation. I am doing better at speaking Irish to the girls, which makes me feel like much less of a slacker.

Hey - by any chance - are there any employers in the Dallas/Ft.Worth area reading this who would like to hire my dad? He needs a job.

Though we have been having tons of rain, about which locals are complaining profusely, I am SO enjoying the summer! All I need is green. Jenni is happy with green.

So as not to leave you without a picture, this is a proud Anna last week, displaying her work : writing her name for the first time. I didn't even know she was working on it. She just walked over and showed me. "Yook, Mommy, I wote my name!" And she had. What a girl.

Aahh... the life of a Holstein....

akin to my own current life.

Minus all the grass.

Today is Chris' birthday! Happy Birthday, Sweety! Not that he reads this. I made him one of our favourite dishes. Everyone who samples it decides it is one of their favourites as well. It is a family recipe called Roman Round pie. If anyone wants the recipe, I can email copies out. It really is excellent.

So we had yummy food, as is a-priori in my opinion for a birthday, and Chris spent the morning at a barn-raising : his own! He is working on building a barn. Big project, but he is the man for the job. Handy, as I mentioned before.

A funny thing I can mention is this : if anyone is flying WestJet in the next month, may I recommend you leaf through the seat-back magazine that will be in front of you? I'm in it!!! My bro and sis-in-law were recently on WestJet and as they were leafing , stopped short and said , Hey! That's Jen! And it was! How crazy is that? It is a picture of me at one of my ceilidhs with a brief telling of my from-Kansas-City story. Of course, not a Jenni-approved picture, not what I would call flattering, but so funny! Totally unexpected, I had no idea I was going to be in a magazine. Not that one anyway. Certainly no one got my permission!
So there ya go.

That's the stories for now.
Happy summer, everybody!

For the image deprived.

This was taken in the hospital by my sis-in-law.

Will get around to saying something later. If you want to know what is going on with me, you can revisit the post from June 17th.

Oh yes. More infections. I got a Sabbath in between and that's it. One the other. Crazy and annoying. Oh, and painful. But hey. I have a beautiful punkin' to admire while I peer through squinty aching eyes. And now she will smile, and what is cooler than that??

"Optimist finds the good in pessimism"

If you are dreading something, then it turns out to be not as bad as you feared, then it ends up seeming really good!

On a totally other note, and by the way, I'm not wanting to start people arguing with me on this one, I heard about some guy on the news who is being charged for 2 murders because he killed a pregnant woman. How is it that the courts see that as a double murder, but abortion is not a single one? Weird. Ya ya, people will argue with me that it's that whole, at what specific point does it become a person thing. Whatever. That just sounded really inconsistent to me. But that is man's justice for you- imperfect.

all manner of randomness

I'm stealing Mary's "random thoughts" format, cause it works for me. Thanks again, Mary. Do I need to start paying you royalties for your contributions to my blog? hehehe

---------------------------------

to whomever decides to buy the super scratchy and remarkably thin toilet paper in places like hospitals, office buildings, etc.: do you really save money using this stuff when one has to use a mile of it to do the job of 4 squares of charmin? Not that I'm suggesting everyone buy charmin, at all, but there are any number of available happy mediums.

--------------------------------

Overheard at our dinnertable one night:
"What's for supper?"
"Caterpillar toe. "
Sounds filling, eh? I thought so. Priceless moments that only a 3 year old can bring to your life.

-------------------------------

Only a newborn can spend 9 months in a bath and not come out pruney.

------------------------------

No wild ride of excitement compares to a 3-5am silent session of sitting and staring with a newborn. Let me tell ya. Wowy. There is no singing or game or toy that might entertain them or even incite their notice in any way. So entertaining consists of switching positions, largely. Sit up, lean back, lay down, sit up, lean forward, over the shoulder, over the arm, over the other shoulder, in a chair, "stand" up, lay on the floor ... mmm hmm. Party hardy, Marty. Although I have found a walkman really helps, and sometimes the baby will let you play air-piano with them, and boy that passes the time.

--------------------------------

Yes, laugh if you must, I still use a walkman. We have an IPOD, but I haven't really figured it out. He mainly uses it. And all my old home-tapes of fiddling are on cassette, so yes, I am still in cassette/walkman land. I had a young person ask me what a walkman was. Wow I felt old. It's not an 8-track for pete's sake! Oh, and apparently computers don't even come with floppy drives anymore. Where was I? (Monastery.... in my kitchen... a place that knows no time, apparently)

------------------------------

It is far better just to never get sick in the first place, as pretty well any treatment I can think of for various illnesses and disesase is really not fun or even remotely pleasant. Let's note all these crappy 'remedies':
*chemo *strict diets *vomitously disgusting medicines *surgeries *medicines/treatments with side effects that compete with the illness itself for negative life impact (like flu symptoms)
Ya. Way better just to stay healthy. For those who can, who have ears to hear and might have the RARE rare wisdom to actually learn from someone else's mistakes and not insist on the hard way, (because, mind you, it is not called the hard way because it is easy) I say to you, STAY HEALTHY. Look after yourself. Eat well - Lots of fresh produce, whole foods. Excercise. Don't sweat the small stuff. Please? It really is for your own good. Really it is.

