back from vacation

I wish. In reality, I am beginning the third week of not leaving my house.

But I am here to say, you know what one of my favourite things is about having kids? Cause there are a number of them:

One of my favourite things is how being around them takes you back to my own youth, and I can remember feelings and experiences that would otherwise have remain untriggered, pushed into some old storage box in the attic of my brain.

I love remembering the feeling of no schedule or time limitations. Remembering being so unconscious of self and unafraid of men's judgments on you: such freedom. Exploring the veins in a leaf for as long as I felt like laying there in the grass. Listening to an entire symphony on headphones, giving my attention to nothing else, eyes closed, absorbing every nuance and colour. I probably sang along too. I'm sure that was brilliant to observe.

I would put on a 2nd Chapter of Acts or Phil Kaeggy album and dance around my house like a nut job. I loved it. I thought I was amazing. I would play air piano along with the band on the coffeetable. Actually, that`s not true. I played air piano on the top of this big stone elephant that I assume was a plant stand, I don't know what else you would do with it, except play air piano that is.

Fun times.

blabby bloggy

Optimism is on vacation in Florida.

I miss music. I miss long extended sessions of sitting with tapes, rooting through someone's obscure repertoire and gleaning some new choice prizes for mine. I miss the inspiration of learning. Music and otherwise. I miss the chemistry of playing music with other humans. Laughing and enjoying each other's company.

I get tired of no sidewalks and that means muddy shoes.
I get tired of insufficient social interaction and seeing something besides my own kitchen rather infrequently.
And there's a few others,
But when Spring, glorious Spring comes, and I walk even so much as down my driveway, and the crisp sea wind blows my hair back, and I smell the chlorophyll and the wildflower blossoms, and look out to the ocean, the brilliant blue sky, the whole earth is just bursting with rejoicing and praise, exalting its Creator, I am recentered and contented.

So, walk into your driveway for pete's sake and stop complaining!

Yaaa. Well, it doesn't work that way EVery time...

Anna says:

A couple weeks ago Niamh broke a mug of my grandfather's and I cried. I was already homesick and stressed feeling. Then a couple days ago I was scooting Niamh away from the table so she couldn't get to my current mug. Anna had me explain to her why I scooted her and I did.
"... and if she breaks your mug you will cry and weep!"

Weep??? I don't think I'll weep for pete's sake. I cracked up laughing.
---------------------------------
We were dropping off a friend from church at her house after the service. It was the first time we had given her a ride so Anna inquired, and I explained. Later in the trip, she piped up glibly from her booster seat in the back, "Ok Mommy: you can just drop me off at Tim's."
Ya, right. Dream on.
--------------------------------
This summer it will have been 2 years since my mom was able to visit.
Yesterday Anna packed a little backpack and said,
"I'm going to Kansas City. I'm going to find Mimi! Bye!"
-------------------------------
Pulling into the grocery store parking lot, Anna sighed romantically and said,
"Oh, isn't this a marvelous place?"
Wow, we need to get out more.

If Niamh could blog

Dear Blog,
It's really too bad Mommy's hips aren't bigger, so that there would be room for entire villages, as well as myself, of course. She could be an incredible asset in war torn areas. She could go in, and carry everyone on her hip, and they would all be safe there! I am invincible there; it would be great for all those poor people to also be safe there. She wouldn't mind. I know when I am scared, which is pretty much anytime I see a person that is not my parents, sister, or grandparents, and I start to quiver and bawl in fear, I'm always relieved and safe as long as Mommy holds me. And of course the milk is so comforting! I'm sure Mommy wouldn't mind sharing that with everyone across the world who needs comfort too. She doesn't mind me having some whenever the mood strikes me, which is most any time.

*smiles*sigh* I would share her hip with other suffering individuals in the world.
Mmm, happy thoughts. Mommy's hip... mmm... I'm safe from the vacuum. She's tricky my Mom. She can carry me while she changes clothes, brushes her teeth and washes her face, washes the dishes, does laundry, did I mention vacuums? I love my Mommy. :)

Would you like some cheese with your whine?

I feel like I'm losing myself. Not in the spiritual, absorption-into-God cool kinda way either.
I used to have a niche in an Irish session- don't anymore. Could no longer hold my own there.
I don't feel I fit in at church, in a university, with fiddlers or in a symphony, with my blood family (the family I came from, not Chris and the girls). It is confusing. Where do I fit? With whom?

