Rehearsing and rehearsing

Tonight I had the first rehearsal since we started our travel preparations last week. Rehearsals allow the mind to fall into a kind of groove where escape from mundane streams of self-conscious thought is possible. The same happens when I run and sometimes on a long drive with a good soundtrack.

I found my thoughts wandering through the things we have piled up. I donated a carload today, and prepared another for the garbage and recycling. Every day this week we have purged huge bags of junk from the house, paring down what we have so we will use everything we keep. Most of it was outgrown, used up, written-on and had served a purpose.

Just to mix things up, this IS a before picture.

At the start of the day you couldn't walk through our garage, and now everything is back in its place. It's amazing what you can do with a few episodes of Little House on the Prairie, two helpful kids and some Diet Coke.

Upstairs is a pile of ALL the things we've been told we'll need and that might help Primrose become a Ward with the least discomfort jumbled in a large brown splayed suitcase. It's a suitcase so big we normally use it for our scuba gear. 

So tonight as we worked through what was frankly a slow rehearsal, I daydreamed about organizing all of that stuff and it dawned on me that this is nesting. Nesting is rehearsing. I didn't expect to feel such strong urges to do stuff to our house and our things without the hormones of a pregnancy spurring me on. 

Why does it feel so necessary?

We are being given a gift in this daughter. Part of the reason we are allowed this gift is because we are privileged to live in relative wealth and security. I feel an obligation to be sure I don't take those gifts for granted. I might have said that was true before, but it is so much more real to me in light of gaining a child through adoption. She has been monumentally UNlucky in her life. It's only because we are in an imperfect world and loss exists that any child needs adoption. It's the definition of injustice that a child is born in need of surgery and a family may not be able to provide it without relinquishing the child entirely. To we who have been given so much, well, we oughta at least tidy up the place. When she's 12 and her room's a mess it won't register any more and let's face it; our garage will be gross again long before that. But... before we leave on this trip, there is this shining moment when at least our things can be ready and it will make me feel ready. 

I have a secret conviction that out there somewhere, on somebody's blog or some agency's website, there is a story or a packing list that might tell us what we need to know. Unfortunately, we won't realize what it was until we get home so for now I guess I'll just have to read the whole thing. I need the internet to tell me how it's gonna be when we have her in our arms. 

When the truth is you can't possibly know what to do to get ready, it feels good to read the internet until two in the morning and disinfect the garage floor with clorox wipes. Despite the ludicrous ideas that I can become deserving of this gift and that if I prepare correctly I'll be proven worthy, it is so far from reality that even I know this is true instead:

Proverbs 10:22 

The Lord’s blessing enriches,

and struggle adds nothing to it.

(... but I still love that the camp art supply bins are labeled and stacked.)

Loud and Proud

So about the homeschooling kick I'm on...

Here's my trajectory, laid out so I can remember because I already find myself forgetting how I came to think of it as remotely possible in the first place.

I read Anthony Esolen's Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child, which I believe I found by bopping around the "Customers Also Bought" links on Amazon. That raised some good points about education and started me thinking about what I hope for my boys to learn.

Then I read a whole bunch of stuff on teh webz and from the lie-barry. Some useful, some fascinating in a wow that's differnt kind of way.
Somewhere in there, more toward the second category if I'm honest, I read the Duggar's book. Yes, those Duggars. While I don't agree with the quiverfull movement (i.e. having a jillion kids because you believe God commands it) as theology, there's something to the openness with which they live their lives that I find admirable.

There will be things I do in my life which won't find approval from the majority of people. They will think I'm small-minded, provincial, perhaps even a "neanderthal" as one of my colleagues has said about women who stay home. Well, we're adopting. We're Christians. We are looking at homeschooling. There are mistakes to be made, and I'm going to set out and make them without hiding what I think or just plain hiding. I hope I don't swing too far the other way and err toward squashing others in the process, but I'm done with worry silencing me.