----------------------------

Ten Cheers for breastfeeding and burning 500 calories a day while remaining almost completely sedentary! WEEHOO! I am already wearing my normal size 4/6 jeans, and my Niamh will only be a month in 4 more days. I find this truly remarkable, if not miraculous. If you could have seen the floppy flap of post-partum belly, you wouldn't believe it either. We are fearfully and wonderfully made!

back back back...

SWINGS the pendulum... over to Happy!

The aforementioned infection got its tush kicked by:
* a super hot shower
* a bunch of massage
* hours of white-knuckled nursing
* 6 cloves of raw fresh garlic, crushed over a potato salad (kisses anybody??? hehehe)
* God granting to Niamh a 5 hour sleep stretch for me to better rest

Oh ya baby. No antibiotics necessary!

2 weeks from yesterday is my first ceilidh. Yipes! Somebody needs to practice! Her name is Jenni. Maybe I should get off blogger and go do that. hmmm... but first... more elipses.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder...
It has been a few weeks since I was at church. Man oh man am I ever jonesin'. Big corporate worship depravation issues. I started crying last night just putting on a cd and praying a little bit. I think that's the biggest thing I feel lack of here. Otherwise I am really settling in and feel more at home.

My basil plant is flowering. Anybody know if I should nip those, not let it, or if it is fine to let it go?

I failed to mention before, when I was in the hospital, and Nanny was here and Anna was "helping" her get the nursery ready, Anna went and got her blanky, the blanky, and put it in the crib for Niamh to have. And that was it, she hasn't asked for it again, she decided she wanted the baby to have it. Is that not soo precious??? Wow. Nanny asked her, "Are you sure, Anna?" and she replied glibly, "Yep."

If only I was so ready to hand over things that were precious to me with simple unattached generosity.

Later Taters.

and for the sake of balance...

a bunch of hopeless complaining to counter the idyllic picture painted in the previous post.

I don't understand. I had an infection of candida albicans in my milk ducts when I was nursing Anna. I had it for 18 months while I nursed her. For those who don't know, it is painful. Rather painful. And it is a very pertinacious infection. Every treatment western medicine offered me gave me no solution. I tried them all, one a few different times. Well well well, surprise surprise, Mr. Candida never actually LEFT me, I just weaned her and didn't notice its presence any longer as there was nothing to exacerbate it. So starting to nurse Niamh, I was able to pick up right where I left off. Lovely.

BUT there was some hope. The Chinese doctor who was giving me acupuncture has an herbal remedy for it, she claims. I am a week into the 4 week treatment and seeing good results, feeling improvement, all excited, that there may finally be an end to this terrible stuff in sight. Oh but wait, another thing that also seems familiar though unwelcome... redness, burning... hmm.. is it a blocked duct or mastitis? Let's wait and see if flu symptoms appear. Hello! I get up today and am totally achey all over, spinny head and chills, very unhappy milk ducts, and a lot of pain. Pain that just about brings tears to my eyes whenever she begins to nurse. The only treatment for mastitis is antibiotics, which will spiral all the candida issue totally out of control once again. Yip-dee-flippin dee. And I went through all this with Anna once. How is it I get every problem in the book every time. Why. I was so dreadfully ill with the mastitis last time, it was all I could do to walk.

Argh. Not again.

And my hand is a fair bit worse now too, as should be expected getting more tired and fighting multiple infections. It is still discouraging though.

*sigh* that's it. I'm just so so annoyed. How wonderful to have an eventless run of nursing. It can be such a wonderful thing. For about 2 days where the herbs were helping, I was able to glimpse that. I am seeing the dark side now again, for sure, unfortunately.

And I just found out today that another friend of mine in Cape Breton, an old fella with whom I danced a set EVERY time I went to West Mabou, died this week. I can't believe it. He was so spry and lively. Weird.
Weird how the world will be different now without him. We'll miss you Neilly Angus D. West Mabou won't be the same.

for those who never have enough pictures...

Especially of my beautiful babies...

