Category: Uncategorized (Page 124 of 188)

Soraya arrived only 4 short years ago, forever changing the landscape of her extended family, from everything to how we eat out, to regularly conversing about poop and skin fungus, and strategizing how we all might sleep in the same house and hope for more than 3 hours rest. She now stands as the ringleader and head cart-pusher of my parents’ 5 grandbabies.

I can’t begin to fathom H being able to do all that she can do now – hold normal conversations (well, about fictional characters and the correct spanish word for “ear”), create giftcards, eat at a normal sized table and chair and comprehend the value of a good chocolate chip cookie. She has grown up so fast. Watch out, soon we’ll be buying bras, homecoming dresses and the correct accessories for a wedding gown. Well, “we” as in my sister, who will give me the play-by-play later. Then I’ll have a full 3 years to mentally prepare myself for the same ordeals with Miss M.

This morning I watched the video I made of all the pictures from the day Raya was born. I started thinking back on that time, what life was like, how it’s now different…

• I wasn’t a part of facebook. I had shared the video on my Xanga. (I know! What’s that?! Does it even still exist?)
• I was a newlywed. 
• We were still living in our little love shack on the hill. 
• Husband was a funeral director, I was a youth director. Together we directed the young and old. Together we lacked a lot of direction. 
• Husband wore a suit nearly every day. He now claims he doesn’t have a decent suit (and his best one has a hole in an inappropriate area. Don’t tell Dean – he wore it to be an usher in his wedding). 
• I rarely got dressed before 9. And by “dressed” I mean jeans and a hoodie. Well… somethings never change. 
• In the time since Raya was born, husband and I have each earned a masters degree. 
• I had not yet met my friend Sarah. 
• I’d never grown a garden. Which means I didn’t like tomatoes. 
• KLR had not yet met her husband. 

Oh, how time flies. And I’ve decided that the more kids you have, and the older they get (or you get… tomato, to-MAH-to), the faster it goes. So perhaps birthdays serve as a simple reminder that we must enjoy the moments as they pass or we’ll blink and our baby girl will be in preschool. Or college. 

Happy birthday, Raya Boo.

My recent posts tend to be quite heavy, like homemade bread that wasn’t given enough time to rise. Mmmm… bread. Perhaps a goal for the afternoon… But I digress. Which is the whole point of this post. Aimless digression.

You know you’re too old for the clothes in a store when your stroller won’t fit between the racks. However, these new Maurices jeans fit so wonderfully (and they’re a size SMALLER than my regular numbers) that I’ll be ramming my children into racks of sweaters very soon. And I decided that the best way to break in a new pair is to wear them every day for a week. Every. Single. Day. Take that, tight waistband.

Now you can wrap me up and call me thrifty. Those chickens I bought a few weeks ago from a local farmer? Grandma Marj was so good to prep it up and toss it in the oven for me that we enjoyed it last night. We have at least 2 more meals of chicken left (quesedillas tonight, maybe a wrap of sorts for lunch. And why is spell check telling me that quesedillas is spelled wrong but not offering any options to rectify the problem?). And now I smell the broth simmering on the stove thanks to a well-seasoned carcass. Aww, what? You don’t like knowing your broth comes from a carcass? Sorry. Spoiler alert. But I just bought some broth the other day and it’s ex-pennnn-sive, especially at the rate that this house goes through soups. We’ve got to pinch a penny where we can.

Speaking of lack of pennypenching, tomorrow evening our intentions are to go out and enjoy a good Japanese hibachi with a friend crossing the line of 30. I might even put on my “going out shirt.” We all know what jeans I’ll be wearing. Still debating on babysitters as the hibachi might just be entertaining enough for the little guy to sit through. But can one really enjoy an evening in a going out shirt with 2 children astride? Surely there’s a rule about that somewhere.

Finally, a note about my most recent success in the laundry department: homemade soap. Husband was a bit apprehensive (when he got a tough stain on his pants he demanded “real” laundry detergent), but after a brief mishap of leaving wet clothes in the washer a few er, days, too long, I ran a load with said Miracle Detergent and pulled out the rewash with a fresh, clean scent. I’ve noticed at times that “real detergent” doesn’t always offer the same success. Not that I frequently leave my laundry wet in the washer for days at a time or anything.

Ok, I can’t get that bread off my mind. I’ve got at least one sleeping so I think this could be an achievable goal for the day.

Lately, several instances have caused me to stop and reflect on my life and all that encompasses it. I feel very fortunate, lucky, blessed. I can give a brief synopsis why:

• Last night at midnight when M was hungry, my ultra-thoughtful husband retrieved her and I didn’t have to get out of bed. 
• I have a freezer full of cow and chickens to eat whenever so inclined.
• All 8 million of my cousins and their kids live within driving distance to regularly wreck havoc in a well-reciprocated manner.
• My kids’ grandmas and grandpas (all 4 of them) live close enough to feed them too much junk food. 
• My bookshelf offers multiple options for my next bookclub selection.
• I speak to at least one of my friends on a daily basis. 
• I own shoes that can match any outfit I put together. 
• I don’t hate my job.

I have many reasons to feel blessed. But I realized that “blessed” is a tough term to swallow for some because the thinking could be, “why you and not me?” Plenty of people in the world do not experience the same joy and contentment on a daily basis. Why would God not shower down the blessings upon them?

Glee highlighted it as a common stumbling block when Finn up and left his Grilled Cheesus faith because the guidance counselor told him that the graven image didn’t really make him special. He wanted an all-access pass to the good life, thanks be to the almighty Bread and Cheese. When he discovered that the universe operated otherwise, he jumped ship on the whole belief system of something beyond.

We like the idea of a God who will bless us if we follow Him. A+B=C. I follow, you give, we’re both happy. As a rule-driven creature of logic, I grasp this concept with clenched knuckles. But when faced with “when bad things happen to good people” one of our only choices of response tends to be “We don’t know why God does things” and “We can’t see the whole picture.” They are true; we don’t know and we can’t see. But that doesn’t offer much hope to a family at the hospital whose loved one is loosing a battle with depression and a destructive lifestyle.

My wanderings take me to the original father of faith, Abraham. God told Abe that he would bless him – lots of descendants, a promised land, lots o’ milk and honey. But a key phrase is often omitted.
“I will make you into a great nation
       and I will bless you;
       I will make your name great,
       and you will be a blessing.
 ³ I will bless those who bless you,
       and whoever curses you I will curse;
       and all peoples on earth
       will be blessed through you.”
 

And you will be a blessing… and all will be blessed through you. What if faith is about far more than ourselves and God, something our individualistic culture frequently abhors?

I’m not trying to take God out of the blessing-giver role. Clearly, he’s the main show. And I’m not about to heap fault on to someone for the bad things happening. But what if my blessings aren’t just the direct result of something good I’ve done, but rather the faith of those around me? What if, because my parents are faithful, I have become the recipient of the blessings of opportunity and provision? What if, because my friends tend to live in a way that is loving, generous, patient (oh, my friends ARE patient with me!) and kind, and my life is blessed as a result. God still gives, but it’s a matter of vehicle.

Taking this on adds a whole new level of codependency that I’m sure some counselor would resist. But it’s an option I’m willing to explore.