Agendas Don't Read Comments, People Do.

 

According to my faith practice, a desire to be called one of God’s people is a willingness to “bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light,” and a commitment to “comfort those who stand in need of comfort.”   (Mosiah 18:8-10) It’s no small commitment. 

When I see rainbows (especially in June) that’s what I think about.  I know too many dear, beautiful people to reduce Pride month to an “agenda”.  Besides, agendas don’t read and hear comments, people do. If I am to love my neighbor as myself, then I’m going to seek to understand, because I really don’t like being misunderstood or dismissed. At least, that is the goal- I fall short of it all the time.  Anyway, I think this sunset tonight is a spectacular end to the month, and it got me thinking.  

I'm Giving Myself 30 Minutes, Tops...

...to type this.  Distractions, or not.


Writing about my pregnancy.  I feel like I have to officially "out" myself on the blog, even though everyone that reads this blog already knows.

Christmas morning

We're having a baby!  He's a boy!  We are so excited!

And we planned it, okay?  I only say that, because almost everyone has asked (understandably) - and the one's that haven't, I can tell, are wondering.  Although, I think it's a funny question, "Did you plan this?".   I am always tempted to respond by saying, "Of course I planned it.  I got married, and we do "married" stuff - how could anyone ever be surprised by a baby?"  But aside from the obvious risk of procreative activities, we planned, expected, and hoped for a baby.

The other question I am not as often asked out loud is, "Why?  You are almost free".  It's true.  My kids have been in school for a several years now.  We can go on rides together at Lagoon.  I can tan by the swimming pool while the kids run and play and check in.  It's been really fun.  I have loved it.  Eddie wants to train for a triathlon with me next year and that sounds like so much fun.  I LOVE this stage of my life!

And yet...

I am sad the first day of school every year.  I can't stand coming home to an empty house.

Also, now that I can see how fast those baby and toddler side-kick years go,  I see that I will be "free" again, soon enough.

I miss kissing a peach-fuzzed newborn head.

I miss story time with a little in my lap.

And the smiles and coos a mom gets when she goes to get her baby in the morning.  Oh man, that is the best.

I want the burden of family.  To be confined more to home.  They keep me young and excited about life and all that's in it.  I don't really want to be "free".  Of course, by this time next year I might change my tune a bit and want out of the house for a spell so I can PLEASE regain some sanity.  

Being bound to children has been such a sweet and deep joy in my life.  And I'm not one of those "natural" mothers, either!  I never enjoyed babysitting as a kid.  I struggle to be patient.  To do the sitting and teaching along side my kids.  I don't do well with distractions.  I love my quiet time.  I love my sleep.  I am a lousy homemaker (though I am really trying).

Trying to be domestic and green and perfect.  End up making a mess and almost burning by baby...

But I swear, nothing makes me feel so rich as my family, so we are going to make it a little bigger.   It has been so long since I've had a baby, it almost doesn't feel real.  Which is probably why I haven't blogged about it, yet.   I almost don't want to get my hopes up. 

And truthfully, I'm nervous.  I'm settled and used to the way things are. This will change everything for me, again.  Despite wanting to be confined to home, I know it will feel claustrophobic at times.  I also remember this feeling before, of wondering how I will love a new baby without taking from my other children.  How will this new person fit in?  I remember also learning that the love grows.  My love will grow, and this baby will be loved by all of us.

Pretty sweet stuff.  Aaaaannd, my time is up....

"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

-Indigo Montoya (The Princess Bride)

{Day 22}


Words are often a peculiar thing
I really like them so -
but it can be hard to use them
when the meaning does not flow

If you need an example, well,
today I thought  - perfunctory -
this word should not include the fun
it leads me to perplexity


not to mention inevitible misuse
this word which rolls so,  off the tongue
a pleasure to say - multi-syllables, too
makes the definition just seem wrong!


***
per • func • to • ry [per-fuhngk-tuh-ree]

adjective

 

1.     performed merely as a routine duty; hasty and superficial: perfunctory courtesy.

 

2.     lacking interest, care, or enthusiasm; indifferent or apathetic: In his lectures he reveals himself to be merely a perfunctory speaker.

day seventeen:

" The development of technology will leave only one problem: the infirmity of human nature."

 -Karl Kraus

 [sigh]....  So much for my minimalist ideals.  I just have way too many things.  I realized this (once again) while trying to decide what to take a picture of  - what would represent technology in my life.  "Technology" isn't a bad thing.  Heck, I wouldn't be able to do this fun challenge, would I, if it weren't for computer and internet technology? 

But I have way more stuff than I am able to adequately take care of, or use.


Thanks to this challenge, I see that my simple point and shoot has so many manual settings and options.  My computer has photo editing capabilities that I barely know how to use... I really don't need a fancy camera just yet.  I could learn quite a bit with what I've got.  