Here is Niamh Eileen (letting you see it written as much as possible :) at 7 days old.

the proud sister

I'm finding this all so awesome, I am nearly speechless. But of course, Jenni's speechless is really more like everybody else's normal speechful.

*ahem*

So many beautiful moments the last week, I can't believe. Firstly, for Niamh, for the last 3 nights she has been sleeping at 3-4 hr intervals, only waking for a one-side feeding and then straight back to sleep for another stretch! Hello? No 3-7am stare-&-rock-fests. Wonderful.

So I am not wasted... yet. I know my time will come, and mom-in-law is still helping to take Anna when Niamh has a good afternoon nap so I can have one too. This is priceless assistance!

The next story should be prefaced with:

Did I mention that one day a couple weeks ago, Chris built a deck on the front of our house? In a day? Including staining? Not from a kit? Ya. He is incredible.

One afternoon a couple days ago while Niamh napped, Anna and I sat out on our new deck, enjoying it for the first time in a new bistro table and chair set, on one of the first sunny days. I made us a couscous salad with chopped veggies & beans, and a chopped fruit plate with cherries, and we sat there and shared this lovely lunch like 2 ladies, 2 friends. It was so special, and Anna said, "Isn't it a beautiful summer day?" and then, "Mm mm, what a yummy yunch you made, Mommy!" She can be so unbelievably sweet sometimes.

And it was beautiful. Every summer I go through this same routine of saying, "Ooooh yaaa... THIS is why I thought it was wonderful here." During the winter I often find myself at some cranky phase cursing rose-coloured glasses and saying, "sooo... why did I think this was so great?"

Leaves do a lot for me. After our long winter and mucky muddy "spring" (woeful in comparison to Kansas City's spring), the lush summer leaves, bright blue skies spotted with fluffy whitey clouds, and just delicious green-ness everywhere cheer me like nobody's business. I so love it. And yes, Anna, it IS beautiful here.

A word to potential visitors: it's ALL about June-August, or maybe September, some years.

if you have the time...

and I believe it would be beneficial for you to TAKE the time, but I'm not guilt-tripping...

this article sends shivers and is really informative. It is ganked from another blog.
Thank you, Mary, for making me a more informed citizen of the earth.

http://www.bestlifeonline.com/cms/publish/travel-leisure/Our_oceans_are_turning_into_plastic_are_we.shtml

and just like that....

*ding*

This...


became...

this.

Pretty cool, huh?

Welcome to Niamh Eileen! For those who don't read Irish out there - I'm assuming there may be a couple (ha) - Niamh is pronounced neev. Or as one name book said, "heaven spelled backwards."

ok, not really, but it sounds cute to say. The non-English-phoenetic spelling comes from Irish Gaelic, if anybody didn't yet know that was my thing. It is an Irish name so we went for the authentic/heritage type thing over the accessible-to-more-people thing.

She was 9lbs. 3 oz.

21 1/2 in. long

born May 29, at 9:39am

she is a total dear, a good sleeper so far (thank You, God! let it continue!!) We are all happy at home. So far Anna loves her too, thinking she is "sooo sweet!!!" but enjoys making a scene whenever I change her bum, as if it had any smell at all. She flees the scene covering her face in feigned terror. What a little actress.

Re: the photos, the nurse took the first one in my hospital room the morning of the c-section. You can see the morning hour on the wallclock. 2 1/2 hrs later, the 2nd pic was taken.

The section was routine and eventless, (thanks again to God!!) but of course no surgery is ever fun. I am now living off my tylenol, bet it gets me through. I'm quite sore but ok, and have good help between Chris and is mum who is next door. Oh, and of course Anna, who is also very helpful.

She is currently nursing and it is 5am and I am one-finger-pecking this whole post, so I'll wrap up for now, but I was anxious to share my news. : )

Beautifully, in closing, I find my house feels more like a home, and we feel more like a family, instead of a couple with a kid. Lovely.

2 funny Anna quotes today

Our neighbour is doing some construction, and there is an assortment of large golden-coloured construction equipment down there doing their business. She knows the Irish word for excavator quite well, and thinks it is fun to say apparently. The other day while playing alone in her room I heard her repeating over and over, "tochaltoir... tochaltoir... tochaltoir... tochaltoir.."

This afternoon Anna looked out the window and said,
"Hey, yook Mommy! See dat Innovator??? It's digging!!!"

To which I replied, "You mean EXcavator?? "

"YA, ya... EXcavator..."

---------------------------------------------

Then I was telling her that she would be a big sister next week, that she would have either a brother or sister, but that there would be a new baby anyway. TO which she replied,
"Ooh! Will it be a pink one??? I want a pink one."

