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.

Flys and cake. Unrelated stories. Don't worry.

Some levity and some weight from Jenni's world.
Anna contributed the levity.
Yesterday she was talking to Nanny (Chris' mom) on the phone and she was explaining some observations she had made about natural world to her.

"I yike fwys (flys).
Fwys have wings.
Dey fwy.
... (small lapse of time while she gathers her thoughts, I will assume) ...
When dey fwy, day are aww busy on top!!" (swirls hands around to indicate motion)

Are you with me on that one? I thought that was hilarious. Yes, Dearest, they are ALL busy on top, flapping like a mamma jamma, aren't they? : D what a girl. Very observant.

Here's a pic from the morning of February 28th. I haven't put a picture of me on here very often, but maybe I'll do a series of belly updates. Some of you might be able to identify your own family Christmas pictures on my fridge! hehehe..


Another hehe for you, not hehe for me, is that the Karate Kid, as I affectionately refer to the coming child, has bruised me internally with its crazy acrobatics. I mention unnecessarily, that it is sore. No duh. Ya, I mentioned it being active.

Can someone explain to me the physics of leverage when one is floating in a bag of fluid? I'm not getting it.

As for weighty issues, I continue to wrestle with how not-crucified my flesh is. I could compose a huge lament about this, but I fear it would only serve to expose my hypocrisy as I willfully embrace denial. I am in the shameful and sinful position of knowing the good I ought to do, and not doing it. (James 4:17)

I may or may not expound on that later. Time will tell. It is likely a personal journal will be the outlet for that topic.

This coming Friday is Anna's 3rd birthday. I think I will make her a black forest cake with chocolate ice cream on the side. This will be her first conventional (read: not health-food) cake so far. But she specifically asked for "Chocolate, chocolate, and ... uhm... chocolate!" So, I couldn't bring myself to do some carrot concoction again. She also mentioned "strawberries and cherries!" Thus, the black forest. I have to say, I am rather looking forward to it!

Hope things are good with you and yours! Ciao!

slow down and smell the dream

I have a few reflections, but they are all in their intellectual infancy. Thoughts for which I haven't taken the mental time to explore their applications and implications or let the m germinate to follow through to any conclusion. So I'll just see where the clicking typing keys take me.

Both came from things recently heard on CBC. I'm afraid this is gonna turn into a really long post. Oh well!

So there was a study done for the purpose of marketing research that explored how people think differently whether in groups or alone.
(Of course) They found there to be quite a difference. One of the things they did was to ask them to come up with a list of, say for example, cartoons, as many as they could think of in a given period of time. In groups, people came up with WAY fewer than the people who were left on their own to think. Now of course there was more to the study, but some of the conclusions they discussed were how when alone, people think more creatively than they do in groups. Ideas tend to be debated/argued/discussed in groups. Now mind you, this certainly has its place, but that alone time is where people's minds really go somewhere new (in that new-to-them kind of way, since there is nothing truly NEW under the sun... everything is something else rehashed or totally regurgitated somehow.) That the degree of focus was so increased when alone, that the creative areas of the brain were ignited in solitude.

And it reminded me of a story about the Mendelssohn siblings, Felix and Fanny. Around 1827, the plays of Shakespeare were just being translated into German. Well, with similar reception to the release of new Harry Potter books today, the Mendelssohns jumped at the release of each new Shakespeare play. They loved them to pieces, and devoured them voraciously. They were around like 14/15 (Fanny) and 17 (Felix) yrs old at the time, if I am remembering correctly. So one summer afternoon, Felix and Fanny had just finished reading A Midsummer Night's Dream, and they said to each other, Hey! I've got the coolest idea! (Jenni paraphrase) Let's stage this play for our parents in our back yard! Oh ya! That sounds great!
Party on, Fanny!
Party on Felix!!
(and maybe they jumped in the air and butted chests....
or maybe not...)

