Family

So, I was on this great trip which I had every intention of blogging about just to process, but of course did not (yet?). While I was there, my partner heroically planned a camping trip, which he NEVER does, by his own admission. Not the camping trip, specifically, but vacations in general. But he swore to all that was holy about six months ago that he would plan a camping trip for us, and when his original location didn't work out he even punted and figured out somewhere else for us to go.

We got there last night, after much anticipation, four hours of packing, and an hour and a half drive on terribly curvy roads. Our son woke up and promptly started crying that his stomach hurt, which started off all sorts of jangly warning bells in my mama-gut and also my emetophobe self, and an hour later my greatest fears were realized as he did, indeed, start to barf all over the campsite (now with tent pitched and fire started).

We waited for it to stop. We debated (over beers, a painfully beautiful view, and the gourmet version of those camping packets). We ate smores and took turns holding sour-stomach boy, and he did not get better.

So, we went home. We were nearly in tears, partner especially, for his work and the fact of pitching and un-pitching a tent in the space of four hours. We drove home silently, and both kids fell asleep. We mourned having to be the grown-ups.

And in the middle of being so very sad about our lost vacation, I found myself being oddly grateful for strange things. They bubbled up, un-asked for, but helpful. I was grateful that he didn't get sick in the middle of the night in the tent. I was grateful for the daughter, who chirped and skipped and was absolutely healthy and helpful to the point of being pollyanna-ish...this, my usually stubbornly forceful girl, who doesn't like change like her mama. She helped with putting up AND taking down the tent, and only cried once when she realized that we really were going home. I was grateful that we had gas in our car to go home, that we had a few hours in such an amazing place. That our family was together, and if this was the biggest of our troubles, we were really doing just fine.

I keep seeing this phrase in different places, and it's so true: "It isn't enough, and it is."

Giving up my life

This is an excerpt from my sermon last Sunday, with a bit more detail added in:

Matthew 10:39 Jesus said, "Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it."

I read about a certain man in my Runner’s magazine. He seems to be on a quest for something that will make his life click. He wants to FIND his life, as Jesus said! He’s an Olympian middle-distance runner, usually running the 1500 meters, and by all accounts he’s a spiritual person, searching pretty much everywhere to help make his life make sense. One night, late at night, he decided to go for a run. No big deal, but this run happened to be up Mammoth Mountain in Oregon. He finished that run, came home, the next morning ran 15 more miles with his teammates. That afternoon, he ran another 12 miles, because he wanted something that he couldn’t name. His body, of course, got injured from this effort. Then, he decided that he was going to ride a bike to Brazil. From California. Crazy, right? But he just knew that if he took that journey, he would find SOMETHING that would be the key to pull his whole life together! Well, he took the journey all right. He got dysentery three times, and the last time went into liver failure and almost died. His parents had to come get him and he spent weeks recovering at their home, right where he started. But this guy is STILL searching everywhere for the thing that will make him whole, that will give him life. He’s trying to find his life, but he nearly lost it in the process. And as far as I know, he hasn’t found it yet.

The same magazine also detailed another similar journey…one where three or four friends decided that they would run in California, stopping to sleep each night in hotels, for several days. They took one change of clothes, a credit card, water and snacks. They didn’t have an agenda, just wanted to spend time with each other and enjoy the journey. So they took off running, and all of them said that it was just about the best vacation they ever took! They left everything behind, just like the other runner, but they weren’t searching so desperately for something that they forgot to just enjoy each day as it happened. In a way, they just sort of got rid of their lives for a few days, and they found life more abundantly in community with each other and on the journey.

In the same way, I just got back from being a counselor at a Lutheran camp called AFFIRM. You might wonder why I would take a week “off” to go there. I have my kids and family, I preach here, I take care of things at home. But I took a week out of my life, as did about eighty other staff members, to go to this camp and be a leader for more than a week. None of us get paid, and I don’t think the camp would work as well if we did. All of us, including me, basically left our lives behind for eight days. I “lost my life” in so many ways. You barely sleep, you sleep in college dorms, and not the new ones either. You eat bad food, and I mean, pretty bad. You are constantly on call for your kids and your group, on duty 24 hours a day. You lead small groups, take kids to the nurse, listen to confessions of all types, discipline the kids who need it, and many, many, other things. Your life goes away.

