Randoms (5)

I have get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part five.

• I just finished reading The Help. I pick up accents pretty easily. Not well, mind you – but easily. I have been talking like southern mammy for a few days. I’m pretty sure my children find this odd.
I’m amazed at how far we’ve come in such a short amount of time. People focus so much on how far we have to go with regard to equality for women and minorities but it was NOT that long ago that segregation and open legislated racism was part of the very fabric of this country. We are not perfect, and I don’t agree with everything Obama does or says but the fact that we HAVE a minority in office is revolutionary. It’s worth taking a moment to think about now and again.

• I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about roles. My role. Wife & mother but also my role with friends & family & work & church. It’s good to evaluate and reevaluate. I’m discovering a lot. About me. And in so doing, about other people.

• Selah discovered her knees this month and is trying to crawl. When she is mobile, I’m pretty sure life as I know it will be over. How in the WORLD will I be able to chase TWO children around the park? It’s hard enough chasing Nico when Selah is just sitting in the stroller.

• The newest thing with both my children is their interactions with one another. Selah sits in the back of the double stroller and pulls Nico’s hair now. He turns around and giggles and then tries to bat her head. These interactions happen all day long. It’s terrifying and endearing. I cannot wait for the day Selah is sturdy enough so that I can fully allow them to wrestle each other without fear she’ll be crushed. It’s good exercise and entertainment for both, having each other.  I'm glad we had them so close.

• I need to get intentional about exercise. It’s a matter of discipline. And I know it. And I’m avoiding it. My sister gave me Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred for my birthday. That was 25 days ago. I will start it June 1; I will! I’m thinking of doing a microblog on twitter (@cityflicker) documenting my 30-day journey; follow along at your own risk.

• This summer is getting quite booked, and it’s still MAY. How in the WORLD are we this busy? I feel like it’s going to be an interesting few months. There seems to be a stirring, movement; I have a sense of fluidity and current washing away all things old. A new adventure awaits and I’m excited.

• After almost four years at ACAC, I have resigned. More about that another time.

• Sunshine makes me happy. That is all.

I Don’t Believe In Censorship

I don’t believe in censorship. This is not an original thought but I just feel like I need to say that today. I believe in freedom; more so than almost anything else in the world. People were not meant to live in cages; boxes of thought with low ceilings of control.

I am not an avid reader. I enjoy books and I always have at least two I’m in the middle of but I would not consider myself a book worm. (What? With all the wine and good conversation to be had, I just can’t find the time. *rolls eyes*) Most of the books I enjoy have been recommendations from friends or my sister. Everything from Twilight to Hunger Games to Bossypants to The Shack to Harry Potter to Christ of the Covenants. My friends and acquaintances are, diverse. I trust them. Each one. And I have yet to be disappointed.

Can I just SAY this? Just because I enjoy a good story on vampire love, does not make me believe I AM one. And just because Harry uses magic, does not make me think his spells REALLY work. If a book alludes to a Catholic church scandal, it doesn’t make it historically accurate, true or credible. And just because a self-proclaimed guru on marketing tells me XYZ, doesn’t mean I implicitly believe it will work for ME, in MY realm. These are books. These are creative outlets to engage imagination, thought and at times, help us succeed.

Furthermore, and maybe even specifically, if a post-modern or post-post modern or future ancient or emergent *gasp* theologian depicts God as a woman or proposes the idea that hell is not real or tells me morality is relevant and that faith is more a discussion than a structure, does not mean I implicitly believe it. I have a brain. I have a world-view. I have the mother-fucking ability to discern truth from lies, opinion over fact, relevance over essentials.

I read Seth Godin, J.K. Rowling, Tina Fay, David Sedaris and Bethenny Frankel along with my Donald Miller, C.S. Lewis, William P. Young and yes, even Rob Bell. And I also, read and study the Bible. I have faith in its infallibility. I also believe in the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit – whose mission is to comfort me and point me toward Truth. So no thank you, but me and God got this. You can shut down every Library in a 50 mile radius, ban material, freak out about "secular" teachings that don't comply with your small-minded sense of fear and control, but I will still read. And write. And think.

Ever heard of Amazon.com, assholes!?

Randoms (4)

I have get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part four.

• My daughter is sleeping through the night. This is a milestone. And I’m not even talking about for her. Sure, she’s more content. And sleep begets sleep, so naps are more consistent too. We have an overwhelmingly happier family since we’ve all been sleeping. It feels like fresh air, like breathing again, like finding a gold mine.
• Speaking about gold, everything costs something. And the cost for a good night’s sleep in our home is $30 a container for formula. You pay for breastmilk too. Most breastfed babies wake up throughout the night, often until they are well past one. This doesn’t work for me. For us. Work, life & Nico’s energy level require entirely too much of me to be half-dead in the morning. And afternoon. And evening.
• Evenings have become really interesting here. Once the children are asleep, it’s Michael and I time. I’m still not used to it. I had an entire repertoire of activity, books and shows dedicated to entertaining me between 8 & 10. Then bed. Suddenly I have my husband back and I’m feeling a little odd about it. Like he’s infringing on my perfectly ordered (boring but predictable) agenda. I can’t image how military wives feel when their husband returns from war, after a few months or year + of single parenting. Seems impossible to adjust back to “normal.” Normal needs redefined.
• Days that I do not have a plan, are days I want to claw my eyes out by 5pm. But the crappy thing about raising kids in the city is that every activity requires an agenda and parental attention. There is no opening up the windows and doors and letting the kids come in and out from the back yard. Every outing requires a trip to the park or tickets to the museum or a pool pass or a walk/drive somewhere else to play. (Shoes, hats, sunscreen, double stroller, water and snacks packed for the kids. Sunglasses, keys, phone, bathroom trip and water bottle for me.) It’s starting to feel quite excessive. And yet I really do love my house and my neighbors. Everything costs something, and I’m not sure I’m yet willing to trade in relationships I’ve made here in the city for a fence and a yard and room to spread out. But I am darn sick of the 25 minute charade just to get out of the house for an hour or two, only to have to return because someone pooped their pants or needs to nap or wants something I forgot to trek along with us in our boat. (I mean, double stroller.)
• If we stay in this house, in the city, we need to finish our basement into a playroom, equipped with monkey bars and padded walls. Twenty-month old boys are NO JOKE! I can’t even begin to list the naughty, crazy, dangerous, insane things Nico has done, climbed, threw, jumped off of, spilled, sat on and ruined in the past month alone. I’m considering daycare chaos in the fall just so he has something to exhaust his energy and mischief.

