Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Evil Twin
She doesn't really have an evil twin, but for some reason J started calling it that and the name has stuck.
Nutmeg has a great smile. We love it.
And sometimes, she tries to smile. And then we laugh hysterically. Because her "trying-to-smile"-smile is her "evil twin" face and we think it's funny.
A few weeks ago I asked Nutmeg to give me the evil twin and she did it on the verbal cue without mimicking us physically.
Here's a video of J getting her to do the Evil Twin...
Go ahead, let your evil twin out! ...as long as by evil twin what you really mean is goofy grin.
Nutmeg has a great smile. We love it.
And sometimes, she tries to smile. And then we laugh hysterically. Because her "trying-to-smile"-smile is her "evil twin" face and we think it's funny.
A few weeks ago I asked Nutmeg to give me the evil twin and she did it on the verbal cue without mimicking us physically.
Here's a video of J getting her to do the Evil Twin...
Go ahead, let your evil twin out! ...as long as by evil twin what you really mean is goofy grin.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Some Days Are Like That...
...even in Santa Barbara.
The kite day didn't look like it was going to be one of them. After our great start flying kites, you would think that the rest of the day would be filled with the warm fuzzies--a carryover from the investment in Fun and Spontaneity and Seizing the Moment with the children.
Not so.
Instead, I ended up frazzled.
Trying to make up the time we'd spent playing, trying to still get all of our school tasks and activities covered--classically trying to have my cake and eat it, too. If we could afford to take an hour out of our school day, we wouldn't start at 7:30am.
Trying to get the house cleaned up for the small group that's not so small that would be arriving at 5:30. I leave to teach Spanish after lunch and return at 5:10.
And trying, to be honest, to also clean up well enough that the new babysitter who comes during Spanish won't secretly judge me.
I am so lame. None of those things would have been a sufficient trade for the fun and adventure we had on our kite morning. But in trying to have both, I snapped. Barked. Chided, guilt-tripped, stormed, and even cried a little.
It wasn't pretty.
Between Meltdown Mama and the kites, I had a little window of time with Wombles. Pixie and Bud were up the street at their Chinese lesson and I went outside to see what the Wombler was up to.
He was playing down on the terrace with a bunch of superheroes. I lay down and watched and listened to the active, lovely, imaginative four-year-old on the step below me. And marveled at how splendid he is. For a long while, he had no idea I was there.
The sun was so warm on my back.
I should have taken the time then to reflect on how much of what we see is a matter of perspective. I'm not talking about truth--truth is Truth. But we do each filter and process what we see: either letting the truth shine through and enlighten or bending it to confirm what we already think...or believe.
I should not have seen my children as obstacles to my mission on Wednesday; should not have seen them as un-doers or lollygaggers or impediments to what I wanted to happen (although in a sense they were those things). But that's only the case because what I wanted and demanded was wrong-sighted.
So many of my obstacles are thrown into my path by no one but me. Chasing what I want, skewing reality to confirm that what I want is the Good and that anything that thwarts me is evil.
What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. James 4:1-2
Praying to see Truth and pursue it. Trying to learn to speak it, as well,
H
The kite day didn't look like it was going to be one of them. After our great start flying kites, you would think that the rest of the day would be filled with the warm fuzzies--a carryover from the investment in Fun and Spontaneity and Seizing the Moment with the children.
Not so.
Instead, I ended up frazzled.
Trying to make up the time we'd spent playing, trying to still get all of our school tasks and activities covered--classically trying to have my cake and eat it, too. If we could afford to take an hour out of our school day, we wouldn't start at 7:30am.
Trying to get the house cleaned up for the small group that's not so small that would be arriving at 5:30. I leave to teach Spanish after lunch and return at 5:10.
And trying, to be honest, to also clean up well enough that the new babysitter who comes during Spanish won't secretly judge me.
I am so lame. None of those things would have been a sufficient trade for the fun and adventure we had on our kite morning. But in trying to have both, I snapped. Barked. Chided, guilt-tripped, stormed, and even cried a little.
It wasn't pretty.