But here’s the thing…I gave up my week because I have been there before, and I know that the reward is just incredible. The reward, in this case, is kids saying to you that they understand Jesus for the very first time. The reward is being in worship that is youth-designed and youth-led, every day. The reward is hearing seventh graders thank you for being there for them when they were having a crisis, whether that be a crisis of abuse or a crisis of being left out by their friends. I got back more abundantly than I could have possibly imagined. I laughed harder than I have in years with other hilarious, grace-filled pastors and leaders, and felt God’s presence in a way that happens very rarely in everyday life. And those two alone are worth it.

The kids who came had also given up their lives, if only for a week. They gave up a week of another kind of camp, of being in a comfortable place with friends, of knowing what to expect. But as far as I could tell, they got back way more abundantly than they gave up. Some of them were in a safe place, with safe adults, which is an unusual thing in their worlds. Some of them felt forgiven for the first time, although they might have known what it was before. Some of them just felt, like I did, that it was one of the only places where a real Christian community existed, if only for a week. We worshipped every day, we read scripture, we prayed, we ate the bad food, TOGETHER. Giving up some things made it easier to receive so much more.

It doesn’t seem to make sense! Some of my fellow leaders who aren’t pastors who came to the camp had a hard time getting a week off, because their bosses and co-workers don’t understand why they would lose their life, and not get paid for it. It doesn’t make any sense if you think about it how the world usually thinks.

But if you think about it in Jesus logic, it makes all kinds of sense. Jesus sees the big picture, and Jesus knows that it will make us immeasurably happier…not just saved, but HAPPIER…to do those things that take us out of our selves and out of our lives to do the things that God has created us to do—serve others, worship, talk about Jesus. He’s pretty clear too that it won’t be easy…that people WILL think we’re crazy, and might even call us bad names. That maybe even our own families won’t understand, and that Jesus himself sees it as more important that we follow him, painful as it is. That for Jesus, everything is nothing compared to the value of being God’s child, of giving up your life, even to the point of death on a cross, so that you will gain life, forever, and abundantly. Amen.

Big stuff

Several big things have happened lately, and while I'm still thinking about them I thought I would blog them all down.

Baby J, driving haircut boy, Mr. All of a Sudden nearly THREE, is weaned. I almost hesitate to write that for fear that he will stage a sudden boob rebellion and return, but he told me yesterday that he's all done with the "Me-Ma," and I believe him. It's kind of sad, in the way that it's sad that he gave up his nap recently and is terribly articulate about how he will absolutely NOT sit on the potty, in the way that he's clearly a kid now and not a baby. It's funny, I was always upset with myself for not nursing my daughter longer but now that J can choose when he stops, he hangs on for a mere three more months of sporadic nursing than she did. So I guess that I've done all I can do, mama-milk-wise, and there's something satisfying in that.

Strangely, the weaning is somewhat related (or directly, maybe?) to the next big thing. I'm getting faster. Last year at this time I could squeak out an 11 minute mile in the heat if I tried hard. Now, I'm cranking out 9:40 miles with my neighbor, breathing hard, yeah, but also being able to chat a bit. It's stunningly gratifying to see all my miles begin to pay off, because here's a secret: it's FUN to run (relatively) fast after several years of plodding.

And...I'm going back to camp. I was a counselor at an amazing camp for junior high and high school kids, as well as a camper, for years, and this year is the first one that I feel okay going for a week. I'm praying for big-time God fireworks, because, talk about plodding, that's how I've felt these past few years God-wise. I've felt religious, but not spiritual, and that's fine and all, but I sure would love to see some sort of obvious sky-writing from Jesus. This camp has almost always been the place for that, and I have high hopes and prayers.