3 days over news

I was informed yesterday that the medical community is considering it basically impossible for me to deliver the baby, so I am now scheduled for a c-section on Tuesday. That's when they could pencil me in. It's like trying to get a haircut appointment. Weird.

Apparently my pelvis just doesn't cut it. And the "good birthing hips" of which I boasted possessing all through high school don't count for anything either. Oh well.

So here I am. Hoping now to NOT go into labor and make it until Tuesday eventless.

Thanks for prayers and concern. I will let you know as soon as I can what they find next week... hehehe

the beached whale and other foibles

Some humour from this interesting time of life.

I'm more like a turtle on it's back, really. But this condition goes back a ways. In high school one time, a friend and I compared the relative difference in our body shapes. We both laid on the floor on our backs, and I could easily raise and lower my legs but had difficulty sitting my torso straight up, while her torso would almost automatically raise when she tried to lift her legs. Interesting.
I'm still like that, it's just worse. I can get out of bed on my own, but Chris' assistance is much appreciated. I'm sure the upswing heave-ho action of my legs trying to create some counterforce and get that ol' torso vertical must be humourous to watch. But I have no audience generally. Lucky for me.

Then I would like to compose a wee letter of thanks to whomever is responsible (or not responsible, as the case may be) for maintaining things in the women's washroom at my church.

The locks don't work, on any of the doors, as far as I know. Now, combine the following conditions and it just isn't pretty.
1) I am quite short. Thus, so are my legs.
2) The stall doors to not lock.
3) Whatever unbalanced angle the doors are hanging at, causes them to naturally swing open inwards.

So this leaves me, who frequents washrooms with some, well, frequency these days, stretching my little leg, pointing my little toes as far as they will go (while trying to remain in appropriate proximity to the loo itself) to hold the door at least mostly closed while I occupy the space. What can I say, but that it is nearly impossible, and at the very least, far from comfortable. But hey.

Then there were two sitcom-ready moments of maternity shame that I will here bare in my seeming disregard for my own self-image or dignity.

The first was a month-ish ago, after church. I was driving home alone, and had stopped to pick up a couple groceries. Well, there was a box of glazed donuts on the clearance rack of the bakery, which I snatched right up, for Chris, of course. Well, the salivation began shortly thereafter as "visions of sugar plums (and donuts) danced in my head, " while I was walking around the other aisles of the store.

What a horrid display I made of myself, loading the bags of groceries into the trunk, and tearing savagely into the box of donuts, and inhaling one while standing in the parking lot just outside the open trunk of my car. Had I not eaten in a week? I mean really.

I licked my fingers as clean as I could as I delivered the cart to the little cart corrall and walked back to my car pretending that there was no one sitting in their cars waiting for anyone inside to return and watching my little show. Lovely. Not to mention, impressive.

Then there was the other day... *sigh* this was truly shameful as well. I was like an alcoholic. But with sugar. I made these cookie/bark/brittle things that are truly sinful and delicious, very rich and pure cryptonite for me. I hid from Anna, because of course, that much sugar is no good for her!!! And I ate and I ate and I ate as gluttonously as I can actually EVER recall eating, literally, until I made myself sick. I don't know what came over me. I didn't lose anyting, but boy, was my stomach ever upset. Yowzers. And I felt drained and heavy and nauseous the whole rest of the day. Absolutely pitiful.

The bright side is that I have had basically NO desire for sugar since then. At all. I'll just eat some plain cauliflower, ok? Thanks. And water. LOTS of water. Please.

New blog

Heya.

I started a blog in Irish. Just wanted to. Hopefully I can get more practice and use more vocabulary than I get to with Anna. Hopefully it will help keep me sharper and thinking Irish more often, so that I can be more faithful using it with her and the baby-to-be. Meh, who knows, but I am making an effort.

This is the url, if anyone here happens to be an Irish speaker (stranger things have happened) or if you want to look at it just to see how weird written Irish looks. : )

http://misemamai.blogspot.com/

If I was tricky enough I would just add the link on the side of the page here, but I'm not that tricky. Leave me to the bread making and fiddle playing, thank you. Not that I don't wish I could be that tricky, I'm just not.

Gaeilge go deo!

Precious Moments

Anna has become fascinated with 'the belly' and the baby in it. Sometimes she will just be looking at it and say, "Wow! it is so HUGE!" Her new hobby is pulling up my shirt and laying her head and hands on the belly and waiting for the baby to kick her. Then she jumps back and looks at me with big eyes and a smile to match and says, "Did you feel dat one???? Da baby kicked me!" And her patience for this routine has really grown. Earlier on she couldn't wait the couple moments it took to feel a kick or a roll. Now she will sit there just about as long as you will let her, enjoying as many as she can. I'm loving it!