So they set to work. Fanny started, I dunno, making costumes or something, and Felix went inside to his room, and for the next however long, spent his free time composing "A Midsummer Night's Dream", the symphonic piece as a soundtrack to their performance, which would be executed by neighbourhood kids and/or Felix's buddies. Now, maybe you haven't heard this piece, or it has been a while. I recommend taking a refresher listen to it if you are able to. If you listen to it again with the contextual knowledge, that he was like 17 years old, was doing all this for FUN for a backyard play he was putting on with his little SISTER... I'm sorry, but it blows one's mind. The endless streams of creativity, of TIME and planning, simply giving your mind time to wander and explore polyphony, WORK that went into creating all the intricacies, both melodic and harmonic, the arranging, orchestration... unreal.

Who among us knows a 17 year old on the PLANET right now that would bother his bum to spend that much mental energy and time for something like this? Nobody. Our societies have changed to the point that this just wouldn't happen anymore. If I am not too bold in saying so, I would say that people are so accustomed to overstimulation, that we can no longer sit in solitude and quiet, and be alone with our thoughts and creative potential in the way that other eras and peoples have done. I would also argue that this has had and is currently having TREMENDOUS impact on the quality and nature of the entire society, individually and corporately. And like I've said before, if I am pointing fingers, you needn't worry, there are plenty pointing at me too. I am fully aware of (and annoyed by) my near-constant dependance on stimuli, be it cds or radio playing, internet, phone, you name it. Something is almost always going.


Secondly:
A Grecian writer, who was being interviewed, talked about the nature of vision. He explained that one of the primary ways the eye identifies the identity of something is by travelling to its edges and finding out, where does change occur? Where is the distinction between and how is it distinguished from and by whatever is around it? And this is part of how our brain/eye team discern what it is we are looking at. Find the boundaries, and you will better know the nature of what you are observing.

And my mind immediately applied this to a spiritual identity. There is so much blending in to the ways of the world these days, where is the Church's (and Believer's) line of distinction, and how does that identify us, how does it distinguish us from what surrounds us, and what does it say about us?

It reminds me of a sermon I heard that stuck in my head from my childhood as it was included in one of my favourite songs at the time. I am pretty sure it was Paul Cain speaking. Excerpts from it included: that there be a wall of separation built, a line of demarcation to come into existance... for there to be "some kind of a definition that this is sin, and this is righteousness, or this is precious and this is vile. But the Church has LOST this kind of distinction, She has no wall of protection. "
One of our biggest markers is supposed to be this:
John 13:35
"By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.”
But that's not the whole stew. There are more ingredients, as we don't take one verse and make it the whole picture.
So I'm left to ponder, where are my edges? Where do I shmear seamlessly into the world, and where is the godly demarcation? (I'm hoping there is, SOMEwhere... I don't want to be a compeltely impressionist watercolour person... or pastel drawing that a kid got a hold of... sorry.. arty mind wandering there... show of hands for all who followed my imagery - - - Good job!)

The middle of something is not as definitive as its edges. The middle might be generic. But the edges are so telling. I don't know how to articulate all that is rolling around in my thoughts, so with that, I'll give up and leave it with you. What do you think? Interesting, though, to me.

Chill out, Mommy...

There is a commercial on tv here right now for the Ronald MacDonald house, which I will probably google as soon as I get off here. I cry
e v e r y
s i n g l e
t i m e
they play the commercial, it is so awful. It shows a young boy, maybe 7 or 8 years old, undergoing x-rays, spinal tap, head shaving, etc. At the spinal tap you can see his little toes curl up as he winces, yet tries to be brave and bear up under it. Having had a spinal tap when they were trying to diagnose me, I know why his toes would wince. Mine did. Epidurals are likely very similar if not identical. I dunno. But anyway... it is just too much for me to watch, I wave my hands like the yiddish woman who says she's "v'klempt," try not to cry like a fool, and usually leave the room. Man oh man. Motherhood changes you. Not that it wouldn't have moved me before, but it's just a whole new emotional ballgame.