So, yeah...

Forget Jacob or Edward...

I rented New Moon tonight.


I'm team Atticus.


That's all I'm going to say about it.

Blog Consternation - it can happen to you!

It's been a while since I've posted. What can I say?  I've been in a funk.  Plus,  I don't have a single picture from the summer.  Not one (and it was a busy summer).  One reason is that my camera died sometime last May.  But that's just one reason.  Mostly, I just didn't feel like it.  Somehow, pictures meant "blogging" and somehow, that made picture taking seem contrived.  

But I'm sure to regret not taking pictures.  I probably already do, I'm just in the denial stage right now.

 Just before the camera died, back in May '09. (Jack and I were road trippin')

Note:  as I post this photo, Eddie comes in and says, "Are you sure you want to use that picture?  Neither of you look very happy...  The car looks clean though.  That must have been before we messed it up."

?

For the last several months I have been trying to figure out why I blog(ged)...

1. To keep a record of my family

2. To motivate me (I've used this as an accountability tool - it sort of works somehow)

3. To remind me to take pictures of what's going on in my life

4. To glorify myself

5. To glorify our Heavenly Father

6. A creative outlet

7. To keep recipes

8. To stay in touch with friends and family who are far away

9. To gain some kind of validation from the "outside world"

?

As I finish up this list, the thought occurs to me:  

 Does it even matter?

Good grief!  Why do I need to analyze every little thing?

  

Who cares if my blog comes across as dumb, or phony, or too serious or heaven forbid --- self-centered?

Right?

When I first met Sam, he spent an entire summer telling me to RELAX and just have fun. And so (for the gazillionth time) I'm going to take his advice.

So that's what this blog is about;  Fun! 


Unless I feel like being serious.


Either way, I'm not going to give myself unnecessary requirements for arbitrary interests

EVER AGAIN!

Suddenly I feel like going out and buying a camera.

Entitlement: An Isolated Case I Can Stand Behind.

To have a face to kiss every day.

The nose the mouth the jawline the earlobe the cheek the temple.

A stately and soft brow to carefully, sweetly buss.
On lids and lashes, confirm your devotion to the beautiful soul who
Bears it's light through those eyes you must

Daily kiss and kiss and kiss.


Old face,
Young face.


Everyone should have this;
A face to kiss every day.


(This is my platform, in case you were wondering).
**

WWW...the extra 'w' is because this entry is wordy (once again)

===-===-===-===-===
Last Week's Challenge Update:

Well, it went pretty well. No, very well. I'm cured!!! (just kidding). But I think I'm finally figuring this whole "body image" thing out... Some thoughts that occurred to me during the week.

1. The first day. I was walking barefoot along the beach, listening to the water, being re-introduced to the salty, heavy sea breeze - I felt a strong sense of nostalgia and gratitude. I've walked those beaches as a young newlywed, as a pregnant mom, a new mom, a swollen, rash-covered narcissist...I realized that place has history for me. I was reminded of the beautiful life that I've had. And in all those memories, even the one where I broke out into hives because of my anxietous vanity, or the one year when I was big and pregnant trying to body surf, only to come out of the water unknowingly bearing my maternal breast for all the beach to see-- what I cherish is those beautiful memories, even when I didn't feel so cute at the time. They are a part of me.

2. Another day: I was picking up rocks and shells. I picked them because of how they looked, but once I got them into my hands, they all looked like regular rocks. They looked more plain because now they were out of context. They looked exceptional, beautiful, colorful, shiny, and bold when laying in the sand, being washed and polished by the waves. If that's not a metaphor for ya? I, too, feel more beautiful when I'm in beautiful places, with people I love. To surround yourself with beauty, is to bring out your brightest, boldest most beautiful features.

3. Losing my shorts: I had shorts to swim in and I wore these granny underpants underneath. Which worked fine until I started body surfing. I was having so much fun! I was finally starting to get the timing down, but the waves would pull my shorts off. I would grab for my shorts, and then get all scraped up on the rocks at the end of the ride. So, I took my shorts off, shoved them into my top and waited for the next wave. It was a great ride, except this time I started losing my underpants...I managed to snag them just below the knee (before it was everlastingly too late), but once I pulled them up into place I realized my shorts were gone!

You may not think this is a big deal (that's because it isn't), but honestly, I have not shown my fanny, or upper thigh portion to the sunshine in almost 20 years. I was wearing the Umbro's/swimsuit combo WAY before board shorts became mainstream. Not to mention the fact that I was wearing old underwear (granny style with panels and everything) that may or may not have holes in them.