The other night baby and I had a little 'moment'. We bonded. It gets quite active in the warmth of the tub, and lying there, it did this straight-leg knee-lock thing, and the bum was stuck out one side, quite pronounced, and a foot was pushing out the opposite side. Normally, when pressure is applied to a protrusion, it will retract fairly readily. But it didn't this time. It let me sit there and rub its little foot for the longest time!!! I couldn't believe it. I just rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, and it kept it stuck out as far as it could, almost as if enjoying it. I know I was. Just a sweet little moment.

I am thinking that it is a girl now, as of the last weekish or so. With no certainty of course, but just kinda thinking. And Anna has changed her tune! She had held, without wavering even once, that it was definitely a boy from the first mention of it until just a couple days ago, now she keeps saying it is a girl. So who knows. We will all know in a couple days or weeks, now won't we! The names she has selected for it have been quite... interesting. First was Daniel, then Zorret, the Fissy, then Soupy. Soupy is everybody's made-up silly name right now, however, not just the baby.

I finally settled on a paint colour. Pittsburgh Paint 311-4, Cress Green, if anyone is that very interested. Chris brought it home last night and I dove right in cutting in around window and doors within the hour. I simply could NOT wait to get some ON the wall, and see how it was going to look. I should have taken a before picture. I will have to find an old one of our very dark red room. This light green just almost glows compared to the darkness of the red.

Cress Green happens to be from the Scottish Highlands collection, and I swear that is a coincidence, as is our anniversary on St. Pat's. No one will believe I'm not the poser I appear to be. But those who are closest to me know full well that the whole rose-coloured-glasses thing on all things celtic has long since faded. I no longer get goosebumps crossing the Causeway to Cape Breton, for example, or talking to fill-in-the-blank famous celtic musician. They are just places and people: loved by God, but equal, and full of both and good and bad.

Hawaii or New Zealand, on the other hand... I think my glasses are pretty rosey about that right now... or maybe the winter is just getting long. What was that I said about 63 degrees? Ya, that was just that one day. It was great and all... but I've had the heaters on again with regualrity since then.

There's all the blather I can muster for today. I will likely keep you posted on any new humans or even much less exciting things, like sweeping my floor. Mmm... sweeping...

The Envy of the Block

It's us. We are so cool. We have something that the others don't have, and wouldn't they love to have it, but they don't...

I suppose, however, that 'block' is a generous term for us here. There is a dirt road, and there are a couple other houses on it. I guess those are the ones to whom I am referring still, but even beyond in the community, covetousness is a-brewin'.

Do you want to know what it is, that so sets us apart, that makes us so superior? It has always been a symbol of the upper class, the bourgeois, the "happenin' " ones. Young people flock to it, matches are made around it, a symbol of romance and sophistication.

A piano accordian. Oh yes. No joke. We are now the proud owners of an accordian. Chris has a good friend named Bernie with whom he plays many's the card game and they help each other with outdoor chores.

So the story goes, one fateful day Chris was over in Bernie's shop, and he noticed it there, a diamond in the rough, covered in years of neglect and dust. He inquired and Bernie offered, and now it is ours.

Now begins the "In Praise of Chris" section. He amazes me. He had never held an accordian in his life before this one. Yet he had the confidence and instinct with which to totally disassemble and repair this instrument with no direction or instruction of any kind. I couldn't believe it. He first cleaned it, then took it TOTALLY apart, and began work. All the keys were at different levels, and he figured out the problem, levelled them all, one by one. It wheezed and leaked air: not a problem for Engineering brain Chris. He sourced the leaks and repaired them, sealed degraded seams, repaired damaged reeds, sculpted missing and broken parts, you name it. Unreal. I was sitting there with my jaw on the floor. He just has the instinct for "how stuff works", and can look at something new, figure out the mechanics of it, and fix something he has no knowledge of otherwise. That is a gift. I wouldn't begin to have the first clue towards anything he did those few evenings he spent fixing this old fella up. Remarkable. Now it can be nicely played (not by me, mind you) and not do any weird things.

What a man. He can build pretty much anything too. Mechanical (and computer, for that matter) problem solving is something is just in him. Nota Bene. 'At's ma boy.

Look! A new post!

Ya, it's still about pregnancy, but at least it's new.

So here's the belly at 36 weeks, beginning of ninth month.

This is my living room, for those who haven't been to my house, which is... EVERYBODY, except maybe Dad and Denise, if she still checks this :P. A couple of my mom's paintings on the wall back there, our wood stove, our primary heat source. A little window into our life environment for ya. Oh, and Anna's tinkerbell dress, which I have mentioned before, as she more or less lives in it.