I feel reduced to a function. I have thought a lot about this post from my friend Katherine, where she says, M is for Mom, not maid. I laughed out loud when I read that, saying, Oh, is it?

I suppose it is part of life, and its cycles. I had seasons where I could develop my interests and pursue them, and now I am mostly tasking. The predetermined to-do-for-others list every day more or less indicates that I am an adult now, as opposed to being someone to be pitied. I am a grown up and everyone has to do it, whether they are at a paying job all day, selling their life for a house and groceries, or at home with the kids wiping bums, your time is not your own.

I hear a ''Suck it up, Princess'' somewhere in my head, and I know where from.
You know who you are. ☺

Don't worry, I'll get over myself. Misery loves company, so here I am sucking you into my vacuum. Oh - sorry! I thought you were the curtain! my bad.

Anna's quote of the day: ''Wow, Mommy! You are so tall!!''
Also, she has renamed the 7 dwarfs: Lumpy, Dumpy, Frumpy, Bumpy, Zitsy, Ritzy and Ditsy.
Lovely, isn't it?

I'm stealing Martha's quote of the day thing.
I have a couple from today.
after hearing Jesus Christ sung in a song, she asked,
"Why does Jesus cries?"

Eating and enjoying an apple, she exclaimed,
"God makes the BEST food!!"

These don't compete with Martha's quote from her son,
"Why would you be tired, Mommy?"

"I don't know Pablo Rodriguez."

"Neither do I. Does he play the fiddle?"

Makes sense, eh? No?
I know.
But it is what I swore I heard someone say the other day when in fact they had said,
"I don't know a thing about fiddle music."
Don't ask me how I got the 2 confused. I really must be half deaf. I'm sure Chris would concur.
------

So I've gone back and forth with myself a lot on whether or not to talk about MS stuff here, but that is part of the reason I started this blog, to have a venue to say freely what I mightn't otherwise, as stated before.


I've started taking walks. The weather is nicer (positively heavenly today), it is good for me, I need the exercise, the girls and I need fresh air and to get out of the house. Thus the institution of a new tradition.
But during and after each walk I've had some kind of weird malfunction. The last time it felt like my dentist had rammed shots of Novocaine all over my thighs. The good part, I suppose, is that recovery time seems to be getting progressively shorter. My first walk left me unable to control my feet well enough to stepdance for the whole evening, but my last one was better within 10 minutes. So that's cool. I'm still unnerved to be seeing pretty much daily, not entirely predictable activity, however. Had some emotional upset from it too, but am not going around all freaked out or anything. I still feel confident that whatever happens should be gone soon enough, so when it comes on I don't get too worked up. That does not mean I like it.

I get periods of weakness, where I can't really lift Niamh, or cut through cheddar cheese, but it passes. It was bad for a while where I didn't have the strength to lay Niamh down in her crib. That was an unmentioned reason why I couldn't get her to sleep in her crib for a long while. I couldn't lay her down gently enough, I would always wake her with a plunk. How I groaned after the work into the last 45 minutes of getting her asleep and getting that close to total crib-sleeping nirvana, only to have my hopes of free(er) time dashed on the rocks of an unhappy, sleepy child's cries. It is hitting me more, the potential reality of a reduced functionality in the future, a future that I can imagine now. Maybe that sounds fatalist, but as I pointed out before, that's not always entirely bad.

That'll suffice for my complaining today. Loves to all y'all.

One final thing that is probably only funny if you grew up as a long-haired female in the 90's like me:
Do a Google image search for scrunchie. Kinda cracks me up.

conspiracy theory #1

I think Weight Watchers got together with Christie to make sabotage packaging. It is singularly the most noisy plastic to manipulate that I can think of, making access to the cookies an affair of volumous announcement.

In other words, you can't get them quietly, no way, no how. There is no hiding it.
Everyone in the house will know -
JEN IS GETTING A COOKIE.
*crinkle*crackle*rumple*
JUST THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW.
*crack*smoosh*gerkl*

This is not helpful.

a new painting

This is one of my mom's newer ones. I am a poopy photographer, and it is washed out from reflections etc. But I still wanted to try to share it. I like it. :) I love my mom's work. She has done some really amazing stuff over the years.

your muscles are talking

I have always been fascinated with physiognomy. I watch people (yes, be paranoid) and how their muscles move, how their expressions are formed, affects, etc. It often is telling for self-consciousness, nervousness, pride, and others. Very interesting to me.

My favourite, however, is a baby. They are so perfectly natural. No affects yet. No mimicry. No self-consciousness. I love it. No weirdness. Totally genuine and pure.

