It has been a month around here. I have been caring for sick kids, been sick myself, tried to unsuccessfully reign in the house after a few illnesses...you know, the hell ones home spirals down into when you just stop doing laundry or dishes.
We are back on the virus train again. Poor baby boy is so miserable. As far as sickness goes, it's just a nasty head cold. But there is something so sad about a bubbly baby turned lethargic with swollen gunky eyes, flaming pink cheeks and a rattle cough.
Additionally, we have been wading through sleep challenges with our baby boy. No big surprise because every time I am ready to shake things up, he is, alas, sick again! We have taken to sleeping on the living room floor. At first I thought it was sad and pathetic, but it is like having a hotel room suite to myself. No slinking into the bedroom for fear of waking the baby. No anxiety as I feel myself getting tired. In fact, baby boy only has woken up 2 times the last 2 nights of this experiment! That is a VAST improvement from the 4-8 times of night waking that has driven me to the limits of human sleep deprivation.
But, scourges of illness and night waking aside both kids always keep me laughing.
Today my little girl gave me a hysterical run down of her day at drop off play group. This conversation being the gem of it all:
Me: So, what did you do today?
diva child: Simone had a ring that her daddy give her and I wanna play with it but she said no and I sad and her sad too.
Me: Really? Well, it was her ring.
diva child: mommy her have a pink ring...her daddy buy it for her. I want my daddy to buy me a purple ring. I gonna call him and tell him that.
Me: Laughing. . . we can do that!
Hours later...I am on the phone talking to a friend
Diva child: Mooomy!!? Is that Daddy?!! Tell him I want him to buy me a purple ring!!!
Me: I'm not talking to Daddy, we will tell him about the ring later.
As little sicky boy hasn't left my arms all day, the afternoon escaped us and we soon heard 'big daddy' coming up the steps.
Diva child: Daddy! Daddy! Do you have my purple ring?!! My Purple Ring!!!!
Big Daddy has no idea what she is talking about and the diva child promptly dissolves in a puddle of tears as if her betrothed had forgotten to show up on the wedding day.
So, what's a big daddy to do? Once our girly settled down she was able to explain it all. My sweet tender husband will do anything to make the tears of a girl stop. He ran out to run some errands with her and managed to pick out the perfect plastic ring for his diva child.
On one had I fear indulging an immediate 'want' to have the thing that another child has. On the other hand, it was so clear that she wanted her daddy to give her a ring. Why that turned both my husband and I into a bunch of saps is still unclear to me. I think it was the trusting expectation that she expressed. She *knew* her daddy would give her the desire of her heart.
My sweet big daddy husband, being the egalitarian daddy that he is, had to buy something for little sicky too. Not that he noticed...but it was sweet.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
My baby's almost birthday
All month long I have been thinking of this day a bit. Tonight I was snuggled up with my baby big boy (who is walking now, by the way...) and I thought about how I curled myself around him in an uncomfortable hospital bed praying, crying, and praying some more.
I was 33 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I had thought that maybe my water had broken a few days earlier. I was keeping tabs on that and decided that it hadn't. I had my mom watch my little daughter so I could go to my midwifery appointment. I was pretty sure she was going to want to do a cervical check and I didn't want my 22 month old to be climbing all over me during that.
On my way to the appointment I was having contractions. I tend to have lots of contractions from week 30 on, but they were more than the '4 an hour' that the doctors caution against. When my midwife examined me she was very concerned and thought my water had broken. I will never forget the feeling of fear that engulfed me as I lay on my back, helpless and vulnerable, with my feet in the air. I started to sob and insisted that this wasn't happening and that my boy, who had yet to be named, was not coming tonight.
My midwife walked me across the street to the hospital and I was given a stack of paperwork to fill out. Who would be joining me in Labor and Delivery? I was snotty and pushed the papers back.
"Why do I need to fill this out? I am not having a baby today!" I could hear my midwife quietly talking to a L & D nurse. "Hey, I came over here to have more tests done to see what the status of my amniotic sac is, not to have a baby today!"
I flip through the papers : Do you give this hospital permission to treat your child? I burst into tears. "I am NOT having a baby right now, my husband isn't even here!"
They walk me out of faker labor and delivery, called 'triage' . I would become well acquainted with 'triage' during my 11 days of prodromal labor that were yet to come. I was practically on a first name basis with the residents and nurses by the time by babes actual birthday came!
I was ushered into a labor room and given a gigantic gown to put on. Muttering to myself that this is total bullshit and that I needed to get home to put my first baby to bed, I put on the gown. In walks an intern and a L & D nurse and the conversation starts like this:
"Hi, I am Dr. bla bla bla I see that you had a C-Section with your last baby, is that your plan for today?"
"I am totally NOT HAVING A BABY TODAY, AND IF I WERE IT WOULD BE A VBAC!!"
I totally lost it. For about the 30th time in an hour I explained the story.
I was walking around a store 3 days ago. I felt a big gush. I thought, Oh my god, did my water just break? I went to the bathroom. I went home and I rested. I made sure that I wasn't leaking any fluid. I made sure my bladder was empty. The baby is moving great, I feel great, I'm not leaking. Big misunderstanding....last time I bring anything up again. I'm a Birth Doula for crying out loud....I think I would know if my water was broken!
Next thing you know, I am hooked up to a monitor having contractions every 2 minutes. Now, I wasn't feeling them. I was sufficiently freaked out by being in the hospital all alone without my family. I all but abandoned my daughter whom I had never left for more than an hour or two. I didn't tell her I was going to be gone. I didn't tell her I wasn't coming back before bed. This was total crap. I knew the never-leaving-my-firstborn-child-ever thing was going to be changing with the birth of my second child. However, it didn't change the fact that, up until this point, I had not felt the need to leave her, and now I had to in the interest of baby number 2.
I called my husband. I told him to go home, get our girly dinner and to bed and to send my mom. When our girly was asleep he could trade off and come to me and bring me home. I told him that this was a huge over reaction and that, at worst, I would be out of there by morning after a bag of fluids and monitoring.
In walks my midwife. No, you are not going anywhere. In fact I want you to have steroid shots to rapidly mature your baby's lungs. Your son is going to be born sooner rather than later. We are sending people from the NICU to come and talk to you about his probable stay. We are going to try and stop your labor long enough for the steroids to work. But after your second shot we will let your labor begin.
NO NO NO I am NOT having a baby. I am not even feeling these contractions. I had an ultrasound and my levels of fluid were within the range of normal for my baby's gestational age.
I was beyond pissed. I was beyond scared. I was being treated like a person who is crazy and using denial to get through it all. I was told that I wasn't going anywhere and that I would be in the hospital, on bed rest, until the birth of my son.
I was given the most HORRID drug to stop my contractions. It was all the drunk and none of the fun. It blurred my vision and slurred my speech, but spared my mind. I lost muscle control and couldn't lift my arms or legs....they felt like they belonged to someone else. I had to be catheterized. I was burning hot and thirsty, but I couldn't drink much water because the water could flood my lungs and give me pneumonia. A nurse came and moved me around and gave me ice and cold cloths to keep me as comfortable as possible.
My husband came for a little while, and then I sent him home so that my daughter could have things be normal for as long as possible.
I was trying to imagine my world where my 'baby' girl at home who had really never been away from me could be without me for days to weeks. Who would take care of her? I'm a stay at home mom and my husband only has so much time off....time we were intentionally saving so we could 'babymoon' at home as a family.
I was being told that I would have a baby in the NICU. How would I be with my new son and pump breast milk and be mommy to my little girl at home? I would have to adjust my whole life and what I believed to be best for everyone to what was being thrown at me, against my will. I didn't want my baby to be far from me, I didn't even want him circumcised...how would I deal with watching him being poked and prodded and kept in a little plastic crib far from his mama??? All of these things swirled around my brain all night. Everyone tried to encourage me that his chances were really, really, good. The survival rates for 33 weekers were really great. Holy shit...they are talking to me about survival rates?!! He would have only a few weeks in the NICU. He would be fine long term. No big deal, right? I guess not if you work in labor and delivery and this is what you deal with every day...but this is my baby...my son.
My sobbing came in waves. All I really wanted was a normal pregnancy and birth. Now I would give all of it, in a heartbeat to keep my sweet boy inside. I talked to him. My husband and I named him that night. I couldn't bear the possibility of him being born and taken from me without a name.
I prayed and prayed. I had a sense of peace in the middle of it....it would be completely unraveled in a moment, and then it would come back. I just wanted my boy to be okay. I was mad at God and told him so. But I also cried out to him. I figure God is big enough to handle my anger and love in the same moment.