Ya, I know, my blush is too orange for my skin. I won't buy it again.

I've been working my tail off trying to get stuff done and ready for the new arrival. I've made 4 meals that I've frozen in order to offset work load post partum. I have rearranged furniture as we are transforming a dark red study/library into a nursery. I can't decide on a paint color. This is my new dilemma. :) I have discovered that sciatic nerve pain is not as fun as they make it out to be. ( ha.... ha..... ). It can wake you out of a dead sleep at 6 am and put tears in your eyes. Nice. That's about it for excitement. Meh, and a little false labor, but what's new. No biggie.

I will say that I am SO enjoying leading worship at my church! I have been the full-time worship leader there for a couple months now. It is tenderizing my heart, which is wonderfully welcome and ultimately enjoyed.

Another thing that is about the coolest thing for me is that we have had SUNSHINE and temperatures topping out at 63F this week, and let me tell you, I just about thought I was in heaven. I could open my windows! Wonder of wonders! I could go outside and not be in a hurry to be back inside! Awesomocity!

** See ya 'round **

Simple moment, treasured revelation

HAPPY EASTER, Everybody!

My Easter was kinda uncharacteristic for me, and I thought I was going to blog a big whine about it, but the Lord had more for my day than I knew.

Of course. :)

I was supposed to sing a special at church this morning, and I thought I had something cool for it, not a typical "special" but something unconventional and more me. A kind of story-song taken from a number of different songs, combining to tell the story of death and resurrection with accompanying praise.
Also, this is Anna's 3-year-old Easter, which I was kinda looking forward to, as MY 3-yr-old Easter is a story I've been told a million times over my life. But Anna has been getting carsick of late, so we couldn't really take her anyway.
Then to my utter "what?!?!?", we got a foot of snow plus freezing rain-blech-mess and there was no way I was going into town (to church) by myself in that.
So I couldn't end up going. Plans and anticipations foiled.

What?? Not go to church on Easter?!?!? No dressing up? No celebrating? No seeing my little blond angel in a foofy dress? No communion and corporate worship on this special day? I know it is lame to complain about not getting to dress up and execute social conventions on Resurrection Day, but that's partly where I was at. So I was feeling severely church deprived and pouty, even after Chris made a cool egg hunt for BOTH Anna and I first thing this morning.

Egg hunts still hold a very special place in my heart, and I love them. I have never outgrown them. At all.
As does Resurrection Sunday. Big for me.

The only plan in tact was going up to Chris' parent's house for turkey dinner and more egg hunts for Anna.

As we stepped out of the house to head up to Nanny's and into the crazy snowy icy encrusted mess, I helped Anna down the front stairs and then let her go, as she usually takes it on her own from there, being Miss Independent as she is now. But she felt the unsurety (I don't care if that's really a word or not) under her feet, the precarious, potentially slippery or deeper-that-it-looks deceptive whiteness, and stopped short.

This is where the simple moment in the natural world hit a profound eternal chord in my heart.

She stopped, sensed her unreliable footing, and reached her hand out to me.

"Mommy, will you hold my hand?"

And it hit me in the pit of my stomach.

People struggle with the humility and emptiness, the admission of powerlessness required to accept God's grace and forgiveness in the gift of Christ's sacrifice. Their pride gets in the way, and try to earn their way to heaven with their own goodness/works etc. Or in other less overtly spiritual circumstances in life, it is also often difficult to ask for or take help. I can speak for myself, when I was not as well as I am now, I found it very hard on my ego to accept as much help as I really needed to keep things going. I'm sure we could all think of instances that apply to us here.

Conversely, there is the opposite error of a lazy freeloading bummishness, the hands-off perspective on life and salvation that says, 'He'll save me, I can take a free ride. I needn't give heed to how I live'.

But I felt neither here at all. When she held out her hand to me, there was no pride in her voice. She was not so afraid of her weakness as to be unable to ask for help, innocently, truly. She was totally humble in that moment. There was no pretension, no defiant independence. Also, she trusted me implicitly. She was saying, 'I can't do it by myself. Help me.'
Neither was there moochiness or greed, ('just carry me, Mommy, I'm being a baby and refuse to walk') no taking advantage of a free ride or laziness, not wanting to bother walking on her own. It was a true realization of honest need, and an appeal from out of that place, having a complete trust and reliance.

There was a two-fold beauty in the moment. More than just the beauty of her humble request, was how my heart swelled with a powerful joy to answer and supply her need. It surprised even myself; such a surge of pleasure at the purity of her request. And I had a joy from the spring of my soul in that purity.

