Life: The uncut version.

Our First Race

2011-05-20T12:49:00.000-07:00

I've been meaning to talk about how our 8k Ole's Spring Run-Off went a couple of weeks ago. Maybe you remember me talking about it when I first started running again.

It was awesome. Kris ended up joining me, and some really good friends from the city came out to run it with us too. I was really glad for the company.

The run was not particularly easy, but it was not necessarily grueling either. There were lots of rolling hills, and one quite steep one at about the half way mark. I've been doing a lot of incline training, and Kris can't let his wife beat him, so we ended up being able to pass a few people that we were following on that hill. It felt great.

What didn't feel so great was my intense urge to use the washroom the entire time. In both... ahem... ways. I evacuated my bladder before starting the race, but all of my hydrating (okay, AND the cup of coffee) filled it right back up. I spent the entire run feeling pretty uncomfortable, and I had to pass up the opportunity to rehydrate at the water station because there was no way I could fit more fluid in me.

Anyways, here we are, starting out:

We didn't pass this man...

...or this woman...

... until kilometre 6. They were machines.

And, Ole himself...

... because you can't have a race without some random mascot to commemorate it.

We certainly didn't come out on top (the winning time was around 26 minutes - which is insane and kind of annoying), but we didn't come in last. We ran it in just over 51 minutes, beating our trial run time a few weeks before by a couple of minutes.

And we beat the seniors. Barely. :)

Here we are coming in to the finished line:

We did it. We finished it. And we didn't stop. (Not even to use the washroom!)

Fighting Giants

2011-04-29T09:13:00.000-07:00

Life has been good lately. Things aren't always easy or perfect, but I don't think that is a requirement for life to just feel good, and to know that we are headed towards something. Something awesome.

Our treadmill has a section that displays the intensity of your workout - everything from "Cool Down" (whose bars light up in a blue colour) all the way to "Endurance" and "Performance" (which lights up orange and red, respectively). One day while I was running up a hill segment, but keeping up my good pace, I noticed that I filled up all the coloured bars to the top, all the way to the "Performance" section. It didn't feel good. But it felt good. Know what I mean?

It's kind of how I feel about life. I've really learned lately that in order to grow, to change, to be transformed, to "endure" and "perform" (to accomplish something) in the Kingdom, I must be willing to hit the red. To not feel good in my flesh, but to feel good in my Spirit. That's where muscle is built, and where something of real value is accomplished in my life, and in others.

A beautiful, inspiring friend of mine shared a Graham Cooke quote on Facebook recently, one that really spoke truth and encouragement to me:

“If we have a giant in our life it is because we are meant to be a giant ourselves. The circumstances in front of us are designed therefore to increase our size in the Spirit. So upgrade your stature in relation to Jesus; and radically increase your power in the Holy Spirit. Or, if you prefer, just quit and never realize your true self and the inheritance that goes with it.”

I, for one, would like to increase my spiritual size. After all, David didn't start out fighting his giant - he worked his way up to Goliath. I would like to be able to face a Goliath without fear, but with trust. To be able to endure and even perform when faced with adversity and darkness.

I've lived in the blue a lot of my life. At times, I've hit some yellow, orange, and on the rare occasion, some red. I want to live more and more in the red. Because living in the red means that I'm walking with my Savior every step of the way. And that's where I want to be, no matter how intense it is.

The Death of a Friend

2011-04-22T13:39:00.000-07:00

Each year, as I get to know Jesus better and more intimately, I feel a lot more strongly about Good Friday.

I feel sadder about his death, the death of a loved one.

But I also feel the triumph and victory more. I feel so indebted to this Man that I love, and what He did for me. It makes me love Him more, and it makes me want to seek His face more and more.

So, today, I am thinking of Jesus, and what how He took all of MY sin upon His shoulders that day. How He paid MY price. And how He did it willingly and lovingly, thinking of ME all the while.

Can YOU say that a King died in your place?

Yes. Actually you can. He did it for you too.

Letter to the Editor - the follow-up that blew me away!

2011-04-13T14:16:00.000-07:00

Remember this letter I sent to the editor of the local newspaper? Well, I never heard back, and it certainly wasn't published.

God had bigger plans, it turns out. And often, when things don't turn out right away, it might turn out BETTER if we just give God some time to work. And time for me to learn some trust and patience...

Since I first wrote that letter and sent it it, the explicit advertising for the night club in town has continued, and it hasn't ceased to eat away at me a bit.

So instead, I made a phone call and talked to the editor himself.

At first, he was pretty defensive of the fact that the night club is a legitimate business in town, and that as an advertiser, he can't discriminate against certain businesses and refuse advertising. He informed me that his hands were tied. We chatted a bit more, and I validated the fact that he was in a tricky situation - on the one hand, serving a paying customer who wants to promote their business, and on the other hand, keeping an entire community of readers satisfied. He opened up more and more as we talked (for nearly 30 minutes, not kidding), and told me how he tries his hardest to find images that are both appropriate for the reader, but promotes the business as well. Apparently I am not the only one who has either called or written, and he has noticed that certain weeks elicit more calls than others.

By the end of the conversation, he welcomed, and even asked for my opinion. He requested that I contact him tomorrow regarding the appropriateness of the ad that will come out in tonight's paper. AND THEN - he even went so far as to ask if I would be willing to be a bit of a "community liaison" for him to use as a sounding board for future images, to see what I think before it gets printed. Seriously.

God, you are good. Trusting in your plan is always better.

Little Boys and Farts

2011-04-11T20:21:00.000-07:00

Tonight at supper, Sam pronounced to me that he was all done. We've been trying to work on a few more manners and some more small responsibilities, so I said to him, "Great! Now what do you need to do?"

I was expecting him to say that he needed to take his plate to the kitchen, but since we've been working on having him say "Thank you" when we have supper at someone's house, that's what he said (plus, he's a really thoughtful little guy). I told him he was welcome, and then told him to say "Excuse me", to excuse himself from the table. Instead, as he was climbing out of his booster seat, he leaned over, grunted, forced out a FART, and then said "EXCUSE ME!"

I guess I should have know that would be where a 3 year-old's brain would take him.

Jack, on the other hand, has no clue about farts. Currently, he LOVES balls, which always causes a bit of a conundrum since he can't really move much. He doesn't crawl yet (but dang, can he pivot!), and he refuses to roll. He's getting awesome at walking with our hands, but still needs our help for that. (Turns out, he's following in his big bro's footsteps - quite literally!) A lot of my day is spent giving Jack a ball, listening to his sweet little giggles, followed by shrieking, and then returning the ball to him.

Good thing he's so freakin' cute. :)

He's starting to babble a lot more, and though he prefers "Da da", I can sometimes eek a little "Mom mom" out of him. But barking with his brother? He'll always do that on command. AND he makes car noises while pushing toy vehicles. Amazing.

Hopefully it'll be a little while before he learns about the farting. But at the rate he picks things up from his big brother, I think I may have two little tooters on my hands in no time.

The Clothing Battle

2011-04-06T08:48:00.001-07:00

Sam doesn't like wearing pants. It's usually a pretty big fight to try to get clothes on him, so I generally let him just wear a shirt and undies. It's how he likes to roll. You know, pick and choose your battles, right?

The problem is, is that we also believe in modesty and discretion. So, when we have company, we like to try to make sure that all members of the family are clothed. I have often found myself telling Sam that he needs to wear pants because someone is coming to our house.

I guess the outcome was kind of inevitable.

Now, when I tell Sam that I would like him to get dressed, he replies, "Why? Is someone coming to our house today?!"

Oh dear.

Walk a Mile in Her Shoes

2011-04-05T07:27:00.000-07:00

Photo courtesy edmontonjournal.com

I'm the kind of person who likes dreams and ideas. I don't love the piddly little details that come after the fun parts are over.

It's kind of like wedding planning. I loved getting engaged and buying a beautiful wedding dress. I did not like making phone calls, tracking people down, budgeting, or paying bills. Kris and I often say to each other, that had we known the work and expense that went into it, we probably would have eloped. Not really. But maybe.

I've recently ended up in a similar boat. I'm not getting married again (which is a relief on a few different levels!), but I've committed to something that caught my eye (like a wedding dress), but is going to be a lot of work.

It's called Walk a Mile in Her Shoes. Kris and I heard about it not too long ago, and we decided, "Let'd do it". And I don't mean participate. I mean ORGANIZE. And all the funds will go to our local women's shelter, which is such a vital and under-supported ministry.

(As a bit of background on our grabbing of the proverbial bull's... ahem... horns: Kris and I have always been safe people. Safe people who like to talk a lot. Now, we want to move forward. But really move forward. We've been reading an amazing book about how God has designed us specifically to do amazing things for the Kingdom. The author talks about how God has written an extraordinary biography for each of us to live, but that He also made it so that we can't do it apart from Him. It's powerful. So, we're stepping out and doing some things that we can't do alone. But that's just the way He would have it. "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" kind of screwed us up for the better too. I think reading both books within a few months is a deadly combination!)

The other day, I had a moment where I realized the sheer magnitude and propensity of such an endeavour. I have a lot to organize. I have to get city streets closed. I have to organize a huge group of volunteers (seriously, if you'd like to help, I would kiss you) to help in many areas of the walk. I have to solicit businesses for sponsorship. Panic started setting in.

Then, I remembered the same Person that laid the idea on my heart in the first place. God does not lead us into areas that He would have us go, and then leave us high and dry. I remembered that, and now, I've never been lower or wetter! I still have moments of feeling like I should freak out, but it all seems strangely manageable. Not on my own, of course. But I'm pretty sure that God really delights in His kids doing things in which we are weak, but we allow Him to be strong.

I am very, very weak. (Remember how I said I like the wonderful ideas of things, and not so much the doing?!) But, I'm trusting God to be strong in this, and to equip me. And, I know that His hand of favour is already upon this. He has gone before me and prepared and organized this event from front to back. So, we're all good. Later today, I'm meeting with our local mayor to get some of the preliminary planning underway. Yikes. But not really.

So, if you're interested in helping, I would be very grateful. And if you would just pray, that would be huge too. God is going to do some big things with this event. I can just feel it.

It's time to start writing some good stories.

Cindy

2011-04-03T19:24:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you a story of Jesus' healing and the faith of my 3 year-old.

Yesterday before supper, Sam had been playing outside in the backyard. Our backyard is completely fenced, but once the ground freezes and when there's been 17 feet of snow, the gate to our driveway won't shut. Sam is a great listener, and always stays in the yard on his own, and we check on him every few minutes. At one point, yesterday, Kris went to call his name, because we couldn't see him, and he didn't answer. Kris went out to go find him, and I promptly went to look out the front window to make sure he wasn't making his way out to the street. I couldn't see him at first, and then a little flash of movement on the sidewalk under the window caught my eye - Sam had made his way to our front door. I called to Kris that Sam was at the front, and went to the door to let Sam in. We met outside on the sidewalk, and explained to Sam that he must not go down the driveway because it wasn't safe. And then Kris noticed that there was a little bird sitting quietly in the rocks beneath our front window. We looked down at him, and noticed his apparent inability to move. We decided to leave him for a little bit, and see if he would fly away - perhaps he had hit our window and just needed a few minutes to regain his thoughts.

During my growing up years, I was always that little girl who wanted to save every little animal (in between taking any chance I could to fry ants with magnifying glasses...). I was never allowed to bring these injured animals into our house, and my heart always ached having to leave an injured bird out to fend for itself.

So I told Kris how much I wanted to bring the bird in the house to see if we could help it. Kris quietly agreed that he wanted to help the little bird too. I went back out, and sure enough the little guy was still there. So Sam helped me fill a shoebox with ripped up newspaper, and I went out to get the bird. He tried to fly away briefly when I picked him up, but he clearly could not get very far.

I brought the bird in the house. Sam was so excited, and decided we should name him "Cindy". He prayed over the little bird. He prayed, "Jesus, thank you for this bird and please heal him". I thanked Sam, who promptly proclaimed, "He feels better!" I knew, with the innocent, unwavering faith of my preschooler, that Cindy would be fine.

Later that night, I was able to feed Cindy some water out of a syringe. He was really thirsty. Then we talked to some friends to figure out exactly what Cindy was, and what he would eat. Turns out, he was a Cedar Waxwing, a really pretty little guy. Our friends also told us just to keep him in the box, and then see if he would fly away in the morning. They are fellow bird-savers, so we were thankful for their advice.

The next morning, Sam started asking about Cindy from the moment he was out of his bed. So after he ate breakfast, we went to go see Cindy. I was kind of half-dreading having my excited 3 year-old be met with a dead, stiff bird. I picked up the box - nothing. I nervously gave it a bit of a shake, and immediately felt little Cindy scurrying around. Phew. I was thankful that the conversation about death would not have to happen that day!

We took the box outside, and I carefully pulled the lid off. Cindy looked around, and then promptly flew effortlessly into one of our trees. Sam yelled, "Bye Cindy!" I had tears in my eyes. We were all so happy that Cindy was okay. Some may say that Cindy would have been fine anyways. But I would like to believe that something happened when Sam prayed. I would like to believe that Jesus heard our prayers.

Later that morning, Sam expressed to me that he was sad that Cindy was gone. I told him that I was sad too, and I that I would miss him. And then I told him that sometimes our job is just to take someone who's hurting into our house, to help them to feel better, and then to say goodbye.

A couple of things happened from having Cindy in our home. I learned about faith, and that Sam has more than I do. I want more of the innocent, unquestioning faith my son has. It also confirmed the call that God has on Kris and my life - to bring people into our home, to help them feel better, and then to send them off and say goodbye.

So, my son's disobedience turned into an amazing opportunity to help and to be taught. God is so good.

Relaxation Math

2011-03-22T07:07:00.000-07:00

Time for some math. Just some simple addition. Don't worry.

Take this:

Add this:

Throw in a little of this:

Hopefully subtract this:

Might as well toss in some of this:

Add some of this too:

Better throw in a couple of these:

And to top it off, add 2 of these:

All of that makes for a nice 3 days. See you soon!

The Mouths of Babes

2011-03-11T16:16:00.000-08:00

I love Sam's age right now. He is funny, wise, learning to articulate his thoughts and feelings, and SO incredibly precious.

Today at lunch, Kris was a bit grumpy. Usually the grumpy bum around our house is me. And that usually occurs before before I've had my morning coffee. (Maybe that's what I should have given up for Lent?! I don't want to talk about it...) So please keep in mind that this particular scenario happens far too often with me as the central character, too.

Kris was trying to help Sam in the bathroom, and was getting a bit frustrated with some whining and lack of cooperation.

So Sam, sweet, sweet Sam, responds, "Dad, don't yell at people. That hurts peoples' feelings."

Wow, how do you argue with that. If only we, as adults, could permanently impress such a truth on our own hearts.

Back on the Wagon

2011-03-10T09:48:00.000-08:00

I went running outdoors yesterday afternoon, for the first time since getting back on the fitness wagon. Here are some things I learned from my experience:

Car exhaust and the fumes from the back door of Panago Pizza are not welcome smells while breathing heavily in an attempt to stay alive.
Running in cold weather makes me taste blood.
Brand new running shoes should be worked in prior to running 6km in the first shot.
Dogs that need to be contained because they want to eat human flesh should not be taken for walks where people frequent.
I need to practice my Billy Blanks side kick, and preserve it for the neck of the next dog that jumps at me. (Come get me, PETA. I dare you.)
Though fitted Lululemon pants look cute and fashionable, looser, less becoming attire might be better. (See next point.)
Certain members of the male gender are pigs.
Next time I run in public, I think I will don a sign that reads, "I am married. I have birthed 2 children. I haven't shaved my legs in... a while. Right now, I am listening to 90s Praise music. I'm sure you are a nice gentleman, but please continue driving." (See previous point.)
Turns out that my issues with worrying about what people think of me actually work in my favour when running in public - I will purposely NOT stop just because I don't want some stranger to think I'm a wimp or a phony. In fact, I will often speed up as a I pass someone, just so that they will think I'm hardcore.
My 3 year-old son really does have a large head, which came in handy when I couldn't find a light toque of my own, and had to borrow his camouflage toque.
I look terrible in a boys' camouflage toque.
My prior concerns of not being able to run the 8k race I already signed up for were completely nullified yesterday. In 2 months, I am going to be able to kick the crap out of that race.
Running on my treadmill has actually produced some decent results that translate into running on a piece of ground. I was worried that would not be the case.
I love running, despite the smells, the looks, and the feeling that I might expire at any moment. I never feel more alive than when I am that close to death.

So there you have it.

Kids and Green Stuff

2011-02-17T13:34:00.000-08:00

Sam will not touch broccoli. He hates it. He sees the "green stuff" and bolts. He'd rather eat bacon.

Blended into a smoothie with cold rooibos tea, a bit of honey, a banana, and frozen berries? He'll eat broccoli.

Sam: 0
Green vegetables (and Mom): 1

Another step towards Hippiedom

2011-02-15T13:33:00.000-08:00

Do you ever find that at some points in your life, you find yourself swearing that you will never do or become a certain thing? And then, how-much-ever-time-passes, and you find yourself considering that very thing?

Mmm hmmm. One slice of humble pie, thank you very much.

Well, one of those things for me is homeschooling. (For the record, I've never thought there is anything wrong with homeschooling, I just was very adamant that it was not a route that I would ever choose.)

My consideration of homeschooling as a viable option for myself and my children (mostly myself) was as preposterous a notion to me, even up until a year ago - heck, 6 months ago - as wearing tapered jeans again. Oops.

And now? What do I even say? I love the idea. I'm not sure it's the road we will choose, but I'm liking what I'm seeing. And it may only be for a time (the homeschooling, not the liking - I think the liking will stick).