Dave Ramsey reminded me of a quote today at a seminar full of great quotes:
"To avoid criticism say nothing, do nothing, be nothing. ~Aristotle"

... and of course “The fear of man lays a snare,” the Bible says, “but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe” (Proverbs 29:25).

The fear of man is a somewhat Christianese phrase, but it is such a great concept, and encapsulates one of the primary differences between a Gospel-centered theology and one based falsely on ideas of prosperity, ease and blessing belonging to Christians in their worldly lives. Being driven by prosperity gospels and even bless-perity gospels lead Christians to be all sorts of jerks to their fellow humans. I like how Piper describes our longing to worship the blessings rather than the God giving them:

"We all make a god out of what we take the most pleasure in. Christian Hedonists want to make God their God by seeking after the greatest pleasure—pleasure in him.

By Christian Hedonism, we do not mean that our happiness is the highest good. We mean that pursuing the highest good will always result in our greatest happiness in the end. We should pursue this happiness, and pursue it with all our might. The desire to be happy is a proper motive for every good deed, and if you abandon the pursuit of your own joy you cannot love man or please God."

Totally unrelated to the post, I giggled when I saw that googling "fear of man" gives you an option of googling "fear of
mannequins". Let's face it: they are creepy, creepy indeed.

Tap tap tap...

Is this thing on?

I just read the stale old posts left here, and realized I'd like to get back to this whole blogging schtick.

Updates are: We left that church we were going to after 2 years there. We wish them well, but I am much happier at our new digs. We've been reading the Bible a lot more in the last 18 months or so, and went to the Desiring God conference, and a few other reformed theology conferences. I hope to write more about this stuff, but if you're looking for good podcasts I recommend Mark Driscoll of Mars Hill Church, Dr. John Piper, and a whole bunch more. Start with Marky D's doctrine series- it's very good. Perfect length for listening on the treadmill, too.

I'm thinking of homeschooling. In related news, we bought some hermit crabs, I'm making a fort out of a huge truck hubcap and curly willow, I like canning vegetables, and if I had a zillion dollars I would buy a small farm slash compound. You'd be invited, but only if you promise to shoot me on sight if you see me wearing floor-length denim skirts with white tennis shoes (my first ever homeschooling joke, you're welcome).


Isn't there a blog around here somewhere?


















Isaac turned 3 and has developed a fascinating array of facial expressions. Many approximate real faces people make. All are more dramatic. Like William Shatner in face form.






















At the end of the summer we plan to adopt. A human, not a habit or a theology or a pet. Though those sound (mostly) simpler.

At least we made it!

I took this with my phone about 10 minutes away from J's office Halloween Party. Both boys were so tired, and even when we stopped the car, opened the doors and started stuffing their warm & sticky little boy feet into their shoes they STILL didn't wake up. We had to use the c-word. ("CANDY!")

It was better than last year, when I tragically took too long to make a diaper box into a car costume for Toby and missed the party all together. That made me grumpy for a good week.

We had two ginormous pumpkins- in fact we still have their carcasses and guts all over our driveway. I'm sure the HOA is impressed. The are big enough that the boys can sit inside each and pretend they're on a train. Except Isaac is too prissy and doesn't like the feel of cold pumpkin all around him.

On another uncomfortable note... I spoke to one of the leaders of our church today. Ours is a church that believes over-programming is a real problem and that giving people pre-set ways to plug into a church can be detrimental to building true relationships among believers. I'm not sure I'm representing that fully, but there doesn't really seem to be a set statement available about this kind of philosophy. They use the word "organic" a lot and they emphasize connecting through House Churches. For our house church we go twice a month to a house about 3 miles from our own to worship, learn a bit more about the sermon and pray for each other. I love our House Church, but the reason I went to chat with the leader was that it just wasn't cutting it for me as far as bible study or connection with other moms in particular.

The chat I had went pretty much as I thought it would. She outlined their view again, and made clear that the church is not likely to change any of this any time soon. (I.E. They aren't going to let me start a bible study for moms and use their website to link people together.) I think at my most strident I said something about people with addictions and depression getting more help than young moms. But then I've been known to dabble in the dramatic from time to time, and I honestly did come around to their way of thinking at least a little.