Finally, I got asked to do something really, really cool. The women's organization of our church (you Lutherans know the one I'm talking about!) has been an old-lady kind of thing for years, and are trying to revamp their image, more power to them. In this process, they're having a gathering in a month or so, and apparently wanted the face of a young chickpastor to lead the 4K fun run/walk thingie that's taking place. So, that's me. Also after these past few years of plodding around, wondering what's next for me career-wise, it's not terrible for my poor old ego to be asked to do this thing. And hey, free trip to Utah! Let me know if I'll see you there.

Soundtrack of my Life

Thanks again to Our World Together for a very cool blog thingie to do (is this a meme?). I would like to add one thing...I do have very random songs on itunes as most of my songs are still on CDs or on my non ipod player, but still, this might be cool.

Soundtrack of My Life

Here's what you do.

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle.
3. Press play.
4. For every question, type the song that's playing.
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button.
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool.

This is my life as a movie soundtrack...

Opening Credits: "No One" by Alicia Keys
First Day At School: "Gotta have You" by the Weepies
Falling In Love: "Take Heart, my Friend" by Fernando Ortega (LOVE him!)
Breaking Up: "Born to Run" by BRUCE (I am NOT lying!)
1st date: "This is the Day" by Fred Hammond (okay, that doesn't fit. Sorry.)
Prom: "The Ocean" by Dar Williams (not a bad prom theme!)
Life's OK: "Hold on, Help is on the Way" by Whitney Houston
Driving: "The Distance" by Cake (yeah! also great for running!)
Flashback: "Work That" by Mary J. Blige (yes, a flashback if I was talking to my former insecure little self!)
Getting Back Together: "Circle of Life" from the Lion King soundtrack (?)
Wedding: "Sexyback" by JT (Hilarious! and, my partner WISHES!)
Final Battle: "More Love to Thee" by Fernando Ortega (if everything was all slomo and misty, maybe?)
Death Scene: "Just a Girl" by No Doubt (I guess it wouldn't be bad to go out like that!)
Funeral Song: "Holding on to Life" by Sia (okay, that's sort of gross, but kind of cool)
End Credits: "Family" by Dar Williams, written by Pierce Pettis (now that's perfect! makes me cry every time! Lyrics below)

Family, by Pierce Pettis (sung by Dar Williams)
Let your love cover me
like a pair of angel wings
You are my family
You are my family.

We stood outside in a summer rain
Different people with a common pain
A simple box in that hard red clay
Where we left you to always remain

A child who played with the moon and the stars
Grabs a snatch of hay in a common barn
In the lonely house of Adam's Fall
Lies a child. It's just a child, that's all, crying

Let your love cover me
like a pair of angel wings!
You are my family, you are my family.
You are my family, you are my family.

"Kick some squamous ass!" *

This is what I've been going around saying lately:

"So, S (partner/husband) had a thing removed at the dermatologist and it came back that it was skin cancer. The good kind, though, not the bad kind, just squamous cell carcinoma, which sounds terrible, but is actually good, not like melanoma. He had some surgery to get it out, got stitches and a scar, and now is doing just fine."

That's the speech. It's helpful, and true, and I guess it's what we need to say, most of the time. But it's not quite what I really feel about it. When he first got the call, from the actual doctor, not a nurse, not a tech, not a postcard saying all is well, I sort of knew that something was going on. I walked in the room where he was finishing up his call and saw that he had written in his chicken scratch on a notepad "Squamous Cell Carcinoma" so that even I could read it.

I felt like my head was going to detach from my body, all floaty. We were at his parents' house, but I don't think it really would have mattered where we were. His parents at the time seemed supremely unconcerned, but I know them better....indeed they have called every few days "just to see." So would I, if this "minor cancer" happened to my boy.

And that's the weird thing about it. Certainly the treatment was no fun for him...he has a scar on his nose for the rest of his life. But it's the "rest of his life" thing that was the biggest thing for me, the biggest weight. I thought right after I saw that "squamous cell carcinoma" on the paper that nothing will ever be the same after this. I didn't think it in a dramatic way...just as a fact...and it is true, nothing will be the same. I will always, always be conscious that cancer was in my beloved's body and could come back....in fact, probably WILL come back in other spots, we've heard anecdotally. There will be more surgery and another day of painkillers, another scar. More sunscreen and a bigger hat.

