My journalism roots are calling to me. I understand quite fully that MY own life -- two kids, one husband, a house, visits to the gym and laundry -- may not be of profound interest. But, as I've said many times, write I must.
I find that many manner of topics draw my interest, as well as the input of others on said topics. So if you're reading this, and you're a friend of mine, I hope you won't mind when I ask for your input on "an article I'm writing." YES, that means published; NO, it doesn't mean in the New York Times (it just means here on my blog on the Internet for anyone to see); YES, I'm serious; NO, I won't be offended if you'd rather not be "quoted." But when I ask -- and I will ask -- just answer and do so truthfully if you'd like. After all, a writer is only as good as his/her sources.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
he wears his t-shirts inside out
My husband is a hippie in his own right. He still likes nice sunglasses and would love to drive (own) an exotic sports car, but he ditches the status quo when he can. I won't divulge his voting record or other too-personal quirks that I probably find appealing because then I'd be invading his privacy. But since our lives overlap so, it's only normal that my blog should reflect that fact on occasion. It's only fitting that his life would be my topic of the moment, at least sometimes. Some mention of this person in my life. My partner, my perfect fit, my best friend.
He started wearing his t-shirts inside out last year, I think. It was subtle at first, and not 100 percent of the time even now. I remember asking him about it and yet, I can't recall his answer. He has a way of not answering my questions sometimes. Tenacious as I am about open communication and exchange of ideas, I've learned to let this pass when it happens. If I am expressive and passionate about whatever my focus is at any given moment, David is just as blase' about whatever thing he ponders as it strikes his fancy. Oh, he can get worked up. Let's talk about the journalistic snafus of the CNBC talking heads or the way people cave to things like cheating or laziness for the sake of convenience. These are "our" talks, and I'm privy to thoughts he doesn't and likely wouldn't share with others. But I've always been of the belief that if you get something personal or from deep inside out of David, you've found a diamond, and not necessarily in the rough.
At dinner, he briefly shared his thoughts on braces "for myself." Suffice it to say that this man who hates augmented breasts sees braces almost as a form of plastic surgery! He did not say this, but I think I've captured the essence of his opinion quite adequately here. He didn't have to say much for me to know that this goes back to the idea of being true to oneself, something he values as much as free will. Braces, implants, plastic surgery. I don't think permanent marking of oneself falls into this category for him, though. Tattoos can be an extension and expression of ones truest self, even if personal. Not something I'll ever do; I'll tell you what I think and who I am with my mouth or keyboard, thankyouverymuch. But I respect his take on things, which isn't to say the idea of braces is completely off-limits at this point.
I call him some version of a hippie because he reads guys you've probably never heard of, he doesn't seem to think any conspiracy theory is too out there to consider (anything's possible, right?), and he almost always wears his t-shirts inside out because he doesn't want to be a walking billboard for some company thriving on the world according to money, but unwilling to share with others. He turns off the water part of the time while showering and he's been replacing our traditional bulbs with more energy-efficient ones. He prints in "draft" quality to save on ink, and he likes documentaries but doesn't subscribe to reality television. And he firmly believes that anything anyone in our family knows about and/or is good at is something all of us should learn about and/or at least try.
With all my heart, I know he would have been a gladiator, a Greek warrior, a Samurai had he not been born now. I know he was born for this time, though, whatever the more spiritual reasoning might be. If chastity weren't an issue, he might also have been a Tibetan monk... he could pull off the vow of silence quite easily, I think. And I'm sure if we were tossed back 40 years, he'd likely be raging the machine against any and all injustices with which the youth of that era were taking issue. But even as he coaches baseball, reads to our sons and prays with them nightly, there always remains that something about David. It's not always easy to explain, but it is undoubtedly there. Always.