The next day I was the medical anomaly of the floor. The question of the day: Is Sarah's water actually broken? How can we know? There was a resident who thought this was total bullshit right along with me. I think I love him still to this day. He was the one who pushed for more testing. I was still on the stop-the-labor-drugs that made me feel really bad while everyone did their rounds and discussed my 'case'.
My mom and dad came...my husband came...my doula came. People came to stay with me. At one point everyone had left the room except my doula. All of a sudden I felt a massive wave of nausea hit me and then I felt myself start to go unconscious. I felt myself try to press the nurse call button and I heard myself say 'turn it off..the drugs turn it off' and then I passed out.
I was metabolizing the drugs at a very rapid rate. Because of this, my blood pressure dropped to 80/20. This was not good. I had been nagging them to turn down/off the meds for hours. Luckily, my doula had been in the room with me when I passed out and got the nurses in immediately. They stopped the meds. My wonderful nurse told me that I could eat once they stopped the meds. I must have been a very sad patient because I had captured the sympathy of all the floor nurses. She brought in a tray of food and promised to get the resident so I could inhale the food as soon as he gave the all clear.
So, to recap: we started off a normal prenatal visit, turned 'be admitted for some tests', turned did you want another c-section? turned the NICU is coming to talk to you about your eminent birth and baby's hospital stay, turned you will at least be here on bed rest the remainder of your pregnancy, turned maybe you are right and you can go home soon.
After all of that, my water seemed fine. Now, we will never know if it had a leak which resealed (that is something that is fairly common), or if everyone was in overreaction mode. Either way, I was elated that things were fine. A hospital Salisbury steak has never tasted so damn good. Yes, I relished every.last.bite. of a crappy hospital meal. It may have been gourmet meal as far as I was concerned. I was that hungry, tired, and grateful.
When the OB from my practice came around to talk to me and my husband I talked her into releasing me that night. They had wanted to keep me one more night and day. I promised to rest and stop seeing massage clients. All I wanted was my bed, my house, a shower, my jammies, and to hug by little girl. I was sent home on Friday night. Here is where a picture is worth a thousand words. I had my husband snap this photo of me in my bedraggled glory because the moment needed some sort of documentation:
I love the look of exhaustion coupled with 'what the hell just happened to me here?'
I will never forget the fragility and relief I felt that whole weekend. I was also quite angry about my blood pressure drop. I just kept thinking They could have killed me, for no reason at all...we almost died.
I just wanted to lay in bed with my husband as he held me and whispered to me that we are all okay. We had pancakes on Saturday morning and just lazed around the house together. It took a lot for me to move forward and forgive the over reaction of the midwife and the hospital staff. I tried to believe that maybe it had been a miracle that my water had broken and resealed. I still don't really know what to make of it all. All I know is that I am sitting here with big boy on my lap while he sucks his thumb and snuggles me. I'm really glad that we are just here and fine and healthy.
I was 33 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I had thought that maybe my water had broken a few days earlier. I was keeping tabs on that and decided that it hadn't. I had my mom watch my little daughter so I could go to my midwifery appointment. I was pretty sure she was going to want to do a cervical check and I didn't want my 22 month old to be climbing all over me during that.
On my way to the appointment I was having contractions. I tend to have lots of contractions from week 30 on, but they were more than the '4 an hour' that the doctors caution against. When my midwife examined me she was very concerned and thought my water had broken. I will never forget the feeling of fear that engulfed me as I lay on my back, helpless and vulnerable, with my feet in the air. I started to sob and insisted that this wasn't happening and that my boy, who had yet to be named, was not coming tonight.
My midwife walked me across the street to the hospital and I was given a stack of paperwork to fill out. Who would be joining me in Labor and Delivery? I was snotty and pushed the papers back.
"Why do I need to fill this out? I am not having a baby today!" I could hear my midwife quietly talking to a L & D nurse. "Hey, I came over here to have more tests done to see what the status of my amniotic sac is, not to have a baby today!"
I flip through the papers : Do you give this hospital permission to treat your child? I burst into tears. "I am NOT having a baby right now, my husband isn't even here!"
They walk me out of faker labor and delivery, called 'triage' . I would become well acquainted with 'triage' during my 11 days of prodromal labor that were yet to come. I was practically on a first name basis with the residents and nurses by the time by babes actual birthday came!
I was ushered into a labor room and given a gigantic gown to put on. Muttering to myself that this is total bullshit and that I needed to get home to put my first baby to bed, I put on the gown. In walks an intern and a L & D nurse and the conversation starts like this:
"Hi, I am Dr. bla bla bla I see that you had a C-Section with your last baby, is that your plan for today?"
"I am totally NOT HAVING A BABY TODAY, AND IF I WERE IT WOULD BE A VBAC!!"
I totally lost it. For about the 30th time in an hour I explained the story.
I was walking around a store 3 days ago. I felt a big gush. I thought, Oh my god, did my water just break? I went to the bathroom. I went home and I rested. I made sure that I wasn't leaking any fluid. I made sure my bladder was empty. The baby is moving great, I feel great, I'm not leaking. Big misunderstanding....last time I bring anything up again. I'm a Birth Doula for crying out loud....I think I would know if my water was broken!
Next thing you know, I am hooked up to a monitor having contractions every 2 minutes. Now, I wasn't feeling them. I was sufficiently freaked out by being in the hospital all alone without my family. I all but abandoned my daughter whom I had never left for more than an hour or two. I didn't tell her I was going to be gone. I didn't tell her I wasn't coming back before bed. This was total crap. I knew the never-leaving-my-firstborn-child-ever thing was going to be changing with the birth of my second child. However, it didn't change the fact that, up until this point, I had not felt the need to leave her, and now I had to in the interest of baby number 2.
I called my husband. I told him to go home, get our girly dinner and to bed and to send my mom. When our girly was asleep he could trade off and come to me and bring me home. I told him that this was a huge over reaction and that, at worst, I would be out of there by morning after a bag of fluids and monitoring.
In walks my midwife. No, you are not going anywhere. In fact I want you to have steroid shots to rapidly mature your baby's lungs. Your son is going to be born sooner rather than later. We are sending people from the NICU to come and talk to you about his probable stay. We are going to try and stop your labor long enough for the steroids to work. But after your second shot we will let your labor begin.
NO NO NO I am NOT having a baby. I am not even feeling these contractions. I had an ultrasound and my levels of fluid were within the range of normal for my baby's gestational age.
I was beyond pissed. I was beyond scared. I was being treated like a person who is crazy and using denial to get through it all. I was told that I wasn't going anywhere and that I would be in the hospital, on bed rest, until the birth of my son.
I was given the most HORRID drug to stop my contractions. It was all the drunk and none of the fun. It blurred my vision and slurred my speech, but spared my mind. I lost muscle control and couldn't lift my arms or legs....they felt like they belonged to someone else. I had to be catheterized. I was burning hot and thirsty, but I couldn't drink much water because the water could flood my lungs and give me pneumonia. A nurse came and moved me around and gave me ice and cold cloths to keep me as comfortable as possible.
My husband came for a little while, and then I sent him home so that my daughter could have things be normal for as long as possible.
I was trying to imagine my world where my 'baby' girl at home who had really never been away from me could be without me for days to weeks. Who would take care of her? I'm a stay at home mom and my husband only has so much time off....time we were intentionally saving so we could 'babymoon' at home as a family.
I was being told that I would have a baby in the NICU. How would I be with my new son and pump breast milk and be mommy to my little girl at home? I would have to adjust my whole life and what I believed to be best for everyone to what was being thrown at me, against my will. I didn't want my baby to be far from me, I didn't even want him circumcised...how would I deal with watching him being poked and prodded and kept in a little plastic crib far from his mama??? All of these things swirled around my brain all night. Everyone tried to encourage me that his chances were really, really, good. The survival rates for 33 weekers were really great. Holy shit...they are talking to me about survival rates?!! He would have only a few weeks in the NICU. He would be fine long term. No big deal, right? I guess not if you work in labor and delivery and this is what you deal with every day...but this is my baby...my son.
My sobbing came in waves. All I really wanted was a normal pregnancy and birth. Now I would give all of it, in a heartbeat to keep my sweet boy inside. I talked to him. My husband and I named him that night. I couldn't bear the possibility of him being born and taken from me without a name.
I prayed and prayed. I had a sense of peace in the middle of it....it would be completely unraveled in a moment, and then it would come back. I just wanted my boy to be okay. I was mad at God and told him so. But I also cried out to him. I figure God is big enough to handle my anger and love in the same moment.