Between Meltdown Mama and the kites, I had a little window of time with Wombles. Pixie and Bud were up the street at their Chinese lesson and I went outside to see what the Wombler was up to.
He was playing down on the terrace with a bunch of superheroes. I lay down and watched and listened to the active, lovely, imaginative four-year-old on the step below me. And marveled at how splendid he is. For a long while, he had no idea I was there.
The sun was so warm on my back.
I should have taken the time then to reflect on how much of what we see is a matter of perspective. I'm not talking about truth--truth is Truth. But we do each filter and process what we see: either letting the truth shine through and enlighten or bending it to confirm what we already think...or believe.
I should not have seen my children as obstacles to my mission on Wednesday; should not have seen them as un-doers or lollygaggers or impediments to what I wanted to happen (although in a sense they were those things). But that's only the case because what I wanted and demanded was wrong-sighted.
So many of my obstacles are thrown into my path by no one but me. Chasing what I want, skewing reality to confirm that what I want is the Good and that anything that thwarts me is evil.
What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. James 4:1-2
Praying to see Truth and pursue it. Trying to learn to speak it, as well,
H
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Go Fly a Kite!
Yesterday, we had weather in Santa Barbara.
And by "weather, " I mean wind.
At approximately 7:45am, Wombles looked out the window, saw the trees a-bending, and shrieked, "It's WINDY! Can I have my kite? Will you hand me my kite so I can go fly it?"
For a moment, I paused. I think two things were passing through my mind: first, it wasn't yet eight o'clock in the morning. Generally we have a no-playing-in-the-yard -prior-to-8:00am rule in our house. On the weekends, it's bumped back to nine. Why? We're loud. LOUD.
Second, Wombles doesn't have a kite. It's actually an artistic piece he did last week, experimenting with different textures. You know. Pencil, ink stamp, stickers, tape, pom-poms, pipe cleaners, and green rick-rack. A loooong piece of green rick-rack.
Then someone came over, saw it on display, and asked him about his kite. At which moment he decided it was a kite. I felt he'd betrayed his inner artist for the sake of mass consumption, but maybe that's just me.
Anyway, the night before last I read a piece about making moments special which my brother's wife shared with me. And so I decided to throw out the rules and let him go.
It was amazing.
Almost immediately, Bud finished his math and Pixie wrapped up piano practice. They made their own kites and joined Wombles (by kites I mean they each had a piece of card stock and taped some kite string to it). Pixie grabbed some markers and threw a rose onto hers before heading out the door. Bud spent nearly half an hour with colored pencils carefully covering his.
They ran. There was much wind and much glee. Later we made a weather vane and figured out where the wind was coming from. It was a beautiful Santa Barbara day, and I was so grateful to get to share it with them; there was this wonderful sense of this moment will live with us for as long as we live-ness. What a privilege it was to hang out with them and let Nutmeg crawl around on the grass. Their laughter was good for my soul.
And this captured a sweet brother-moment early on--before Bud or Pixie made their own kites--:
May you have eyes to see your opportunities for gratitude and joy today!
And by "weather, " I mean wind.
At approximately 7:45am, Wombles looked out the window, saw the trees a-bending, and shrieked, "It's WINDY! Can I have my kite? Will you hand me my kite so I can go fly it?"
For a moment, I paused. I think two things were passing through my mind: first, it wasn't yet eight o'clock in the morning. Generally we have a no-playing-in-the-yard -prior-to-8:00am rule in our house. On the weekends, it's bumped back to nine. Why? We're loud. LOUD.
Second, Wombles doesn't have a kite. It's actually an artistic piece he did last week, experimenting with different textures. You know. Pencil, ink stamp, stickers, tape, pom-poms, pipe cleaners, and green rick-rack. A loooong piece of green rick-rack.
Then someone came over, saw it on display, and asked him about his kite. At which moment he decided it was a kite. I felt he'd betrayed his inner artist for the sake of mass consumption, but maybe that's just me.
Anyway, the night before last I read a piece about making moments special which my brother's wife shared with me. And so I decided to throw out the rules and let him go.
It was amazing.