He started wearing his t-shirts inside out last year, I think. It was subtle at first, and not 100 percent of the time even now. I remember asking him about it and yet, I can't recall his answer. He has a way of not answering my questions sometimes. Tenacious as I am about open communication and exchange of ideas, I've learned to let this pass when it happens. If I am expressive and passionate about whatever my focus is at any given moment, David is just as blase' about whatever thing he ponders as it strikes his fancy. Oh, he can get worked up. Let's talk about the journalistic snafus of the CNBC talking heads or the way people cave to things like cheating or laziness for the sake of convenience. These are "our" talks, and I'm privy to thoughts he doesn't and likely wouldn't share with others. But I've always been of the belief that if you get something personal or from deep inside out of David, you've found a diamond, and not necessarily in the rough.
At dinner, he briefly shared his thoughts on braces "for myself." Suffice it to say that this man who hates augmented breasts sees braces almost as a form of plastic surgery! He did not say this, but I think I've captured the essence of his opinion quite adequately here. He didn't have to say much for me to know that this goes back to the idea of being true to oneself, something he values as much as free will. Braces, implants, plastic surgery. I don't think permanent marking of oneself falls into this category for him, though. Tattoos can be an extension and expression of ones truest self, even if personal. Not something I'll ever do; I'll tell you what I think and who I am with my mouth or keyboard, thankyouverymuch. But I respect his take on things, which isn't to say the idea of braces is completely off-limits at this point.
I call him some version of a hippie because he reads guys you've probably never heard of, he doesn't seem to think any conspiracy theory is too out there to consider (anything's possible, right?), and he almost always wears his t-shirts inside out because he doesn't want to be a walking billboard for some company thriving on the world according to money, but unwilling to share with others. He turns off the water part of the time while showering and he's been replacing our traditional bulbs with more energy-efficient ones. He prints in "draft" quality to save on ink, and he likes documentaries but doesn't subscribe to reality television. And he firmly believes that anything anyone in our family knows about and/or is good at is something all of us should learn about and/or at least try.
With all my heart, I know he would have been a gladiator, a Greek warrior, a Samurai had he not been born now. I know he was born for this time, though, whatever the more spiritual reasoning might be. If chastity weren't an issue, he might also have been a Tibetan monk... he could pull off the vow of silence quite easily, I think. And I'm sure if we were tossed back 40 years, he'd likely be raging the machine against any and all injustices with which the youth of that era were taking issue. But even as he coaches baseball, reads to our sons and prays with them nightly, there always remains that something about David. It's not always easy to explain, but it is undoubtedly there. Always.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
big boys
Marriage, chess, anatomy and questions of faith... these are the topics around our house these last few days, brought up by our newly turned 7- and 5-year-old sons. I've been blown away by their questions and interests lately. They've always challenged me to stay sharp, but when my 7-year-old wanted to type out his nocturnal animal project and kept his fingers on the "right" keys, I was blown away. I didn't even know he'd played around with a typing program at school to add to the practice he had with my husband long ago. Amazing!
More than just impressed, I am reminded that their knowledge and questions and intellect will only grow in the years to come. Am I doing what I need to do in order to stay competent? Can I keep up with their insatiable hunger for learning new things and taking on new challenges? Am I giving life my best so that I can give my children my best? Are my activities benefiting my spirit, mind, heart and soul so that I actually have something within me to give back to them?
In the deepest parts of my being, I believe I am "called" to be Mother, if only for the fact that I AM Mother, and that I chose to be Mother with an open eye. I believe it is my ultimate responsibility to be all I can be for my children, specifically during their childhood days. For me that means playing a balance game that few people ever get just right: protecting while allowing independence, knowing when to be hands-on and when to be hands-off, holding their hands and letting them soar (or fall), teaching them myself and letting life be the teacher sometimes, and challenging them while keeping life sweet and simple for as long as I can.
Like every mother before me who dreamed of "getting it right," I wake up everyday keenly aware of my shortcomings. I step over these on my way to make breakfast for these boys who are ever becoming men.