The next day I was the medical anomaly of the floor. The question of the day: Is Sarah's water actually broken? How can we know? There was a resident who thought this was total bullshit right along with me. I think I love him still to this day. He was the one who pushed for more testing. I was still on the stop-the-labor-drugs that made me feel really bad while everyone did their rounds and discussed my 'case'.
My mom and dad came...my husband came...my doula came. People came to stay with me. At one point everyone had left the room except my doula. All of a sudden I felt a massive wave of nausea hit me and then I felt myself start to go unconscious. I felt myself try to press the nurse call button and I heard myself say 'turn it off..the drugs turn it off' and then I passed out.
I was metabolizing the drugs at a very rapid rate. Because of this, my blood pressure dropped to 80/20. This was not good. I had been nagging them to turn down/off the meds for hours. Luckily, my doula had been in the room with me when I passed out and got the nurses in immediately. They stopped the meds. My wonderful nurse told me that I could eat once they stopped the meds. I must have been a very sad patient because I had captured the sympathy of all the floor nurses. She brought in a tray of food and promised to get the resident so I could inhale the food as soon as he gave the all clear.
So, to recap: we started off a normal prenatal visit, turned 'be admitted for some tests', turned did you want another c-section? turned the NICU is coming to talk to you about your eminent birth and baby's hospital stay, turned you will at least be here on bed rest the remainder of your pregnancy, turned maybe you are right and you can go home soon.
After all of that, my water seemed fine. Now, we will never know if it had a leak which resealed (that is something that is fairly common), or if everyone was in overreaction mode. Either way, I was elated that things were fine. A hospital Salisbury steak has never tasted so damn good. Yes, I relished every.last.bite. of a crappy hospital meal. It may have been gourmet meal as far as I was concerned. I was that hungry, tired, and grateful.
When the OB from my practice came around to talk to me and my husband I talked her into releasing me that night. They had wanted to keep me one more night and day. I promised to rest and stop seeing massage clients. All I wanted was my bed, my house, a shower, my jammies, and to hug by little girl. I was sent home on Friday night. Here is where a picture is worth a thousand words. I had my husband snap this photo of me in my bedraggled glory because the moment needed some sort of documentation:
I love the look of exhaustion coupled with 'what the hell just happened to me here?'I will never forget the fragility and relief I felt that whole weekend. I was also quite angry about my blood pressure drop. I just kept thinking They could have killed me, for no reason at all...we almost died.
I just wanted to lay in bed with my husband as he held me and whispered to me that we are all okay. We had pancakes on Saturday morning and just lazed around the house together. It took a lot for me to move forward and forgive the over reaction of the midwife and the hospital staff. I tried to believe that maybe it had been a miracle that my water had broken and resealed. I still don't really know what to make of it all. All I know is that I am sitting here with big boy on my lap while he sucks his thumb and snuggles me. I'm really glad that we are just here and fine and healthy.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Stuffed Animals Gone Wild!!!
I am deeply concerned about the moral fabric of the stuffed animals that have been 'gifted' to my children. One night as I was dutifully picking up toys after a long day of mommying I happen upon this little scene:
Now, it has come to my attention that the stuffed animals seem to be 'multiplying' at an alarming rate around here. No surprise after I broke up this freaky stuffed animal party. I wondered if that bunny on the far right was passed out. I thought I smelled cheap beer as well.
Listen dear family and friends; maybe I am sick for seeing these things at the end of a long day. Or maybe, I am so desperate for a stuffed animal eugenics/sterilization program that I am, indeed, making myself vulnerable to show why we can no longer accept your morally bankrupt 'friends' into our home. It could happen at your home too!
Please, no more stuffed animals...I beg of you.
Now, it has come to my attention that the stuffed animals seem to be 'multiplying' at an alarming rate around here. No surprise after I broke up this freaky stuffed animal party. I wondered if that bunny on the far right was passed out. I thought I smelled cheap beer as well.
Listen dear family and friends; maybe I am sick for seeing these things at the end of a long day. Or maybe, I am so desperate for a stuffed animal eugenics/sterilization program that I am, indeed, making myself vulnerable to show why we can no longer accept your morally bankrupt 'friends' into our home. It could happen at your home too!
Please, no more stuffed animals...I beg of you.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Fun or Pathetic? You choose!
Oh my...I have found the most fun and most awful website ever Online_Karaoke .
That's right everyone. I just woke up my husband by earnestly singing late nineties tunes, alone & sober to my computer at 11 o'clock at night.
Somethings really are better with real people around. It is quite fun and would be awfully cute to do with your kids and then send the link to grandma.
I am all over Old McDonald had a Farm first thing tomorrow!
That's right everyone. I just woke up my husband by earnestly singing late nineties tunes, alone & sober to my computer at 11 o'clock at night.
Somethings really are better with real people around. It is quite fun and would be awfully cute to do with your kids and then send the link to grandma.
I am all over Old McDonald had a Farm first thing tomorrow!
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Melancholy
Sometimes I think I am totally crazy. Why does every last little thing have to hit me so pointedly in the heart? Sometimes I observe the people doing life around me and think they have it way more together than myself. Stories of suffering, loss, sorrow...they give me a lump in my throat and an emptiness in my stomach that is usually reserved for the person who is actually suffering. I suppose this makes me empathetic, which is a quality I admire in others and wish away in myself.
When I was playing piano frequently, I found I could pour a lot of these feelings into music. Such a great outlet. In fact, my dear, sweet piano teacher knew this little tidbit about my personality and told me I wouldn't really want to be any other way.
Some days I wish I could live an ignorant little life content with what I have and unaware of the pain and sadness around me. Reading an especially sad blog entry or article or book can put me in a funk for days. Highly sensitive much?
I can run into people and see through a veneer of happiness to a level that I feel uncomfortable. It's like some strange superpower that I don't want. How do you start that conversation? 'So you seem so great, but how are you really? I can feel your loneliness from across the room?'
How to win friends and influence people....
When I was playing piano frequently, I found I could pour a lot of these feelings into music. Such a great outlet. In fact, my dear, sweet piano teacher knew this little tidbit about my personality and told me I wouldn't really want to be any other way.
Some days I wish I could live an ignorant little life content with what I have and unaware of the pain and sadness around me. Reading an especially sad blog entry or article or book can put me in a funk for days. Highly sensitive much?
I can run into people and see through a veneer of happiness to a level that I feel uncomfortable. It's like some strange superpower that I don't want. How do you start that conversation? 'So you seem so great, but how are you really? I can feel your loneliness from across the room?'
How to win friends and influence people....
Friday, March 09, 2007
Tagged! Why I blog?
Many thanks to bubandpie for the tag !!
Five Reasons Why I blog...
1) Cause all the cool girls are doing it....
Well, my very first post (which was really a non post) basically was me admitting that since everyone else is doing it, why not me? Apparently, I really will jump off of a building if someone was doing it. Once I started lurking around the blogosphere, I really did wonder why not me? I love reading all kinds of blogs and thought I would throw my stream of consciousness musings out there to see if anyone else would read them.
2) I blog for my own enjoyment.
It is so fun to go from blog to blog through the various links. I really enjoy the whole 'mommy blog' genre. I like to read lots of other blogs as well, but the mommy ones are striking the strongest chord in me as it is most applicable to my life.
It has been a great creative outlet for me as well to write about the various things swirling around my head.
3) I like the connections I am making
Not 'connections' as in: let's do lunch and talk about the book deal (ha ha ha). I like how something as simple as a blog entry can bring a lot of random people together to read and comment. I like following witty comments to more witty blogs so that my afternoon flies away from me.
4) I like the sense of community
It is wonderful to read honest posts about people's lives. It feels more authentic than grocery store chit chat with my actual neighbors. Maybe this is a sad reason to blog. Maybe I need to talk to more flesh and blood people in my daily life. When was the last time you bumped into someone you kind of know and they were transparent and open while you drank a coffee? It rarely happens to me because, quite frankly, it would break a lot of social rules. People don't bare their souls in the line at Starbucks very often. I can hop on the Internet and get some really heartfelt reading done while I drink my coffee. It feels more authentic than a lot of my actual interactions on a daily basis. Maybe this reason makes me a little pathetic.
5) I like people to read my writing.
I started a blog a few years ago and felt very uncomfortable. I didn't really like that anyone could read what I was writing about. I stopped and gave some thought to what I wanted to 'put out there' and how it might feel. Even when I first started this on a whim I stopped for several months because I just wasn't sure I liked it. Now, I want the comments. I want people to read what I write. Mainly because it is fun. I'm not an expert on anything, but I have ideas I love to throw out into the universe. It is nice when it rings true for someone else.
And hey....I know my aunt and uncle are reading this (hi there...I'm waving at you!). I'm waiting for you two , (Especially you Uncle Tom) to get blogging and commenting yourselves!! I am outing you as lurkers! Consider yourselves tagged as well!