Oh, and I didn't have a towel on the beach I could quickly run to and hide in. So I was stuck. My niece and sisinlaw did a once over for me in the water to make sure I didn't have any revealing holes, and I worked up the guts to walk out of the water and all the way to my camp site. My goal was to not act stupid about it. (But I did kind of did act stupid about it). Still, it was a good experience for me. The truth is, not ONE person gave more than a second's thought (if that) about my white fanny. Nobody cares. Seriously. A big ToDo about nothing. That's what I've been doing all these years. What precious time has been wasted in such self-absorbed thinking.


4. Before I left: I read this article about our body image and our genes. I have features I have thoroughly berated in the past, that are direct features from even my most immediate ancestors. This article pointed out that perhaps we should be more appreciative of those very traits. After all, if they've stood the test of generations, it's because they are dominant genes, and/or they work, right?

As many times as I've complained about my nose, I wouldn't change it. It's my grandpa's nose. And his dad's too. And my grandfather is not only handsome, he is one amazing, AMAZING man. I don't mind having a daily reminder of where I come from, and the examples that have been laid before me. I have short legs like both my grandmothers. They were/are attractive, have/had hustle and are a couple of the hardest working ladies I've ever known. so when I attempt (and fail) the look of the skinny jean, at least I know these limbs have proven to be able to do great things --minus the knees: thanks dad ;)-- And by golly, I'll wear my skinny jeans anyway, thankyouverymuch.

It was a good week. And a giant gold star for you if you actually read this whole thing.

:-===-:

THIS WEEK'S CHALLENGE:

I don't know, maybe it was because C referred to me as a poet... but I feel inspired to work on my creative writing. Actually I don't feel inspired right this second, which is part of the reason for this challenge, WHICH IS;

Each day I will submit a poem/song that I have written... for all the world (okay, all 10 of you) to see.

This is kind of scary for me, because:
1. I'm not actually a poet... I lack the knack for rhyming, and I tend to make up words (note the word 'anxietous' above).
2. I have written less poems than there are days in the week, and I've already posted most of them...
3. I'm risking looking really dumb, or unintentionally revealing more of myself than I would like.

K- here I go!

#1

SLIP

Explanations,
Poses,
Constructed Themes,
The direction you are now facing.
Meaningless.

You've already given it away.

Without even a word.

One look
And it's gone from you.

It only feels taken because you
Weren't paying attention when

You revealed yourself
To me.

===-===-===-===-===

I Have Shocking News...

I do not have the perfect body.

Or do I?

Okay, so I had this plan to write something about body image and my past anxieties about it but I'm out of time. Ready to hit the road and head to Cali for some sun, sand and surf...

Since I promised a beach challenge I will have to spew out something quickly.

I have a history of disliking, no, loathing my body. I could tell stories about not wearing shorts in the summer all through junior high and high school, breaking out into hives before going to the beach, and oh so much more.



But the bottom line is this: I'm learning that I seriously need to change.

HOW LAME am I to spend ONE second on this kind of thinking. How unfortunate that I spent the first half hour at the pool last week glued to my towel because I was too self conscious to move around, worried about the cottage cheese and spider veins on my thighs. How very sad that I decided a few aesthetic criterion was the deciding factor on how I spent my time. How I felt about myself as a person. How I related to others.

DU-UMB!!!!! Dumb, because I'm better than that. This body is capable of so much. It has immense potential. Substantial, beautiful potential. So it should play, serve, love, wear a swimsuit and frolic on the beach, because it is able and in this way, WAY closer to perfect than imperfect. (right?).

(While at the pool, I finally came to this conclusion and got up the guts to jump off the diving board, and PLAY. It was interesting how my self image improved just by doing that).

MY WW CHALLENGE: THE BEACH MANTRA

I will not spend ONE SINGLE second in berating my "imperfect" figure. I will not waste precious moments that can be used to develop relationships with loved ones by focusing too much on myself. I will get wet, and not worry about how my suit is going to stick to my body. I will play horse shoes, or volleyball or frisbee or explore sea animals with my kids. I will journal about this everyday and update when I get back.

I don't have time to proofread, I'm leaving in a matter of minutes...BUT I had to put something down.

I'm going to the beach and sleep by the ocean, and play music and card games by the fireside, it's a hard life, but someone's got to do it!

Toodles.

Mountain Mama...

That's me. I'm heading out to West Virginia for a few days. I'm going to visit my little sis. I'm sad to be leaving my honey & kids, but so very excited to see The Bear and her family. There is sure to be some serious chatter and giggling going on. We get CA-RAYZEE when we get together-watch out!


I haven't been blogging. Because I haven't anything to say. At least anything I would like to type about, and then proof read. And then just end up erasing because it was a dumb thought in the first place.


And I don't know if it's the weather, but I'm plumb tired. ALL the time. And my head is in a fuzz. Make sense? Yeah, it doesn't to me, either.