It's true that if they provided a group for me to just show up and be a part of, I most likely would NOT be looking for relationships with people from the church on my own. And it's entirely possible that we would never have gone to House Church if I hadn't pestered J because I was going nuts without any community outside of tiny demanding people who share a large part of my DNA. So I would feel better and more connected but my family might not be and the church's vision for House Churches would become further from reality.

I am not fully convinced, but I'm willing to "give it six more months" as requested by the leadership. I still think parenthood, especially with preschoolers, is a demanding and challenging time. It's supposed to be a great time to set up habits and understanding of God in your child and I would love our church to give me direction there. We chose this church because of the fantastic preaching. Absolutely outstanding doctrine- and plenty of it each week to keep my own study lively just by looking into all the reference verses they give. You can find podcasts here.

Useless

The boys and I went to a little play-party with our friends from MOPs this morning. It was great until they brought out the snacks. Animal crackers made with whole egg and doughnuts are not safe for Isaac. I'm not sure the other moms really understand the feeling I have when diving across the room to prevent him from putting that stuff in his mouth.

Lots of people in our area are into this Naturopathic trend of calling yourself "allergic" to all sorts of things. They take a blood sample and put it through some tests to see if you have sensitivities. The ultimate effect of all this band-wagoning of false allergies for me is that when I tell the childcare people that Isaac is allergic to eggs I can just about see their eyes glaze over. Then I hand them the EpiPen and usually they perk up and realize this is not just a bourgeois badge. (As in, "My Caleb is allergic to water, flour and anything treated with pesticides or transported more than 100 miles. He can have some $20 Whole Paychecks triple-approved snacks served only in hand-extruded glasses if you have those lying around somewhere.")

So this morning turned out to be really fun until it wasn't. I'm just not a laid-back person anyway. I like to think of myself as passionate, but when I'm literally batting little animal-shaped foods out of my toddler's hand and can't focus on adult conversation because I am afraid, things are getting out of hand and I just feel like my freakishness is showing. So we left.

I came home and checked my email. A kid from the college where I teach just died of swine flu.

Being a mom is nearly impossible some days.

Allergists need our prayers.

Isaac has an appointment today with a new allergist for his egg allergy. Allergists seem to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. There still isn't much hard science on the physical sources/causes of allergic response, let alone science that reveals the best therapeutic practices. Each new study reveals a whole uncharted territory rather than definitive answers. There is even debate on the exact mechanism that causes the system to freak so catastrophically.

Isaac's had just one reaction, and we've been to an allergist twice- once for testing and once so the guy could demonstrate that he was terrible at taking notes in charts and had no memory of us whatsoever. I have a lot of sympathy for doctors. At the beginning of each teaching term when I have my usual 15-18 students plus 3-5 more plus all the folks I've signed up to other teacher in our academy... well, for a few weeks I live in fear of calling people by the wrong name. Luckily Jonathan is very patient when I give up and just call him Sugar Daddy. I really do understand that it's impossible to remember all your patients, even when they are as fabulous and superior as Isaackle.

Today we're going to a new guy, and hopefully he can help us figure out how to keep Isaac immunized. The MMR is formulated with egg, as are all the influenza vaccines. Lewzers. Processed food companies find all sorts of wonderful ways to avoid using real ingredients- why can't pharmaceutical corps?

Thanks, Karen!

Karen is a total stud. Look what she made me!

Date weekend!

We are heading out of town tomorrow to celebrate those five long years I was telling you about. Some one else will have to teach the boys how to share, take turns, refrain from damaging one another, etc. That some one will be my parents so perhaps some prayer out their way in in order...


Toby only ever gets to play with his stuff on the floor like this if Isaac is sleeping. Poor, sweet, testing every one of my rules and boundaries, dear Toby. He's upstairs tearing around his room during nap time as I type this. I am NOT going up there.