Today is the 3rd day in a row that Niamh has taken a one hour nap in her crib. Why is this newsworthy? She hasn't slept more than 10 minutes in her crib for the last 2 months. So yes, I am excited, and I am hoping and believing that this is the beginning of a new era in independent sleeping. She is 11 months now, so we're all good and ready for some normalized sleep habits.

She is also walking exclusively. I haven't seen her crawl at all in a week now.

I was talking to Anna about likes and dislikes, and how everyone has different ones. She said, "I like three things. My baby, Niamh Eileen, Nanny, and Santa. And presents."
I didn't bother telling her that was four. I was very glad that Niamh was included her in list of likes though! Yay! I hope and pray it will always be that way.

false assumption

heard last night at a 50th birthday party:
scene:
someone hands me a Bailey's and I make an unsure expression.
"OH go ahead!" another female attendee encourages me.
"Your baby is 10 months! It's not like you're nursing!"
*laughter erupts*

uhmm... nope. Not at the moment that is. If Niamh had been there, the likelihood that I would be nursing at that moment would be pretty good though. I had to laugh at the assumption that of course one is not still nursing at 10 months.

flushing diamonds with dung

Many posts are simmering. I will complain in this one about how youth is wasted on the young.

I have been SOO discouraged from encounters with teens lately. One was complaining about how school is useless and boring, how it is so ridiculous that they are learning about World War II. "It's over," she argued with annoyed indignance. "It's done, it's in the past. It isn't happening now, so why would we need to learn it? " *rolls eyes*

I was so blown away I was speechless to even argue with her. Why? Goodness sakes, where do I begin? There are so many reasons. The utter disrespect and cluelessness as to the pain and suffering of so many people, and the people who put themselves in the line of fire for someone else so she could be leading this comfortable affluent life. The self-absorbed world of these teens, while I will likely get comments saying, oh they all are that way, you were too, or whatever, is making me nuts. Ya, Girl, you're right. Who needs education. Pffh.

I talked to another guy who recently became active, we shall say, with his girlfriend, and was kinda proud of it. His cocky demeanor nearly made me vomit. HE was not spared the earful of my first individual. He was willingly oblivious to emotional and spiritual impact on either of them or any potential physical repercussions. Throwing away precious gifts of purity. A completely topsy turvy value system to my perspective. No no, this short term physical thing is TOTALLY worth potential parenthood, disease, emotional disability and spiritual corruption! Sure, why not! Sounds great. Who needs God, who needs health or wholeness.

Then there is the plethora of little people (who am I to talk, I know :P) I see on Facebook, people I know in our community here, who play with sin. Walk the tightrope, dabble in this or that, and then come and play church. I am not even sure if they know what they are doing. I feel certain they don't understand severity or implications of their actions. SO much is bound up inside me when I see this. I am successfully containing all manner of screams, running over and shaking them and falling on the floor with tears, begging them to heed wisdom. That's what I'm doing on the inside.

I've also had more MS activity lately, which very effectively drives the point home to me of the tremendous value of the strength and energy (and TIME) in youth. That it is cluelessly taken for granted and wasted on video games and flirting with sin is just bringing me to the edge of psychosis.

so, waddya wanna know?

I have a lot of questions about what is appropriate to actually be including on this globally public format. (unless you happen to live in a restricted access country)

The issue of information availability is seeing increasing attention as it becomess increasingly problemmatic .

I have friends who hide pretty well nothing in their blogs and/or online profiles, save bedroom details, and some who don't even disclose the names of their children, assigning them a letter or fake name. They keep things pretty anonymous.

I just realized in thinking about it, that if one wanted, they could follow the link trail and learn:
all about my daily life and schedule,
religious beliefs, church affiliations,
how much and what supplements I take,
how and when I've had any MS exacerbations
what books I read, have read, plan on reading and what I thought about them,
mine and all my family member's names, birthdates and ages,
plenty of pictures of me and my family and some of my house,
most all my likes, dislikes and hobbies,
favourite games and hobbies of my children and family,
my group of friends and associates,
you name it.

The only thing that was not right out there was my phone number and address which one sec: yes, I checked, they are available on Canada 411. Everything but the street address.

That's kinda freaky. I love being able to share all my intimate thoughts with my friends who are not local to my area, (that would be, uh, pretty much ALL of you), and just venting my feelings in general. However, I'm starting to have a little paranoia about the readily available nature of it all, to anyone less friendly. Not just blogging, although it discloses a lot, but also on social network site profiles. Hmph. What to do.

love/hate relationship

with these 2 websites.