Almost immediately, Bud finished his math and Pixie wrapped up piano practice. They made their own kites and joined Wombles (by kites I mean they each had a piece of card stock and taped some kite string to it). Pixie grabbed some markers and threw a rose onto hers before heading out the door. Bud spent nearly half an hour with colored pencils carefully covering his.
Repairing some damage
And this captured a sweet brother-moment early on--before Bud or Pixie made their own kites--:
May you have eyes to see your opportunities for gratitude and joy today!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Picturing Pixie
Our Christmas present to Pixie was a camera.
We decided that her eye for beauty was a good thing to be developed. Also, I got a camera for birthday/anniversary/Christmas, and we thought it would be fun to learn to use them together. I'm also thinking of hosting a blog on her behalf, where I'll post her photos, captions and thoughts. I thought it would be very fun to start sharing a hobby with her.
Last week we took our (now-)annual field trip to the local butterfly preserve. We both took pictures. I hope to get them up sometime soon.
She usually is on the hunt for faces and making "stories" (she can shoot video) but she's branching out a little with some nature shots. I can't wait to go on a nature hike with her, so we can go off capturing together!
She's getting so big. I love her so much. I look at her and see a baby and an 18-month old and a five-year-old all wrapped up in an almost-nine-year-old package, and I love her so much at all of those ages all at the same time.
And I love the 12-year old and the 20-year-old, too, and the 40-year-old also, although I can't see them quite as clearly. I hope that I have the privilege of knowing her very well by then.
Because she's precious and very cool. And because I want to see how Jesus helps her overcome her weaknesses, and I want to watch the blossoms of the strengths she's been given come to sweet fruition.
And because I'm blessed to be her mom. And I'm just glad to be here.
We decided that her eye for beauty was a good thing to be developed. Also, I got a camera for birthday/anniversary/Christmas, and we thought it would be fun to learn to use them together. I'm also thinking of hosting a blog on her behalf, where I'll post her photos, captions and thoughts. I thought it would be very fun to start sharing a hobby with her.
Last week we took our (now-)annual field trip to the local butterfly preserve. We both took pictures. I hope to get them up sometime soon.
She usually is on the hunt for faces and making "stories" (she can shoot video) but she's branching out a little with some nature shots. I can't wait to go on a nature hike with her, so we can go off capturing together!
She's getting so big. I love her so much. I look at her and see a baby and an 18-month old and a five-year-old all wrapped up in an almost-nine-year-old package, and I love her so much at all of those ages all at the same time.
And I love the 12-year old and the 20-year-old, too, and the 40-year-old also, although I can't see them quite as clearly. I hope that I have the privilege of knowing her very well by then.
Because she's precious and very cool. And because I want to see how Jesus helps her overcome her weaknesses, and I want to watch the blossoms of the strengths she's been given come to sweet fruition.
And because I'm blessed to be her mom. And I'm just glad to be here.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Football Sunday (PSA)
Well, today we all watched the big game.
So what if a month ago I had NO IDEA who was in the playoffs. By the time the game started I was definitely pulling hard against the Patriots (and by default for the Giants). Isn't it interesting how one person can become the face of something, the representative of it, whether that is fair or not?
To me, in this case it was the respective QBs.
I've never been a pro football fan; it was always college football for me, and baseball was the pro sport I followed. Tonight, though, I was as into it as an actual fan would have been. It was a great game. And great games and close contests are stirring.
I'm not the only person in my family who's into football.
We have a lot of fun. Yesterday Wombles was asking how long until football starts up again...
Sunday, January 29, 2012
January Schmanuary
It is the bleak midwinter. It is.
The end of January is always dark and cold. In Georgia, growing up, it meant our chance at snow. In Wheaton, our chance of frostbite.
Bleak.
But today has been anything but bleak, and it's not just the weather.
Worship with our church this morning was wonder-ful. The musical worship and the liturgy and the sermon flowed together to form an environment where active heart-worship felt so natural and right. I remember just thinking "I'm so glad to be here. I'm so glad to be here."