Nico just dumped 20 oz of water on my phone.

 

Signing out.

When Did ‘Judge’ Become The New ‘F-Word’?

What is the point of political correctness? So that we can pretend our decisions and therefore our relationships are copasetic? So that people aren’t offended? To protect our fragile sense of security?

Time and again I hear people making disclaimers about lifestyle choices (work ethic, political affiliation, stance on this issue or that, parenting styles) beginning with the phrase, I’m not judging you but we do X, Y, Z. If I’ve heard it once (today), I’ve heard it a thousand times. To judge others is mean and wrong and politically incorrect.

But is it such a bad thing to judge? Aren’t we (really!) judging anyway?

Is it necessary to begin every thought and opinion with a disclaimer? Does a pre-qualification of non-judgment REALLY and truly delude the weight of decisions or opinions enough to convince our friends we aren’t judging their different or even opposing views?

Here’s the truth. We judge every single day. And it’s often a good thing.

Clearly if I choose THIS method over THAT method, I’ve made a judgment call. For me and my family, I choose things every single day. Do the jellybeans need me to tell them, Sorry, no judgment. But Nico needs some fresh fruit instead. And if the jellybeans don’t need coddled, why do we?

Yes, I know there is a difference between judging someone and making a judgment call. But it’s a pretty thin line. In fact, in some cases, it’s really just a fake line.

If I hear someone say, I’m using Growing Kids God’s Way (GKGW: curriculum/methodology of discipline and parenting) and I manage to kindly respond, Oh, no judgment but we don’t do that, does that mean I have not judged? Maybe better people than I exist in the world (doubtful, ha!), but I would likely (want to) back away slowly with a look of shocked horror mixed with pity for the child involved if I heard that come out of a mothers mouth. Even if I could muster a gracious response outwardly, in my heart I’m still judging. Why? Because I think GKGW is psychotic and damaging – emotionally and spiritually and physically if used in extremes.

Now, before you go berating me (in your head naturally, so not be labeled judgmental), think about something you do or believe in that you are passionate about. Your political affiliation? Your religion? Babywise? Attachment Parenting? Co-sleeping?? And tell me that in your HEART (regardless of how well you think you HIDE your heart and opinion) you don’t secretly or not so secretly judge the opposing view!

We all do it. We can pretend this giant melting pot has tremendous positive effects on how we engage diversity (not talking race here), but I kinda think it’s a farce. I’m calling the bluff.

In my Moms Club, we have one rule: No judgment. And I guess I’m wondering lately, what that means? Does it mean that to someone’s FACE I shouldn’t scoff at their method? Are we really suggesting that, when it comes to methodology, theology, parenting styles, whatever, we should not judge, and therefore have no strong preference? Are we really saying, in life, that you can believe X and I can believe A and it’s all okay? You can be right and I can be right?

WRONG!

It’s annoyingly small-minded of us to live in this kind of avoidance. If you are a democrat and I am a republican, I CLEARLY think you are wrong. Because I CLEARLY think I am right. If you are Christian and I am Muslim, I clearly think you are wrong. If you co-sleep and I babywise, well, that’s almost a bigger judging blood bath than the Crusades.

But what’s the answer? Silence? Only hang with like-minded people? I don’t know. The only solution I see, really, if we want to be genuine, honest, straight-shooters, living in a hodge-podge melting pot of ideas and thoughts and opinions and life-choices is to fake it or argue it out. Learn to appreciate the person OVER the issue, all the while admitting openly and to each other – that in THIS or THAT, we agree to DISAGREE.

I’m guess I’m just suggesting, let’s not placate one another. Let’s not lie to ourselves and our friends with the illusion that judgment isn’t a big part of relational dynamics. I know you’re judging anyway. And I, I admit it. I judge you too.

My 32nd Birthday

Today is my birthday. I’m double, sixteen. And with sixteen in mind, I’m so glad for the things I’ve learned, experienced and have grown in over the past years. I’m not the kind of person who wishes for high school again.

I don’t have a litany of thoughts or feelings concerning this birthday. It wasn’t until last night that I even gave it a single second of thought. Mostly because babies and family and Michael’s birthday and graduation from grad school have been all-consuming. A separate post will be coming on all that – we made it! Hallelujah.

But also, 32 isn’t anything grand. There is no stirring for major change or conviction to walk a different path. I guess I feel like it’s just another day, as days go. One step in front of the other. Keep walking. The sprint is behind me, and also forthcoming. But right now, I keep on keeping on.

And so I shall. With great anticipation. I will keep on keeping on in a new year of life; married to a new graduate, mother, employee, friend, coordinator, planner, writer, Christian, thinker, woman. And I stay open – to all that God has for me, for my family. In the end, that’s all I can do.

Stay open. Roll with the motions, make decisions in the present, embrace change when it comes, forgive, relate, wake up every morning with intention and purpose. Plan adventures and order my days. Make it count.

Cheers then! To making it count. 32; I think I’m going to love you.

Some things are defining just by being faithful in the little.