As a University of Alberta alumnus, I receive a quarterly publication put out by the Arts Student Alumni Association. It usually consists of a series of sub-par articles touching on topics that I have ~~very little~~ no interest in. But this last issue contained an article written by a homeschooling mom. And the thing that really stuck out to me? The idea that education should serve the purpose of fuelling the natural desires and interests in our children. That education should be based upon that, even. Wow. My education looked nothing like that. And neither did the author's, which caused her to drop out of high school at 16 years old. She still does not have a high school diploma; she does, however, have a PhD.

I'd really recommend checking out the article, even if homeschooling isn't for you. IT's pretty interesting. One of the sections that really hit me was the one about reading. Here's a couple of quotes:

"By the time children are 13... you can't tell the difference between a child who first read at age 4 and one who started to read at age 10. So what's the big hurry? More importantly, how many children unnecessarily suffer and are made to feel inadequate if they're not on the proper learning curve?"

"...I have learned over the years just how powerful a child's own will to learn can be, and that lesson has also given me a sobering insight into what little faith we actually have as a society in our children's creative and intellectual capabilities."

Wow.

So that's that. I'm still not sure if this is what we will choose. And though my first baby boy turned THREE on the weekend (!), we still have a little bit of time to pray and decide. But homeschooling does intrigue me quite a bit. We'll see.

What are some of the things you swore you'd never do, but now here you are?!

(And just as a side note, my friend Robyn is letting her readers vote on her blog topics every month. My option, "Photos and Stories for Each Year of Your Life" is in second place, and I really want to win. So head on over and put a vote in!)

Sweet, Sweet Treadmill

2011-02-03T19:08:00.000-08:00

I recently started running again.

I used to be a really avid runner. Before I had babies. I had one baby, and then picked it up again a bit after that. Then, I had another baby, and suffered from a serious motivation issue. (The issue being a total lack thereof.)

It's tough to find time to run when you have a child. It feels near impossible to find time to run now that I have two children.

And I just CAN'T bring myself to use up the one time of day that both of my boys sleep to sweat and work. The same goes for the evenings.

It's any wonder I have a hard time fitting it in. I have some pretty lofty expectations.

However, in the midst of this, I have finally found time to fit it in. And it's been awesome.

Now that I have found a rhythm that works for me, I love my time. When you have kids, sometimes you'll use whatever you can for a few moments in your thoughts. Whether that's in the dentist chair, or perusing magazines in the checkout line, or sweating profusely on a treadmill - all of those are sweet morcels of alone time that recharge my battery. I will run an extra kilometre for a few more moments to listen to some awesome tunes or a podcast that speaks to me in the midst of the busyness of life.

So, we'll see where I go from here. (Well, since I'm on a treadmill - nowhere....) I've always wanted to run a half-marathon and haven't yet. So maybe 2011 will be my year to kick the crap out of 21km. Here's hoping!

Beach Glass

2011-01-29T17:19:00.000-08:00

There has been a lot going on around us lately. I have sat down to write a post quite a few times this past week, and each time - nothing. Then I realized it's because I have a lot swirling around in my head.

I'm not going to say a lot about it. But what I am going to say, is this:

God is good. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow. He does not change. He is not surprised when we encounter hardship or persecution. In fact, He told us it would come.

When it does come, we have two choices:

Run away, and find something else that will make us feel better in the midst of it (denial, addiction, etc.); OR
Let it come, and let it shape us.

It reminds me of beach glass. What starts as a jagged piece of a broken beer bottle, results in a beautiful, etched, smooth piece of glass after the salt water has had a chance to toss it around for a while. If that piece of glass had been saved from the waters, it would remain sharp and jagged. It would remain an ugly remnant meant for the landfill.

God talks a lot about peace. And he talks a lot about persecution and hard times. Interestingly, when God is involved, both can exist at the same time.

So that's kind of where I'm at. Big things are going on, yet I've been living with a complete sense of peace. Yes, it saddens me. But it is not manifesting in my life as bitterness, anger, or resentment. I sleep well. I feel happy in the day. I don't feel angry when I think about certain people or situations. Instead, I pray.

That is very different from where I used to be. And I'm glad for that.

So I'm going to let myself be tossed around in the salt waters, to let God etch maturity, obedience, and a beautiful story onto my life. I'm going to let him smooth away my rough edges in the midst of this chaos.

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD your God... Since you are precious and honoured in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life... Do not be afraid, for I am with you." (Isaiah 43)

Hippie Love

2011-01-24T08:59:00.000-08:00

At the risk of sounding like a hippie girl named Meadow who wears grass skirts and has a kiln (although I think that would be kind of awesome, and therefore is a risk I will gladly take), I would just like to say:

It's all about the love, man.

Really.

A few years back, I read "Irresistible Revolution" and screwed up my life forever. Just to clarify, it's a revolution that is taking a long time to materialize into something tangible in my life, but that book changed me. It challenged me. And it made me say, "This is what's it's all about. And this is what a lot of the church has been missing."

I always remember that old song we used to sing at my church growing up, whose chorus went, "They will know we are Christians by our love...". First off, the song is not a nice sounding one (odd, no?) and doesn't sound like a song about love at all. (And I love the "they" and "we" separation...) And quite frankly, the song has always creeped me out. Which makes me wonder if the author was missing the point. But I think I have often missed the point too.

The point is to love.

Have you ever read Shane Claiborne's "Letter to Non-Believers"? Well, take a minute and read it.

I love it when Shane talks about politicians, and says "If there is anything I have learned from liberals and conservatives, it's that you can have great answers and still be mean... and that just as important as being right is being nice". Sound kinda Biblical to me.

I cringe when I think of how I used to act when I was younger - how I used to argue with people about God's existence and slammed doors in the faces of Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons... all in the name of my faith. I just wasn't nice. I did more damage than good, because I didn't speak with love. I was a textbook version of what Paul was talking about in the great love passage we hear at every wedding (including mine...). But if you back it up, before the part about love being patient and kind, you'll find this:

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing." (ESV)

It's funny to think that we read this at weddings at all, because I don't think Paul was just talking about romantic love and how we should be patient when our husband leaves his underwear on the bedroom floor. Again. It does apply to a marriage, but Paul was also talking about being nice - to everyone. Like Shane said. You can be a Biblical theologian, a pastor, or even just a "regular" ol' Christian, but it doesn't mean squat unless you're actually nice.

I have a long way to go. But this is going to be one of my goals. To just be nice. To love the crap out of people. Even (especially!) those who I struggle with, or I think "deserve" less from me. (It's easier to love strangers sometimes, isn't it?!) All because God first loved me.

I think it's time to get a kiln.

How cell phones are like wasps.

2011-01-19T16:37:00.000-08:00

Technology scares me. Almost as much as wasps and other things that sting.

I haven't owned a cell phone since my university days, and even then, it was primarily used to play Snake. And one time, one of the buttons got chewed up by a mouse. Really. You can still see little teeth marks on it.

I think I've sent 2 text messages in my entire life.

Sometimes, I take Kris' work phone when I drive to the city. I usually forget I have it, and then wonder who the jackass is who's not answering their phone when it's ringing in the middle of Ikea.

Oops.

OR, it's on "vibrate", I miss Kris' call telling me that Sam wanted to talk to his mom (sorry, buddy, I don't know how to work a cell phone), and then I have to get a friend to change it to "ring".

Oops.

We have an older MacBook - I'm pretty sure we use it to around 8% of its capabilities. Well, maybe 9% if you include the fact that I've figured out how to distort my face using PhotoBooth.

I feel a bit like a genius since I recently figured out to use HTML. Clearly I'm not that great at it since I can't get my special font (a NON-blogger-provided font, thank you very much) to work after I inserted a photo.

Oh wait. I'm okay now.

All this to say - I feel terribly behind sometimes. But sometimes, I feel really great about it. Maybe one day I'll get a cell phone, and know how to work it. Well, let's just leave that at "Maybe one day I'll get a cell phone".

What technology are you scared of?

The Best of my Days

2011-01-15T15:08:00.000-08:00

I've been reading "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years". I love it. It's entertaining, challenging, and makes me want to change. I'll probably write about this read again when I'm done.

In the book, Donald Miller talks about how we don't really remember our lives. We remember really significant things, but not just everyday details. He talks about a friend of his who does remember everything though, a friend who writes down things he wants to remember. Even things that seem unimportant.

I've been thinking about a TON of things since reading this book. One of these things being how I want to remember more. Then, I came across this blog post (coincidence?) and decided, "That's it - I want to be better at this."

Enter the journal. We started a few days ago, and before we go to bed, Kris and I chat about our day. The things we want to remember. Jack's giggles. Sam's deep and hilarious thoughts. The bad parts of the day. The good parts of the day. Who visited. Where we went. Who was sick. Our hopes. Our dreams.

It's been fun. And we want to start a new tradition with our kids, to reflect on the day together and think together.

Sometimes what I think is not worth remembering will be the exact thing that will bring a smile to my face when I'm 80 and rocking in my recliner. The good things show me how many good times there really are. The hard times show me that they're short-lived, they pass, and there is always something important to take away. It's ALL significant.

So I want to remember. Life is worth remembering.

National De-Lurking Day

2011-01-14T13:35:00.000-08:00

I was reading one of my favourite blogs earlier, and discovered that apparently today is National De-lurking Day.

So, in the spirit of such a day, I ask you to show yourselves. Or, to de-lurk yourself, if you will.

I don't know if I have many readers or not. It doesn't really matter. But quite often, I'll have someone say to me, "I read on your blog...", which baffles me because I really had no idea. None. It's all because of the lurking... But don't worry, we're still friends. I still like you.

So today, YOU tell ME something. Maybe tell me why you lurk in the first place. :) Or tell me your deepest, darkest secret. (Because the internet is always the right place for that...) Or just say hi.

Or do none of it, and continue to lurk... and the mystery will remain...

That's okay too. I kind of like mysteries.

Dancing in the Minefields

2011-01-12T06:48:00.000-08:00

This is my new favourite song:

One of the things I like most is seeing elderly people holding hands and being in love. There's something about seeing their hands - old hands that have been held in courtship, rocked babies, spread peanut butter on bread, helped with homework, cuddled grandbabies, and brought comfort to so many - together in such timeless love. That would be why I fell even more in love with this song after seeing the video. I've always been intrigued by elderly couples who are still so much in love. I want to be one of those couples.

So I'm going to say some things I don't say nearly enough.

I love my husband. And I just really like him. I like his heart and his mind, his feelings and his thoughts. God has done (and is doing) something amazing in that guy.

Also, I'd like to say that I am married to a man. And I don't mean that he is of the male gender - that's obvious (except when he's knitting or wearing Lululemon pants). He is a man. He stands in front of me, and protects me. He respects me, is gentle with me, and treats me the way he would want his own daughter treated by a man. I feel safe with him. I hope our boys will be husbands and fathers just like Kris, and I hope our girls (if we have one someday) marry men like him.

After having 2 kids and being caught in the whirlwind of bottles, baths, poop, Legos, and the Backyardigans (a whirlwind we love!), God has really rekindled something here. We've allowed the Holy Spirit to come like fire through our lives - into the deepest parts of our hearts, and into our marriage. It was good before, but now? I can't even describe it. And I'm so excited for the future.

I think (I know) it's easy to caught up in playing the good Christian wife. The good Christian husband. The good Christian family. The good Christian, period. I used to think that those things would somehow "save" Kris and I from future problems, that would save us from inevitably ending in divorce. But they don't, and you only need to google "Christian divorce rates" to see that point illustrated all too clearly.

Christians can have faulty marriages. And Christians can have mediocre marriages. The great news is, is that God isn't a mediocre God. He's a God who's extravagant. And that is what has couples dancing and - dare I say it?! - having great sex well into their old age.

So, all this just to say, thank you Lord, for being extravagant in our lives, and changing me, changing us. For raising the bar and saying, "I'm not a God of 'good enough'". And thank you to my husband for allowing the Holy Spirit to do a work in him too. You are truly my knight in shining armour.

Hardships will come. There will be trials. But I hope that in the midst of it all, we can dance together in those minefields.

The Mullet Lady in all of us

2011-01-07T12:46:00.000-08:00

Kris and I are terrified of The Rut lately. You know the one - where you cling to the style you had in your early 20s, because that was your prime. And THAT, my friend, is how things like this happen:

Now let's not judge Mullet Lady too harshly. She just got stuck in The Rut. And if I maintain the style I had in my early 20s, I will be Mullet Lady in 10 years. I could easily end up in someone's blog post about terrible fashion. Maybe I've already done so, and don't even know it. (But that's the topic of a fear-mongering post for another day.)

This exact fear is what drove Kris to get his hair cut. He's been complaining the last little while about looking like a doof. A doofy dad who's gotten stuck in The Rut. Kris has had the same "hairstyle" (sorry, honey, the quotation marks were kind of necessary), in various lengths, for as long as I've known him. So, I made him an appointment at a nice salon downtown for last night.

So he went in, and upon being asked to remove his hat, Kris said, "Are you ready for a laugh?!" The stylist replied that it couldn't be that bad. He removed the hat. She howled with laughter at the messy poof of hair that had been hiding in the safety of the ball cap, and then told him that she'd seen worse. I guess that's a relief. Long story short, Kris came home with a smile on his face, and an awesome new look. I love it. My husband is super hot. He was hot before, but now he's hot and stylish. (Because I'm sure women who's partners have mullets think they're hot too. But stylish? Mmm... maybe not.)

So, here's to another step out of The Rut.

My boys and I

2011-01-04T07:27:00.000-08:00

My good friend Avey came a few weeks ago and took some family photos for us. She did an amazing job. Thank you Avey!

The family

(and please excuse my terrible hair - I have since had it fixed...)

Sam "playing" with Jack

Ugh!

Sweet little boy.

Getting the tired crankies.

Yes - that is bacon in Sam's hand. You may or may not recall

how much Sam loves bacon.

Brothers make the best buddies!

Sam loves his apples!

I am so blessed, with a great husband, sweet little boys, and good friends.

A Year in Review

2011-01-02T07:10:00.000-08:00

2010. Pregnancy. Praying for a new little person being formed. Sam's 2nd Birthday, and thankful for 2 amazing years. Nudgings from the Holy Spirit. Spring, and a feeling of change. Cranky and sore as 41 weeks approached. Jack Robert - "God is gracious". Potty training. Blessings in the form of 2 perfect little boys. Beach days. Chubby baby. Freedom. A preschooler who knows and sees Jesus. Having our sons teach us about the character of God. Lessons in parenting. Restored relationships. Wine and movie nights. Good books. ~~Dreaming~~ Planning big. Learning to love. Rediscovering my husband. Playing trains and Playmobil. Tickling chubby legs. Sweet laughter. Daily evidence that Jesus lives and saves and redeems.

2011? It's going to be even better. You just wait and see.

"I have come that they may have life, and have it to the FULL." ~ Jesus

The Jesus Way

2010-12-27T11:53:00.000-08:00

We have a bush in our backyard. It's ugly, messy, and totally out of control. It's a hideous thorn in our backsides.

We've cut it back countless times, but we know that to really get rid of it for good, we just have to get in there and tear the hideous beast out by the root.

It's going to be hard. And it's going to be messy. And it's going to take a LOT of sweat, and quite possibly some tears (probably on my part, but not necessarily).

But then it will be gone. Done. Forever.

Do you ever feel like that bush? I have.

I used to feel stumped. Stumped in life, stumped in my faith, stumped in my hopes and dreams. I felt like I was just pruning my life, only for things to just pop right back up again. I was playing on the defense, and could never get into the offense. Just like with that damn bush.

And just like that bush, I needed to take things out by the root.

I love how God's way is so different than the world's way of doing things. The world tells us that we need to learn how to control ourselves better. We need to control our emotions and our reactions. We need to learn to just forgive and let go. We need to prune. But, the root remains. And if the root remains, we just get caught in an exhausting cycle of: Screw up. Feel bad. Get hopeful. Try harder. Screw up. Feel bad. Get hopeful. Try harder... The world says to fix parts of that cycle. God says, "That cycle's crap. Let me heal your heart, gently take out that root, and you can leave the cycle altogether."

The interesting thing is that so often the church tells us the same message as the world. I don't know how many times I have felt guilty, overwhelmed, and clueless as to how to "be more spiritual". SO many times, I've had the best intentions to pray more, read my Bible more, spend more time with God, evangelize more, forgive more. I've even been hard on myself because I want to want those things. Because deep down, I didn't really. I resented those things, because I felt like I could never do them. It was a constant uphill battle. Are you with me?

But God has told me some neat things about that lately.

Have you ever heard the St. Francis of Assisi quote that goes like this: "Preach the Gospel at all times, and when necessary, use words."?

I finally get what that means. If I live in the grace, truth, and freedom that Jesus purchased for me on Calvary, I won't ever have to say a word. Not a word. I won't have to wrack my brain about how to tell people how great my God is (did I always really believe that myself?), or pray that God will somehow change their hearts. Why? Because the grace, truth, and freedom that I am experiencing will emanate from me. Literally. And it will draw in others. I won't have to say a word, because not only do I really believe it, I am living it. Being set free is intriguing and attractive.

Worrying about evangelism, while I still have a bush inside of me that needs to be pruned, is about as close an example of "putting the cart before the horse" that I can think of.

The same goes for reading my Bible, having "devotions", and being "spiritual".

You know what God told me about those things? He said, "Don't worry, you'll get there. Let me bring healing to you, and you'll get there." Because you can't be there while you're still exhausting yourself on that cycle. I know. And ~~I think~~ you do too.