Now I tag Domestic Slacktress, Heather, and Karen. Why are you cool girls blogging?
Five Reasons Why I blog...
1) Cause all the cool girls are doing it....
Well, my very first post (which was really a non post) basically was me admitting that since everyone else is doing it, why not me? Apparently, I really will jump off of a building if someone was doing it. Once I started lurking around the blogosphere, I really did wonder why not me? I love reading all kinds of blogs and thought I would throw my stream of consciousness musings out there to see if anyone else would read them.
2) I blog for my own enjoyment.
It is so fun to go from blog to blog through the various links. I really enjoy the whole 'mommy blog' genre. I like to read lots of other blogs as well, but the mommy ones are striking the strongest chord in me as it is most applicable to my life.
It has been a great creative outlet for me as well to write about the various things swirling around my head.
3) I like the connections I am making
Not 'connections' as in: let's do lunch and talk about the book deal (ha ha ha). I like how something as simple as a blog entry can bring a lot of random people together to read and comment. I like following witty comments to more witty blogs so that my afternoon flies away from me.
4) I like the sense of community
It is wonderful to read honest posts about people's lives. It feels more authentic than grocery store chit chat with my actual neighbors. Maybe this is a sad reason to blog. Maybe I need to talk to more flesh and blood people in my daily life. When was the last time you bumped into someone you kind of know and they were transparent and open while you drank a coffee? It rarely happens to me because, quite frankly, it would break a lot of social rules. People don't bare their souls in the line at Starbucks very often. I can hop on the Internet and get some really heartfelt reading done while I drink my coffee. It feels more authentic than a lot of my actual interactions on a daily basis. Maybe this reason makes me a little pathetic.
5) I like people to read my writing.
I started a blog a few years ago and felt very uncomfortable. I didn't really like that anyone could read what I was writing about. I stopped and gave some thought to what I wanted to 'put out there' and how it might feel. Even when I first started this on a whim I stopped for several months because I just wasn't sure I liked it. Now, I want the comments. I want people to read what I write. Mainly because it is fun. I'm not an expert on anything, but I have ideas I love to throw out into the universe. It is nice when it rings true for someone else.
And hey....I know my aunt and uncle are reading this (hi there...I'm waving at you!). I'm waiting for you two , (Especially you Uncle Tom) to get blogging and commenting yourselves!! I am outing you as lurkers! Consider yourselves tagged as well!
Now I tag Domestic Slacktress, Heather, and Karen. Why are you cool girls blogging?
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
So lets stick to blogging, its a lot less shrill than radio
So I couldn't help myself. I have become my grandmother who listens to talk radio while flitting about the kitchen cooking. However, something my grandmother *never* would have done was call in to one of her favorite am talk radio shows.
I was listening to a local show that was asking the question as to why 20 somethings are leaving the state of Connecticut after graduating from College. Well DUH! I'm so sure we needed an hour long show to discuss the ridiculous cost of living, unaffordable housing, Energy costs, and lack of anything fun to do in the red headed step child city of Hartford. There was discussion of all these young people who want instant gratification...they want their jobs to be 'meaningful' and 'fun'. Surely when they reach the ripe old age of 29 they will realize how unrealistic this is [yeah, once their soul has been crushed by the absurd amount of hours they have to work for a wage that doesn't really provide for all your needs easily; let alone have time to do something meaningful with that mysterious 'free time' we are all supposed to have].
I am getting really tired of the boomer assertions that we gen Xer's/ 'me' generation people are just so flawed and don't want to work hard. We want so much...meaning out of our lives. The idea that we 'want it all now' is crap. The fact of the matter is that we have to work very hard to make ends meet in a traditional sense while also having to put aside money for retirement as there is no such thing as retirement benefits, (be they pention or medical insurance) from the company when we reach 70 years of age. Wanting to purchase a home has long been an attainable middle class goal which is becoming increasingly more difficult to do.
I don't think it is unrealistic that one can work a job that gives the worker a sense of satisfaction. Nor do I think it unrealistic that someone who works full time should be able to afford decent housing in a place that is safe. The craziest thing of all is that I believe all people should have access to good, safe, schools AND housing, anywhere they live.
Here is a long excerpt from wikipedia .
Connecticut is, however, much more than the upscale suburbs of New York. Although it is the richest state in America, with approximately 83% of Connecticut municipalities above the national average per capita income, Connecticut nevertheless has many enclaves of poverty that are often overshadowed by the super-rich communities. 4.7% of Connecticut households have annual incomes of $200,000+, and 20.1% have incomes of $100,000 or more; but 7.0% have incomes of less than $10,000, and 31.8% less than $34,999. 7.9% of people living in Connecticut live below the poverty line. In contrast to the "Gold Coast", Bridgeport, New Haven and Hartford have significantly lower per-capita incomes .Connecticut has some of the largest gaps between the rich and poor in America, as the middle class flees urban areas as too expensive and unpleasant, leaving the poor to stay behind further burdening the cities' economies. However, this trend is starting to change in some areas, particularly downtown New Haven and Hartford, which have seen an influx of hundreds of luxury apartments and even million-dollar loft condominiums coinciding with a huge commercial and retail rebirth.Connecticut is also one of the most expensive states to live in the contiguous United States, with the price for a single family home in Greenwich starting at around $800,000. However, most of the state is much lower than this, but still above the national median.
I find it to be appalling that Connecticut can not find a way to provide affordable housing, and at least adequate schooling for everyone in the state. I like the little blurb in the above text that says the trend is changing because there are luxury condos being built in New Haven and Hartford. That ought to be helpful to the 31.8% of the population that makes less than $34,999 a year. We can just shuffle the poor people to some other town with bad schools and decrepit housing that is 'affordable'. I can just imagine young college grads flocking to luxury condos downtown so they can be in close proximity to the 4 bars in downtown Hartford. They will totally be able to afford those on a starting salary of $40,000...oh wait those aren't for them...they just want instant gratification!! Let Boston have em!
Anyway, all of this to say that as I had my 1 minute to make my point on air, it quickly became a shrill tirade about segregation, the cost of living, how my family could do so much better in the Midwest, and why isn't there reasonable public transportation in our state? Oh and throw in the 30% graduation rate from Hartford public schools and how it seems no one really cares. We all just gasp at how bad it is and then go back to our comfy suburbs...grateful that our kids don't have to go there.
The discrepancies between race and class in this state are enough to make you physically ill.
I have no idea how to make a difference being a white woman from the suburbs. I'm not rich, but I'm not living somewhere where I fear for my children and their basic needs. I am privileged enough to wonder if we can afford that play group next year...or swim lessons. Hardly the stuff that keeps me up at night. That does make me quite rich in a global sense.
All this and I haven't even started with health care. I will save that for another day. I sense I am gearing up for 2008...
I was listening to a local show that was asking the question as to why 20 somethings are leaving the state of Connecticut after graduating from College. Well DUH! I'm so sure we needed an hour long show to discuss the ridiculous cost of living, unaffordable housing, Energy costs, and lack of anything fun to do in the red headed step child city of Hartford. There was discussion of all these young people who want instant gratification...they want their jobs to be 'meaningful' and 'fun'. Surely when they reach the ripe old age of 29 they will realize how unrealistic this is [yeah, once their soul has been crushed by the absurd amount of hours they have to work for a wage that doesn't really provide for all your needs easily; let alone have time to do something meaningful with that mysterious 'free time' we are all supposed to have].
I am getting really tired of the boomer assertions that we gen Xer's/ 'me' generation people are just so flawed and don't want to work hard. We want so much...meaning out of our lives. The idea that we 'want it all now' is crap. The fact of the matter is that we have to work very hard to make ends meet in a traditional sense while also having to put aside money for retirement as there is no such thing as retirement benefits, (be they pention or medical insurance) from the company when we reach 70 years of age. Wanting to purchase a home has long been an attainable middle class goal which is becoming increasingly more difficult to do.
I don't think it is unrealistic that one can work a job that gives the worker a sense of satisfaction. Nor do I think it unrealistic that someone who works full time should be able to afford decent housing in a place that is safe. The craziest thing of all is that I believe all people should have access to good, safe, schools AND housing, anywhere they live.
Here is a long excerpt from wikipedia .