This is what drains me, when I stop to think about it. The way I already ask him, fake casually, if he brought his hat or if he put the "55" on. I flash back to my dad's death, of course, the biggest trauma so far of my life. I buy sun protection shirts and gadgets and fifty kinds of sunscreen for the kids, paranoia shopping, as fearful as someone at war.

Mostly, though, I am grateful, and that makes me even sadder. I am grateful for this good man who is my match in nearly every way, and I am grateful for our 10 years without serious incident to either of our health. I'm grateful that it was a small one and not the Big One.

And I'm grateful that our life goes on. Because it does.

* First line of one of the BEST emails we got after telling our lovely chickpastor friend about the diagnosis

Birch tree leaves look like hearts

Did you know that? I didn't. But I was looking for a picture of a birch tree for a tattoo that I keep promising myself I will get when my son finally weans, and I found one in some sort of wicca pagan book that had the symbolism of birch trees, plus that they have heart shaped leaves.

I am so into that. I LOVE that they have heart shaped leaves...it seemed like a sign to me because I want to get this new tattoo to remind myself of my family (Birch tree is what my last name means in German) and to keep taking care of my heart. I had a scare a few months ago when I was in the hospital for something else (see Benny Hinn blog below) and had to get a routine EKG, and it turned out to be abnormal. I got an Echo (which is what they're always squawking about on hospital shows, but was actually very relaxing and comforting) and all was well...my heart just has some sort of funky rhythm to it. Which I kind of dig. But it was enough to make me remember what my life is worth to me, why I do what I do.

Anyway, I have been doing pretty well for the past few years with my taking-care-of-my-heart initiatives. But in the past few months...okay, maybe the past six months...I've been letting some things slide. I'm still running...won't let that go...still doing yoga, which I love, but mamas, I have been eating like there's no tomorrow. Literally, like there's no tomorrow in which I will be able to eat (fill in the blank food). I haven't gained that much, but it was enough to make my heart sort of sink when I saw the number printed out at my beloved, but neglected as of late, Weight Watchers meeting.

So even though I don't have my tattoo yet (boy will wean someday, I'm sure of it, or else I'll just follow him to college), I keep thinking about it. I keep visualizing that birch tree with its gorgeous trunk of peely bark, skinny but strong. I keep thinking about those leaves made of hearts, with one colored red to remind me that this is not a joke, this is not practice, this is real life, and I want to be fully present for it in all ways possible.

Why I am old

I have been suspecting this for a while now, but it's been confirmed.

I am officially getting old. Here are some of the signs:

1. I've been seeing wrinkles. I mean, big time, serious wrinkles, in all the places my mom has them (especially that frowny line between my eyebrows!). So I bought a night cream and I've been faithfully washing my face, using my night cream, and feeling Very Very Old.

2. I can't remember stuff. I had always heard about this, but something will be on the tip of my tongue (Jamie Lee Curtis? Jodie Foster? No, that other chick who's in movies and is good at them and slightly androgynous in a sexy way...) and I cannot figure out what it is. A friend of mine was detailing this phenomenon as "The Time when I Went to Home Depot and Forgot the Word for Plywood." Exactly.

3. This is the most telling of all, and the most completely embarassing. I cringe even writing it. I was having an awesome long run on Saturday, in beautiful 60 degree, sun-poking out of the clouds, just after a rain weather, and I was listening to some random radio station on my music player and thinking how great the station was! How did they know just what I wanted to hear? Why did I know ALL the songs? It was so great until I heard the station identification.... "B 98.5, Home of the 80s, the 90s, AND today!"

I AM SO OLD.

Easter hangover

Easter hangovers SUCK. And we have them in such abundance at our house! Every single year I don't know what we're thinking....we're NOT thinking usually...both pastors and both kids are tuned into some relentless march toward Easter frequency and can't even think of what will come next.