Play Blogger is a real-time slideshow of whatever photos people upload to their blogs. So it can be anything. At all. Sometimes it is boring, but other times it is riveting. I find myself living vicariously through other people's lives, their travels and trip pictures, restaurant plates, you name it.

Irish KC is as it sounds kinda. It is the blog of a Dubliner who lived in KC for 8 years, and wrote humorously about the differences between the 2 places. Having a connection on both ends, I find it riotously funny. And stupidly time consuming. I know I am setting myself up for everyone to say, "well, Jenni, you are clearly spending too much time online," after my last post.

Ya, well, shut up.

Poor Niamh is a little confused. Although toilet sounds like toy, it is indeed, not. *Sigh* so for now I will scrub the thing every day, at least, with touch ups in between. For those times when I or someone else forgets to close the bathroom door.

techno world part 2

I remember renting VCRs. We only became the owners of one when I was maybe in grade 6. We would go to our local grocery store and rent a couple videos and the silver monster of a VCR for the weekend of movies.


You had to be kind and rewind, because pushing play didn't automatically start you at the beginning.


If you jogged with your walkman, you might get a bruise on your thigh from it slapping against your leg, and you couldn't even attempt in with the discman, because it would do nothing but skip, and you would be lucky if you could get through one whole cd without having to change the batteries anyway.

I remember the days PG (pre-Google), going to the library when you had to do a paper, looking through the card catalogue, then searching the rows of shelves for the number of the book you found, on the paper card. A book, made with paper, and a reference number scotch taped to the bottom of the side binding. Be quiet, go sit down and read a while only to find this book talks about your topic, but only aspects totally unhelpful to your specific paper. Rinse, repeat: like ten times.

Now it's just - Google it. You only have to ferret out your search results, scan a few irrelevant web pages. But you don't get to hold and smell any books in this process.

Speaking of doing a paper, I remember how completely shell-shocked I was when. in university, I learned I couldn't hand in hand-written papers anymore!!!! What? You're kidding, right? How can they possibly say that? What is happening to this techno world. How can I do that. I don't even own a typewriter... hmph.

I was talking to a friend recently who was shocked that my mom didn't have Internet. "How does she get pictures of Niamh?" she queried, full of concern, and slightly confused. I told her I print them out, and mail them to her. In a paper envelope. "Oh. Right."

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

I have another speech brewing. It will likely never come to fruition as I will never find answers I'm satisfied with sharing. Right now it is just these questions:

Why do we have less time with all these supposedly time saving "conveniences"?

Why, with so many more means of communication, do we truly connect less, and have less community?


The discrepancy between what they did in the old days compared to what I do today is mind blowing to me. I personally know a lady who raised 13 kids, had an alcoholic husband (safely assume, not a big help around the house or with the kids), no indoor plumbing, grew and ground their own flour for the bread that she baked, you name it. She says she built a big wooden box into which she would throw the children when she had to make the trek out to the well for a bucket of water, so they could only hurt each other and nothing else while she was gone.


How in the world did she manage? I can't comprehend accomplishing that much every day.

Of course she didn't blog. But I really don't spend that much time blogging. Once or twice a week max, 30 minutes-ish. Sometimes I go a couple weeks.

I don't have to scrub my laundry on a board, or spend an hour or more hanging it out to dry. What/Who/Where is the real time bandit? Where does the guilt fall for the great Black Hole of Time?


I am looking into it. I'll let you know what I come up with. I just started a good book (made of paper) that will help me with this at least a little bit.


Input?

and I just thought He was tidy

Ooooh, but it is so much more than that.

I just came to a better understanding of a verse (a dull way of saying, I got goosebumps and tingles in my tummy) through some cultural information that would have been common knowledge to the people of Jesus' day.

The verse is John 20: 6-7. It is describing the time after Jesus rose from the dead, and a couple disciples came to the tomb, and this is what they found:

6 Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; and he saw the linen cloths lying there, 7 and the handkerchief that had been around His head, not lying with the linen cloths, but folded together in a place by itself.

I believe that everything in the Bible is there for a reason- that God is purposeful and doesn't include anything just to fill space. So why did He bother to mention that the handkerchief was folded and separate? And why didn't Jesus just let it drop to the ground in a pile when He got up, or toss it in with the others?