Since we are talking about kids, (aren't we?) I'll share some of my morning with you all. Chris' parents took us all (their 2, our 3, plus bro and new sis-in-law) out for breakfast this morning at a local truck stop which is the restaurant of choice for most locals here, if I'm not mistaken.
At 9:30 am we all packed into our respective cars and conga'ed down the transcanada to the Big Stop. I was psyched. We had done this once before, and I loved it. Not to mention, my time in restaurants is fairly LIMITED, oh sorry, did I use caps there? And having someone else cook for me and do the dishes is nothing short of miraculous in my book. For my part, I enjoyed it immensely. I wish you all could have seen Anna. She was hilarious. Having done this once before made her a certified veteran, apparently. She sidled up to the table, and while Denise and I deliberated frantically, when the waitress came and asked, "Are you ready to order?" Anna spun around in her chair, her two hands holding on to the back of it, and said, "Uhm... I would yike some bacon and juice!" I think we all had our eyebrows in our hairlines at that point. The girl knows what she wants! I also ordered her some toast and eggs. The "yady" asked her how she wanted her eggs, "where you can see the whole egg, the two parts, or scrambled?" and Anna waved her hands around in circles and answered, " Aww scwambed up." The rest of us were left endeavoring to maintain our composure.

When we were served, as sophisticated as any 2 year old could be, she sat to the table formally, drank from her quite-full and lid-less juice cup like a pro, and came on to her bacon with the pleasure of a faster. After making a goodly dent in it, however, her focus and manners began to wane, and the plethora of distractions offered by the new atmosphere began to take their toll. As other's plates were beginning to look rather clean, I figured I should step in and try to speed along this process with a little assistance, which, by the way, at home, she ALWAYS wants me to spoon feed her, just like when she was 7 months old. So I scooped up a forkfull of eggs, but when I tried to feed them to her, she turned her head away and tried to confiscate the fork from me, saying indignantly, "Chiw out, Mommy! I wiw eat it!" ( = chill out, Mommy, I will eat it, for those who don't speak one of the trillion dialects of kid-ese)


Like, och! Like, you are so annoying, Mummy! Like, ugh...



Soooo... when did she turn... I dunno, some really older age than 2?



Anywho, overall, the morning was hilarious and great, and I continue to be impressed with her behaviour in situations in which she has little experience. She is proving herself to be super-adaptable, and unafraid of change, for which I thank God and pray it continues, esp. with the addition of a new family member! I think she will do great, and in answer to prayer, I am feeling very optimistic and excited about the coming of this new one, even though circumstances may look daunting.

That's my story today.

I was tagged, it's not my fault.

And by a friend whose tag I can't ignore, cause I love 'er.

So now I'm supposed to try to be creative and say Six Weird Things About Me. This should be the easiest task I've been given since kindergarten. Let's give this thing a whirl.

1. I don't have to in order to feel normal or anything, but I will enjoy it more if I have every single piece of cereal baptized in the milk before I begin eating a bowl of cereal.

2. Like the biggest poser going, I will soon adopt the accent/verbal mannerisms of pretty much anyone with whom I am talking. When talking to my Swiss exchange student friend in high school, I would break my English in the same manner she did. Lame-a-zoid. If I am talking to a Cape Bretoner, I sound like one. If I talk to my mother-in-law, I sound like I am from Guysborough. Irish people, English people, German, you name it. It is really annoying, now that I am aware of it and can't manage to control or curb it.

3. I think I am prettier backwards. Allow me to explain. You know how both sides of our faces are different, and we are not as symmetrical as we may think? If you switch those sides, you can actually look quite different, which is how you see yourself in the mirror. I think I am prettier the backwards way I look in the mirror than the way the rest of the world sees me.

4. If your name is Mum, I will kill you, no matter how hard I try not to. Chrysanthemum that is. I have a number of house plants that are flourishing and content, but have bought any number of mums of many varieties, all of whose days were numbered once they entered my care.