And what will come next is for me, the chickpastor, FATIGUE. I cannot get caught up on sleep no matter how much I get a night for some reason. Part of that is my old friend, anemia, coming back to see me, and part is the driving and preaching and anticipation that comes during Holy Week. And the fact that I ended up, somehow, COOKING on a Sunday night, an abberration that will NEVER. HAPPEN. AGAIN. This is my solemn vow.

For partner o'chickpastor, Riverpastor, it's the letdown. He gets all freaky before Easter because, I don't know, he's expecting ten million people to show up, and for him it's all about the one day. It's also his year anniversary at his church so there's pressure there, and once the day is over he just doesn't know what to do.

Chickpastor children, who enjoyed the company of their beloved Nana for a few days pre-Easter and then the candy and egg hunts the weekend of, had the day "off" from school and just tore each other and us apart with screams and kicks. It was cold and disgusting, blowing snow of all things, so kicking them outside was not an option. So we stayed inside, at home, and stewed in our collective misery. The end of the day everything kind of cleared up. We took a walk in the chill, I tucked the kids into bed and there was a lot of giggling in a good way, that made me realize that it is actually true that with children, the rare lovely moments DO make up for the days of monotony.

So next year, someone remind me, PLEASE, a few months before Easter, that I should make some f'ing reservations somewhere fun for a few days???? Money be damned, we need to get out of town after Easter, and soon. Ideas are welcomed...somewhere kid friendly with lots of fruity drinks for the adults. A playground, a spa, somewhere to run. I'm already looking forward to it.

More stuff

This link from my "boyfriend," No Impact Man, has a great cartoon. I always love his stuff (so much so that my partner now refers to him as the "old boyfriend"....my new boyfriend of course is Dave Farmar of power yoga fame) but today's was so fitting.

I have had a much harder time than I thought not buying stuff during Lent. It basically turned into a debt-free six weeks, which OH MY GOD I needed to do for myself and my checkbook, but I had gotten so used to being able to just click and buy, or go to the store and buy, even when I didn't have the money. I know, I know, it's the American way, but the only term I can think for it is F'ed Up. Who told us we could buy stuff when we couldn't pay for it? Ridiculous.

I will admit also that I have been spending an inordinate amount of time flirting with particular pairs of shoes that I want to buy immediately, post-Lent. And per the cartoon, I'm sure that on my deathbed I won't care if I bought the freaking "Keen Carmel" or the "Merrell Sierra" or whatever....I'll just be glad I mostly had shoes to walk around in that were comfortable and fit my feet.

But the itch persists....the itch for more stuff. As ridiculous as it is, it stays with me. I've just had to sit with the itch, without scratching at all, for forty days, and it's been more uncomfortable than many things I've ever done. It's been a craptacular (thanks, Our World Together!) few weeks because my sweet little boy cannot seem to shake a stomach bug and I've been out of commission taking care of him and cleaning a lot of unspeakably disgusting clothes and sheets.

And I've been thinking how some shoes would make me feel SO. MUCH. BETTER. I'll let you know when they arrive if they instantly turn my life into bliss, which is totally what I'm expecting!

How goes it

Well, all I have is a bunch of random thoughts, but I had pledged to blog more and now it's into March with no blog. I have excuses involving vomit and lots of driving, but I have had plenty of time to blog, truth be told. I just have wanted to completely zone when I have some free time at night. I always THINK that I can be so very productive after the kids go to bed (now that they actually go to bed and stay there, most of the time, unless, see above under "vomit"). But something in me wants to do the opposite of work, typing, yoga, web design, which usually translates to me sitting on the couch or floor watching my new addiction, Dexter.

Anyways. I am on a roller coaster with my job lately, with them maybe getting a candidate but then some complications ensued so maybe not. I was so sad when I heard they might get someone, it shocked me! And every time I make the drive I half-way (okay, maybe a quarter-way) want to chuck it all and move out to the country and be their small-town pastor. I keep wondering if there's a way to meet in the middle, and perhaps there is, but that remains to be seen. I also am wondering if it might be good for me to live far away and still serve as pastor...that it might be like people who are married yet live in separate apartments, or even towns. They always say it works well because it preserves the mystery. Heh. SO not like my partnered life, but it might work for ministry. Very self-sufficient, these folks, and while they want someone to depend on for the heavy lifting, so to speak, they take care of each other just fine, thank you very much!