More than just impressed, I am reminded that their knowledge and questions and intellect will only grow in the years to come. Am I doing what I need to do in order to stay competent? Can I keep up with their insatiable hunger for learning new things and taking on new challenges? Am I giving life my best so that I can give my children my best? Are my activities benefiting my spirit, mind, heart and soul so that I actually have something within me to give back to them?
In the deepest parts of my being, I believe I am "called" to be Mother, if only for the fact that I AM Mother, and that I chose to be Mother with an open eye. I believe it is my ultimate responsibility to be all I can be for my children, specifically during their childhood days. For me that means playing a balance game that few people ever get just right: protecting while allowing independence, knowing when to be hands-on and when to be hands-off, holding their hands and letting them soar (or fall), teaching them myself and letting life be the teacher sometimes, and challenging them while keeping life sweet and simple for as long as I can.
Like every mother before me who dreamed of "getting it right," I wake up everyday keenly aware of my shortcomings. I step over these on my way to make breakfast for these boys who are ever becoming men.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
green tip #1
WATER. Even before I heard terms like "green living," "water conservation" or "save the planet," I knew there was something really wrong with how ridiculously long it takes for hot water to come out of the kitchen sink faucet. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I always knew I should do something to stop wasting so much water!
This year, I finally started doing something. I took one of my gallon pitchers (Rubbermaid, I think) and started filling it until hot water came out of the faucet. My concerns were confirmed when I didn't get clean-the-counters hot water until the pitcher was already full and I had made my way toward filling a large Tupperware tumbler, too. It was nuts!
So this is what I do now. I use the saved water to rinse dishes when my kids leave milk in their cereal bowls, or to rinse my hands when they're a little sticky from making peanut butter sandwiches, or just to clean the sink after a rough day. Sometimes that gallon pitcher isn't emptied until three or four days go by. I smile thinking of all the water I've saved here and there.
Just my small part. At the very least, I am cutting down slightly on our water use and it keeps me aware of waste in other areas, too. My belief is that the planet's going to continue down its path whether or not I recycle or conserve water. But I am teaching myself and my children to be a little less wasteful and hopefully a lot more appreciative for the many resources I know we take for granted.
This year, I finally started doing something. I took one of my gallon pitchers (Rubbermaid, I think) and started filling it until hot water came out of the faucet. My concerns were confirmed when I didn't get clean-the-counters hot water until the pitcher was already full and I had made my way toward filling a large Tupperware tumbler, too. It was nuts!
So this is what I do now. I use the saved water to rinse dishes when my kids leave milk in their cereal bowls, or to rinse my hands when they're a little sticky from making peanut butter sandwiches, or just to clean the sink after a rough day. Sometimes that gallon pitcher isn't emptied until three or four days go by. I smile thinking of all the water I've saved here and there.
Just my small part. At the very least, I am cutting down slightly on our water use and it keeps me aware of waste in other areas, too. My belief is that the planet's going to continue down its path whether or not I recycle or conserve water. But I am teaching myself and my children to be a little less wasteful and hopefully a lot more appreciative for the many resources I know we take for granted.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
drowning
A fellow mom from my youngest son's preschool told me that she feels as though she is drowning lately. We were discussing our boys' birthday celebrations because they are only a few days apart. When she said this, I could only concur because it has been nuts around here, and I still know that our personal and family schedules aren't nearly as hectic as some. But I guess this is definitely my family's max-out point.
Every year around this time, I find myself juggling kids' sports, practices, school spring affairs, birthday parties for two kids (and that usually means more than one celebration for each between home and school goings-on), my husband's birthday, Spring Break, Easter and many more things. I am finding that even with a resolve to stay under the radar of crazy, over-stressed moms gone insane, life is easier said than done.