Connecticut is, however, much more than the upscale suburbs of New York. Although it is the richest state in America, with approximately 83% of Connecticut municipalities above the national average per capita income, Connecticut nevertheless has many enclaves of poverty that are often overshadowed by the super-rich communities. 4.7% of Connecticut households have annual incomes of $200,000+, and 20.1% have incomes of $100,000 or more; but 7.0% have incomes of less than $10,000, and 31.8% less than $34,999. 7.9% of people living in Connecticut live below the poverty line. In contrast to the "Gold Coast", Bridgeport, New Haven and Hartford have significantly lower per-capita incomes .Connecticut has some of the largest gaps between the rich and poor in America, as the middle class flees urban areas as too expensive and unpleasant, leaving the poor to stay behind further burdening the cities' economies. However, this trend is starting to change in some areas, particularly downtown New Haven and Hartford, which have seen an influx of hundreds of luxury apartments and even million-dollar loft condominiums coinciding with a huge commercial and retail rebirth.Connecticut is also one of the most expensive states to live in the contiguous United States, with the price for a single family home in Greenwich starting at around $800,000. However, most of the state is much lower than this, but still above the national median.
I find it to be appalling that Connecticut can not find a way to provide affordable housing, and at least adequate schooling for everyone in the state. I like the little blurb in the above text that says the trend is changing because there are luxury condos being built in New Haven and Hartford. That ought to be helpful to the 31.8% of the population that makes less than $34,999 a year. We can just shuffle the poor people to some other town with bad schools and decrepit housing that is 'affordable'. I can just imagine young college grads flocking to luxury condos downtown so they can be in close proximity to the 4 bars in downtown Hartford. They will totally be able to afford those on a starting salary of $40,000...oh wait those aren't for them...they just want instant gratification!! Let Boston have em!
Anyway, all of this to say that as I had my 1 minute to make my point on air, it quickly became a shrill tirade about segregation, the cost of living, how my family could do so much better in the Midwest, and why isn't there reasonable public transportation in our state? Oh and throw in the 30% graduation rate from Hartford public schools and how it seems no one really cares. We all just gasp at how bad it is and then go back to our comfy suburbs...grateful that our kids don't have to go there.
The discrepancies between race and class in this state are enough to make you physically ill.
I have no idea how to make a difference being a white woman from the suburbs. I'm not rich, but I'm not living somewhere where I fear for my children and their basic needs. I am privileged enough to wonder if we can afford that play group next year...or swim lessons. Hardly the stuff that keeps me up at night. That does make me quite rich in a global sense.
All this and I haven't even started with health care. I will save that for another day. I sense I am gearing up for 2008...
Monday, February 26, 2007
I am not sure that my eyes can roll enough
So I don't generally look to MySpace to tell me what is moral and upstanding these days. In fact, the only reason I have a MySpace page at all is that my very cool and hip younger brother shamed me into creating one by making me feel insufferably boring and old. I have enjoyed finding friends from abroad, high school and college...not wandering too far off the path of 'my friends' as to not stumble into some sordid mess created by a teenage girl or something.
That being said, apparently breastfeeding mothers are the new 'bad girls' of My Space. That's right everyone. No matter all the half dressed drunken pics of 17 year olds. I'm sure I could find 100 pictures of nearly naked women (sans babies) in less that 5 minutes if I were trying. The pictures of mama's nursing their babes is so offensive that they are being removed by My Space.
Yaaaawn. How boring. I get that breastfeeding isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea. That's fine. It's the stupid Internet everyone...if you don't like the picture try not clicking on it. I'm trying to picture exactly who it is that has a sudden *gasp* the horror breastfeeding!! My Eyes MY EYYYYYYYES! I just never expected to be offended at My Space!! (he/she swoons and collapses to the floor under the musty weight of their velvet Victorian era robes...)
Actually it's probably more along the lines of someone prowling around looking for something more sexxy, less maternal, and is mad that the baby was blocking the boob shot.
This is the thing that baffles me most. How is it that a site that has been repeatedly landblasted for allowing provocative sites of underage girls to be public is now so suddenly upstanding and moral that they must protect us from a picture of a breastfeeding child because it is just so 'offensive'? Seriously? They don't take a stand when it comes to the safety of young girls but they are 'cracking down' on those whorin breastfeeders?
I don't actually look to My Space to keep children or adults safe. Parents and adults should be responsible enough to police their own usage of My Space. Why on earth does My Space pick breastfeeding of all things to get all prim and proper on us? They seriously have no idea who they are messing with. 'Lactivists' as they are called take breastfeeding very, very seriously. A petition against My Space has already been organized. They are the kind of folk who go to places filled with prudish non breastfeeding people and whip out what God gave em to nurse their 6 year olds because they can. The only way My Space could have made this worse for themselves is if they simultaneously pissed off the 'intactavists' or those who are against routine infant circumcision.
I'm all about breastfeeding babies and not chopping body parts off at birth. I don't know that my My Space page adequately reflects that, nor do I really feel the need for my 6th grade boyfriend to know how I feel about all things related to my parenting. There is a rebellious piece of me that wonders if I should edit my page just 'cause...
That being said, apparently breastfeeding mothers are the new 'bad girls' of My Space. That's right everyone. No matter all the half dressed drunken pics of 17 year olds. I'm sure I could find 100 pictures of nearly naked women (sans babies) in less that 5 minutes if I were trying. The pictures of mama's nursing their babes is so offensive that they are being removed by My Space.
Yaaaawn. How boring. I get that breastfeeding isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea. That's fine. It's the stupid Internet everyone...if you don't like the picture try not clicking on it. I'm trying to picture exactly who it is that has a sudden *gasp* the horror breastfeeding!! My Eyes MY EYYYYYYYES! I just never expected to be offended at My Space!! (he/she swoons and collapses to the floor under the musty weight of their velvet Victorian era robes...)
Actually it's probably more along the lines of someone prowling around looking for something more sexxy, less maternal, and is mad that the baby was blocking the boob shot.
This is the thing that baffles me most. How is it that a site that has been repeatedly landblasted for allowing provocative sites of underage girls to be public is now so suddenly upstanding and moral that they must protect us from a picture of a breastfeeding child because it is just so 'offensive'? Seriously? They don't take a stand when it comes to the safety of young girls but they are 'cracking down' on those whorin breastfeeders?
I don't actually look to My Space to keep children or adults safe. Parents and adults should be responsible enough to police their own usage of My Space. Why on earth does My Space pick breastfeeding of all things to get all prim and proper on us? They seriously have no idea who they are messing with. 'Lactivists' as they are called take breastfeeding very, very seriously. A petition against My Space has already been organized. They are the kind of folk who go to places filled with prudish non breastfeeding people and whip out what God gave em to nurse their 6 year olds because they can. The only way My Space could have made this worse for themselves is if they simultaneously pissed off the 'intactavists' or those who are against routine infant circumcision.
I'm all about breastfeeding babies and not chopping body parts off at birth. I don't know that my My Space page adequately reflects that, nor do I really feel the need for my 6th grade boyfriend to know how I feel about all things related to my parenting. There is a rebellious piece of me that wonders if I should edit my page just 'cause...
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Letting it go
From time to time I get really reflective about my childbirth experiences with my two sweeties. Part of this is my nature and part of this is to sort out my feelings so I can be professional as a doula.
I became a doula before I was a mother. I have always been amazed at the capacity of the human body to bring forth life! Childbirth is a transformative experience even if it is a small part of the mantle of Motherhood. I believe in women's bodies to do the work of childbirth and have been at the side of laboring mothers as they find their inner strength and resolve to do something they have never done before. Even if a woman has had a babe before, each birth is a unique and different experience that requires every ounce of strength a woman has within herself.
How ironic that I hold such faith in the bodies of women and yet I can not have the vaginal delivery I have always wanted. It is a place that stings in my heart. It is the first real experience that involved just me that I couldn't make work no matter how hard I wanted it or tried. I fantasized about the moment when my baby would be born and that warm new little person would be placed on my chest for me to breath in and admire. A moment I have shared with other women but a moment I will never have myself.
It is not for lack of knowledge...It is not for lack of desire. I never doubted my ability to give birth. In fact, my labor with her was a beautiful experience. When my daughter became stuck in my pelvis when I reached 10 cm I was sure she would just move down, I had seen it happen. I rested, I pushed, I walked, I cried, I pushed, I moved....for 6 hours. Her heart did not like it. Her heart rate dropped and dropped and dropped. Being on the brink Motherhood, I would have given my life for her. I had a very unexpected Cesarean birth.
When I was pregnant with my son I was sure it would be different this time. If only I had moved more, given it more time, had a more relaxed atmosphere, I 'knew' I could have birthed my daughter. I picked apart every last detail of my unmedicated labor with my daughter to make sense of it all. I visualized my son being born. I drove myself crazy researching midwives and Ob's who were supportive of VBAC. I looked into homebirth. I read encouraging data about VBAC outcomes. I 'knew' I could do it. After a preterm labor scare at 33 weeks, 11 days of prodromal labor with contractions 2-5 minutes apart several times a day as his birth drew near I was excited.