God has taken some huge roots out of my life. And wouldn't you know it, I've hopped out of that cycle. I'm not spiritually exhausted like I used to be. I actually like God. I want to pray, because I like spending time with my Dad. I feel free. And it's awesome. I truly believe that's the order God wants things to go. Just like as parents, we don't require as much from our children when they're ill, God doesn't require much from us when we're spiritually ill.

In the Bible, a huge part of Jesus' ministry was healing. Physical healing, as well as emotional healing. He didn't expect people to be in a particularly spiritual place, or even a place of belief. (And actually, it was usually people that didn't know God that he ministered to primarily.) He just said, "let me heal you", and through that, you will know God. Jesus didn't expect people to be having prayer marathons, or to be able to speak in tongues, or to even know God as prerequisites to healing. Those things came as a result of the healing. He dealt with the roots, and all those things just fell into place.

It has been grieving me lately that the church teaches something so opposite of that. I used to believe that version. And I used to feel constantly defeated, and distant from God. I used to think that was because I didn't do enough. But now, I'm starting to like the "Jesus version" much better. Root first, and the rest will follow. That was what his ministry looked like. We certainly aren't always very good about actually doing what Jesus did.

People don't need, or want, a Roman Road, 4 Spriritual laws, or a sinner's prayer. People need healing. People need Jesus. I needed healing. I needed Jesus. I still do. I always will.

And that's the truth that has really set me free.

My Kitchen Gadget Rant

2010-12-17T07:25:00.000-08:00

I generally try to stay away from rants. I think the main reason is that if I were to get into writing them, that's quite possibly all I'd do.

But I need to get something off of my chest. Something really big and serious.

I hate kitchen tools. Mostly the ones that serve just one, very specific purpose.

Rice cookers. Sandwich makers. Electric latte whisks. Chicken pullers. Melon ballers. Deep fryers. Apple cutters. Electric can openers. (Okay, the last example is pretty 80s, but it still illustrates my point.)

I can replace each of those things with a tool I already have. Here goes:

Pot. Frying pan. Regular whisk (and a quick hand). 2 forks. Spoon (and some appropriate wrist action). Pot filled with hot oil. Paring knife. Regular can opener. (Are you noticing the versatility of a simple pot?!)

I have a very tiny kitchen. Sometimes it annoys me. But it forces me to be minimalistic (which I like), and reminds me to be content with what I have, because in some areas of the world, an entire family would live in a space the size if my little kitchen. So, that being said, I have no room (or time) for specialty kitchen items.

Over time, I have been given many kitchen gadgets. I have donated almost all of them to the thrift store. Someone, I'm sure, is thoroughly enjoying my rice cooker. I, however, am enjoying my pot and lid. Besides, a pot doesn't have a cord. (Have I ever told you about the time I burned my slow cooker cord in half? I think I'll post about that tomorrow. In fact, I may include ~~a few~~ a lot of examples of how I'm an utter safety hazard in the kitchen.)

I like things that are multi-functional. If it serves one purpose, it's gone.

Now, the things that are exempt from this rant are as follows:

Waffle makers (because nothing else can make those little squares).
Orange peelers (because my husband has tender fingertips and loves this apparatus - plus, it's super small)
Coffee maker (because we love our coffee around here, and I like the thermal pot)

What overly-specific kitchen gadget do you hate (or love)?

Miracle on a Monday

2010-12-12T07:16:00.000-08:00

My brother-in-law Reg was in a serious car accident last Monday. He is okay. (I'm all for suspense, but didn't want you to wait until the end to know that he's fine.) He is a little sore, and is wearing a sweet neck brace, but he shouldn't even be alive. And he especially shouldn't be walking.

Miracles still happen everyday.

It's kind of a wild story. Kris had the day off, and we were having breakfast with his parents. Kris had to jet a few minutes early to get to the bank, and right after he left, Ron got a phone call. Reg had been in an accident. He confirmed that he was okay, but that the truck was probably a write-off. I casually asked Ron which of the work vehicles Reg had been driving, just out of curiosity. Turns out, it was actually Kris and my personal truck. I could care less. My sister-in-law is not a widow and their children are not fatherless - that is ALL that matters.

Reg had been driving through the country to their current job site. He had been going about 120km/h (we all joke about how you can't not speed in our truck - when I drive it, I'm the jerk who goes 70 all through town) , but all of a sudden he felt the need to slow down to about 90. He came to a crossroad; he had the right-of-way, and any crossing traffic had a yield sign. Another truck was coming, and out of the blue, smoked through the yield. Reg t-boned him.

There were 2 guys in the other vehicle, which they were driving for work (an operation run by a rather shady character from out in those parts). The boss/owner showed up minutes later, and then they all told Reg to tell the cops that the other guy had been driving. Why? Because the actual driver didn't even have a driver's license (turns out he had lost it from an accumulation of demerits over time). Reg refused, and called the cops. The driver of the other vehicle made a phone call, and a woman showed up. He hopped in her car, and took off. When the police arrived, the guy's boss gave his employee's address so they could track him down. Turns out, though, that he had ran back to his place with the woman, completely cleaned out all of his belongings, and fled. So now, he has more charges than if he had stayed put, AND there is a warrant out for his arrest. Way to make a bad situation worse.

We saw Reg the other day, and he showed us some photos of the truck. The front end hardly exists anymore. The engine was coming through the glove box. The hood was standing at a 90 degree angle. If I had seen the truck without knowing what had happened, I would definitely have thought that the driver didn't make it. Couldn't have made it. Everyone who saw the truck said that he should have died, or come out of it in a wheelchair.

But he didn't. He's walking, and talking. He's just sore and has to wear a neck brace (which his 3 little girls so prettily decorated for him). I love stories that show me so very clearly that God still loves to perform miracles. That's part of why I love Him so much.

Another cool thing? It's only a "coincidence" that he was driving our truck. He had borrowed it that weekend before to do some work around their farm, work that he had planned to do a few weeks earlier, and then ended up putting it off. He wasn't even supposed to have our truck on Monday. But, if he had been driving their work truck or car (both of which are older and kind of junky), this story would have had a much worse ending.

I wish I had some photos to post. We tried to get out to the lot to take some, but we couldn't get in, and there were some horribly ferocious "puppies" guarding the lot. (They were doing a great job, I might add.) I wish I could show you how terrible the truck looks. And how great Reg looks, right afterwards. I guess you'll just have to use your imagination.

And I hope your imagination captures how incredible it all is. How incredible our God is.

Elf Yourself

2010-12-09T18:57:00.000-08:00

If you want to laugh until it hurts, try making one of THESE for yourself:

Fun with the Girls

2010-12-04T06:49:00.000-08:00

I'm a really lucky girl. A couple of my friends who live in the city have been planning a special day out for me, just because they know it can be hard to get out when you have two little guys.

Today's the day. I can't freakin' wait!

So, I'll keep you posted and let you know how it was, and what we did (because I have no idea what we're doing... it's all a mystery!).

To my 2 special friends - THANK YOU. You girls are amazing to me. I appreciate you more than you know.

To my dear husband - You're a champ. I love being married to a man who parents instead of "babysits". You are showing our boys what it means to be a good husband and father. Thanks for giving me some time away.

I think I need cooking lessons...

2010-11-28T15:53:00.000-08:00

Last week, as we were trying to get Sam to eat supper, he said this (and imagine his face crinkled in extreme displeasure):

"Supper tastes like weird. Supper tastes like weird animals, Mom."

Today, we're cleaning our oven. It's self-cleaning, which is great, but it makes the entire house smell like burning. Really, really bad burning. This is what Sam said when we came in the house after some toboganning:

"It smells like meat. It smells like supper!"

Not good.

The Problem with Milestones

2010-11-25T16:56:00.000-08:00

There's something I've been wanting to talk about for a while:

Competition. Milestones. Feeling crappy or defensive when your child is "behind". Feeling good and powerful when your child is "ahead". Being driven by performance. The parent contest.

Sam didn't walk until he was 15 months old. He never crawled. So, up until he walked (and "late", at that) his only movements were rolling. This was one of the best things that happened to me as a parent. I started learning (it's always a process, isn't it?) that IT DOESN'T MATTER. We had our fair share of comments, mostly from well-meaning family members. We were bombarded with questions like "are you worried?" and advice about how we shouldn't be worried. The funny thing is, we weren't. (I'm not sure why, really... I think it's only because the Holy Spirit had already started a work in me back then.) I quickly learned that those comments usually reflected worry in the very people who were saying them, or indicated that they thought we should be worried. Sam learned to walk at the exact right time for him. His later walking didn't indicate poor parenting or defective genetics, and it was absolutely no reflection on Sam or his personality. It did not mean that Kris and I were bad parents.

Here's another thing: our boys have both slept through the night at an early age. But can I tell you a secret? That is not any kind of proof that we're good parents. It just means that sleep is something that we find important for our children, and we've tried to encourage them to learn how to sleep from infancy. That's it. It's just a style of parenting, that is neither right nor wrong. It's just what we've chosen. And we've had a lot of set-backs too. It's not perfect.

The same rules apply to how you choose to feed your baby, when they crawl or clap or sit up or talk or use the potty, what you put on their bum to catch their feces, how well behaved they are, what weight percentile they are in, when they learn their ABCs, and how well they do in school. The list goes on. The choices we make for our children don't determine how good of a parent we are or how much we love our children. And like their parents, children will inevitably soar in some areas, and be "below average" in others.

What I have learned, am still learning, and will continue to learn, is that it is not my children's job to make me feel good about myself. That is a huge job to put on such little humans (or any human, for that matter). And besides, it's a system that's doomed to fail. Why? Because some kids don't walk until they're 15 months, some are late talkers, some don't potty train until 3 years old, some have temper tantrums in front of their grandparents and say bad words... Half of the time it might work out - when all the stars are aligned, and our children look perfect and perform perfectly. But the other half of the time (or more than half, if you're normal), it doesn't work out.

The best thing I am learning as a mother is to be filled up by my Father. He's the only one who can do the job perfectly anyways. And the best part about that? It lets my kids off the hook. It lets my husband off the hook. It lets me off the hook. Which all creates a whole lotta freedom for all of us to just be. It allows my kids to fail. It allows them to be who God is creating them to be. And it allows me to allow them to fail. You get the picture. (It also allows me to allow myself some failures too. Because let's face it - I screw this up a LOT. I need a lot of grace in this area too.)

So - what's the most important milestone for children at any age? To know they're loved. To know their worth in God's eyes. To know that, because their parents get their worth from their Heavenly Father, they have complete freedom to explore and discover and fail and succeed and make mistakes and be the exact person they were meant to be. Without the huge job of also making us, their parents, feel good. They should know that we are proud of them, accomplishments aside. That we love them and like who they are even when they're the only kid in kindergarten who doesn't know how to spell their name. To know that we love them especially in those situations.

Those are the milestones that really matter.

The Brother Dynamic

2010-11-23T16:36:00.000-08:00

Sibling rivalry. It has already begun.

It is really one of the funniest things to watch. Sam is convinced that his brother is out to get him. Jack has no clue. None whatsoever. He's not even 6 months old. Sam doesn't get this point, though, despite my best efforts to explain.

Jack scratches the leather couch with his little nails. "Jack! Quit scratchin'! Mom, Jack's scratchin' the couch!"

Jack unknowingly grabs Sam's shirt. "Let go! Mom, Jack's got my shirt!"

Jack screams. Sam screams at him to stop.

And today. Sam was convinced that Jack was jumping and making a lot of noise in his Exersaucer just to irritate him. "Mom! Jack's buggin' me!" I look over at Jack, who's grinning from ear to ear. I have to admit, he does look a lot like a kid who's gotten the best of his older sibling, and knows it. Jack, however, does not know it. He's just smiling, because that's what he does. I'm sure the smile just bugged Sam all the more.

These boys really do love each other. And the little bit of rivalry is normal. I just didn't anticipate it happening so soon. But it certainly is funny (for everyone but Sam).

Letter to the Editor

2010-11-22T07:17:00.000-08:00

Here's a letter I recently sent in to the editor of one of our local newspapers (because that's the kind of thing I do). But first, a little bit of background - the newspaper has been printing ads for the local lounge to advertise strippers, using large photos of... strippers. In the paper. Yup. And then there's La Senza, who puts up a giant-sized poster of a... stripper (essentially) in their exterior window, for all to see. I'm infuriated about it. Hence, the letter:

I would like to express my extreme disappointment at some of the advertisements adorning not only our city buildings, but one of our local newspapers as well.

  For the past many months, I have opened up your paper only to have my eyes bombarded with images of scantily clad women as an advertisement for dancers at the local lounge. For the past 4 years, I have trusted and allowed your publication to come into my home, a trust that has now been broken due to the disrespectful and devaluing images you have allowed to print. As the mother of two young boys, I never thought a day would come when I would have to protect my sons from the inappropriate photos being printed in this newspaper. I’m shocked that these images have made their way out of the top shelf of the magazine rack, and into your publication, for all to see.
  Unfortunately, this issue is not one that is kept within the confines of print. Last week, my husband and I went with our sons to rent a movie - from a video store that happens to be a few doors down from a women’s lingerie shop (which, strangely, also sells young girls’ clothing). I was shocked by the giant-sized poster of an airbrushed, full-breasted, long-legged woman in only her underwear. Can I not even go and rent a movie with my family without having to worry about my children being assaulted with suggestive images?
  Advertising is advertising. I understand that there is money at stake here. But we have to ask ourselves, at what cost? Do we really understand how damaging this is for our children? These are the images that are shaping the self esteem of our little girls. We are giving them the message that this is what they should look like, act like, and be like. And what about our boys? What is this teaching them about what real femininity looks like, and what it means to respect a woman?
This is unacceptable, and something needs to change. These businesses should be held accountable, and they need to know that this isn’t okay. I want my city to be one that displays respect and tact in all forms of media - because there is something seriously wrong when I can find racier images outside the movie store and in the pages of the newspaper, than in the windows of the local sex shop.

Do you agree or not? Do you think they will print it?!

It saddens me that this kind of thing has just become acceptable. We aren't even questioning anymore. We live in a country where we have a voice - a voice that, if big and loud enough, will be heard. Why aren't I using this voice, and encouraging other to use theirs, to make a difference?

Let me know, and then read this blog post (in fact, check out a lot of this guy's posts. You'll be glad you did.). Interesting, huh?

A Moment Like This

2010-11-18T12:26:00.000-08:00

Earlier today, I was sitting on the floor in front of Sam, who was sitting on the toilet taking care of some... *ahem*... business.

He smiled at me, then stroked my cheek, and said, "You're a good little guy, Mama".

If you've never had a moment like this, I sincerely pray that one day you do.

Shedding the Quills

2010-11-16T08:35:00.001-08:00

I don't really know what to say here. I've thought about and pondered this post for a long time. I've written and rewritten it numerous times. And now, I'm just praying that the Holy Spirit gives me words that are not my own, and that these words do what they need to. (And that God gives me the strength to click "Publish Post" when I'm done.)

I've been grieving lately about something that I've done. Something that maybe you've done too. I've set up a system that just isn't working anymore. A system that never worked, and will never work.

It's called dishonesty.

Here's the thing. I struggle. And I feel alone in my struggles. You have no idea how many times I've sat here wondering why I'm inadequate, why I don't have it all together, why I feel like I have so few people who I can call and say, "hey, life feels crappy right now. Here's why." As I've been wrestling with these things, God has given me the answer - it's because I don't talk about it. It's because I'm so busy trying to convince everyone around me that it's all good. That I'm supermom and I have my crap together. That's dishonest. And maybe you're in that spot too.

It's really hard to go to someone in your brokenness when you feel the illusion that they're better than that. That they don't struggle like you do. It's really hard to go to someone when you feel like they will listen just long enough to counsel you from their spot above the crap. It's really hard to go to someone when you feel like they're just going to worry about you, or put a label on what you're going through.

But here's the truth. I've done this to myself. How do I know that? Because I've been the person who has been unapproachable, who has wanted to save the person who comes to me in their weakness, who isn't always willing to share my struggles in return, who has just been filled with concern instead of genuine love and understanding. That's why I know what it looks like so well.

I'd like to be different. I'm going to be different.

I know that it's not always the appropriate time or place to share your innermost struggles. Some relationships don't ever go there, and that's okay. Some people just really aren't safe to go into that place with. And some struggles are meant to be kept close to your heart.

But sometimes, it's a beautiful thing to sit across from a friend, and say, "hey, this is hard". It's a beautiful thing to hear a friend's struggles, and just say, "I'm sorry, and I understand that. Please tell me about it". Even if you've never been there, or you're coming out of it, to just lend an ear. Without answers. Without planning an intervention because you're concerned they're losing it. To say, "I can't help you. But I can travel this road with you". To put on your rubber boots and wade through the crap with them. Heck, to take off your boots and still wade through it with them, unprotected, unafraid of getting dirty.

Isn't that what most of us want? We don't want help - we want company.

Why are we so scared of each other? Why are we so scared to ask how someone is really doing? To probe into some of those messy places?

Is it because we're scared they will do the same to us? I know that's probably one of my reasons. Is it because we're scared to get dirty in relationships? Probably that too. A wise friend of mine once told me that the enemy puts fear in front of what God wants for us. So sometimes, to run in the direction of something scary is a really good start.

So here's the thing: I'm sick of staying clean. Because clean is a lonely place. Dishonesty is a lonely place. I'm praying that God will show me who He wants me to get dirty with. And I finally want to live in honesty. True honesty.