My husband was encouraging me to still make time for myself and the things I need to do for ME like workout and write and read. Even this is easier said than done, especially since I woke up today and my baby boy had a slight fever. He spent most of the day in bed, and I wasn't far from him. It was a moment of throwing my hands up in the air and acknowledging that today's to-do list would be there tomorrow and that for the day, I would baby my baby because in only a few short days, he'll be five years old!
It seems as though I am constantly trying to figure something out or balance myself and my life, even though I seriously try not to worry too much. I'm wondering if my approach is just off. Or perhaps this is just the way life goes. I also wonder if life would be more chaotic or "seem" less frantic if I spent eight hours of my day working some place other than in the home. I'm glad to be here. And I am always reminded -- particularly on days like today -- to be thankful for my blessings and grateful for life, however crazy it is at times.
When my friend used the word "drowning," I also was reminded of the time I likened writing to breathing for me. Along those lines, I would be wise to not neglect the things I can do to better get through the stressful times.
Every year around this time, I find myself juggling kids' sports, practices, school spring affairs, birthday parties for two kids (and that usually means more than one celebration for each between home and school goings-on), my husband's birthday, Spring Break, Easter and many more things. I am finding that even with a resolve to stay under the radar of crazy, over-stressed moms gone insane, life is easier said than done.
My husband was encouraging me to still make time for myself and the things I need to do for ME like workout and write and read. Even this is easier said than done, especially since I woke up today and my baby boy had a slight fever. He spent most of the day in bed, and I wasn't far from him. It was a moment of throwing my hands up in the air and acknowledging that today's to-do list would be there tomorrow and that for the day, I would baby my baby because in only a few short days, he'll be five years old!
It seems as though I am constantly trying to figure something out or balance myself and my life, even though I seriously try not to worry too much. I'm wondering if my approach is just off. Or perhaps this is just the way life goes. I also wonder if life would be more chaotic or "seem" less frantic if I spent eight hours of my day working some place other than in the home. I'm glad to be here. And I am always reminded -- particularly on days like today -- to be thankful for my blessings and grateful for life, however crazy it is at times.
When my friend used the word "drowning," I also was reminded of the time I likened writing to breathing for me. Along those lines, I would be wise to not neglect the things I can do to better get through the stressful times.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
blog to blog
Upon reading about the guy in Waco who stabbed another guy over flautulence, I posted the following comment, albeit anonymously. What? Yeah I'm scared of making smart alec comments about all that drug nonsense going on south of our US of A. But it's still funny and worth sharing here.
"ok, i'm hispanic so don't call me racist. is anyone else not shocked considering these four men were hanging out at the clarion, unsure of waco surroundings (hospital), on their cell phones, with ethnic last names, yadda yadda yadda? the violence in this story is so stupid and random. i'm not gonna say it but it rhymes with shmarshmel. or shmrug shmrafficking. or even just shmrugs. anyone? i would TOTALLY say this to my grandmother... AND my grandfather, who by the way was once in prison for shmarijuana."
The grandmother comment is in reference to the Trib's COMMENT RULES (guess it's family reading) about, basically, only writing something you'd say to your grandmother.
"ok, i'm hispanic so don't call me racist. is anyone else not shocked considering these four men were hanging out at the clarion, unsure of waco surroundings (hospital), on their cell phones, with ethnic last names, yadda yadda yadda? the violence in this story is so stupid and random. i'm not gonna say it but it rhymes with shmarshmel. or shmrug shmrafficking. or even just shmrugs. anyone? i would TOTALLY say this to my grandmother... AND my grandfather, who by the way was once in prison for shmarijuana."
The grandmother comment is in reference to the Trib's COMMENT RULES (guess it's family reading) about, basically, only writing something you'd say to your grandmother.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
just 18 years old
It was on Easter morning in 1991 that I became a Christian... from my own heart, 100% my own decision, of my own free will. I'd been "saved," taken to church and Bible studies, and taught the basics of my faith since young childhood, but I had not owned it or taken steps to make it something to call mine. But that morning, I did. I knelt at my old church on the corner of 11th and Jefferson in Waco and I asked God to take my life and use it and give me His gift of life and love and peace and forgiveness through Jesus Christ. And to be honest, I've never looked back. Not that I had before then; I just never gave it much thought before then.