I have been appreciating my family today, too, with their bright faces and patience (or not) and silliness. I have a powerful sense that these are golden days, days that I want to both clutch and and hold loosely; both participate in and observe; both record and not step out of in order to do so.
Nutmeg is thinking about walking, and is starting to stand. Today she started to learn how to blow kisses.
Wombles took garden shears around the yard and surprised me with an artistically and texturally interesting bouquet. (He also told me he loves me more than J does. Or than I love him. We measured out our arms to see whose "this much" was the biggest.)
Bud's other top front tooth is getting looser and looser. I can't wait to see his grin when it falls out. At church this morning, he found two college students who dined with us last week, plopped down between them, and read them the last chapter of Ruth.
Pixie is still pursuing three instruments--recorder, violin and piano--and has also begun exploring photography. We both have new cameras, and spent some of the afternoon snuggled on a chaise in the sun reading her digital photography book. We're excited about learning together!
I am, in the small minutes, feeling a bit overextended. A bit worn, perhaps. Every time I think of what I'm doing, though, I am glad for all of the opportunities I have. And yet it was a gift today to feel excited about the things I'm doing--excited about the two young women who may come and have lunch separate days each week, excited to educate our kids at home in addition to the things they learn elsewhere, excited that our neighborhood women's Bible study has started up again. Excited for J's opportunities at work, for the good feedback he's getting, that he's flourishing. Excited that our church is growing--not just in size, but in other ways too. Excited! Purposeful. Strong.
And often quite tired.
And so, in light of the often-tired, I am extra grateful that today feels like the blessing it is. No amount of willpower or self-determination can make me this joyful, this content.
And I am joyful and content. And for that, again and in turn, I give thanks.
Happy Sunday!
PS This afternoon, the boys in the family had a water fight while Pixie and I read her photography book. The photos are not from today--they're from New Year's Day--but I thought I'd share the similar glee.
The end of January is always dark and cold. In Georgia, growing up, it meant our chance at snow. In Wheaton, our chance of frostbite.
Bleak.
But today has been anything but bleak, and it's not just the weather.
Worship with our church this morning was wonder-ful. The musical worship and the liturgy and the sermon flowed together to form an environment where active heart-worship felt so natural and right. I remember just thinking "I'm so glad to be here. I'm so glad to be here."
I have been appreciating my family today, too, with their bright faces and patience (or not) and silliness. I have a powerful sense that these are golden days, days that I want to both clutch and and hold loosely; both participate in and observe; both record and not step out of in order to do so.
Nutmeg is thinking about walking, and is starting to stand. Today she started to learn how to blow kisses.
Wombles took garden shears around the yard and surprised me with an artistically and texturally interesting bouquet. (He also told me he loves me more than J does. Or than I love him. We measured out our arms to see whose "this much" was the biggest.)
Bud's other top front tooth is getting looser and looser. I can't wait to see his grin when it falls out. At church this morning, he found two college students who dined with us last week, plopped down between them, and read them the last chapter of Ruth.
Pixie is still pursuing three instruments--recorder, violin and piano--and has also begun exploring photography. We both have new cameras, and spent some of the afternoon snuggled on a chaise in the sun reading her digital photography book. We're excited about learning together!
I am, in the small minutes, feeling a bit overextended. A bit worn, perhaps. Every time I think of what I'm doing, though, I am glad for all of the opportunities I have. And yet it was a gift today to feel excited about the things I'm doing--excited about the two young women who may come and have lunch separate days each week, excited to educate our kids at home in addition to the things they learn elsewhere, excited that our neighborhood women's Bible study has started up again. Excited for J's opportunities at work, for the good feedback he's getting, that he's flourishing. Excited that our church is growing--not just in size, but in other ways too. Excited! Purposeful. Strong.
And often quite tired.
And so, in light of the often-tired, I am extra grateful that today feels like the blessing it is. No amount of willpower or self-determination can make me this joyful, this content.
And I am joyful and content. And for that, again and in turn, I give thanks.
Happy Sunday!
PS This afternoon, the boys in the family had a water fight while Pixie and I read her photography book. The photos are not from today--they're from New Year's Day--but I thought I'd share the similar glee.
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