Back and forth, back and forth. So it goes. I'm also scrapping out another part-time job through doing weddings for pastors around these parts who don't want to, or can't, do weddings for non-church members. Lovely, and relatively lucrative.

And I haven't put pen to paper yet (I don't think I could type them!) but I have snippets of poems running around my head. Finally! I used to think this way, and it seems to be returning as well. So that's how it goes with me.

Lent, Yoga, and Lands End

So I gave up two things for Lent this year, actually. I gave up one very consciously, which was meat, AGAIN, and it's going fine. I miss it more this year but it's not a huge deal.

I gave up something else, sort of spur of the moment and out of some necessity, and it is driving me a little bit crazy. I decided, after looking at my spare spending cash (not much) and plans for the spring (many races, two trips), that I should give up buying clothes and shoes for Lent.

Buying clothes and shoes is primarily how I soothe myself. I don't say that proudly...just trying to be honest, here. After giving up so very many things in the past few years that I used use to soothe myself, now, when I need a fix, I buy a new shirt or new pair of shoes.

I don't go crazy with spending, even, I'm not that kind of girl. I just browse the Goodwill or the Target or the mall sales and I'm lulled into some kind of peace. When I actually purchase something, it momentarily makes me happy, and it makes me happy again when I wear it the next day. I can't explain it; it just feels good. Shopping endorphins, I've heard it called. Whatever.

So it has been much, much, harder than I ever expected. I really don't have the money anyway, so it was a great and practical idea in theory, but I am SO missing the fix! I got a coupon for a whopping $20 off a pair of shoes on a shoe site that I frequent. The cutest bathing suit in the world is on a giant sale at Lands End right now. And I will admit that both are in my virtual "shopping cart" and if they are still available when Lent is over I will be purchasing them immediately.

I'm also doing a lot of yoga this Lent, from this podcast. It is pretty much the hardest yoga I've ever done, and I sort of love it (my partner is now calling the guy my new boyfriend). He asks you to sit with discomfort, to make friends with it, to breathe through it, because "only when you want to come out of a post does the yoga begin."

So with my aching quads I'm trying to "sit" with my discomfort at not buying the swimsuit, at not buying the shoes. Voices are yelling at me at every turn....it's on SALE! it's in your SIZE! what if they sell OUT?! But I'm doing my best to just sit with the discomfort, to visit my swimsuit and my shoes on their respective sites and not hit the "Buy" button, to breathe through it all. Happy Lent.

Veggie Chili

My new little church, at which I am very part-time, is so lovely they almost bring tears to my eyes.

It has been so interesting for me, after being at such a dysfunctional small place, to be in a place that is not dysfunctional, just small. I did not mean to start to love them...it was meant to be a step on the road to SOMEWHERE, because, wow, are they NOWHERE, take a left. It takes me an hour and forty-five minutes to get there for one hour of confirmation and one hour of worship, some visits, and then one hour and forty-five minutes home, not including my now-traditional stop for Subway.

Here are the two things that have stuck in my mind about them. I know it might seem like it's all about me, and okay, it sort of is, but they are also signs of the general health and compassion of this congregation.

First of all, they gave me a Christmas bonus. My last church did not EVER give me anything for Christmas, and did not give me so much as a card at our last worship service together, so this was huge. My new place is small, as I said, with not much money between them, but they still took up a collection for a gift because they value their pastor. I was completely surprised when they gave it to me, and I couldn't stop talking about it. A small, lovely, thing, in the midst of many friends/colleagues experiencing ugliness from their churches.

Second of all, today, they made me veggie chili. Last week in my sermon I had talked about how I had given up meat for Lent for the second time, and this week, there was a little pot of veggie chili next to the meat chili. Again, a small, lovely instance of someone actually caring.

I don't know how long this "relationship" will last...I'm an interim and they're so far away that there's no real potential for long-term. But I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts, to soak it up, to know that it's okay to feel safe and healed and appreciated, and in fact, it's the way things should be.