That year, I would turn 20 in December. I definitely was maxed out on youthful enthusiasm and conquer-the-world zeal. And it was awesome! I wouldn't trade the many hours I gave in service to my church, nor would I trade the many lessons learned or memories captured.
But if you count your life in years as a Christian -- or any other way you identify yourself -- then you might say I'm just about to turn 18. And boy do I feel it!
Gone is the carefree outlook on life... I am often full of questions and not answers. Before me sits a path whose end I know not, and whose direction I am only slightly less confused about. All around me are people who seem to have their crap together... at least more than I do! Where I once felt certain and confident, I am unsure and usually second or third guessing my decisions.
On a brighter note, I still maintain a bit of "in your face." You know, the 18-year-old who is about to graduate from high school and doesn't have it all figured out and basically tells you to take a hike when you try to tell him anything about "growing up." What's more, I believe the best is yet to come. STILL. The ridiculousness of that statement is almost painful to admit. Who am I kidding? But then I realize that, oh yea, I'm like an 18-year-old on my journey as a Christian. This too shall pass... but hopefully not too soon.
I do well to be mom and wife and keep things running around here. I am responsible and prompt and orderly most of the time. But there's still a little rebel inside of me that I can't seem to shake. Example: the more people suggest I "decorate," the LESS I want to. And while I pride myself on being minimalistic, sometimes I want to smack people with a taupe-shaded two by four when they try to show "subtle" concern about my plain walls or lack of random CRAP filling the spaces and places in my house. ARGH! Sorry.
In the end, I think I'll be what I'm supposed to be. This is all in stark contrast to my real-life year of turning 18. I had it ALL figured out: college, career, spouse, kids. Truth be told, that stuff stuck! But it goes to show that you can have the basics and foundational things go as planned and still not have all the answers... not by a long shot. Then again, I guess that's life when you're 18.
That year, I would turn 20 in December. I definitely was maxed out on youthful enthusiasm and conquer-the-world zeal. And it was awesome! I wouldn't trade the many hours I gave in service to my church, nor would I trade the many lessons learned or memories captured.
But if you count your life in years as a Christian -- or any other way you identify yourself -- then you might say I'm just about to turn 18. And boy do I feel it!
Gone is the carefree outlook on life... I am often full of questions and not answers. Before me sits a path whose end I know not, and whose direction I am only slightly less confused about. All around me are people who seem to have their crap together... at least more than I do! Where I once felt certain and confident, I am unsure and usually second or third guessing my decisions.
On a brighter note, I still maintain a bit of "in your face." You know, the 18-year-old who is about to graduate from high school and doesn't have it all figured out and basically tells you to take a hike when you try to tell him anything about "growing up." What's more, I believe the best is yet to come. STILL. The ridiculousness of that statement is almost painful to admit. Who am I kidding? But then I realize that, oh yea, I'm like an 18-year-old on my journey as a Christian. This too shall pass... but hopefully not too soon.
I do well to be mom and wife and keep things running around here. I am responsible and prompt and orderly most of the time. But there's still a little rebel inside of me that I can't seem to shake. Example: the more people suggest I "decorate," the LESS I want to. And while I pride myself on being minimalistic, sometimes I want to smack people with a taupe-shaded two by four when they try to show "subtle" concern about my plain walls or lack of random CRAP filling the spaces and places in my house. ARGH! Sorry.
In the end, I think I'll be what I'm supposed to be. This is all in stark contrast to my real-life year of turning 18. I had it ALL figured out: college, career, spouse, kids. Truth be told, that stuff stuck! But it goes to show that you can have the basics and foundational things go as planned and still not have all the answers... not by a long shot. Then again, I guess that's life when you're 18.
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