I don't know if you're with me here, or if this makes no sense to you. Maybe this resonates really deeply with you, or maybe you think I'm crazy or in a totally different place. Either way, it's okay. I am sharing what God has told me to share, in the expectation God is taking me to a better place. A place with truth and intimacy in relationship. I want to shed the quills of illusion I have covered my body with. The quills protect. But the quills repel too. I don't want to be a porcupine anymore. How about you?

So I'm trusting God to put women in my life (or show me the ones that are already there) who I can be honest and messy with. I might have to make the first move and be real, truly real, for the first time. You might have to make that move with people in your life. But God is good. He will bless that step of faith.

And so I wait on my Father...

Teen Drama Intervention

2010-11-15T14:03:00.000-08:00

Before I begin, I have to tell you how much my husband L-O-V-E-S when I write these things about him.

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If you know us well, you will know that we have been watching our fair share (and a few other peoples') of teen dramas. Mostly since the last bit of my pregnancy with Jack, when I could hardly move and Kris was scared to anger the beast. And then after he was born, to pass those evenings of waiting until the last feed of the evening before you can head to bed, sweet bed. We're still watching.

We've made it through Dawson's Creek, and a few others. Now we're working on One Tree Hill. I think this one is our favourite yet. Teen love for me, basketball drama for him. (The basketball, however, is just a hook, and doesn't have much to do with the show, really. But it makes men feel just a little better about watching it.)

Kris' friends have discovered this pasttime of his. One group of his friends here in town consist largely of trades-working, Conservative-voting, gun-toting hunters who would not be caught dead watching anything slightly resembling a teen drama, never mind admitting they like such things. (We wives know the truth. But nice try, guys.) They're nice men. They're just concerned about Kris. Quite concerned. One of his friends told me a little while ago that if it goes much further, they're thinking about a teen drama intervention. It's for Kris' own good, after all.

I can just imagine it. We're watching Dawson's Creek. The guys break in, camera crew in tow. Kris' face displays shock. Then betrayal. He gets hauled off, all the while fighting and screaming, "But I need to find out if Joey and Pacey end up together! NNNOOOOOO!!!!"

Wait until they find out that Kris knits.

I'm such a lucky woman.

Bacon and Potty Training

2010-11-10T07:51:00.000-08:00

My 2 (nearly 3!) year old loves bacon. So does my 28 year old. Because this is a love BOTH father and son share, Kris thinks it's totally acceptable for Sam to eat as much bacon as he likes. I harp on both of them about their bacon eating. And I think the reason Kris gives Sam the bacon freedom he does, is so that he can say to himself, "Well, SAM eats that much". As if that makes it okay.

Now, I would probably be more okay with the bacon eating if it were good farm bacon we were eating. A lot of the food in our house, especially lately, is farm fresh and local. I feel good about that. But I HATE FARM BACON. Hate. Loathe. Can't stand. When I first started dating Kris, I remember being served farm bacon at their house. My mouth was offended. I told Kris that I thought it tasted "gamey". He asked if I knew what that even meant. I've tried it a few times since, and I still hate it. I like bacon that has a bar code and preservatives. And because of that, I'd like to at least limit the amount of sodium and preservatives that go into my child's body. Kris, apparently, has no such goal.

Anyways, I became aware of the propensity of the bacon issue a few weeks ago. Sam is potty trained, but still asks for treats after he goes. I usually give him one, or hope he forgets and then I'm off the hook. At this particular point in time, we had some left over bacon in the fridge. Sam knew about it, and had snuck a piece a time or two already. I think you may see where this is headed. Sam went pee on the potty. Then he came out, and said to me,

"Mom, can I have piece of bacon for going pee on the potty?"

There is a serious problem when your child wants bacon as a potty-training treat. Kris was there, and he was lovin' it. And he gave Sam the bacon. ("What?! Positive reinforcement!")

We are so weird.

********

And as a bit of a tangent, while looking for a photo of bacon, I found something FAR weirder than potty training with bacon. Who does this stuff? Who are these people? Whoever they are, they make me feel a heck of a lot more normal.

About Obedience and Mittens

2010-11-09T12:05:00.000-08:00

I struggle with being obedient. With trusting that still small voice that runs so deep in me. I struggle with listening to - no, following through with - those gentle prompts from my Father. I hear Him. I know what He tells me. I just don't always do it.

I think a lot of us know how the cycle works. You feel something rising up in you, a little stir in your belly. You know what you're supposed to do. Go talk to that lady, and tell her she's beautiful. Invite that homeless man into a coffee shop and fellowship with him. Call a friend you've lost touch with. Love someone who's "unlovable".

And then the flesh kicks in. They're going to think I'm weird. That's just silly. But who might see me? What are they going to say? What if I'm rejected? I'm sure I'm not the only one who experiences this rigamarole when God lays something on my heart.

Some wise words I recently heard come to mind: Be obedient in the private, and God takes care of the public.

I'm learning to stop listening to those silly voices in my head, and instead obey the one voice that I know speaks truth. I'm learning to be obedient and faithful to what God is prompting me to do, and to trust that God has a plan with it. Even if I never see the ripples.

And wouldn't you know it, but neat things start happening.

I can't hardly count the number of times God has blessed my obedience with little signs that I did what I needed to do. Words confirming the timing of a phone call, hearing much-needed words from a mentor I finally called, stepping into someone's life at just the right time.

And this. This blessed my heart more than I can say. God, you are so good. Tears filled my eyes as I read such kind words. And a confirmation from God that I did what I was supposed to do. Isn't it amazing how if we do what we need to, God takes care of the rest?

To know how God orchestrated it all AMAZES me. I felt like I should make mittens. I have to admit, I did feel a bit silly in a way for sending a gift to such a new friend. I thought she might think I was overbearing. Or trying too hard. But I ignored those messages, and I made the mittens. Then I sent them. And God took it from there. He didn't ask that I make sure they arrive on a certain day. He didn't ask me to figure out all the details. He just wanted obedience in that small area.

And then to read the rest of story - words can't begin to describe how much awe I have for our Father. I think Tonia's words were as much a blessing to me as the mittens were to her. It's all part of the story. God was blessing both of us, and showing us his extravagant love. In His perfect timing.

I'm not perfect in this, and I will still make mistakes. Lots of mistakes. I'm learning so much - about God, and who He wants to be for me, and how there's SO much grace in this journey. And I'm learning how much God blesses obedience and faithfulness. I love Him for that.

A Story about Grace

2010-11-06T09:09:00.001-07:00

Kris and I have a really neat story to share. (It's a long one - you might want to make some tea...)

It began happening almost exactly a year ago now. I've held this story close to my heart, and until now, have only told people close to me, or told it in bits and pieces. But I feel like I want to share it now, and I want to give all the glory to my Heavenly Father, who has (again) proved Himself to be so, so good.

Early last summer, Kris and I decided it was time to have another child. We quickly got pregnant, and we were really excited. Not quite 2 weeks after we found out about this little person, we ended up having a miscarriage. We were both devastated. It was awful, and hard, and even though I knew many people who had had a miscarriage and how common they are, I don't think I ever thought I would be there myself. It was very, very tough. We still remember and wonder who that little person would have been, but know that he/she is being held by the best Father ever.

Because our miscarriage happened fairly early on, the doctor had told us that we could start trying again whenever we felt ready. Of course, at that time, neither of us felt like we could even think about trusting again, or being at a place where we were okay. However, it wasn't long before we started feeling like it was okay to try again, and we really appreciated the words of a respected pastor in our life who told us that trying again, even so soon, was NOT a dishonour to the child we had lost. We hung on to that truth, and to the memory of our little one, and decided to carry on with the plans we had for our family. To our surprise, we ended up getting pregnant again on the first round. We were thrilled, and though we were a bit scared, we both decided we would not live in fear.

One morning, when I was about 12 weeks along, I went to the washroom and found that I had some spotting. The devastation hit me immediately. Because I had been there once before, all the thoughts of "it could be nothing" and "this doesn't necessarily mean anything" were gone. I instantly was convinced we were losing another baby. And I couldn't do it. I was scared, and angry, and just plain terrified. I immediately called Kris at work, who rushed home to take me in to the hospital.

The doctor came in, and after some questions, began searching for our baby's heartbeat. And searched. And searched. 10 heart-wrenching minutes passed as the doctor tried and tried to find something distinguishable on the Doppler. Nothing. She said she would have to send me for an ultrasound to see what was really going on. She also said that my cervix was a little bit open, which was a bit of a concern, but also can be normal if it's not a first baby. As we were getting ready to go, she apologized, and told us that miscarriages are really common and that it wasn't our fault. I knew what she was thinking. I left with a requisition for an ultrasound the following day, my eyes filled with tears, and my heart filled with fear for my child.

Kris stayed home the rest of that day. I remember just thinking and pleading, over and over, that I couldn't do this again. It had been too hard, and I couldn't do it all over. That evening, after Sam had gone to bed, we decided to spend some time praying. Kris started praying for the life of our child. And then I was filled with the feeling that we were supposed to pray for a name for this little one. Kris agreed, and we both fell silent as we asked God to lay a name, the same name, on both of our hearts. After a few moments, Kris said, "So?" With a shaky voice, I said, "Grace". I was scared that Kris was not going to say the same name. But he looked at me with huge eyes and said, "me too". That was just the beginning of God showing us how good He is.

After some more prayer, God gave Kris and I peace, and the confidence that everything was going to be fine. Our baby was okay. More than okay. And we came away thinking and dreaming about this little girl who God named "Grace".

But then the next morning hit. We were flooded with doubt, worry, and fear yet again. We started questioning what God has told and shown us. We even wondered if "Grace" was a name for a future child, instead, and that maybe this child was not going to make it.

A few hours before our ultrasound, Kris took Sam out to do a few errands. When he got home, he told me about how he had ended up at our church's office, and had told our pastor about what was going on. Kris explained about our prayer time, but how we didn't really know what it all meant. That maybe it didn't mean our baby was okay. But our pastor said to Kris, "God gave you the name for THIS child, right?" Kris said that He had. "So then why in the world would you think it was for another child?!" So true! Kris told me about how we needed to stand firm on the truths that God had given us, and to discredit anything that was a contradiction to that. We knew what God had told us.

We went to our ultrasound. Prior to getting there, and having been through the process with Sam, I was ready and waiting for a fight when they would inevitably ask Kris to wait in the waiting room until they called him. Earlier, I had imagined myself tearing into the nurse, and demanding that my husband be with me when I find out if my child is alive or not. However, with the peace I had in my heart, I knew I didn't need him. Kris waited in the waiting room, and I walked confidently into the room with the nurse. By myself. (But not really.)

I waited while the nurse rolled the ultrasound tool around on my abdomen. If you've ever been to an ultrasound before, you'll know how insanely nerve-wracking it is - they roll around, and type stuff while they stare at the screen. And they DON'T SAY A THING. It was completely silent for many minutes. Then finally she said some of the sweetest words I have ever heard:

The baby has a heartbeat of 140. Everything's looking great!

I cried. Then Kris came in and together we watched our little person dance around in there. It was amazing. Truly, truly amazing.

Life carried on, and so did my pregnancy. Because God had given us a female name, we felt very sure that we were having a girl. We (okay, it was just me) felt the temptation to find out the baby's sex at our 20 week ultrasound, just to see, but decided not to. I remember both of us (I finally came around) feeling that we didn't need to, because we had faith in God's words to us. I even had a cool experience when I stumbled across a book all about a little girl named "Grace". I felt like God was just giving me more and more signs about this little person.

The day to have our baby arrived. We were so excited and we just felt bathed in God's blessing - to think that we were ready to deliver our child, whose life we were so scared for not so many months before.

After a pretty quick labour, it was time for our baby to make its appearance. After a bit of pushing, out came our little... BOY! I remember the mix of excitement and shock! It's funny, because at NO point was there any feeling of disappointment, even though we had been so sure he was a girl. The last few weeks of my pregnancy, however, I had really been feeling like it was a boy. For some reason, I just felt like a boy made sense for us. I really wanted another little boy. I was thrilled when we saw our little Jack.

Jack Robert was a name we had picked for our baby, if he was boy, from early on in the pregnancy. At the end of our pregnancy, Kris and I chatted again about boys' names, "just in case". Another name that we liked was "Daniel". So after Jack was born, the nurses asked what his name was. We didn't know. We hadn't really felt like it was necessary to decide, because we were sure we were having a little "Grace"! We thought about it for a while. A few hours passed. We knew we needed to decide, so that we could call people with our wonderful news (we had only told our parents so far). I thought for a few minutes, and said, "I really think his name should be Jack. It just feels right." Kris said that he had been thinking the same thing. So, Jack it was!

Those first few hours and days, as I was thinking and pondering about Jack, I started asking God about why we had felt so strongly that our baby was a girl, and why he had told us that "Grace" should be her name. Kris and I were both confused. We knew that we would eventually know (at least some of) the reasons. To this day, we're still discovering little things that God is showing us about that.

The day we came home from the hospital, I realized that we didn't even know what the meaning of Jack's name was. We just liked it without really researching it. I knew it was another form of the name "John", but didn't know anything beyond that. So while Kris ran out with Sam to go pick up some lunch for us, I looked it up. Tears filled my eyes as I read the meaning of my little boy's name:

"God is gracious."

It all made perfect sense.

Since Jack has been born, God has been showing me more and more about what it means to live in His grace. Experiencing God's grace, in some ways for the first time in my life, has allowed me to have more grace for myself, and more grace for others. My baby boy is a constant reminder to me of how, indeed, God is so, SO gracious. That's what he was telling Kris and I a year ago when he told us that he would be "Grace". God sent me His "grace" through my little boy.

So that's the story of our little Jack, our precious little boy who (with his awesome older brother, of course!) fills this house with love and joy. And who reminds us on a daily basis to experience God's grace.

Grade 2 fashion

2010-11-05T07:08:00.000-07:00

So I've only worn my not-so-new-anymore skinny jeans out in public once. And that was when Kris and I went up to the city on a date - to a different city where no one knows me. I hardly consider that a victory.

I think I've figured out that they are just too tight on my legs. A little TOO skinny, if you know what I mean.

I ended up at the second hand store last weekend. I seriously LOVE thrift storing. I think it's the thrill I get when I find something perfect. There is just no challenge to finding a shirt you like, and then just sifting through to find your size. Anyways, I discovered something amazing while there:

Royal Blue skinny jeans.

I just kind of thought they were funny, and decided to bring them home just to try. Again, to see how ridiculous they might look. But here's the thing: I love them. I love the way they feel, and the way they fit. They are the most amazing cut of jean I think I have ever worn. Really. And I feel really cutting-edge wearing coloured jeans. (I think those are "in", aren't they?! Sure hope so!)

While at the second hand store, I also found a really great long-shirt-y thing. So I went and bought some leggings. Yup. Leggings. An article of clothing I have not donned since my grade 2 days. (Although I think the ones I wore back then had stirrups - remember those?!) I also got some great black boots. I tried on this outfit, and Kris told me I looked like I was straight out of 1986.

Perfect.

Apparently my husband knits

2010-11-02T07:19:00.000-07:00

The other night, ~~one of~~ the weirdest things happened to me. Let me set the stage.

I am a knitter. I have been knitting for about 9 years now, about the same amount of time that I have been with Kris. (And no, the wonder of how TWO of my greatest loves entered my life at the same time is not lost on me.) In those 9 years, I have repeatedly attempted to have Kris let me teach him how to knit. And I have repeatedly failed. Until the other night. Kind of.

We were sitting together, and I was knitting a toque for our godson for his 2nd birthday. I asked Kris if I could teach him how to knit. Real quick. And just one stitch. So that he could say he helped. Because wouldn't that be neat? Pleeeeeaaaase? (See how I like to make it sound like the greatest idea ever?!)

Preparing for yet another failed attempt to add to my list, I just about jumped off of the couch Tom-Cruise-style when Kris rolled his eyes, and said, "Fine".

HUH?!

"Really?!" I said. He confirmed his prior response, and told me to make it quick. So I cuddled up close to him, and then started my explanation. I put the needles in his hands, and started to tell him where in the next stitch he needed to insert the needle. But as I began, he said this:

"I know, I know. You put it right in here like this, wrap the yarn around back and between the two needles like this, and then pull it down and slip that stitch off."

Pardon me?!

Like I said, the weirdest thing ever. MY HUSBAND KNOWS HOW TO KNIT.

I quickly assumed that he had learned to knit as a child, was actually quite an adept knitter, and had been hiding it all these years. I asked him how he knew, wondering if he would confirm my suspicions or not. He said this:

"Sarah, I've been watching you knit for years. Don't you think I've ever paid enough attention to actually know how it works?"

No, Kris, I didn't.

Reason #93 why I love this man and think he's the cutest ever.

Chicken Pox and Mr. (Kris) Bean

2010-10-23T14:13:00.000-07:00

The craziness around here never seems to end.

Sam has chicken pox. Yup. He's got the pox. A few weird spots multiplied into MANY spots. Now he's covered. The funny thing is that he's been immunized against it. Apparently, some kids can still catch it, but it's generally a lot milder. We have no idea where it came from, but I suppose that doesn't much matter NOW. Sam thinks that having chicken pox means that he's been bit by chickens. And a few times, he's referred to them as "chicken legs". Works for me.

I have no idea what is going on around here. I guess we're just gross. We're that family. You'll know who we are - we're the ones with coughs, snotty noses, rashes, and spots. (How's that for a pity party?!)