They are getting better at playing with the same things at the same time, but still... you have to watch out when they are off their leashes like this. Isaac is surprisingly stubborn and noisy about wanting stuff. He has developed into a shrieker. Happy squealing, anticipatory squeaking, displeased screaming. We are going to sleep until 10 all weekend.


Isaac can find danger anywhere.
Not my problem! Ha ha, gramma-grumpa!









They are alllllll yours.





I'll need phone pictures and emailed updates every hour or so.

Schmack.

I tried a women's day thing at church today. It was fine, thank you. Very polite. I met two people. Whatever. We made jewelry.

My dream version of today would have involved forced group interaction, maybe making collages about our inmost thoughts. Perhaps staging a short skit. Does that shock you? It does me, quite a bit. Since having the boys I have had trouble really developing and especially maintaining deep friendships. I have some wonderful local friends, but we all have at least two kids and that adds up to a lot of distractions. Factor in the number of times each of us cancels a get-together due to childhood infirmity and there you have it. We might as well be internet dating each other.

I could do much more to foster those relationships. The most effective would be to forget about my vanity over the house long enough to just invite them over already.

People talk about juggling priorities as a parent. For us, the dilemna isn't determining how much to give our kids (answer: everything we've got), the problem is how to balance the activities we most want to fit in otherwise. Studying to love God more, practicing that old viola, moving my body before it completely seizes up on the side of the road. I've felt keenly the truth that failing to fit in all those things shorts the kids in the end anyway because I'm such a complete grumpy mess.

Every part of parenting that should be obvious keeps smacking me in the forehead while hissing, No- really, Miriam! Remember when we used to say No DUH!?


This necklace has a train charm, just to make Toby love me more.

Best. Mother. Ever.

When I went into Toby's room first thing this morning, he said "HI MAMA! I WANT ONE OF THOSE!!" and showed me some tiny little cupcakes in the corner of a picture in his Richard Scarry book which he had lugged up on his bed. He made as if to pluck them right off the page, so we ate a few imaginary cupcakes as a breakfast apertif.

Later, I took him downtown to a local rockstar cupcake shop and bought him exactly what he wanted (mini no-frosting vanilla). On the way we saw both a train AND a vintage muscle car (silver, with chrome everything) plus we sang the ABCs and had a happy shrieking contest with Isaac. We had to go to the cupcake hipsters anyway, to pick up a gift certificate my minions the Viola Society gave away as a raffle prize, but he didn't know that. As far as he knows, I love him that much.

Aren't I just the best?

Fallen & pushed are not the same thing.

Sometimes people scare me. There was this one mom at the pizza-play place we took Toby for his birthday who must have fully committed herself to raising brats. Her kids were those kids. You know.

And when my mom kindly asked one of them to stop jumping on our kid seeing as he is 5 years younger and was starting to cry, he went and told on her to his own mother, sitting 50 feet away with her back turned. Brilliant mom then marches over and reprimands my mother for doing her job.

No big deal, right? You've heard worse.

It just makes it hard to let your kids out into the world, like, ever. The irony is that I think of myself as pretty permissive; I get a kick out of hanging back and watching the kids discover things and work their way out of stuff. But to do that I have to assume that the majority of the people around me understand and agree to uphold the rules of common courtesy and that is not true. It reminds me that there is evil around and it's going to get all over us. (See how fun I would be at your next cocktail party?)

No good very bad day.

I didn't practice.
I don't practice enough lately.
I don't even take my viola if it's just an overnighter anymore.

And everyone was crying at naptime. Everyone.

We had such a good thing going, but then it turns out he isn't having any fun in preschool, and my expensive-ass mixer broke, and Isaac cried so long in the carseat that Toby finally joined in, and my parents are having kind of a tough time, and he wants to learn to use the bathroom but I'm not sure how to teach that yet, and Isaac bites even though he's all gums (gums of steel), and Toby climbs out of his crib six thousand times a day. I have to talk to him like Hitler must have talked to a mosquito buzzing in his ear as he tried to sleep.

I hope he doesn't remember today, but then again what does it matter: there will be more days like this. How do you ask for grace from a toddler?