My labor with my son was a beautiful and empowering experience. My husband, my doula, my midwife, and a lovely labor and delivery nurse were all with me; believing with me. Every breath. Every contraction. Every time I sank into despair.
When I reached 10 cm and my son became stuck in my pelvis I was sure he would just move down, I had seen it happen. I rested, I pushed, I walked, I cried, I pushed, I moved....for 3 hours. This time I knew he would not come. In the quiet space within I cried.
My body can not do it. And I am sad.
My gratitude that we are all alive and well is deep. My sadness that I won't have the experience that I thought I could create will leave in time. But it's here now. More pronounced as we quickly move towards my son's first birthday. More pronounced as I contemplate having more children and knowing that I will never be in labor again with the goal of a vaginal delivery. It's more pronounced because I don't know that I can have an invasive surgery again for someone who I do not yet know...who is not yet growing inside me.
I became a doula before I was a mother. I have always been amazed at the capacity of the human body to bring forth life! Childbirth is a transformative experience even if it is a small part of the mantle of Motherhood. I believe in women's bodies to do the work of childbirth and have been at the side of laboring mothers as they find their inner strength and resolve to do something they have never done before. Even if a woman has had a babe before, each birth is a unique and different experience that requires every ounce of strength a woman has within herself.
How ironic that I hold such faith in the bodies of women and yet I can not have the vaginal delivery I have always wanted. It is a place that stings in my heart. It is the first real experience that involved just me that I couldn't make work no matter how hard I wanted it or tried. I fantasized about the moment when my baby would be born and that warm new little person would be placed on my chest for me to breath in and admire. A moment I have shared with other women but a moment I will never have myself.
It is not for lack of knowledge...It is not for lack of desire. I never doubted my ability to give birth. In fact, my labor with her was a beautiful experience. When my daughter became stuck in my pelvis when I reached 10 cm I was sure she would just move down, I had seen it happen. I rested, I pushed, I walked, I cried, I pushed, I moved....for 6 hours. Her heart did not like it. Her heart rate dropped and dropped and dropped. Being on the brink Motherhood, I would have given my life for her. I had a very unexpected Cesarean birth.
When I was pregnant with my son I was sure it would be different this time. If only I had moved more, given it more time, had a more relaxed atmosphere, I 'knew' I could have birthed my daughter. I picked apart every last detail of my unmedicated labor with my daughter to make sense of it all. I visualized my son being born. I drove myself crazy researching midwives and Ob's who were supportive of VBAC. I looked into homebirth. I read encouraging data about VBAC outcomes. I 'knew' I could do it. After a preterm labor scare at 33 weeks, 11 days of prodromal labor with contractions 2-5 minutes apart several times a day as his birth drew near I was excited.
My labor with my son was a beautiful and empowering experience. My husband, my doula, my midwife, and a lovely labor and delivery nurse were all with me; believing with me. Every breath. Every contraction. Every time I sank into despair.
When I reached 10 cm and my son became stuck in my pelvis I was sure he would just move down, I had seen it happen. I rested, I pushed, I walked, I cried, I pushed, I moved....for 3 hours. This time I knew he would not come. In the quiet space within I cried.
My body can not do it. And I am sad.
My gratitude that we are all alive and well is deep. My sadness that I won't have the experience that I thought I could create will leave in time. But it's here now. More pronounced as we quickly move towards my son's first birthday. More pronounced as I contemplate having more children and knowing that I will never be in labor again with the goal of a vaginal delivery. It's more pronounced because I don't know that I can have an invasive surgery again for someone who I do not yet know...who is not yet growing inside me.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Could Church actually not suck?
I am reading a book that is completely blowing my mind. It is called The Shaping of Things to Come by Michael Frost & Alan Hirsch. Basically these authors are writing about the fall of Christendom and rise of the Post Modern era. They contend that we are in the midst of a massive paradigm shift of even greater significance than the Renaissance or the Reformation. Basically the Church (all of Christianity) has been in decline since the enlightenment and has been sputtering out its last bit of relevance since the end of the 20th century. Some say that all of its relevance ended at the turn of this century.
The authors suggest the radical stripped down notion of the missional church as the new type of Church. To be engaged with the culture in meaningful ways without being beguiled by the culture. To hold fast to the central values of the Gospel while meeting actual needs of the people in a relational spirit.
The church as it now is expects people to come to it. For people seeking spirituality to show up and be a good church person. Join this, do that, participate in the church culture to know God. Translation: jump through a whole bunch of hoops that are irrelevent to the gospel and learn how to act and we will let you know God like we do. The missional idea of church is the church moving out into the world in meaningful ways and knowing people, where they are at, out of love.
My favorite example in this book (so far, I am still reading) is about a pub ministry. These Christians bought a pub in England. The pub is a central social place for people to be together and know one another. The Christians running this pub get to know their patrons in a real way. They aren't out there making projects out of people. They are serving them their drinks and genuinely getting to know them. As the relationship develops opportunities to talk about spiritual things happen and God is able to work. This is relational ministry. It doesn't suppose people clean up and get pretty to come to God. It is God going to them as they are....purely biblical.
What would it look like if all of us Christians went to the places and people that Jesus cared about without moralizing all over folks? Jesus came down the hardest on the Religious people of his time. It was the tax collector, the prostitute, and the rejected that he spent his time with. What if we all went to the least of these instead of gathering all us Religious folk every Sunday? What if we genuinely loved people and let God work freely instead of sending our donation to the missionaries over there? What if our lives, our work, our shopping, our parenting, our breathing, and our everything was an act of worship and therefore mission? What if I woke up every morning and expected to used by God?
I will admit, it is scary to walk outside of the comfort of a church building and call my non-church attendance 'church'. Truthfully, I don't have a sense of community like that pub or like the early believers. Can I find that in the Suburbs? Are we too well off to have actual authentic community in middle class suburbia? Are there other's out there like me?
I have been listening to sermons via podcast by Greg Boyd from Woodland Hills Church in St. Paul, MN for several months now. He wrote a book called The Myth of a Christian Nation: How the Quest for Political Power is Destroying the Church which was featured on the front page of the NY Times last July. His preaching is right in line with the ideas of relational ministry and the missional church. I'm pretty sure being home on Sunday mornings and listening to a podcast doesn't constitute church, but it is something really beautiful for me right now. We do go to church here and there, but as any mama of little children knows, the lack of a morning nap for the baby and the over stimulation of church for a toddler is enough to snuff out any mystical and spiritual thoughts I may be having.
I know I am way behind the 8 ball on these ideas. Lots of other people have way more to say on the subject and are doing it. I feel hopeful for the first time in years that there may be a place for me after all.
Personally, Church has been a struggle for me for several years. I have never liked the political distinctions...'liberal' & 'Conservative'. The 'liberal' churches seemed to be the ones engaging with the culture and meeting real physical & social justice types of needs but seemed so swayed by their environments. The 'Conservative' churches lay claim to theological authenticity but only appear to engage with the culture for an argument or to clean people up and learn the church culture so they can be good ____________ (fill in your denomination here).
On a more personal note, I can never seem to find people who want to be in community with me in a meaningful way. I have had authentic communal experiences before...spiritual and non spiritual. But now that I am all grown up and live in middle class America...I don't know anyone that well, save for a few people. I think that is what is so inspiring to me about all of this. I have to boot myself out of my comfortable station and get to work.
Any takers? Anyone want to be part of the subversive revolution with me?
The authors suggest the radical stripped down notion of the missional church as the new type of Church. To be engaged with the culture in meaningful ways without being beguiled by the culture. To hold fast to the central values of the Gospel while meeting actual needs of the people in a relational spirit.
The church as it now is expects people to come to it. For people seeking spirituality to show up and be a good church person. Join this, do that, participate in the church culture to know God. Translation: jump through a whole bunch of hoops that are irrelevent to the gospel and learn how to act and we will let you know God like we do. The missional idea of church is the church moving out into the world in meaningful ways and knowing people, where they are at, out of love.
My favorite example in this book (so far, I am still reading) is about a pub ministry. These Christians bought a pub in England. The pub is a central social place for people to be together and know one another. The Christians running this pub get to know their patrons in a real way. They aren't out there making projects out of people. They are serving them their drinks and genuinely getting to know them. As the relationship develops opportunities to talk about spiritual things happen and God is able to work. This is relational ministry. It doesn't suppose people clean up and get pretty to come to God. It is God going to them as they are....purely biblical.