Okay, so I don't really think we're disgusting. But I certainly hope this is it for the cold and flu season. Or someone's going to pay. I don't know who, but someone's going to get the brunt of Mama C's disease-angst. (Let's face it: 1. It will probably be Kris; and 2. It sounds like I'm talking about my mother-in-law when I say "Mama C"... kind of like how I still find it weird when they say "Thanks Mrs. Chetney" to me at Safeway. I have to look behind me to see if Kris' mom is there. Oh wait, that's me they're talking about. Riiiiight.)

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On a totally different note, we've been watching "One Tree Hill" lately. We both love it. The other night, Kris said, "I totally didn't anticipate how much I was going to enjoy this show". (Reason #138 of why I love that man and think he's the cutest ever.) We've come to the end of the seasons we have on DVD, which means that now we have to resort to finding them online, which is a HUGE step down for us. For most of the episodes we've found, the audio doesn't quite line up with the video. This is insanely annoying, especially to Kris. It's not so bad for me, because most of the time I'm knitting and not always looking up anyways. (Apparently I don't learn from my mistakes.) The other problem is our internet connection. It's not always great, and Kris is convinced that if he sits on the floor in front of the coffee table, with his legs underneath it, then the internet is more reliable. I'm not sure I'm convinced either way. But it's funny, and reminds me of a certain Mr. Bean episode. I'll leave you with the video, which I highly recommend watching if you have a few (nine) minutes. (And you have to love the lady with the crazy laugh in the audience - there's always one, isn't there?)

Kris hasn't resorted to nakedness. Yet.

Mystery Rash

2010-10-18T16:58:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure that blog posts with such topics should be avoided altogether.

But here I go anyways,

We've all had colds around here the last week and a bit, and we're just starting to feel a lot better. Sam had tonsillitis, which included big, spotty tonsils and sores in his mouth. And apparently, Hand Foot and Mouth Disease is going around. I had the thought that maybe Sam had this, but ruled it out when I realized that his hands and feet seem to be fine. Then, I started noticing that my hands were really irritated feeling since last evening. Itchy, sore, and even a bit rashy looking. But only my hands were like this. As a recovering (ish) hypochondriac, I was convinced I had HFMD, and that the rash just hadn't spread to my mouth or feet yet.

Earlier today, I picked up my knitting. I'm knitting a great wool toque - a cool pattern that's a bit tricky, and NOT friendly to mistakes. Which means I've ripped it up and started it again about 9 or 10 times already. No joke. I'm persistent. And just can't admit defeat. Anyways, as I started running the wool through my hands, a lightbulb went off when I realized how much it bothered my hands. The rash, the irritation, the red spots. The wool is the culprit. Dang it all anyways. I'm really into this pattern. I think I'd rather it had been HFMD. But not really. I can't decide.

And just as a side note, while I was writing this post, Sam came out of the bathroom with his potty in his hand, saying, "Mom! Look at this sucker!" Perhaps that's the thing that should never make it into a blog post. I think I've broken 2 rules already. Well, 3, if you include the fact that my son doesn't use the correct terms for his elimination, and finds it funny.

Meh.

Back with my tail between my legs...

2010-10-07T07:19:00.000-07:00

Okay. So it turns out I miss blogging. I have really been on this anti-technology kick lately, and have almost gotten to the end of the spectrum where I'd soon be protesting at the Apple store with signs stating "Technology = Satan" and burning iPads in a field with other extremists. Woah. Time for a blogging intervention.

So I'm back. And I'm okay with that. There are just too many things that go on here that make me think "I should blog about that".

Like how my baby had pink eye last week. Yup. Terrible sleeping turned out to be pink eye. We found out just a few days ago that it's not contagious - it's due to the clogged tear ducts he's had since birth. When we flew to Vancouver a month ago, the flight attendant looked at him, saw his goopy little eyes, and said, "awww.... Pink eye, huh?" I politely, but assertively told her that it was NOT pink eye, but merely clogged tear ducts. I have ranted about her a few times since, especially about how I didn't want everyone around us thinking we were those people with communicable diseases on the plane. Turns out, Ms. Flight Attendant should quit her day job and open up her own practice. And yes, I will take a slice of that humble pie, thank you very much. The only thing that made this a bit easier was watching Kris freak out about having pink eye. Turns out he didn't. I'm surprised. But not really.

Also, we've been asked to have Jack take part in the Roots of Empathy program. I had heard of it a few years back, and when Sam was a baby, I really wanted to take part. Turns out, they want June/July/August babies, so that they're a certain age when the year starts. Sam's first rejection. Haha... Anyways, I had forgotten all about it, when the Family Resource center (where I take the boys to the Indoor Playground every so often) called to say that Jack was the perfect age and asked if we'd be interested. We're going to be in a grade 1 classroom at a school close to our house. Apparently, Jack is going to pretty much be a rock star for the year. So, I guess I should find him some leather pants and grow his hair long and greasy.

These days, Sam is making sense of the world through anatomically correct farm animals. And he has found it rather confusing (I don't blame him) that like the Mommy pig, he has nipples, but unlike the mommy pig, he does not make milk. Try explaining that one to an emphatic 2 year old who insists that he lactates.

In other Sam news - he thinks he's a puppy named Rover. It's wonderful. 1) Because it's cute, and most importantly: 2) Because Rover will do things that Sam sometimes won't. Like using the potty. And going to bed. Some nights, Sam will not go to bed. But Rover will. I'm wondering how long we can use this one.

It's started being REALLY fun watching these 2 boys interacting. Sam can get giggles out of Jack like no one else can even come close too. Sometimes he does it by doing things that look a bit rough at first, but when I realize that Jack is laughing and not crying, I relax and go with it. Sam is really good with him. But I still have to keep a pretty close eye, because Sam is only 2, and doesn't always know what is okay to do with Jack. Tickling him is okay. Coughing directly into his mouth? Not okay. Making funny faces at him? Okay! Waving his bum in Jack's face? Not okay! You get the idea.

Anyways, here's the little boy:

And here's the big boy, pretending he's the little boy:

Sure do love these two!

Goodbye to blogging!

2010-09-26T12:20:00.000-07:00

I'm going to take a little break from blogging.

Right now, it's just a time in life where I feel like this isn't a good fit for me. I've realized that I struggle a lot with not knowing what to write about, and feeling some weird pressure to write something funny, or meaningful, or deep. But I hardly ever write about what's really on my heart. And the way I see it, this isn't really the appropriate venue to share my heart anyways. I think that should be left for phone calls, or better yet, in person over coffee.

It takes a lot of my focus off what really matters - my family, pouring into my husband and sons, and being intentional with relationships. And it feels a lot like FB to me sometimes - when people "know" what's going on in my life because they read about it here. And not because we shared a conversation, or invested in our relationship. You know?

So let's have coffee sometime instead.

Truth and Beauty

2010-09-21T07:04:00.000-07:00

Lately, Kris has really been into the band Rise Against*. At first, it was just some band that I had heard mentioned on Sonic here and there, and kind of wrote it off as something I'd have little interest in. Then, Kris started telling me about some of their songs and lyrics, and we both discovered how they touch on some really interesting social issues. One of Kris' favourite Rise Against songs is "Hero of War", which does a fantastic job of poking criticism at the issues of war - how it takes advantage of young men and their desire to make others proud and do something meaningful, as well as the injustice of violent acts done in the name of one's country. (Check out the lyrics here, and the video above.)

It's got me thinking a lot about one of the sections in Rob Bell's book Velvet Elvis. (I don't have the book around right now, or else I'd love to type out the section. I guess you'll have to check it out for yourself if you're interested. And I highly recommend that course of action.) Rob talks about the word "Christian", and that in the Bible, that word is only ever used as a noun. A Christian was a person. A person who followed Christ. But now, we've morphed the word to become an adjective, and we've been tacking it on to anything that we deem worthy - books, music, even candy. I love when he gets to the part where he talks about truth and beauty, and how so many things dubbed "Christian" sometimes contain very little truth, and no real beauty. Yet something that doesn't necessarily have the label can contain an abundant amount of truth and beauty. Like some of Rise Against's songs. Yet, they definitely aren't getting any air time on Shine FM...

Another song that, to me, contains a huge amount of truth and beauty (despite the odd F-bomb), is Everlast's "What It's Like". I remember this song being hugely popular when I was in high school, but I've only recently been really appreciating it for what a great song it really is. Check it out sometime, if you don't know it. And if you do, check it out again with a new set of eyes and see what you think. (The lyrics are here and the video is here.)

Along the same lines, one of the most worshipful experiences I've ever had was at U2's 360 concert in Vancouver last October. Although U2 doesn't market their music under a Christian label, it's hard to miss the spiritual undertones of a lot of their music. Not to mention Bono's obvious love for his Lord, and his role as a social activist. I clearly remember feeling SO in awe of who our God is, that He could so completely capture a man, a ROCKSTAR, like Bono. Truth and beauty, right there in BC Place. I'm tellin' ya...

What unlikely places have you found truth and beauty lately?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*And just as an interesting side note (and because I like using asterisks and making you come all the way down here), all of the band members of Rise Against are vegetarians and active members of PETA, abstain from alcohol and recreational drugs, and are conscious of human rights issues in clothing and footwear production. I haven't told Kris about this research I've done yet. I'm pretty sure their PETA involvement might be a deal breaker... :) I'll keep you posted on his reaction...

Grandma

2010-09-16T19:26:00.000-07:00

My Grandma passed away last Monday.

I don't know what the rule is when it comes to blogging about death - but I figure, it's on my mind, so I'm going to talk about it.

She was pretty healthy and independent until only 4 days before her passing. Then she started having strokes, each day getting worse. The worst one occurred on Sunday, and Kris and I decided last minute that we wanted to fly out to Vancouver to see her. Even if we could just hold her hand and have her know we cared, and that we were there for her.

We arrived in Vancouver at 830 in the morning, and headed off to rent a car. Kris checked his cell phone, and noticed 3 messages. Two of them were from my mom, to call her right away. My heart sank. I knew we had missed her. And it turns out, by only 2.5 hours. I'd like to believe that somehow she knew we were coming for her.

But it all happened the way she would have wanted. She was a stubborn, independent lady who would have NEVER taken kindly to being in any kind of care. So for that, I am happy.

We will miss her. Her crazy stories, that were part truth, and maybe part something else. Having tea, or going for pizza and beer (yup, I had a beer-drinking, caesar-loving Grandma!). How much she loved Sam, and how much Sam really liked his "big Grandma" (before he could say "great" - but she was a big woman, and she just laughed and laughed when he'd call her that).

And the funny thing - while going through some of her things, (and making sure she hadn't stashed a large sum of money in her underwear drawer - which is something she would have done because she didn't trust the bank or the government) we found a drawer with about 2 dozen unopened pairs of pantyhose. In addition to about the same amount of opened pairs.

I guess you never know when you're gonna get a runner in your stocking, huh, Grandma?! :)

Sam with my Grandma, right after he barfed on her and then peed through his sleeper!

Clothes Shopping with Kris, and a Skinny Jean Update

2010-09-13T07:09:00.000-07:00

This has been a big couple of days for me.

First - I deactivated my Facebook account. (I miss it more than I thought I would, but I'm experiencing a lot of freedom, too. Plus, it's WAY too early to go back with my tail between my legs. I figure I have to display at least a bit of dignity and maturity in this. *Sigh*)

Second - and more importantly - I bought a pair of skinny jeans. I was certainly NOT foreseeing this one. I recently just talked about how I'm not sure about skinny jeans, and didn't know if I'd ever be able to wear a pair. However, the whole mom jean thing was really bugging me.

And then there were the issues with Kris' fashion. Lately, he's been talking a lot about feeling dumpy in his clothes, and needing some new jeans. Plus, I don't remember the last time we bought Kris some clothes that weren't second hand.

It was true - we looked like parents. Uh oh.

So all of this landed us at H&M on Saturday. (As a side note, I did a bit of research beforehand because I was curious to see how socially responsible H&M is with their manufacturing. Turns out, they're not bad. Certainly not as terrible as the Gap company and their subsidiaries. So that's something.) We found Kris some great jeans and a few tops. The whole experience was a lot for him. And I think the cherry on the cake was when the male change room worker said to Kris, "Oooh, I really like that shirt. I was thinking of getting that one in black." Kris' rule about fashion is as follows:

The first rule of fashion is, you do not talk about fashion.

The second rule of fashion is, you DO NOT talk about fashion.

(This rule applies to everyone other than your wife.) Kris made some comment about how his friends were going to bug him about how snug his new jeans are. Turns out, it was actually his dad. I don't think it bothered him too much. I think that falls under the fashion rule that states:

Don't take fashion advice from anyone a whole generation older than you.

And let's face it - it's probably a worse thing when our parents start liking what we wear. No matter our age.

As for me, I made the comment as we walked in the store, "I should totally try on some skinny jeans, just to see how terrible they look". I then laughed, and Kris was adamant that I actually do it. We found some right at the front of the store. I tried them on. And really kind of liked them. I came out of the change room, feeling kind of hip and young, and was met with a belly laugh from Kris when he first laid eyes on the jeans. I think my rule about fashion should be:

If an article of clothing ever elicits laughter from another human, DON'T BUY IT.

Apparently I have no self-respect when it comes to this, and instead proceeded to convince Kris how good I thought they looked. Once the laughter subsided, he said he really liked them. (He also said, "Wow, those are realllly tight on your legs!" Why did I buy them again?! Oh right, because they were $12.95 and I'm desperate not to end up one of those women who's still wearing, at 50, what was cool when she was 20. You know the type.)

So there you have it. I left H&M a brand new owner of the infamous "skinny jean". And Kris left muttering about his need to go to Wholesale Sports to restore any shred of manhood that he may have had left.

And all I have to say is: In yo' face, Mom Jean!

(Just for the record, I totally haven't had the courage to actually wear them yet. I realized that all my shoes are Mom-jean-friendly, and not so much skinny-jean-friendly. Which poses a problem. But that's for another day.)

Goodbye, Facebook!

2010-09-09T19:14:00.000-07:00

I did it.

I finally did it.

Yesterday, I freed myself from the bondage that is Facebook!

A good friend of mine recently made the break, and after debating and struggling with the idea for a LONG time, I decided it was time for me too. That was just the push I needed to get off the fence, and hop off into the land of "more free time", where status updates and newsfeed don't exist.

I want to be more intentional with people. I was really noticing how Facebook has made me SO lazy with relationships. The words "Facebook me!" will no longer be part of my vocabulary. Instead, I'll use the phone. Email. Letters.

I can still share fun stuff about our life, and photos, here on this blog.

So that's what I'm going to do. But right now, it's time for an afternoon nap.

Strangers and Temper Tantrums

2010-09-03T13:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Stranger,

Please do not stare when my child has a temper tantrum in public.

And while I have your attention, I'd like to make a few other points:

My son is 2. It is perfectly normal for him to feel like the world is falling apart around him when his mother says "no" to a chocolate bar in the checkout line. Sometimes I feel like that too. And sometimes, I just buy the damn chocolate.
I don't need your comments about how he must be in the "terrible twos", or how he's a "busy little guy".
I'm not interested in a conversation about how awful or tough our children are; I like my son, and think he's pretty great. I like to speak positively about him as much as possible.
I'm not a terrible mom because I don't have a tantrum that's equal in size to my son's to try and control his behaviour. (And if I did, perhaps that would warrant some stares.)
ALL (conscious) children behave like this at some time or another. I am not more sure of any other fact.
Your pity looks don't help. What does help, is just to walk on by like this isn't happening right now. Because I'm trying my darnedest to pretend like it isn't. Let me live in my moment of denial.
If you're a mother, you've experienced this. Don't give me that "I would never let my child act like that in public" look.

So, next time you may experience my child having a tough time in public, just keep on walking. It's what's best for everyone. Trust me.

Sincerely,

Sarah

Parenting and Communes

2010-08-29T07:33:00.000-07:00

On a good friend's recommendation, I recently picked up this book at the library:

One word: Amazing.

Okay, there are very few situations where I feel like one word is really sufficient, and besides, I like to talk. So I'm not going to leave it at one word.

The author (who I'll herein refer to as "Gord", because I think he's great and I feel like he's my friend) talks about how we have an issue in our day and age, not with discipline and a lack of respect in children, but in attachment. That most children are no longer attaching in a healthy way to their parents primarily, and then giving a second place to their peers, but attaching to their peers and looking to them for their morals, values, and cues about almost everything. Gord refers to this phenomenon as "peer orientation".

I was shocked to discover how much of our society sets up peer orientation. We are constantly pushing our children to be more independent (and then getting upset when they show signs of - guess what? - independence), and pushing them towards their friends instead of fostering attachment with us, their parents, and other adults in their lives. He talked about how even when we step through the doors of a religious institution, we're automatically separated by age - babies in the nursery, young kids in Sunday school, teens in youth group - instead of encouraged to be with our families in a multigenerational setting. That really hit me. What also hit me was when Gord was talking about how parents, when getting together with other parents, push the kids to "go play" while the adults sit and have their conversation. Guilty as charged!

It's interesting how we've really lost that "old school" way of doing things, and how it no longer takes a village to raise a child. In the past, the butcher and the mailman all knew your parents and your family, and children interacted with all generations in a village. Families spent time together - from infants to great-grandparents - and children knew they had many trustworthy adults around them whom they could go to. That seems to be no longer.

I'm really enjoying this book so far. I love it on a parenting level, to give us tips and insight on how to raise our children differently, but also because it shows how the way we've set up our North American lives just isn't working. Or at least, not working well. I've talked about this before, but all of this is just another reason why I believe we're meant to live in authentic community with each other.

Because it's true - it takes a village to raise a child. Never before has the weight of parenting rested on the shoulders of just two (and sometimes only one) adult. And I think we can see how well that is working out.