5. I don't know if it's a borderline phobia or what, but at least thus far, I have been totally unable to swim. I have taken classes, both public and private, and have never made any headway. I have concluded that I have a lead bum.

6. I think I'm part black. I must look like a huge idiot when I dance, both for fun and during worship at church. My whitey adaptations of ghetto boogie are, like my affected accents, so deeply entrenched, I am unsure if I could stop. It's almost like involuntary motion. *sigh* Also, if I could sing like them, I'd never shut up.

How's that for a flying freak flag, Mary?

I could present a plethora of humourous anecdotes here now, but none of them would be appropriate, as all my readers are not female. Let me just say, that pregnancy does some of the most hilarious things to and with one's body.

I've had sugar issues of late. Eating more chocolate than I have in a year, and never really having enough. I've also discovered that I can enjoy decaf black tea with only a hint of honey and no milk.

I attended the first part of a 2-part Evolution/Creation lecture last night. It was really good, in my opinion. It was presented by a Creationist, which I too am, so I found it great. However, the large percentage of university Evolutionists in attendance were less impressed and he faced quite the onslaught in the question/answer period that followed. It felt really funny to be sitting in a university classroom again, especially with the big belly I am currently toting. Conventiently, though, there was a cutout in the chair's desktop that allowed me easy entry. I wondered if people thought I was a knocked-up student or what. I will be 7 months prego as of the 21st of this month. Wowy. Time flies!

My baby fever is heating up though, to my excitement. It took a while to set in, but I'm sure glad it has!

For some visual stimulation, since I'm not cool enough to know how to do myself a new blog skin, I'll here post a new pic or 2 of Anna, eating her banana at lunch a couple days ago. She's still working on perfecting the fake smile, as you can see. She will be 3 next month.

not sermon material.

So here are some of my more unconventional thoughts recently related to Biblical content.

Jonah- 3 days in a whale -
Holy Mackerel! ( ha.... ha.) I'm not one of those people who thinks that this was a parable or whatever. I believe it actually happened. That this poor dude actually was swallowed by, and 3 days later spat up by a whale.
Now, bear with me a moment on this one. Seriously, what in the WORLD was THAT like?!?!?! Hello? Would you say it pretty much had to stink like all get out... that's almost a given I would say. I dunno. what else? like, what did he sit on? what in the world is a whale's gut like? Not the Holiday Inn or even Howard Johnsons. Yes, the whole spiritual battle was going on, with the obedience issue, repentance/forgiveness etc., but physically, what in the WORLD did he really go through. Was it all slimy with intestinal mucous? Was he burned by digestive acids at all? I assume it was basically pitch black. So he's hearing weird gurgly noises, maybe, and not being able to see anything happening around him? How terrifying! God really knows how to get one's attention when He feels it is a matter of life and death for a city. I can't imagine NOT getting serious with God in this particular scenario.
But to give it a little more than passing thought can trip one out.
Just some thoughts.

Then last night I went to a worship service and a speaker mentioned the conversation Jesus had with the disciples in Matthew 16, when he asked them, "Who do YOU say I am?"
And the person was of course trying to get the congregation to think of our OWN answer to, who do YOU say I am? And I thought to myself, who IS He to me? And although the part I'm going to talk about here only offers the most incomplete answer imaginable to that question, None of us has the time for me to go into a more thorough answer. This is just the 'unconventional' segment, anyway.

You know how in the flash of a moment you can think of enough stuff to fill a weeks worth of daily blogging? Well that is kinda how this went.

In that moment, I thought of my attachment to physical things. I thought of my curtains, my house, my furniture, my dishes, clothes, the mangos in my fridge, you name it, all my worldy goods, and how unwilling I would be to voluntarily give those all up in a moment, to say, live in a cardboard box, and only have the clothes on your back from now on. I would consider that a painful sacrifice, a big step DOWN from my current standard of living. This of course answers for me the question posed in the Revival Hymn, "Is the world crucified to you, or does it fascinate you?" I am painfully aware of how not crucified it is to me still. But I digress.