What would it look like if all of us Christians went to the places and people that Jesus cared about without moralizing all over folks? Jesus came down the hardest on the Religious people of his time. It was the tax collector, the prostitute, and the rejected that he spent his time with. What if we all went to the least of these instead of gathering all us Religious folk every Sunday? What if we genuinely loved people and let God work freely instead of sending our donation to the missionaries over there? What if our lives, our work, our shopping, our parenting, our breathing, and our everything was an act of worship and therefore mission? What if I woke up every morning and expected to used by God?
I will admit, it is scary to walk outside of the comfort of a church building and call my non-church attendance 'church'. Truthfully, I don't have a sense of community like that pub or like the early believers. Can I find that in the Suburbs? Are we too well off to have actual authentic community in middle class suburbia? Are there other's out there like me?
I have been listening to sermons via podcast by Greg Boyd from Woodland Hills Church in St. Paul, MN for several months now. He wrote a book called The Myth of a Christian Nation: How the Quest for Political Power is Destroying the Church which was featured on the front page of the NY Times last July. His preaching is right in line with the ideas of relational ministry and the missional church. I'm pretty sure being home on Sunday mornings and listening to a podcast doesn't constitute church, but it is something really beautiful for me right now. We do go to church here and there, but as any mama of little children knows, the lack of a morning nap for the baby and the over stimulation of church for a toddler is enough to snuff out any mystical and spiritual thoughts I may be having.
I know I am way behind the 8 ball on these ideas. Lots of other people have way more to say on the subject and are doing it. I feel hopeful for the first time in years that there may be a place for me after all.
Personally, Church has been a struggle for me for several years. I have never liked the political distinctions...'liberal' & 'Conservative'. The 'liberal' churches seemed to be the ones engaging with the culture and meeting real physical & social justice types of needs but seemed so swayed by their environments. The 'Conservative' churches lay claim to theological authenticity but only appear to engage with the culture for an argument or to clean people up and learn the church culture so they can be good ____________ (fill in your denomination here).
On a more personal note, I can never seem to find people who want to be in community with me in a meaningful way. I have had authentic communal experiences before...spiritual and non spiritual. But now that I am all grown up and live in middle class America...I don't know anyone that well, save for a few people. I think that is what is so inspiring to me about all of this. I have to boot myself out of my comfortable station and get to work.
Any takers? Anyone want to be part of the subversive revolution with me?
Thursday, February 08, 2007
meme
Little known Oddities about me:
6. My closest brush with Richard Simons happened when I was riding a Greyhound bus through Manhattan. I heard giggling from the front of the bus and as the bus pulled forward I looked out the window and realized I was eye to eye with a manic Richard Simons who was dancing on top of a DOT truck in a sparkly tank top and appallingly short shorts.. That may have been one of the most surreal sober moments of my life.
5. I attract the oddest ducks when out and about. (see number 6.) Just the other day I was in some big box hardware store with my family and ended up helplessly entangled in the strangest conversation about bird seed that one could have with a stranger. It moved on to her encouraging me to buy some $900 grill for the super bowl and a little vignette about her pastor's love of BBQ and football. Who knows this much about a stranger after 2 minutes?
4. I have the hardest time figuring out where my body is in the space it inhabits. We just got a bowflex machine handed down to us and I totally think I am doing it right and my husband has informed me I am no where near right. He shows me how to do it, then I do it, and he tells me that it isn't even remotely the same thing at all.
3. I love to dance. I love it so very much. However, given number 4 it is very questionable in my mind as to how 'good' I am at dancing. The good news for everyone is that I am aware of my shortcomings and will not be selling stuff on eBay to run off and audition for 'So You Think You Can Dance'. I do 'think' I can dance but am painfully aware that there are many of us with these same thoughts.
2. I adore playing piano. When I was a teenager I would play for hours at a time on a Saturday afternoon. It was soul feeding for me in a way that nothing else ever has been. I am far out of practice and it makes me sad. I know that I could and should create the space for me to pursue this again. I will eventually, but at the stage of mama-ing I am presently engaged in, it would be more of a frustration than soul feeding.
1. The last little known thing about me that I will share today is that I am mean mean mean in the middle of the night. My husband is most aware of this personality quirk/flaw that is a part of me. I take comfort in the reality that I have had near torture levels of sleep deprivation the last several months. I think any kind hearted person would eventually crumble. That being said, I am starting to hear my husband say things that he hasn't said and would never say to me. For example, last night he said "how can I help you?" when the baby boy was especially crabby and fussy due to teething. What I heard him say was "You never try hard enough". Needless to say, I completely flipped out on my poor unsuspecting husband. At least I had the wherewithal to to say WHAT did you SAY TO ME??!! At which point he repeated himself and I said... oh, sorry that's not what I thought you said.
It looks like the most insecure places of my psyche are coming to the surface in the middle of the night.
6. My closest brush with Richard Simons happened when I was riding a Greyhound bus through Manhattan. I heard giggling from the front of the bus and as the bus pulled forward I looked out the window and realized I was eye to eye with a manic Richard Simons who was dancing on top of a DOT truck in a sparkly tank top and appallingly short shorts.. That may have been one of the most surreal sober moments of my life.
5. I attract the oddest ducks when out and about. (see number 6.) Just the other day I was in some big box hardware store with my family and ended up helplessly entangled in the strangest conversation about bird seed that one could have with a stranger. It moved on to her encouraging me to buy some $900 grill for the super bowl and a little vignette about her pastor's love of BBQ and football. Who knows this much about a stranger after 2 minutes?
4. I have the hardest time figuring out where my body is in the space it inhabits. We just got a bowflex machine handed down to us and I totally think I am doing it right and my husband has informed me I am no where near right. He shows me how to do it, then I do it, and he tells me that it isn't even remotely the same thing at all.
3. I love to dance. I love it so very much. However, given number 4 it is very questionable in my mind as to how 'good' I am at dancing. The good news for everyone is that I am aware of my shortcomings and will not be selling stuff on eBay to run off and audition for 'So You Think You Can Dance'. I do 'think' I can dance but am painfully aware that there are many of us with these same thoughts.
2. I adore playing piano. When I was a teenager I would play for hours at a time on a Saturday afternoon. It was soul feeding for me in a way that nothing else ever has been. I am far out of practice and it makes me sad. I know that I could and should create the space for me to pursue this again. I will eventually, but at the stage of mama-ing I am presently engaged in, it would be more of a frustration than soul feeding.
1. The last little known thing about me that I will share today is that I am mean mean mean in the middle of the night. My husband is most aware of this personality quirk/flaw that is a part of me. I take comfort in the reality that I have had near torture levels of sleep deprivation the last several months. I think any kind hearted person would eventually crumble. That being said, I am starting to hear my husband say things that he hasn't said and would never say to me. For example, last night he said "how can I help you?" when the baby boy was especially crabby and fussy due to teething. What I heard him say was "You never try hard enough". Needless to say, I completely flipped out on my poor unsuspecting husband. At least I had the wherewithal to to say WHAT did you SAY TO ME??!! At which point he repeated himself and I said... oh, sorry that's not what I thought you said.
It looks like the most insecure places of my psyche are coming to the surface in the middle of the night.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Ah to have a verbal toddler...
How could a child as cherubic as this bring me to my psychological knees with her words?
Her new past time is to publicly point out attractive and unsuspecting men to me and loudly ask:
"Mommy, Mommy, Is That MY DADDY?!"
Twice this week she put the fear of child support in the heart of unsuspecting 'daddies' as she calls all men over the age of 12.
She adores her actual Daddy and misses him when he is at work. Maybe she is hoping I will take the bait and leave her to have her daddy all to herself.
Nice try little girl, nice try.
This was followed up today with her breaking the news to her uncle that his childhood cat was put to sleep.
That's right, the 2 year old told her 25 year old uncle "I have something sad to tell you, Oliver was sick and Died...she HAD TO DIE DIE DIE".
I fumbled for the phone to explain, but it turns out he understood completely.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Clothing shopping with children
I woke up one morning this week to frost on the windows and a serious chill to the air. I went to dress baby boy and realized he has no longsleeved anything. Much to my dismay, my groggy not awake self concluded that I was going to have to buy him some clothes, today, with both children in tow.
As any mama knows, something that takes one person an hour to do turns into a painstakingly long and drawn out task with every person you add to the outing. I had a mission. He was going to be warm and I was going to do it a la Mary Poppins with a song and a smile.
First stop, crunchy baby boutique to buy some http://babylegs.net . These things are AMAZING. I got a few pairs so each kid could have some. This was a good bold mood. I promptly put some leggings on baby boy and checked his diaper. Somehow in the three minutes between putting them on and getting to the car, he had a diaper explosion that ruined everything (babylegs included) that he was wearing. As it would go, I had one short sleeved onsie for the child in my diaper bag. Thank God for the second pair of leggings because I didn't have pants for him.