The Poop Incident

2010-08-26T20:09:00.001-07:00

Sometime I would love to see what my some parts of my life look like in fast forward and put to circus music.

Like the other day. The poop incident.

Sam was sleeping. (This one was ALL the little guy. And even though his poop is a lot more "innocent" I guess, it's still stinky. And slimy. And shockingly similar to a condiment I put on hot dogs.) I was holding Jack in a sitting position against me, with my nursing pillow on my lap, watching "Teen Mom" with him. He likes that show. Then... I got a whiff. I thought it weird, seeing as the odour wasn't following up his usual session of grunting and carrying on. I picked him up to smell his bum (one of those things you might say you'll never do as a parent, but always end up doing) but didn't even need to get it near my face. There was poop. Every. Where.

On my hoodie. On my shirt underneath my hoodie. On my jeans. On the nursing pillow. Dripping down onto the couch under me. And ALL over poor little Jack.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and gathered my faculties. I carefully put the pillow on the floor, poop side up, and raced to the bathroom. I layed some cloths under his poopy back, and strapped him onto the change table (with straps that I had just installed days ago - it's almost like I knew it was coming). I promptly went to change my own clothes, so as not to transfer more poop onto Jack, and went back to deal with the mess.

(I just need to insert here how insanely difficult it is to clean up a poopy child withoutcontaminating any of the clean stuff. You have no idea how many times I have spread the feces onto the clean diaper, the clean clothes, the clean kid, the clean mom, the clean floor even. Yikes.)

The clean-up process was pretty uneventful. Then, I went to go lay Jack in the living room while I ran downstairs to get him new pants (his shirt had remained miraculously doody-free), and as I walked past our open front door, just about had a feces incident of my own when I saw a man standing there. Just my brother. We're okay.

He had stopped by to drop something off, and stayed at the doorway for a bit to visit. I got Jack, and he held him while we chatted. He said he had to go, and I explained that I had to tend to some poop clean-up. He paused, and said, "Yeah, I think he still has some on his foot." Sure enough, his little foot was yellow-tinged. I cleaned up his foot, and by this time, Sam had gotten up from his nap. I got Jack's pants on, and then went to tend to the poopy pillow cover.

After (I thought) it had all been cleaned up, I went back and sat on the couch with Sam to watch a movie for a few minutes before supper. I looked over at him, and WHAT?! He had Jack's poop ALL over the side of his foot. Oh dear. He must've rubbed up against the dirty pillow while I was getting Jack dressed. I got up to de-poop yet another of my offspring, and checked the couch for any poop that Sam might have spread. We were good. Except for the smear on the couch from before, that I hadn't cleaned up with all the distraction. Yup. Had poop all over my second pair of pants.

There are days like this when there is just TOO MUCH POOP, too many places.

It's a good thing those kids are darn cute.

Clothes and Baby Weight

2010-08-25T13:11:00.001-07:00

One of the blogs that I recently started reading confirmed one of worst nightmares:

I wear "Mom" jeans.

Not necessarily the mom jeans of yore - waistband at breast level, pockets that sit nicely in the small of the back, tapered, about an inch too short, and of course, a total accentuation of the typical mom "cheese pouch" (what IS the proper term - or in the very least, a nicer term - for that bit of flabby fat below the belly button?!).

No. Apparently the new mom jean is the low-rise, straight leg. Sigh. I should have known.

I have been avoiding the skinny jean for quite some time. It's SO hard to latch onto a fashion craze that I can only remember as being totally dorky. I remember the poor schmucks at school who were still wearing tapered jeans looong after they'd run their course. (I also remember sometimes being that schmuck. Vividly remember, in fact.) Turns out, those schmucks would be cool now. I just can't wrap my head around it.

Now, I think skinny jeans look good. At least, usually. And on other people. Just not on me. But then, I have this whole mom jean issue. So maybe it's worth a shot?

My wardrobe is in a sad state of affairs. And it consists largely of (mom) jeans and (mostly ill-fitting) t-shirts. I have a lot of belly flab leftover from Mr. Jack... which makes most of my shirts too small and causes most of my jeans to give me a muffin top. But I don't really want to buy new clothes because then I feel like it's a reason to stay like this, in this shape. And that is NOT an option I want to discuss. Sigh. What's a girl to do?

I think I'm going to go eat a chocolate cookie.

The Poop Incident

2010-08-18T14:47:00.001-07:00

Sometime I would love to see what my some parts of my life look like in fast forward and put to circus music.

Like the other day. The poop incident.

On my hoodie. On my shirt underneath my hoodie. On my jeans. On the nursing pillow. Dripping down onto the couch under me. And ALL over poor little Jack.

(I just need to insert here how insanely difficult it is to clean up a poopy child without contaminating any of the clean stuff. You have no idea how many times I have spread the feces onto the clean diaper, the clean clothes, the clean kid, the clean mom, the clean floor even. Yikes.)

There are days like this when there is just TOO MUCH POOP, too many places.

It's a good thing those kids are darn cute.

Discipline

2010-08-09T06:59:00.000-07:00

The last little while we have been entering into a new stage of parenting: DISCIPLINE. It's been on my mind a ton lately.

Kris and I hadn't talked too much about the direction we wanted to take in the area prior to having children, or even prior to Sam reaching the age where discipline was required. I think we sort of just assumed that we would just know what to do.

But, about a year ago, we entered this stage, and after some talks about our goals and visions for our family, we realized that we wanted to do anything BUT what we knew. We came to realize that what we knew about discipline is not the kind of parenting we want to do. That a lot of parenting "ideals" that are prominent in our society are not the kind of tactics we really want to use.

I'm really starting to see what unhealthy views we have when it comes to our children. We think that adults are more important than kids. (This may never be spoken, but our actions certainly communicate as such.) Adults should always be "in control". We need to "stop that behaviour" when our kids make mistakes and act in ways that we don't like. We believe that kids should "act their ages", which usually means that we want them to act older than they really are.

We have been trying to break some of these habits, and to try and form a new way of thinking in our family.

While poking around the library looking for a parenting book recommended by a good friend, whose parenting style we admire and respect a great deal, I stumbled across another great book. I have been totally blown away already, and I am only into it a few chapters.

The author says the first and biggest behaviour problem we have to deal with as parents is... (wait for it...):

OUR OWN.

Children react in the ways that they are modelled. If I deal with Sam with anger, stress, and frustration (which is my choice, and my responsibility to control - not Sam's), he will react to me with anger, stress and frustration. What you put in is what you get out. (Which is a shocking concept, when you think about how some discipline can involve yelling, angry words, and hitting/spanking - yikes.) But if I treat him with love, compassion, and understanding, then I will breed those very things in him. It doesn't mean that he doesn't have boundaries and rules, and consequences when he oversteps them, but that he is treated the way that I would want to be treated when I need correction. And hopefully those qualities eventually spill over into how he treats others as he gets older. The author also says that looking at the qualities in your child that you would like to change is a great indicator for the areas in which we ourselves need to change. Here's a great quote, that I love and hate all at the same time:

"Virtually every so-called 'strong-willed child' has at least one stubborn parent who insists on dominating the child and perpetuating power-struggles. Ask yourself, 'Am I this parent?'"

Oh crap. It's so hard to see areas in which we need to change. But that's my favourite thing about this book. It's focus is not to see "what's wrong" with your child, but to draw attention to our issues as parents that create discipline problems.

It may sound like a huge statement, but I really believe this stuff is life-changing for our entire family. And it's already making a difference.

The other night, Sam was having a tough time, and starting having a huge temper tantrum. We tried to give him a time out, which just perpetuated the issue (mostly because we were contributing more anger and frustration into the situation). So, we told Sam that it was okay to be angry, but that he needed to take some space in his room until he was calm again (thanks, Claire!). Only a few minutes later, he emerged his regular, happy little self. And we realized that perhaps "outbursts" like that don't need to be disciplined so much as directed. To teach Sam skills that he can use to deal with those feelings, instead of just focussing on "stopping it", because we need to show him that "he can't act like that!"

I don't say any of this to make it look like Kris and I have it all together, or that we've got it all figured out. We're normal parents who make lots of mistakes. But we're just trying to take a new direction, and to question some of the ideas that we've always just believed about how we should deal with our children. To figure out what's right and what works for our little family. We're on a huge journey with this parenting thing!

I'm so thankful there is grace in this process. And I'm thankful for the fact that if I love and worry about how my kids are treated, how much more does my Heavenly Father love and worry about me?

Something fun for a boring evening?

2010-07-26T19:18:00.000-07:00

I find people's personalities fascinating. I've taken a few personality tests in the past, usually for school or work. And it's funny how I'm so blown about how accurate the description of me is. (As if someone other than me provided the data upon which the results are based?!)

Anyways, a while back I was talking with a friend who is just finishing Med school. In one of their classes, the prof had them all take the Myers-Briggs Personality test. His point was that doctors have one trait in common - they're usually adventure-seekers who thrive on stress and adrenaline. And strangely enough, the results of all their tests were very similar. She asked me to take it, as she was interested in what my results would be.

I am an ENFJ (the "giver") - the description of me seems pretty bang-on. (Again, why am I surprised?) So then I had Kris take the test. He turns out to be an ISTJ (the "duty-fulfiller). Again, totally bang-on.

Then, after some searching, I found a website that describes the relationships between each personality type. Using the chart, I found that Kris and I have a relationship of "duality". I was blown away with how much it described how we function together. The funniest thing was how it so accurately described our beginning (Kris being the Introvert of the two of us):

It is difficult to notice your Dual partner among all the other types and even easier to pass them by. Usually during first contact extroverts think about their introvert Dual as ordinary and simple, therefore not deserving their personal attention. In return introverts consider their extrovert Dual to be too good for them and therefore unattainable.

Hah! When I read this all to Kris, we had a good laugh together. (And we were pleasantly surprised to know that we supposedly have some of the most compatible personalities amongst the personality types!) Then, I entered my friend and my personalities. I had to call her and read the description; we just laughed and laughed as it perfectly described our intense, sometimes heated friendship.

Anyways, when you have a moment, follow my links and take the test. Then, have your spouse do the same and see how you match up. Let me know how it turns out!

Eleanor

2010-07-13T12:35:00.000-07:00

Last evening, while Kris and I were watching a riveting episode of "Dawson's Creek", the phone rang. We checked the caller ID (must be realllly important to interrupt good ol' DC!), and didn't recognize the number. Now, we're terrible at answering the phone at the best of times, but more so with someone who we may or may not know (God forbid we have to speak to a stranger!). True to form, we decided to let the answering machine take it.

The message that followed after the machine's beep was the saddest thing I have heard in a long time. It was a little old lady, named Eleanor, who seemed rather confused, looking for her sister (we think?!). She went on to say, in a shaky, emotional, elderly voice that it had been a tough day for her. It would have been her and her husband's 62nd anniversary that day.

62 years.

By the strong emotion in the lady's voice, it sounded like perhaps having lost her husband was a fairly recent thing. That her heart was still raw and wounded from the loss of her soulmate. Assuming that, she and her husband had spent a long lifetime together.

Kris and I will be celebrating our 6th anniversary in a few weeks. Not even a TENTH of that time. And he is everything to me. He knows me better than I even know myself sometimes. He is my companion, my best friend. I can't imagine not having him around to experience life with me. To laugh at the same things as me. To be sad at the same things. To throw me a knowing glance in public as we chuckle at something we both find odd or amusing. Just to be there to ponder life with. To argue with. To talk politics with. To always have someone who'll hug me and tell me I'm beautiful. To be a father to my children. And we've only experienced 1/10 of the closeness this couple must have had.

My heart hurts for that poor woman.

After she explained that it had been a hard day, she got extremely choked up and after a few seconds, she eventually just hung up the phone. My answering machine clicked off, leaving me to wonder about who this heart broken widow is. And feeling like I can only guess at how difficult her journey has been. I can't seem to get her out of my mind.

I've considered calling her. Partly to explain that we weren't the people she must have been trying to get ahold of. But partly to see if maybe we were. Maybe God purposely misguided her shaky, bony little hand to mistakenly dial our number. Perhaps our journeys are supposed to intersect briefly. Even if only for me to tell her I'm sorry and that I will pray for her. And to be taught a lesson that should be remembered when my husband is driving me batty.

Because I still have my husband. And Eleanor is missing hers.

Sleep

2010-07-12T12:54:00.000-07:00

Last night, I was pleasantly surprised to roll over and see 4:30am on my alarm clock when my little Jack started calling for some food. We usually get done feeding him and into bed by about 11:00, so to get 5 1/2 hours of sleep IN A ROW was pure bliss. And really helps a mama deal with her day much better! (Especially when coffee can no longer play a role... Yes, I'm still missing my "mourning" java... sorry, I couldn't resist... I love homonyms...)

Kris thinks I idolize sleep. That I put it before other more important things. (Like social obligations and personal hygiene, to name a few. But I'm sure I'm not the only one who has ever chosen 15 more minutes of sleep over a shower, right?!) He is probably right on the money with his accusations. *sigh*

Having a newborn really cramps my style in the sleep department. As much as I look forward to when Jack starts sleeping through the night, though, I'm really trying to enjoy these times; while he's still getting up (it's only once a night right now, anyways) just means that he is still a cuddly little newborn. Once he's sleeping all night, he won't be like this anymore. He'll be bigger, and this time will be gone. So, I'm trying to appreciate that he's still little enough to need me in the night, instead of wishing it away. And the funny thing is, spending 40 minutes feeding a baby in the middle of the night offers the kind of peace and quiet that is rarely found in a household with a 2 year old. The other thing I appreciate about it, is that he keeps getting up. SIDS is every parent's nightmare. I am blessed that my precious baby cries in the middle of the night, because it means that he is alive and well.

So, maybe Kris IS a little off the mark, too, in believing that sleep is my idol. (Although, I can still be a bit nasty at 3 o'clock in the morning... we've just decided that we should simply dismiss whatever verbal banter is exchanged at these wee hours of the morning. It's for the best, really.) Hopefully this means that I'm growing past some of my hang-ups. Maybe.

Baby Jack

2010-07-06T07:25:00.001-07:00

Jack Robert

Jack: means "God is Gracious"

Robert: after my grandfather

Born Wednesday, June 2, 2010 at 9:24 am

9 lbs. 7 ozs. - 22" long

I can't believe our little Jack is 5 weeks old tomorrow. These precious first weeks sure go by in a flash. And now that life is settling into a new normal, I finally am going to share our little guy's story!

It all happened quite differently than I expected. Having had Sam at 36 weeks, I wasn'tcounting on going early, but I certainly did NOT foresee going all the way to 41 weeks! I don't think I was particularly pleasant company in those last few weeks and days. :) Kris could probably vouch for me on that one!

The day before Jack was born, Kris came with me to my 41 week appointment. Sam was napping, so Kris' mom was here with him while we were gone. The doctor checked me all out, and then informed us that he really thought they should induce me in the next day or two. I had two opposing thoughts rolling through my head at this point: 1) "Oh, dear Lord, I could kiss this man!"; and 2) "I realllllly don't want to be induced!" I had been so tired and extremely uncomfortable, and having terrible nights, but yet I imagined induction to mean I had to be hooked up to things while they pumped me full of Pitocin to make my baby come out. I expressed my concern to the doctor, who said they wouldn't be doing any of that, just trying a bit of Cervidil (a gel that helps to ripen the cervix). He said that I was so ready to have this baby that just a little bit of help would get things going. I breathed a sigh of relief, and even though I know inductions can (in extreme cases) escalate to the point of having a C-Section, I also knew that we were ready and wanted to get the show on the road. (Besides, Cervidil does does the same thing to the body as another form of natural induction that involves the husband...)

He went to phone the hospital, came back, and asked us if we could head over to the hospital right after our appointment. HUH?! Kris and I looked at each other, and couldn't really believe that it was now. It was go-time. The doctor left and gave us some time to chat, and we both felt like it was right to just go in. I felt pretty emotional and overwhelmed by it all, just knowing that our baby would be here anytime now. It was just hard to believe that we would meet our little person so soon! The doctor came back and we told him we were ready to go. He said he thought it would be later that night, or early the next day, and that because my body was so prepared already, he didn't want us discharged (usually they send you home after they give you the Cervidil).

So, Kris phoned him mom, and she was totally fine with having Sam for the next few days. It worked out great since she was on a run of 10 days off of work. I was a bit emotional about the fact that I hadn't said bye to Sam, and how I had had no idea that the next time I'd see him, we'd be a family of four. (Which, in hindsight was maybe for the best. The last thing Sam needed was an emotional mama saying goodbye to him, and making him feel like something was happening.)

We got to the hospital around 4 and we started the process. We spent the evening walking around the hospital, playing Wii Sports, and watching cable (video games and TV are quite the treat for us!). Night came, and I was surprised that nothing had started yet. So we decided to try and catch some rest while we could, which ended up to be wishful thinking - Kris had a vinyl Lazy Boy to recline on for the night, and my back was killing me, making it hard to get comfortable (the story of my life the past few weeks). We slept for a bit, until about 2am, when my back started becoming really painful. I made Kris rub my back (back rubs at 2am were being commonplace around here!), but the pain didn't really seem to subside. We tried going back to bed. I rested on and off until around 330, when the pain in my back made it impossible to lay down. I had a bit of a meltdown about how, if I was going to be up all night, I wanted it to be because I was in labour, not just having more back aches. I stressed about the sleep we were losing, knowing how tired delivery can make you. I wanted to go into it as rested as possible. But right after my outburst, I realized that I was getting some really intense cramping with it, that would come and go. Contractions! After about 20 minutes of making sure they were regular, Kris called the nurse.