Just like Dad

So, I was sitting the 2.5 year old on the potty, hoping he'd pee before the bath instead of like every night, IN the bath. I said, "Go ahead and pee, honey, in the potty." He said, looking down at his anatomy, "Just like dad?" I said, excitedly, "Yes, just like dad!"

And then he said, "But I can't! I don't have a book!"

On the edge

If I don't get to the end of this post, here's one thing to remember: Try using a neti pot for sinus problems! Google it or just go to your Whole Foods and buy one. It has changed my life.

Something was weird to me about that year in review that I wrote a few weeks ago, and I think I know what it was. I didn't really blog that much about what I was REALLY thinking about. I blogged between diapers and in the middle of general chaos, or at night when my brain was mush from, well, all the yelling and wiping that I do on a daily basis.

This year, though, I feel different. I still live in constant fear that we will be struck down by some awful virus for days and days again (of COURSE we will), I still wipe and yell on a daily basis, I still feel taken up by my children and their constant need for a sippy cup or to get some blob of something out of the DVD player, but something has shifted.

I think it's okay to write about this. Maybe. I'm so superstitious about it though, especially the sleep part, that it has taken me so very long to even hint at the possibility that I may (though I am NOT saying for sure!) make it through most nights without a small person crying out for me and my breasts. I'm superstitious that something is going to crash, that someone is going to wake up every hour on the hour again, that one of them is going to morph back into an infant, needy and attached, literally, to my body, for days on end.

The chances of this, I know, are slim.

But here's the funny thing. Lovely partner is out of town this week, and I don't even seem to mind. It's not that I don't miss HIM....I do, in that funny way that I remember missing him before it turned into NEEDING him and then resenting him for being gone and being able to pee by himself for days at a time. I miss him because I like having him around, because it's nice to talk to someone else and catch their eye over the head of a small hilarious person. But I don't miss him because I can't handle it. I don't miss him because things are completely going to shit around here and I'm about to lose my mind. This would be a significant change from this time last year.

I feel like I'm on the edge of something....like graduation, spring, fill-in-a-transition time. The signs are everywhere...I'm writing again, I'm meeting friends for drinks and even (gasp!) movies, I can pee alone, most of the time. I'm even thinking about writing some poetry, taking a class, taking a trip.

My friends talk about third babies on nearly a daily basis, those with two. I know a few lovely third and fourth very wanted babies. But aside from a miracle of birth control malfunction or insanity, I am done. My children are the funniest, smartest, stubborn-est, creative-est people I have ever met, and I cannot imagine my life without them. And now, I plan to spend the rest of my life enjoying them. And occasionally peeing with the door SHUT.

My year

I am shamelessly stealing this from Our World Together, because hers was pretty amazing. I'm taking the first sentence of each blog from each month of the past year and letting them sum up my '07:

January: I came home from a playdate the other day, and told my husband that the family who M was playing with had a servant.

February: So, it's been a whole month since I posted, and this is going to be a drive-by post as well

March: Just wanted to show off my boy with his new haircut, already driving.

April: I have been an official "stay at home mom" for about eight months now.

May: (no blog, embarassingly)

June: So here they are, the Five Things I Dig about Jesus

July: This is where I feel, most of the time [in the middle].

August: I was sitting at the pool while my kids played today, thinking to myself,
"if I were a man..."

October: I have been back into yoga for several months now, inspired by one of my best friends, a single mom who fits it into her busy days with a video on her laptop, so I figured I could do the same thing.

November: So, when I was busy bitching this summer about if I were a man, this all would be happening very differently, I had no idea that it would be THE topic of conversation during Thanksgiving week!

December: I'm not quite sure how to write about this, but it was such a strange week that I need to get something down on, er, paper, so to speak.




I write really, really long sentences. Something to work on in the New Year?

My husband is Benny Hinn

I'm not quite sure how to write about this, but it was such a strange week that I need to get something down on, er, paper, so to speak. I won't give too many details, because I am a person who appreciates not hearing the details of OTHER people's stomach flu experiences, but I will tell you that our whole family had the stomach virus last week...it ran rampant and was not enjoyable.