Not to be derailed by a little baby poop, I press on. As much as I love the boutique clothing, I would like both children to have more than one set of clothes to wear. On to a department store. Said department store is a shambles because they happen to be rearranging EVERYTHING in the baby boy area. Back into the car everyone goes. It is now after noon and everyone is hungry. A quick nurse for the baby and a snack for the 'big' kid and I drag us all to the dreaded mall.
Now I am exhausted and overstimulated. All I have to show for our entire morning of effort is a few pairs of leggings. Part of the problem I am facing is that I am picky about what my kids wear. I want them to look like the small child and baby that they are, not mini adults, or walking billboards, or tarted up hottie baby girl. The biggest obstacle of girl clothing is the oversexualization of girls. Yet, there are acres and acres of girl clothes at the mall and elsewhere to choose from. It is annoying to see the hottie baby stuff, but you can totally dress your daughter respectably without too much pain. Boy clothing is oddly more trixy. It is either slathered with characters or 'manly' icons of footballs/sports/trucks. Or it is cool hot skater ware....Something that cool skateboarder guy you had the crush on at 16 would have worn whilst taking a drag of a cigarette and leaning against a building with a look of angst or indifference.
Is it so much to ask to have my 5 month old baby look like a baby, be warm, and not cost me 40 bucks an outfit?
I knew as soon as I entered the mall that it was a very bad call. Worn down and trying to get the job done as fast as possible before both children hit the shopping wall, I just start buying crap. The worst moment came at Babystyle.
That place is pure EEEEVIL! Everything is beautiful and nice. The staff is attentive and helpful. They carry that very simple kind of baby outfit I had in my mind for little baby boy. The sales girl starts pulling out sizes for me while my 2 year old is talking incessantly and my baby screaming as I bounce him around the store.
Three outfits, complimentary bottle of water for mom, snack and juice box for the toddler and
SEVENTY FIVE DOLLARS LATER..... I hand her my credit card; defeated and relieved.
Oh and this was after the gap where I somehow bought a bunch of crap with GAP written all over it!
The thing that makes them so evil is that they know I am coming. They foresee the harried mommy who hasn't had a drink of water in hours and forgot snacks for her toddler. They know I am worn down and that I am going to buy whatever they hand to me because I want the outing to end.
Needless to say, I returned most of the stuff yesterday with just baby boy with me. I did keep some of the stuff, but even I can't look at myself in the mirror after having bought a plain blue onsie for $18 that I could have bought at Target for $7.
I clearly need to learn how to sew!
As any mama knows, something that takes one person an hour to do turns into a painstakingly long and drawn out task with every person you add to the outing. I had a mission. He was going to be warm and I was going to do it a la Mary Poppins with a song and a smile.
First stop, crunchy baby boutique to buy some http://babylegs.net . These things are AMAZING. I got a few pairs so each kid could have some. This was a good bold mood. I promptly put some leggings on baby boy and checked his diaper. Somehow in the three minutes between putting them on and getting to the car, he had a diaper explosion that ruined everything (babylegs included) that he was wearing. As it would go, I had one short sleeved onsie for the child in my diaper bag. Thank God for the second pair of leggings because I didn't have pants for him.
Not to be derailed by a little baby poop, I press on. As much as I love the boutique clothing, I would like both children to have more than one set of clothes to wear. On to a department store. Said department store is a shambles because they happen to be rearranging EVERYTHING in the baby boy area. Back into the car everyone goes. It is now after noon and everyone is hungry. A quick nurse for the baby and a snack for the 'big' kid and I drag us all to the dreaded mall.
Now I am exhausted and overstimulated. All I have to show for our entire morning of effort is a few pairs of leggings. Part of the problem I am facing is that I am picky about what my kids wear. I want them to look like the small child and baby that they are, not mini adults, or walking billboards, or tarted up hottie baby girl. The biggest obstacle of girl clothing is the oversexualization of girls. Yet, there are acres and acres of girl clothes at the mall and elsewhere to choose from. It is annoying to see the hottie baby stuff, but you can totally dress your daughter respectably without too much pain. Boy clothing is oddly more trixy. It is either slathered with characters or 'manly' icons of footballs/sports/trucks. Or it is cool hot skater ware....Something that cool skateboarder guy you had the crush on at 16 would have worn whilst taking a drag of a cigarette and leaning against a building with a look of angst or indifference.
Is it so much to ask to have my 5 month old baby look like a baby, be warm, and not cost me 40 bucks an outfit?
I knew as soon as I entered the mall that it was a very bad call. Worn down and trying to get the job done as fast as possible before both children hit the shopping wall, I just start buying crap. The worst moment came at Babystyle.
That place is pure EEEEVIL! Everything is beautiful and nice. The staff is attentive and helpful. They carry that very simple kind of baby outfit I had in my mind for little baby boy. The sales girl starts pulling out sizes for me while my 2 year old is talking incessantly and my baby screaming as I bounce him around the store.
Three outfits, complimentary bottle of water for mom, snack and juice box for the toddler and
SEVENTY FIVE DOLLARS LATER..... I hand her my credit card; defeated and relieved.
Oh and this was after the gap where I somehow bought a bunch of crap with GAP written all over it!
The thing that makes them so evil is that they know I am coming. They foresee the harried mommy who hasn't had a drink of water in hours and forgot snacks for her toddler. They know I am worn down and that I am going to buy whatever they hand to me because I want the outing to end.
Needless to say, I returned most of the stuff yesterday with just baby boy with me. I did keep some of the stuff, but even I can't look at myself in the mirror after having bought a plain blue onsie for $18 that I could have bought at Target for $7.
I clearly need to learn how to sew!
Monday, October 23, 2006
Stuck in the sleeping kid vortex
I love to get out of the house to do stuff with my toddler. Before baby brother was born it wasn't uncommon for the two of us to bolt out the door by 9:30 for swimming, the library, the park, a walk in the woods....Wherever. Adding baby brother to the family has changed the going places dynamic in many ways.
First off, there is no bolting anywhere. We are suddenly like a slow moving infantry. Try as I may, we get no where quickly. By the time we are all ready I am sure to encounter a blow out diaper, a milk cup that needs refilling...is then spilled, is now me mopping the floor...now baby needs to be nursed, and its 40 minutes before baby needs to be napping again.
Secondly, My sweet boy is very different from his big sister. Big sister was happy to nap anywhere that involved being asleep on me. The upside to this was that I wasn't really slowed down by new motherhood. I went to the mall, I went out in the evening, I met up with friends for coffee. She only slept on me wherever we were, so as long as I was there we could be anywhere. But this also meant she always had to sleep on me.
Baby boy wants no piece of it. Sleep happens in his bed, period. If by some freak accident he falls asleep in the car or in a baby carrier, that is quickly ended by big sister yelling BABY WAAAAAAAAAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Again, lots of good points with a baby who wants his bed. I get to stretch out at night and I don't wake up with baby feet not so gently kicking my face. However, we never seem to get out of the house. When we do get out we are sure to be running into a meal or a nap.
I have to say, I am happy to give it all up for the naps. I just need to shake up my mama game with the 2 year old so that we can have more fun at home.
First off, there is no bolting anywhere. We are suddenly like a slow moving infantry. Try as I may, we get no where quickly. By the time we are all ready I am sure to encounter a blow out diaper, a milk cup that needs refilling...is then spilled, is now me mopping the floor...now baby needs to be nursed, and its 40 minutes before baby needs to be napping again.
Secondly, My sweet boy is very different from his big sister. Big sister was happy to nap anywhere that involved being asleep on me. The upside to this was that I wasn't really slowed down by new motherhood. I went to the mall, I went out in the evening, I met up with friends for coffee. She only slept on me wherever we were, so as long as I was there we could be anywhere. But this also meant she always had to sleep on me.
Baby boy wants no piece of it. Sleep happens in his bed, period. If by some freak accident he falls asleep in the car or in a baby carrier, that is quickly ended by big sister yelling BABY WAAAAAAAAAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Again, lots of good points with a baby who wants his bed. I get to stretch out at night and I don't wake up with baby feet not so gently kicking my face. However, we never seem to get out of the house. When we do get out we are sure to be running into a meal or a nap.
I have to say, I am happy to give it all up for the naps. I just need to shake up my mama game with the 2 year old so that we can have more fun at home.
So here we go...
Since everyone and their Mother has a blog, I thought I would jump on in. I suspect this will be most interesting to me, but one never knows.
Sarah
Sarah
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