When the nurse came a few minutes later, the contractions were already 3-4 minutes apart, and getting pretty intense. She checked me, and I was 6cm dilated already. I had kind of thought at some point about putting off the epidural, because it really slowed my labour with Sam, and I felt like I could maybe do it if I was already that far, and things were going pretty quick. I laboured in the shower until around 6am, when things were getting pretty intense. I felt like I was doing well and had found my "happy place", but when the pain went up a notch, I didn't know if I could handle it. As per my previous instructions, Kris gently tried to discourage me from the epidural for a bit. The nurse was also in the "no epidural" camp, and kept trying to tell me of my other pain options. But, having previously experienced the beauty of an epidural, and hearing from friends about the ineffectiveness of the other options, I was pretty set on just going straight for the epidural. Plus, what did these 2 know about labour? There's nothing worse than having 2 people who have never experienced labour tell you how well you're doing and how you could probably do the whole thing on your own. Whatever.

I decided to at least see how far along I was. The nurse checked me, and I wasn't quite 7cm. Ugh. I would definitely get the epidural, I decided. I needed some relief. I had all back labour again this time, which is notorious for not letting up between contractions. The nurse called the doctor in, and within 15 minutes (the blessing of the rural hospital!), I was feeling the bliss of the epidural.

Just before 9am, the doctor came in to check me, and said I was fully dilated and ready to start pushing. I pushed for a while, but was having a hard time feeling any contractions. The doctor said to stop the epidural, which was great motivation to push - get that kid out before the epidural runs out! I pushed a bit more, and started to feel the baby's head moving. What a crazy, miraculous feeling. A little bit more, and out came our beautiful son. They put him right up on me, and I was totally in awe as I held his slippery little body. I had no words. He cried with his powerful little lungs.

We had totally thought that we were having a girl (which is a story I will probably write about some time). Although I definitely experienced shock at seeing a little set of male parts, there was not one ounce of disappointment in me when I saw my little boy. It's amazing how much you can love a slimy little person you've only just met!

After a few minutes of letting me hold Jack, the nurse took him over to the little table to assess him. He layed there, calm as ever, looking around and starting to search for something to eat. Soon after, they brought him to me to try to nurse for the first time. Jack knew exactly what he was doing, and it went great. I was very thankful for that!

When we were finished, they wanted to take him to weigh him. Kris went along, while I stayed so the nurse could finish up looking after me. A little bit later, our doctor came in and asked me what my guess on Jack's weight was - I guessed 8 lbs. 6 ozs., the nurse's guess was 8 lbs. 2 ozs. Nope. A whopping 9 lbs. 7 ozs.! I couldn't believe it! (That is, until I remembered how I felt him down so low in my pelvis AND up in my ribs, how huge I felt, and the silly stretch marks that didn't make their unwelcome appearance until 38 weeks.)

Jack is just perfect. It was fun showing him off to family and friends. It worked out perfectly that Sam was able to be the very first person to meet Jack, and we got to have some time with just the four of us. Sam thought that the baby's name should have been "Helmet". While that was a nice option, we decided to go with Jack instead. :)

Life has been going well. And we're not too tired. Either way, it's a small price to pay for enjoying such a wonderful blessing.

And thanks to Avey for the beautiful photos of our little guy!

We ARE still here!

2010-07-01T12:45:00.000-07:00

I will post Jack's birth story on here soon. I promise. I have been finding it hard to find spare moments to write - I usually fill such moments with naps, cuddling my boys (did you see how cute they are?!), and just settling in to life. So, I don't feel too guilty about leaving this so long. :)

We are doing very well around here though. After some harder days, we've figured out that Mama can't drink coffee in the mornings. This discovery has made for some much more manageable afternoons, but has left me kind of missing that jolt. And realizing that I definitely had an addiction. Sam is doing well with the transition. He's had his moments, but just as Kris and I try to give ourselves a bit of extra grace lately, we try to give Sam that same courtesy. He loves his little brother, though, and really enjoys holding him, showing him his toys, and trying to get his attention. Some funny things Sam has said and done since coming home from the hospital:

The very first day we came home, Jack was sleeping in his bassinet on the coffee table in the living room. Sam was so curious about him, and to be a nice big brother, decided to "share" his toys with Jack. In there we found a police car, a lion, some PlayMobil, and a few other things. :)
Upon seeing me feed Jack for the first time, Sam asked me, "Baby bite Mama?"
Jack had a little skin tag by his ear when he was born, which the doctor simply tied off with some suture thread, and it eventually fell off. When Sam saw it for the first time, he called it Jack's "birdie ear", because the way the thread ends went, it looked like the rudimentary "V" drawing of a bird. Jack has just been left with a little bump there now, and we still call it his "birdie ear". I think that term will stick.
Sam was also very curious about Jack's umbilical cord, which still had the flattened part where the clamp had gone. That part, in particular, was kind of gross looking, and kind of reddish and brownish in colour. Thus, Sam dubbed the umbilical cord "pizza". Not sure I'll look at pizza the same again.
Sam LOVES to be near Jack. Anytime Jack is on the floor having tummy time or kicking away on a blanket, Sam needs to be right beside him, often mimicking him. It's not rare to hear Sam grunting, burping, or crying, to try to sound just like his little brother. (The burping is a BIG hit around here... we'll have to work on that one!)

We just feel so blessed by these two little boys. Having 5 older brothers, boys just feel comfortable for me. I can't wait for summers of fishing and camping, and winters filled with "kadooing" and sledding. I look forward to life with my boys.

God is good.

Here's proof:

Patience

2010-05-27T14:32:00.000-07:00

God is teaching me a lot about patience in this last little while. And it is a well-needed lesson.

I have been pregnant a whole 4 weeks longer than I was with Sam, and now I am officially two days "overdue". (Although, who decides stuff like that? This baby is due when it's ready to come out. End of story. I don't need a term like that to make me feel more impatient!)

Anyways, I have had meltdowns, been downright grouchy and mean, and have not handled this last bit with any kind of grace or dignity. Sometimes I don't care, but other times, I'm kind of embarrassed by both my behaviour and my attitude. Thinking on all this, two things came to my mind:

I read a post a while back from Katie in Uganda's blog about a young girl (13 years old, I think?) who had been taken from her family by her uncle, and then abused by him and her cousins in unthinkable ways. She became pregnant, and therefore an embarrassment to the family, so they tied her to a tree in the yard. Pregnant, tied to a tree, forced to sleep on the ground, and still exposed to more torture, even being beaten in the belly to try to hurt the baby. Praise the Lord, this young girl was rescued and brought to live with Katie, where she had a healthy baby boy (what a miracle!) shortly after.
I took an English class in university in which we focused on slave literature, particularly that which was written by women. It amazed me how these women, when pregnant, continued their arduous work right up until the time they gave birth, only to strap the infant onto their back hours later and return to work.

Woah, I am such a wimp.

I know it is okay to have struggles. But thinking on these things is a good reminder for me to be patient, and to be thankful. The sore body, bad sleeping, heartburn, and huge belly in the way is just a sign that I am about to bring a beautiful little person into this world. I have a bed to sleep in, good food to eat, and a medical system working for me. I am spoiled. Truly and utterly spoiled. I think it's time for a shift in focus.

So... to end this, I'm going to share a couple of things I'm loving about being pregnant right now:

Knitting over my big, full belly
Cuddling with Sam on the couch, while he uses his little sibling as an armrest!
The way strangers are extra courteous to a pregnant woman, and the little smiles I get from people when they notice the tummy (especially from the older ones!)
Feeling this little person move around and just be, all while inside of me
Kris saying, "watch your belly" when he moves around me, knowing that I don't really like having it bumped
Knowing how many people are excited about this child, and what a blessing it is to have people who love my kids
Keeping people on the edge of their seats, and throwing them for a bit of a loop when we don't answer the phone, or Kris phones someone from his cell phone :) (or pulling a FB prank...!)
Just learning to savour these last few days of carrying this child, and dreaming about who he/she will be

The Cost of Things

2010-05-10T07:41:00.000-07:00

I've been rethinking how I look at cost lately.

I had an interesting conversation with a friend about the true cost of things recently. We were talking about how to be socially and environmentally responsible with our purchases, and how unfortunately, that can often ending being a terribly expensive choice. I tend to be pretty frugal most of the time (which is just a pretty term for "cheap"...), and I often get caught in an inner conflict when I see that the jeans made responsibly in Canada cost 8 times as much as the ones I could purchase at Old Navy. My friend agreed, and then commented on how funny it is that as Christians, frugality is something that is praised and encouraged. Which is really quite backwards.

Is it really better to get a great pair of capris for $10 at WalMart than to spend $60 on something equivalent at MEC, where all their clothing is sourced and produced in a socially responsible manner? Am I really being a "better steward" of my money when I spend $6 on a HUGE can of coffee at Superstore (which is contributing to one of the biggest markets in the human slave trade), instead of spending $14 on a small bag of fair trade coffee from the little coffee shop on Main Street?

Just because something is costing ME less, certainly doesn't mean it isn't costing someone something. According to the world's standards, I am very rich North American. Is it not FAR better for ME to absorb the extra financial cost of buying fair trade, than it is to buy cheaply and have that cost fall on the shoulders of someone who's basic human rights are being violated in order for me to consume that product cheaply? I often have to remind myself that it is SO worth the extra money to know that my products are being made by people who are treated with dignity and respect.

And another funny thing happens when I spend more, but spend it responsibly. I waste less. I want less. Instead of making a huge pot of coffee and throwing a lot of it out, I make what's needed and drink it in moderation. If I were to be responsible with every clothing choice I make (still working on that one!), I'd probably be more satisfied with a more limited wardrobe. Is 10 pairs of jeans really necessary anyways?

So, I'm going to replace the word "frugal" in my vocabulary, with the words "responsible" and "informed". Because I really believe that those are the ways I can truly be a good steward of what God has given me.

I don't say any of these things because I'm trying to make you feel guilty, or that I'm trying to convict you in any way. These are just the ways that I've been convicted of, and these are the areas that I'm trying to make changes in!

Call me crazy, but...

2010-05-04T09:06:00.000-07:00

I'm tired of living alone.

The North American way of life is really getting me down lately. (And by lately, I really mean the last year, or even two.) I just don't think it's meant to be this way. Each of us living in our own little homes, with curtains on the windows so no-one can see in, with high fences to maintain our privacy from our neighbours (what a shame if we actually had to TALK to them!). I don't think daily tasks were meant to only serve our own family, or be done on our own while we herd our children out from underfoot so that we can just "get it done". I don't think we were meant to eat apples that come from miles and miles away, beef that is raised with growth hormones, and milk that is stripped of all its nutritional value and packaged in a plastic container that will end up in the landfill.

Not at all.

I think we're made to live in community, relationally with one another. To share the workload, and to even make work something we enjoy, because we're doing it with people that we enjoy. I think our kids are meant to play together while we can vegetables from the garden. I think we're meant to support each other, be strong when our neighbour is weak, and accept help from our neighbours when we ourselves are weak. Playgroups and coffee dates (to socialize ourselves) wouldn't be necessary. We'd be living it everyday. I think we're meant to eat from the land that we work, and what we don't grow or raise should be obtained from within our community, if possible. I believe we're meant to live with others in mind, instead of spending our days looking after the needs and wants of our own individual little family units.

Sound idealistic? Perhaps. I don't kid myself into thinking there wouldn't be issues that would need to be worked out, or that everyone would get along peacefully all the time. But where true love is, and where a group of people share a common goal and love the same Lord, I believe it could work.

There's a really beautiful scene in the movie "The Secret Life of Bees", in which the women who own a honey farm, and their workers, are all working together in the kitchen. The radio is blasting oldies (well, the movie is set in the '60s, so it wasn't oldies then!), and everyone is dancing and singing while working side by side at their tasks. (Doing dishes sure looks more appealing that way, compared to the way that I get them done!)

Anyhow, that is what's really been on my heart lately (amongst some other things, and waiting for this baby!). Anyone else in?! :)

My thoughts about birth...

2010-04-15T18:59:00.001-07:00

I have been having a hard time lately focusing on anything other than this baby. It's funny how someone that I haven't even met yet can have such an influence of every aspect of my life. And it's really neat how God designed us to have such strong instincts to ready ourselves for this big change (although sometimes I do resent the fact that my need to clean the baseboards and organize closets bears such a close resemblance to a mama cow rearranging her straw for the 8th time!)

One thing I'm really excited for this time around, is having a bit more time to prepare for the actual birth. With Sam, I hadn't really gotten to the point where I had thought about a birth plan (partly due to his being early, and partly due to me being uneducated about things). I didn't even really know a lot about delivery, except that it hurts a lot, and that epidurals are a girl's best friend. Sam's birth was a bit traumatic - he was born sunny side-up, was all back labour, and involved lots of interventions (the drip, the vacuum, etc.). I don't regret any of these things, only because we had a perfect baby boy who came into the world safe and sound.

This time around, it's nice to have all the knowledge from how things went with Sam to educate us a bit more. I don't think many women say this on their second birth (I could be wrong), but I wouldn't mind seeing how far I could get without the epidural. I really think it's important to feel the body's urges accurately, and I've heard the epidurals increase your chances of tearing. Nobody wants that! But, I also remember how much labour hurts, so I am definitely NOT going to say that I won't take one. I also would like to try to labour OUT of the bed as long as possible, and maybe even try a more upright sitting position for the pushing part. I've read that laying on your back causes your cervix to be 30% less open, and that dilation happens slower, which is obviously not conducive to pushing a human out. Hmmm... I guess we'll see! I don't want to get my mind stuck on anything too specific, but I think it's good to think about these things somewhat.

I can't believe that it's only 6 weeks until our due date. I just can't wait to meet this new little one, and have him or her be a part of our family forever. I also can't wait to see how Sam reacts and adjusts to being a big brother, and sharing his home and parents. I think he'll do great. His "big brother" t-shirt is ready and waiting!

So, on to a bit more waiting... and preparing... and wondering... and cherishing these last few weeks with just Sam and us... before we add another!

The Radical Series

2010-03-29T12:26:00.000-07:00

I've started listening to "The Radical Series" online in the past few weeks. It's a series of sermons done by The Church at Brook Hills. I discovered them after Katie (a young missionary in Uganda - read her stuff, it's amazing) talked about them in one of her posts not too long ago.

Oh, man, this stuff is good. Please, check it out some time.

The preacher talks about what the gospel demands of us - radical giving, radical love, etc. (based on Luke 14:25-35). And that when Jesus called people to follow him, he warned them of the extreme cost. To be a disciple of Jesus is much more than reciting the so-called "sinner's prayer", but is actually a very costly way of life. I don't really think a lot of us live that way. I know that I don't.

A while back, I started planning a BIble study about what the Scriptures say about money. I tried to find some commentaries on the passage with the rich young man, to whom Jesus commanded to "Go, sell everything you have and give it to the poor..." (Mark 10:21). It was the craziest thing - EVERY one of the commentaries I could find said that Jesus' command was not literal. That it was symbolic. Or merely a suggestion. Or just a calling to be mindful to the poor. And I often hear believers (myself included) that "it's not like we have to live in poverty". Really?!

But the preacher in the Radical Series says that, just like most (ALL!) things that ever came out of Jesus' mouth, he meant it. When and where did we ever decide that he didn't?

All of which has some really scary implications.

Well, I'm certainly convicted. And scared. And still trying to convince myself that I don't really have to be prepared to give everything up. But knowing, deep down, that I know the Truth...

Spring nesting?!

2010-03-22T12:07:00.000-07:00

Call it what you will - Spring cleaning, nesting (that's the term Kris prefers to use), or being anal (I think he likes that one too, actually...) - I am in extreme cleaning/organizing mode these days. I think all of those terms are probably correct in their own way, and then it doesn't help that I read a great blog about de-cluttering our lives.

I hate clutter. I don't even think that I really have that much, but I have more than I care for. And I really liked the general rule that the blog lady used when she de-cluttered her house: If I don't use it or love it, it's GONE! She talked a lot about how we spend so much time and money organizing and cleaning stuff. Buying it. Finding a place for it. Tidying it. Sorting it. Cleaning it. And then having such a hard time letting go of it once it's no longer useful. (Or perhaps never really was.) And she talked about the freedom she felt after she was done. Freedom from her things.

I started going through some stuff, and really getting things down to the basics. I don't need 7 (yup, seven) twin sheet sets. When we have 2 kids in twin beds, 4 sets should do nicely. I also got rid of a bunch of towels. We don't need more than a couple towels per person. We have a washing machine. I don't need to keep books that I've read once that I liked, but have never picked up again. So I got a little journal to use as a kind of "book registry", and wrote down the titles I decided to get rid of. Then, if I'm looking for a good book to read, I can peruse my little book, find something that fits my mood, and I'll just get it from the library. I really like that place. If I don't use it or love it, it's gone.

It feels really good so far. But I am shocked how hard it is, too. Kris tends to be more of a pack rat than I am, and he expressed his concern that I might get rid of something I really like, or something that I might want to use later. I was kind of concerned about that too, and really had a hard time deciding on some things. Worrying about needing it later, or regretting that I had gotten rid of it. Or feeling bad because so-and-so gave it to me. It alarmed me how attached I was to this stuff, and not in a sentimental way (those things I keep), just in a hoarding-things kind of way. But it felt good to just make the decisions and break the hold that these things had on my life. And the space it is creating (both physically, and emotionally) is SO refreshing.

So, whatever is causing me to go on my little rampage (I'm pretty sure Kris is scared of me right now, and is hiding all his things), it's been wonderful! And I'm sure one more motivator for all this work is to make room for a sweet little person who will be joining our home really soon. I'm glad to be bringing that little one into what I hope is becoming a peaceful, simple home.