Then I imagined this fictitious scene in heaven, in which God the Father, the Holy Spirit and Jesus are all sitting around a table, discussing the state of affairs some time ago, like, 2000 ish years ago. And They were broken in tears, that man was seperated from Them, that SOMEthing needed to be done to restore relationship. That They were devastated by the sin and how it created this chasm between God and His Beloved. And as They discussed (I know I'm really stretching here...) They knew that some ONE had to make an eternal sacrifice to pay the price for the sin of all. And they knew how it had to be done. And who stood up and volunteered? Jesus. He was the One who said, I'll go, I'll leave heaven, the angels, the glory, I'll go to that dirty filthy earth (which is great and all, I love creation, but in comparison to heaven... well...) and be spat upon and treated like the LEAST of any of them, even though I would be the greatest to ever be among them, to be unknown, small, weak, seperated and abused...
so that they can know Us, so that they can be my Bride.

What that says about Him and His character is kinda the point of the story. That He would volunteer to do the dirty work, of which Calvary certainly qualifies, if anything ever did. That He would stand in the gap for the unworthy ones (us). To quote Chris DuPre, "What kind of love made Him do that?"

And I looked at what I had just called a 'painful sacrifice' (what insult in comparison!) and how far far greater a condescension He made, to lay down heaven and all its glory in order to accomplish the Father's will, and how even the thought of giving up my home made me want to look desperately for a way to avoid it and high-tail'er - but HE didn't shrink from His task, He didn't cower or dodge the blows, He walked forward to it, even carrying his own cross.

There was no seeking or preservation of self in that walk.

Anyway, I don't know if that made any sense. But I'm not required to make sense here. I'm just sharing. :) If you don't like it, tough shnookies.

Isn't He amazing? How can we not love Him.

the shame and the glory

I have realized a couple things about myself that I wasn't excited to learn, but hey.

Let me start here:
A number of years ago when I first heard of this thing, I shook my head and pursed my lips in self-righteous condescension. I likely spewed a bunch of mockery about anyone who would participate in such an institution of criminal vanity, oppressing and corrupting the helpless young.

But now I know, that if I was affluent, I would have a real struggle with over-spending on Baby Gap. Yes, Baby Gap. *sigh* I just HAD to visit that website, didn't I. Dummy. Curiousity killed the cat, and awakened some extra materialism in Jenni. Nice.

Also, I watched "The Devil Wears Prada" a couple weeks ago, and it made me realize that in fact, I really love fashion. I had just forgotten. With full knowledge of the fickle, vain, transient, superficial nature of it, I still enjoy it a lot. Again, if affluent, I would likely increase my clothes budget from, virtually nothing, replacing the occasional holey item, to actually trying to be shnazzy.

Now for the glory portion.
Last week my Great Aunt Edna died. I'm fine, although not being able to be involved in family stuff stinks royally. But the story of her passing is just so cool to me that I had to share it.

For 3 days she had been curled up on her side, not opening her eyes at all for the 3 days, but still talking a little bit. Then on the 3rd day, with her daughter Sherry holding her hand, she was praying a while. She asked Sherry to sing Amazing Grace to her. (Hello?!?! GUT wrenching request!)
Halfway through the song Edna said, "What?"
to which Sherry replied, "What what?"
Edna: "Did you call my name?"
Sherry: "No, Mom, I was singing. I didn't say anything."
Then Edna turned up energetically, opened her eyes wide, and Sherry says they were the biggest brightest, clearest, most beautiful eyes she has seen in her. She reached up her hand, and then she was gone.

Wow.

It seems pretty clear she was greeted by a friendly entity. Awesome. I'm not worried about where she went, nor who she is with now! Cool eh? I thought so.