I imagine that bubbling joy is how the Father must feel when we come to Him with humility of heart, understanding our total inability to save ourselves, throwing ourselves completely on His mercy and provision for us, and how completely delighted He must be that we have come to Him! It is fully what He wants to do, to take that outstretched hand, to rescue from the mire of our own sin. What a beautiful thing when we approach Him neither in pride nor as spiritual free-loaders, but humbly aware of our desperate condition and need of Him.

Many's the time I've heard people talk about how God delights in our coming to Him with our need and relying on Him, but it never was a powerful personal reality for me as much as it was this afternoon. I felt it myself.

I can't really convey how it hit me, but that's it.
Lord, bless the reader with a revelation of what You have done for them today.

Replace, Retrace, Retract, Repeat

I've made a diagram that is very impressive, I know.

It is of my large belly at present, and attempts to describe an interesting fetal movement from a couple nights ago.

It repeated this pattern probably 6-8 times. I was laughing out loud. But I was laughing alone. So here I am, trying to describe my experiences to a rapt audience, I'm confident.

It would push out top center, trace an arc around the side, withdraw the foot entirely, and replace an identical push/arc pattern, the 6-8 aforementioned times, nearly identical movements each time, to my sensation.

I know this isn't as fascinating to anyone else as it is to me, but here you are. I don't worry about boring you anymore, as it is very simple to close a browser window that no longer holds your attention. So there ya go.

Ooo... if that wasn't enough, now I want to tell you about Potty training! Better bring in the popcorn and jujubes! This post is gonna be a wild ride!

So... 2 Mondays ago we had our first potty chair success story as mentioned in the last post. There was a 10 day standstill of vehement opposition after that, but when she re-commenced, we have had almost exclusive potty chair use, at all waking hours. How cool is that??? If you don't think so, you mustn't have kids yet or have trained them, cause when it finally happens, it is it's own little nirvana, let me tell you.

Story #3 for today, a friend from high school suckered me into the worst April fools joke. Man. Oh. Man. I felt SOooooooooooo stuuupid when last night, a different friend pointed out to me that it probably was a joke, this buddy was likely not REALLY leaving her partner of 8-9 years and her entire life, selling her possessions to go be a Bollywood star. *sigh* I am so gullible sometimes. In my defense, my family never celebrated April fools, and having never participated in it, is not something that occurs to me in the first place. This does not help my total embarrassment at this moment, however. Oh well.

I'll have more interesting things to say later. Here's hopin'!

Ciao for now.

Family updates

updates replete with bodily functions, that is, just so ya know. Nothing deep here.

I had another OB appointment this morning. Anna went with mom-&-sis-in-law and I. She got to run around WalMart's toy section while I got weighed and measured. She has interesting taste in toys for a 3 year old girl, I think. At least, different than my preferences as I recall them. A few trips ago at the Dollar store she picked something interesting out too. At WalMart today she was looking through all the toys (something she never gets to do), and was having fun, but not starstruck by any particular thing...

Until...

She saw it. There it was. In all of its glory...

A geeby little lizard. Rubbery and totally creepy feeling to me. She saw it from quite a distance and ran to him, as if to say, OH! I've finally found you!!! I love you! And she had to have it. Same with the above-featured dinasaur from the Dollar Store, complete with screeching dinasaur-esque sound sample in his belly. She's such a girly girl otherwise. She more or less lives in the foofy netted Tinkerbell dress she got in the halloween costume clearances, princess crown, ballerina slippers, etc. Anytime we are just hanging out around the house, she is ALWAYS wearing dresses. Last time she was shopping with Nanny and they were looking at clothes, Nanny was looking at some pants for her, and she leaned over and whispered to her, "Uh, Nanny, I yike skirts... okay?" and went on her way. What a girl.

We are working on potty training right now, too, which is very ... *ahem* ... interesting as well. We had our first glorious tinkle in a potty chair last Monday, after which she was violently opposed to any more until yesterday. Now today she has done like 3 more. I am hoping and praying! Come ON, Girl!!! You can do it!!! She prefers a diaper, but hey. I'm ok with baby steps. At least we have had an encouraging first step or 2.

We have discovered a less fortunate development as of this weekend, however. Apparently Anna has started getting carsick. She vomited 3 times Saturday on our trip to town, and again today. Hmm. Dunno how we will get around this one. But hey, that's life. She is tough though, and not a whiner about it at all.

Here is the belly update as promised. This is from March 28, a month after the last one. I'm 32 weeks now (in 8th month). Anna put together her own very interesting outfit to go to town today.

I've only gained 1 1/2 lbs since February 28th, and am coming along nicely, so far.