Finally a post!

2010-03-15T12:24:00.000-07:00

I sure have not been doing a very good job of keeping up my blog lately. It's been over a month now! I've thought to myself on numerous occasions, "I should blog today", but then I come here, and don't really know what to say. I just feel kind of silent. The weird thing is, is I do have lots to say (when don't I?!), and lots of things floating around in my head.

I kind of find it therapeutic to be silent. We've had a lot going on around here these days, just with life, a growing family, a tougher pregnancy... and it's kind of nice just to be, and not worry about what others require or want from me. And instead of looking around for something or someone to fill me up, to just work on letting my Father do that. He does the best job, after all. :)

But here's some highlights from our household this last while:

Our due date is just 10 weeks away. While that feels like an eternity to me in some ways, I also know it will come SO fast. I'll be full term in just 7 weeks! And we're praying that we make it full term this time - but hopefully not too much past! (Isn't that every woman's hope?!) This baby just feels big (I was 9'3"!), so a bit early would be nice. We'll see.
Sam is still his hilarious, joyful little self. His sleeping is back to normal, praise God for that! He loves to colour, play outside, go "kadooing" with his Dad, and play any kind of sport that requires a ball. He's talking SO much more every day, it amazes me. I love knowing what he thinks and what he wants ("Mommy come downstairs NOW!"). We're excited to set up a play centre we bought for the backyard. We know Sam will just love it.
We're thinking about gutting our kitchen and redoing it. It's just so tiny, and it would be nice to have an easier workspace when there are 2 little people who want to help. Not to mention that Kris and I could be in the kitchen at the same time (!), which would be much more efficient. But, we also want to be humble and be good stewards of what we're given... so we're just praying about it for now to see if it'll work for us or not. We remember that we are blessed just to have a kitchen.
We can't wait for some warmer weather. Partly because that means our baby is closer, and partly because we all just love being outside. We're SO looking forward to camping, days at the beach, walks with 2 little ones, playing at the park with Sam. Winter sucks. But at least it appears to be on the way out!

I think that's it for now. And I'll try to be better and coming here more often!

Birthday Boy!

2010-02-12T11:21:00.000-08:00

Well, another year has passed! It's such a cliche to say, but I will anyways: Man, it goes SO fast! I can't believe my little Sammy will be 2 tomorrow.

Here he is at his first birthday:

SO cute!

"Hmmm... not sure what I think of this so-called "birthday cake..."

"I like it!"

(Photos by Avey Christiansen Photography - amazing!)

I am really trying to not get caught up in lamenting my children's ages, or wishing for times past. We've had a good 2 years. We've enjoyed a LOT together. And it's just getting more and more fun. So, I'm not going to say that I wish Sam were small again, or that I miss him as a baby. Because I am just going to love where he's at and be thankful for each year that we get with him.

Happy Birthday, my sweet, sweet boy.

My sleep woes...

2010-02-04T07:42:00.000-08:00

I just don't understand it. It feels like we're back to those tired newborn days!

Sam has been such a good sleeper for his entire little life, really. We read a book, put him to bed, say his prayers, kiss goodnight, and shut the door. He would sleep for 12 hours. Naps were similar. He's always really LIKED sleeping. He LIKED going to bed.

And then 2 weeks ago, he started making a bit of a fuss about it all. Turned out, he had tonsillitis, so it all made sense. We felt sad for him, and in the evenings before bed, sometimes pulled him into our bed for 20 minutes or so and watched a bit of a movie together. The tonsillitis cleared up, the bad sleep continued for another few days. Then, it got better! Naps got better, and nighttime sleep was better. It wasn't such a fight to get him to go down, and he would stay down the whole time, even the whole 12 hour nights.

And then it got worse again earlier this week. The night before last, he was awake from 11pm until 2am. I think that was worsened by the coffee ice cream incident. But last night, he did it again - he was awake from 1am until 3am. It's so weird, because once he's calmed down a bit, he lays there for an hour just talking to himself intermittently, not upset at all. But definitely not sleeping. At least he's not screaming. I just can't figure out what is keeping him awake. Teeth? That's the only thing I can think of at this point.

In the meantime, I guess I'll be having naps in the afternoon. And trying to figure out what is up. Anyone have any ideas? Anyone else gone through this?

(I apologize for an extremely boring post... it just feels good to get it out!)

My new obsession

2010-01-28T07:25:00.001-08:00

I made my order. The cloth diapers should be here soon!

Warning: This may be my new obsession.

I remember my friend Bonnie telling me a while back that there is a whole culture of cloth diapering. It is so true. (And on a side note, while trying to decide if this is for us, or more specifically for KRIS, Bonnie suggested that Kris could go over and have a chat with her husband about it, to see how he, as a dad, enjoyed cloth diapering. We both laughed and thought that would be a hilarious conversation to eavesdrop on.)

I am just so looking forward to being a little nicer to our friend, the Earth, as well as to our friend, the Pocketbook. I'm glad not to be putting chemicals next to my kids' skin 24/7. And I'm excited to put those cute little things on them!

We went with Gro Baby Diapers. Besides all the things we loved about them, they have also committed to having fair treatment and wages in their factories - of which they even have photos on their website. I'm glad they're manufactured responsibly.

My other favourite part is the diaper sprayer we ordered. It hooks into the clean water line of your toilet, and sits nicely on a little hook when not in use (and can be shut off to avoid messes by curious little hands, of which we have 2 and eventually 4!). I'm hoping to save on using the flushable liners by just being able to spray the poop right off into the toilet. I read some reviews on them, and everyone gave a 5/5 and said they're indispensable if you cloth diaper. They also said it's super easy to install - we'll see. :)

I guess I sound like I'm advertising - I'm not. I'm just that excited. And I need things to be excited about these days. So, for right now, it's diapers.

147 million orphans

2010-01-22T09:53:00.000-08:00

Today, while reading Kisses from Katie (an amazing blog), I discovered another amazing blog - 147 million orphans. They sell necklaces made from magazines by Ugandan women. They also sell really cool cow bone hoop earrings. I just love the idea - fundraising, recycling, giving hope and dignity to people in a developing country. Check it out. The jewelry would make great presents. Or, to just keep for yourself... :)

Again, it inspires me to be doing something more. It can be so simple.

The restlessness continues...

Terrible Twos?

2010-01-15T07:06:00.000-08:00

It hardly fails. I mention that my son is almost 2, and far more often than I care for, my words get met with a groan, and "Oh, the terrible twos". Mmm... how encouraging.

Now, Sam has his moments. But so do I. (Oh gosh, so do I!) But to refer to an entire age group as "terrible" seems a bit over the top to me.

I've kind of wondered if its just OUR reaction to things, and our own issues, that make it terrible or not. Kris and I got a flat tire coming home from church in the city on Sunday. A really nice highway maintenance worker stopped to help, and when he saw that Kris had it handled, decided just to leave his truck with the lights flashing parked behind us to make sure none of the idiots driving would hit us. It was really nice of him. He saw that Sam was sleeping in the back seat, and asked how old he was. I told him he'd be 2 in a few weeks. It was so neat, because he said his kids were 10 and 12, and how much he just LOVED the age Sam is. He said he loved how they learned stuff, and got to be more independent. And even though having a 12 year-old girl was tough on him sometimes, it seemed, he still delighted in that stage too. What a change from some of the comments I've been getting from strangers.

We talked about it for a bit, and I said, "I wonder if people think it's such a terrible age because they don't like letting go of control?" I'm a person who likes to be in control. But I'm learning to let that go. I'm definitely not perfect. I've noticed, the more I try to control Sam, or take away some of the freedoms he can handle, the more he acts out. Yet, if I just let him be who he wants to be, and wear rubber boots with his sweater vest if he'd like to, the less issues there are. It's just amazes me how the more little freedoms and choices he is given, the less fuss he makes about following the rules that aren't an option. Hmmm... we certainly still have some tantrums, and Kris and I still get frustrated, but if we can remember to let go of some control, it makes a huge difference. I feel like this is a revelation for us. And it's helping the twos to be terrific, and delightful, and completely enjoyable, the way I think they're supposed to be. (I may have to re-read this post once our kids are getting into the teen years. I feel a lot of the same rules probably apply!)

I just really appreciate how God has been moving and changing me into the parent He wants me to be. It's not always easy to see the areas that I need to work on in my life, but it's really rewarding to parent in a way that I never thought myself capable. I always thought I'd be strict, tough-as-nails, overly-structured, and really controlling. Yet, I'm learning to be more gentle, and let the rules slide when they don't really matter, and be gentle and calm. It's definitely a process... But I am so thankful to be surrounded by so many shining examples in my life of this kind of mother. And God always lets me know which parts of me need to be weeded out.

I'm thankful for these things. And for my wonderful, growing, learning, delightful little 2-year-old. And for a husband who is on the same page. God is good.

What Sam Taught Me

2010-01-05T18:54:00.000-08:00

Becoming a parent has taught me so much more about who my Heavenly Father is than I knew before.

It always astounds me to think that God loves me SO much more than I love, or could ever love my Sammy. And I love that kid a LOT.

We officially turned Sam's crib into a toddler bed last week. The transition has been going really well, despite his getting out of bed a bit earlier than normal. (Because, "Hey, I can!") Last night, about a half hour after he went to bed, I heard some thumping around coming from his room. Then, a quiet knocking at his door, followed by a little voice calling, "Mommmmmmy... Mommmmmy".

Now sometimes, especially after a particularly hard, long, or frustrating day, it can take everything in me to go in there and deal with him. I go hard for 12 hours a day, so though I love him so much, I'm also thankful when bedtime comes, and I can put my feet up and enjoy a few hours of something different.

But a lot of times, I like when he needs a little more of me. I went in there, and my heart swelled as I saw my little boy standing at his door, eyes squinty and blinking while they adjusted to the hallway light. Then he saw me, and smiled. I scooped him up, and we sat in his rocking chair together. I kissed his head and cuddled him in tight. He stroked my hair and face, and looked up at me, while his eyelids got heavy. We stayed like this for quite a while. I thought back to the days when he was a newborn and we sat together in that very chair bonding while I nursed him for those many long hours. And now he is so much bigger, but I was so thankful that he still fit so well in my arms.

In a moment I realized what a trust Sam has in me. He trusts that I will come when he needs me. He comes boldly to me, and because I love him so much, I scoop him up in my arms and cuddle him. He doesn't even question it. Now, I am only a human, and my nature gets in the way and I make many mistakes and let Sam down, too. So how much more does our Father, who is perfect, want to do this for us? How much more boldly should we be able to come to Him, and trust that he will take us in His arms and hold us as long as we want? I don't think that I trust Him the way that Sam trusts me. I would like to change that.

Something else I can add to the list of important lessons my 2 year old has taught me...

Dear Crappy Alberta Weather,

2010-01-04T13:08:00.001-08:00

I hate you right now.

Yeah, you're kind of pretty. And yeah, you're breaking seasonal records. But I can't even be happy for you, because I'm mad.

I'd just like to go for a walk with my son without worrying about severe frost bite. Is that too much to ask?

I know I live in Alberta. And I know that winter in Alberta is your favourite time to do your thing.

But please, for the love of all that is good, stop the madness.

Consider this strongly-worded letter the first of many complaints if this ridiculous behaviour keeps up.

Sincerely,

Sarah

Romance

2009-12-17T14:00:00.000-08:00

Kris and I got the chance last Friday night to have a date night up in the city. We got a hotel room, went for supper, watched cable all evening (what a treat! And, what a reminder how lame cable actually is!), and had a nice brunch in the morning. It was great fun.

It's funny how it seems like romance is always so perfect, at least in the movies. Our "romance" included driving down Jasper Avenue in the middle of rush hour on a Friday in December... in a car that had a gas leak... while I freaked out about the smell... on the way to a yarn shop on the OTHER end of Jasper that I had insisted was important to go to... snotty words were exchanged... and then dual apologies... and then a "nice" supper at Joey Tomato's... where Kris discovered halfway through his burger that it was almost completely raw inside... then skipping between "Say Yes to the Dress" and "Holmes on Homes"... getting to bed nice and early... waking up, well, nice and early too... having a nice brunch... stopping by IKEA (which was pleasantly quiet - strange!)... and then a drive home in the frigid cold.

But yet, it was still perfect. It was exactly what Kris and I are like. Romance doesn't have to involve us acting or being different. It's just about spending time together and having fun.

Which we did.

Homemade Christmas Gifts

2009-12-14T14:14:00.001-08:00

I have been having a great time making gifts for people this year. I have been knitting. And making fun paper dolls for my nieces. And making bath paints and playdough. And soon I will get on to some sewing.

Phew! It's a ton of work, but I'm glad to know that I'M the one doing the work, and not someone who's basic human rights are being violated in order for me to give that product as a gift. It's a really freeing feeling.

I'll post some pictures of some of the fun creations I've come up with when some of them are done! (Which, incidentally, should be soon - Christmas is a mere ELEVEN days away. How did this happen?!)

So, hope you are all having as much fun as I am preparing for a meaningful Christmas!

Coffee Conspiracy

2009-12-08T12:44:00.000-08:00

The Advent Conspiracy video was shown at my church in Sunday. I got all revved up, and felt like I could hardly contain myself. I felt like our church has really needed to hear this.

But then, nothing.

Nothing was said afterwards. No amazing stories were shared about how people changed the world instead of buying toys and ugly sweaters last year. There was no challenge to be different this year. And worst of all, I think, there was no plan shared on how we, as a church, can band together and do something about it as a family.

I felt so deflated.

Now, this is going to sound terribly judgemental, but this message is just as much for me. So hold on to your seats, and I hope you still like me after this.

It's just that I feel really disgruntled about these things. I get frustrated when I see SO many people walk into church clutching large Tim Hortons cups. We have a coffee break, with FREE coffee (and tea, and hot chocolate...) during the service. But yet we, as a church, are still buying into all of this (and I don't mean that I'm exempt from it either). The lady in front of us spent the entire service (I'm not kidding) beaking at her 2 young kids to "WATCH THE TEA!" - her precious Tim Hortons tea under her chair. Her kids were well behaved and playing and colouring nicely, but she would yell at them at any flick of a foot, or movement of a leg. Yikes. She scared me.

But it got me to wondering, how much money is spend JUST on Sunday mornings, by Christians on their way to church? For 1 person to get a large coffee every Sunday for a year is over $100! If even just a dozen people have this same habit, the church is spending over $1200 a year in coffee... even though it is already being provided during the service. I wonder how many water wells THAT money could buy?

Advent Conspiracy is an amazing initiative. But what if I were to make changes ALL throughout the year? What if I were more diligent about making my own coffee before heading out for a trip up to the city? What if I made my own chai lattes before going our for a walk on a cold day? I find this all really convicting. And challenging, because I certainly struggle with wanting to go out and buy coffee on a Saturday morning. Maybe every time I feel the urge to go out and buy a coffee, or similar drink, I put that money in a jar instead. And then do something really fun with it next Christmas. I definitely need to address the log in my own eye before I worry about the specks in others'.

Waiting

2009-12-07T14:10:00.000-08:00

I have such a hard time waiting for things sometimes. Mostly, it's really hard to wait for good things that I'm excited about.

I'm 16 weeks pregnant, and can hardly WAIT for this little one to come into the world. I remember with Sam, being SO excited, but at the same time, really needing that time to prepare (physically and emotionally) and adjust to the fact that I was going to be a mom. This time around, I'm finding that I'm not needing that time quite as much. Oh, there's still lots to do in the meantime - namely, spend the last 5-ish months with Sam, while it's just the two of us. And other kinds of preparation - organizing to fit 2 kids and all their stuff in one small bedroom, and eventually bringing out all the baby stuff again.

But I'm just so looking forward to the new adventure of life with 2 kids (which I'm sure will entail plenty of hairy moments, too!). To see Sam as an older brother. To have another little person around. To see what another little mixture of Kris and I is like. To have a baby again.

This pregnancy seems like it's already going by much faster, I think due to the fact that I'm busy with Sam all day and don't have as much time to sit and think about it. And I'm sure that another 24 (give or take!) weeks will fly by faster than I could have imagined. But either way, I sure am looking forward to meeting this little one.

Good things are just SO hard to wait for.

Meals for the Rest of Us

2009-12-03T06:55:00.000-08:00

I started a new blog. It's a place to share quick and simple meal ideas. I really struggle with meal planning, and just cooking in general, and the more women I've talked to, the more I find this to be common!

So check it out, pass the word around, and send me some recipes! Thanks!

Meals for the Rest of Us

Kris and Computers

2009-11-25T15:06:00.000-08:00

Our computer has been doing some funny things lately. Which is odd, because we have a Mac, and Macs are perfect. (Haha... but seriously, we've had virtually NO problems in 2.5 years.)

So finally it comes out the other day:

Kris: "Well, I DID download some new program."

Sarah: "What new program?"

Kris: "It's called 'SilverLight'."

Sarah: "Well, why'd you download that for?"

(here's the best part...)

Kris: "Because CTV told me to."

Oh.

I laughed and laughed and laughed. Kris had said it perfectly straight-faced, but soon realized how ridiculous it was and started laughing, too.

It's interesting to me how ludicrous it sounded once we both thought about it. But the funny thing is, is how often we do things because we're told to - through social and cultural pressures, advertising, etc. But it sounds so much dumber when you actually verbalize that someone told you to.

Thanks, honey, for the funny things you say, and for your raw honesty. :) And for reminding us both how silly it is to do something just because someone/something told us to...