I did have a few thoughts that I wanted to eventually write about:

1. To Facebook? A personal dilemma. (oooooh, sounds so dramatic).

2. The upcoming beach trip and the ridiculous anxiety I have about it--and body image in general.

3. World hunger.


I was actually kidding about the third thing. How sad that I can't think of anything substantial to write about. Heck, I haven't even written about the superficial things yet. I'm too lazy for even that.

Truth be told, I have about 34 more things to do in order to get ready for my trip. And here I sit. On the computer. Typing about possibly typing about something in the future.

Crazy. Certifiable. I've got to get back to it.

I WILL take pictures. (I have batteries now). I feel so bad that the entire time that Sam's family was in town I didn't get a single photo. Shame on me. And I have way cute nieces and nephews.

Head fuzz. I think I might be in real need of a trip.

Happy trails.
M

Addendum to post below...

Number 7 should also include crossing guards who, with the intent of being helpful, unknowingly tick off an oversensitive mom...

PITY ≠ COMPASSION (a Newfound Pet Peeve)

Ada dancing in her Mexican dress on Cinco de Mayo

[Begin rant]

Ada received a scooter for her birthday from her Oma. This means that all my kids have scooters. Which means getting to school without a car won't take 45 minutes. Yay!

So this week, I decided we'd start scooting to school instead of driving. It's been fun and the weather's been nice. It's been a pleasant and enjoyable experience, except for one thing: the crossing guard on 700 east. I shouldn't judge harshly, because she clearly has good intentions-but she's driving me nuts and I need to get this off my chest: Here's the situation...

It's the rule to walk across the the street, rather than ride (for obvious reasons) and Ada is usually the last one across. If you've watched Ada walk, you will notice that she has a distinct gait. Here's why (in case you don't already know):

• Ada has Hemiplegic Cerebral Palsy. Last year she had surgery, but it's becoming apparent that she needs more therapy for her tibial muscles. (She's walking on her toes again).

• She kind of sprained her left foot a couple of weeks ago and so her gait is more pronounced.

The crossing guard noticed this (ogled is a better word). And the next day, she suggested that Ada be an exception to the rule and ride her scooter across so she can keep up.

***HERE IS WHERE I COULD HAVE HANDLED THE SITUATION BETTER...***

I should have said, "She's okay. I'll hold her scooter. We're happy to walk. It's safer anyway."

What I actually said was, "okay", in the hopes to kind of drop the conversation. She went on and on about it. About this poor girl. In this way I'm sure she felt like she was displaying the utmost compassion. She was trying to be helpful. She asked me this morning if Ada was born with that "clubbed foot". It's not a clubbed foot. But what could I say? The light is green and we have 5 minutes before the bell rings. I say, "yep". Then I pick up her scooter and we walk across the street. Because we can.

I try to meet the grave expressions and hushed concerns with open levity because, hey, Ada does not need to feel sorry for herself. It's not in her nature to do so and I'm not about to introduce or promote that kind of crutch. Especially when she's about as "normal" as a girl can get.

UGH: I'm trying to learn from this experience. I want to remember so that I can be better. Here's a list of what I've learned so far:

1. In this particular situation, I clearly see where I'm responsible for this annoying outcome. I'm not exactly sure yet how to handle these situations. I should have told her that Ada was capable from the get-go. I also should have mentioned to Ms. CrossingGuard that "the girl" has a name (in a tactful way, of course).
   
2. Like the title says: compassion is NOT synonymous with pity. One lifts, encourages, enlightens- the other demeans and cripples. One is delivered under the assumption that you CAN, the other is motivated by the assumption that you CANNOT.
   
3. Speaking of assumptions-it's not the offers for help that bug me. It's the assumption that a person is less capable than they really are. Don't assume, ASK: "Can I get that door for you?" or, "Would you prefer to have your daughter ride the scooter across the street?" Then the person can say "yes, please" or "no, thanks".
   
4. When the person answers your question. Believe them. Don't go on an on like you know all about their situation.
   
5. Don't talk about a person like they're not there. Whatever the situation, it's rude.
6. Ask yourself: What is your motivation? Is being helpful a way to stroke yourself, make you feel good? Or is it to genuinely BE helpful. This is important to ask because it's easier to know when to STOP being helpful if that is truly your aim.
   
7. Whatever apparent weaknesses or difference a person has, it does not define them. Staring is a natural urge, sure. But when you look, don't narrow a person down to whatever one or two things you instantly notice, whether it's a wheelchair, a missing limb, a tattoo, missing teeth, a Rolex, or unnaturally large breasts.
   

It baffles me to think someone is looking at my daughter and feeling sorry for her. It's downright laughable. She's smart, she's beautiful, she has a gift of resilience and optimism that is unmatched. She has a song in her heart 24 hours a day (and is usually singing it). She's a fast runner, can climb and play with the rest of the kids, no problem.

Phew! Now that I've got that out of my system, I can step down from my soapbox and get on with my day.

[End rant]