I could not get over it. Could NOT. Everyone else was eating and rehashing their experiences (my two year old, "Mommy, I SO SO SORRY that I puke!") and I was still feeling horrendous, in bed, practically comatose, and having "episodes" frequently.

Wednesday night I was laying in bed, covered in itchy hives, of all things (the nurseline said it happens sometimes with viruses--gee, thanks!), shivering, miserable, and my husband put his hands on my head and prayed.

We do this fairly regularly in our house. We have seen enough stuff to more or less believe in demonic possession of one type or another (see some below blogs about my last church) and we don't do it lightly, either. So he prayed, and I fell asleep for about an hour. After that, it gets blurry, but the story goes that I got out of bed to make yet ANOTHER unhappy trip to the restroom, and I passed out, fell, hard, on my shoulder, and came to when my husband started trying to get me awake. He got me into bed, and after calling our neighbor to stay at our house, we went to the ER.

Our local hospital is lovely and kind; it's where my son was born peacefully and everyone was respectful, quiet, and caring. They hooked me up to an IV, gooooood drugs, and I finally, finally, felt better.

The next day, I pretty much felt better. By last night, I was feeling good, even. And today, aside from a bit of weirdness, I'm almost back to normal.

I didn't connect the casting out of the demon and the fainting/ER/feeling much better until last night. I don't know if you believe in this stuff, and I almost cringe when I read it too, but it's happened several times now, and I have to say that I think there's something to it.

Either way, I'm grateful for whatever it was that caused things to come to a crisis so that I could truly get well. To quote The Princess Bride, "If you haven't got your health, well, you haven't got anything!"

Just for fun

Really, if you don't have dial-up and have a few minutes to spare, PLEASE go watch this. Laugh your head off at my silly family, then go make your own. Happy Holidays, y'all.

Ahead of my time! ***Warning*** political blog ahead

So, when I was busy bitching this summer about if I were a man, this all would be happening very differently, I had no idea that it would be THE topic of conversation during Thanksgiving week!

If you haven't heard Hillary's quote after John McCain laughed at a woman who said, "How do we beat the bitch?" then here it is:

"He's not criticizing me because I'm a woman; he's saying that because I'm winning."

LOVE it. LOVE IT! My opinion is that the guy had no idea what to say to the perfectly coiffed woman who asked the question. And who asked her, anyway?

On The View on Friday morning, which I watched through a feverish post-Thanksgiving virus-induced haze, the ladies were all up in arms about Hillary and how things would be different if she were a man. How fabulous is that? That she can absolutely not be a person of power and actually have power without seeming like a bitch. There was also an editorial in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution about how women with power are not "likeable."

Which really gets me thinking about what we consider "likeable" for a woman. Powerless?

Halloween Fairy Tale

See if you can guess which one.....hint...the grandma and the woodcutter are also in the story.

Wisdom from Yoga Today

I have been back into yoga for several months now, inspired by one of my best friends, a single mom who fits it into her busy days with a video on her laptop, so I figured I could do the same thing. I've been using Yoga Today, which is free yoga on the internet, streamed for anybody. It seems way too good to be true so I'm afraid that some company is going to co-opt it and charge for it, but right now it's free and wonderful.

The class above, if you have fifty-eight or so minutes of time on your hands, is an example of why yoga is just a good thing to have as part of your day. It's a balancing class, and it's hard. I mean, like, they do stuff that you think is a total joke until you see the lovely teacher, Sarah Kline, actually DOING it.

But here's why it was just so helpful. She shares this wisdom as she tells you to do nearly impossible things... "You will fall. And that's good! Just approach the difficult asanas [postures] with a sense of humor, not as something that 'must be done.'" And I did fall, and because I had in my head a sense of humor rather than "I must be the very best yogi in the whole world," it was all pretty hilarious and exhilarating. I fell, but I did a few things for the first time, and the rush of doing that really rocked me in the best way.

So please try it, or at least one of the Yoga Today classes, and approach it, and all things difficult, with a sense of humor, and see what happens.