WELL, it was the custom in that day, for servants to wait for the Master's cue before touching anything on the table. Don't clear anything til he is good and done. If he tossed his hanky down in a heap and left the table, that meant he's all done.

However, if He left the hankerchief folded, that meant

He was coming back.

techno world

I've been reflecting lately on the techno explosion.
When I was in high school, nobody I knew of had a cellphone unless you were Posh Spice. If you were cool you might have a pager. I did, of course. Cause _I_ was cool!

I did not have an email address until after I graduated high school and got a job. My boss signed me up for the hotmail I still have. I didn't even know what email or the internet was. I remember hearing about the internet on the news and being suspicious of this new weird thing.

It's of the Devil, Massy!

Aahh, the days when you could count the number of emails in my inbox(s). Now there's also the social networking sites I'm embarrassed to admit to, Facebook and Myspace, even Goodreads. That's where you pretend to be intellectual and literate. At least I do, maybe other people really are.

I have already confessed to still using a walkman. Oh, and a 3.5" floppy disc.

I saw a really funny cartoon that was a cassette dressed up like Darth Vader and it said,
"Ipod, I am your FAther."

About half the people my age I know are at least moderately computer competent, being able to do some light programming. The other half laugh and say, I'm not good with computers! hehe

I know very few of my parents' generation who can program even enough to post a layout on their blog or myspace page. If they know what those are.

I know NO one of the younger generation who can't do that stuff. They all have cell phones, ipods, laptops, jump drives, and whatever else I don't even know exists.

I sound like my grandmother. (read with gravelly voice) "When I was a child, we played tag outside til the streetlights came on. We didn't spend time on the computer or check our email cause we didn't HAVE email or know how to turn on a computer. "
Since when am I old??

Determination

Struck by potential.

I mentioned once a while ago that someone, ok, Niamh, sometimes violently opposes getting her diaper changed. Picture this little fart of a kid, a 20 lb, 2 ft long baby. Not a great big bunch of muscles compared to you or me (especially me) and not much weight to be throwing around. But when she really gets it in her head that she is not getting her diaper changed, holy moly, call in the SWAT team, it is a serious effort to keep her tush on the ground and get it re-wrapped.


This 20 lb weakling, if you add to her natural muscles the force of her determined will, can almost take me. She can pretty well quadruple her strength with her pluck, if she so desires.

Am I the only one that finds that remarkable? If she really gives herself to the idea of opposing my intention for her, she has a fighting chance against someone almost 6 times her size.

It makes me wonder how much potential and productivity is drained from our endeavors because we don't put out heart and soul into it. We don't give ourselves to it. We don't give everything we've got. Why do we hold back? What are we afraid of?
What could we accomplish if only we would? Why does fear so grip us?

How intense is our desire?

Niamh can make a mild protest, and it is nothing for me to keep her there. If she really digs deep and kicks, squirms, puts all her gusto into the battle, the things she can accomplish are remarkable. And her, this tiny un-formidable form.
Am I a silly optimist or is there anyone with me on this one?
I apply it : spiritually, socially, personally.

Are we really as powerless as we may think?
Maybe we are a Hercules that hasn't yet realized it.

I asked a music mentor in high school once how far I could make it with the violin. Give it to me straight, I implored.

He answered me, "That's up to you. The only way to find out is to do it. I can't know. It depends on you. The possibilities are far beyond what we can know."

She's a quick one.

Well, well. This morning in the shower I realized for the first time that my url, bowbreath, while it originally meant the nonphysical "breath" of my violin when the bow was drawn across it, can also refer to my breath, as I am a Bowman.
Duh.

Let them eat cake.

It is a birthday after all.

I'm copping out on saying something with words or having ideas and going for more pictures.

It's funny that I consistently brag about my cakes when they are not that awesome, and not that gorgeous. Also my photography is rather lacking. But I'm still proud of my little molehills.

Somebody turned four. That is a chocolate trifle, my interpretation of her request for "Chocolate milk cake." It is supposed to have kahlua poured over the cake in a soggy but wonderful tiramisu type idea, (I have had that version and highly recommend it, for more aged company) but we omitted the ethanol for this event and added produce in the form of strawberries. Yum!
I believe that makes it healthy.

The birthday girl said it was the "best party ever!!!"
Well I'm glad you liked it, Sweety. I'm also glad to know you are not frequenting other parties -clearly, if you thought this was that great.

Niamh has started playing peekaboo from behind curtains, laptop screens, blankets, whatever she can get behind. Pretty cute.

A good time had by all.