And it just started blowing crazy snow outside as I reach over to click "publish blog". Not out of the wintry woods yet, at least not in Nova Scotia.

Just call me Flipper

If the resemblance is more toward a large aquatic mammal or a fast food meat pattie, I can't say, but it is a suiting name for me presently. The turning motion quite resembles the burger, but the round body shape may be more telling, as are the squeaky noises.

I have entered the stage of pregnancy where it is difficult to get comfortable at night. So I'm flipping, from one side to the other, back and forth, back and forth, most of the night. It's not too bad yet, I can still sleep mostly soundly, so I count that blessing. With Anna, in the last month, I would awake early in the morning (5 or 6) unable to lay any longer, the discomfort was too much.
Flipper is having a Karate Kid. I guess I'm into leasainm, nicknames.

My old house in Kansas City has jonquils in radiant bloom. As I write, I look out my window and it is snowing quite densely, and below freezing. All I can see is solid whiteness beyond the tree line at the edge of our lot. We don't generally get tulips and daffodils until June. BUT, on the upside, I have a very cozy crackling fire in my living room, keeping the family warmed.

We had our 4 year wedding anniversary this Saturday. Yes, St. Pat's. No, it wasn't an intentional coinciding of days. For those who are doing the math on the proximity of our child's 3rd birthday to our 4th anniversary, let me save you and say we were married 3 months when we found a surprise result on a little white stick.

I want to send a shout out to my Dad, who started a new job this Monday. Congrats, Daddu! Be blessed in this new vocation!

I had an insatiable appetite for sugar for the last month or 2, which was given the royal boot by a wee stomach bug. Now I am the queen of produce. Yeah! So nice to have my appetites agree with virtue. How valuable! I can't get enough vegetables at all now. Meat generally sounds really gross to me right now too. Weird.
A really nice thing has been that since that tummy bug, Karate Kid has really mellowed a lot. It is still in near constant motion, but not as violent or painful. While sick, it was more like an intestinal massage than a butt kicking. An agreeable development indeed!

I have accumulated some quotes for you.
Here are a number of them.
"Argue for your limitations and they are yours. Argue for your possibilities and they are yours as well." Various authors
"As long as you are going to be thinking anyway, think big!" Donald Trump
"Some men see things as they are and say why. I dream of things that never were and say why not." Robert F. Kennedy
Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars." Les Brown
"The most handicapped person in the world is a negative thinker." Heather Whitestone, former Miss America...she is deaf.

And while we're on the topic of positive thinking, I have a story for you as well. There is a Sri Lankan among us who will find this redundant as she was already in the Green Room. But for everyone else:

There was a beautiful woman with long, luxurious, chestnut hair. Upon waking one morning and examining her reflection, she found she had only 3 hairs left on her head.

"Oh," she said. "I guess I'll braid my hair today."
She did and she had a great day.

The next day, she awoke to find only 2 hairs on her head.
"Hmm.." said she, "I guess I'll part my hair in the middle."
This she did, and had a great day.

The next morning, she discovered only 1 hair left on her head.
"I see..." she observed, "I suppose I will wear my hair in a ponytail today!"
So she wore a ponytail and had a great day.

The next morning, as sure as the sun, what had she, but no hairs left on her head.
"Well well, it looks as if I don't have to do my hair today!"
She went her way, and had a great day.

That's it.

post-birthday party reports

headlines:

After a morning conversation in which I endeavor to convince her that today finally and actually is her birthday:

"My bousday?..... soooooooo .... do I get a cake?"

Upon discovering cake in the fridge:

"A bousday wis CHEWWIES (cherries)??? Oh my!!"

After getting a new Hello Kitty toothbrush: "Oh! What a wonderful day!!" (while dancing adoringly with said toothbrush around the kitchen)

after opening new toothpaste: "All my dreams have come twue!"

Again, dancing with the paste.

too many Disney movies of late, I'm thinking. She did get other more sensible presents, but they didn't merit the hilarious comments apparently.

When told she had to wait for everybody to get here for the cake:

ran to the front door with open arms, exclaiming

"COME IN, EVERYBODY!!!"

And yes, finally, her cake dreams were realized. But surprisingly after so much ado, she didn't go that crazy on it. She knows her limit, and just quits! Left a bunch in the bowl, to my utter amazement... I sure wasn't leaving any! No ice cream leftover, however. She is sitting on Denise's lap in the last pic. We saw fit, in the interest of "waste not, want not" of course, not to leave her bowl so messy, so we made it community effort to clean it up.

My 3 year old punkin... what a sweety. It was a lot of fun overall. And while I am not a pro cake decorator, it was yummy in my tummy, if I may say so.