6.25.2014
6.13.2014
Happy {Music} Friday
Say what you want about Christina...but she's got Pipes. I love this songs by Great Big World featuring Ms. Aguilera.
Enjoy.
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6.12.2014
Things my children do
Wake up at 5:30am every morning. Without Fail.
Eat raw bread dough (gross).
Throw 30 minute crying fits and then wipe their nose on my clean shirt.
Tell me adamantly that B-U-G spells "Insect."
Talk to me without end.
Drink MY bath water (don't ask).
Think that cups are also acceptable step stools.
Pray honestly.
Love me despite my flaws.
Tell me I am beautiful even when I haven't showered.
Sing songs to one another.
Tell ME bedtime stories.
Hug all the time.
They remind me constantly about the never stopping love of God....
and how I am in no way prepared to answer seemingly simple yet theologically complex questions.
Eat raw bread dough (gross).
Throw 30 minute crying fits and then wipe their nose on my clean shirt.
Tell me adamantly that B-U-G spells "Insect."
Talk to me without end.
Drink MY bath water (don't ask).
Think that cups are also acceptable step stools.
Pray honestly.
Love me despite my flaws.
Tell me I am beautiful even when I haven't showered.
Sing songs to one another.
Tell ME bedtime stories.
Hug all the time.
They remind me constantly about the never stopping love of God....
and how I am in no way prepared to answer seemingly simple yet theologically complex questions.
6.11.2014
6.10.2014
For the Love of Sleep
For the past 18 days my children have been waking up obscenely early.
5am with a cup of coffee and some peace and quite is contemplative and respectable. 5am with toddlers is masochistic and unforgivable.
I find myself functioning in a two-hour fog while the girls run around screaming like coke-crazed-hyenas demanding their gummy vitamins, probiotics, and juice cups (I mean, their not demanding narcotics or anything, but my kids live for their daily supplements). Most days, I wring my hands at our family decision to make hot breakfast every day...as it actually has to be prepared. At this unspeakable hour, I would gladly give my children cocoa puffs for just a few more minutes of shut eye.
It helps that I happen to think they are cute. They look just like their dad.
I have no idea how in the world to fix this problem. I've tried keeping them up late, making them go to bed early, deleting naps, adding naps, noise machines, putting them back in their beds, bringing them into our bed, begging, pleading, bribing, weeping.
To. No. Avail.
I shall have to break them.
This week I shall be running my children into the ground physically and mentally. Like ponies. {disclaimer: I know nothing of ponies}
I shall take them for walks and runs whilst forcing them to do long division and sentence diagrams.
I will win.
They shall fall into bed every night being absolutely and positively spent. They shall sleep soundly until at least 6:30am - whereupon, I will gladly make them pancakes or oats...whichever my little ponies request.
For the love of Pete!
5am with a cup of coffee and some peace and quite is contemplative and respectable. 5am with toddlers is masochistic and unforgivable.
I find myself functioning in a two-hour fog while the girls run around screaming like coke-crazed-hyenas demanding their gummy vitamins, probiotics, and juice cups (I mean, their not demanding narcotics or anything, but my kids live for their daily supplements). Most days, I wring my hands at our family decision to make hot breakfast every day...as it actually has to be prepared. At this unspeakable hour, I would gladly give my children cocoa puffs for just a few more minutes of shut eye.
It helps that I happen to think they are cute. They look just like their dad.
I have no idea how in the world to fix this problem. I've tried keeping them up late, making them go to bed early, deleting naps, adding naps, noise machines, putting them back in their beds, bringing them into our bed, begging, pleading, bribing, weeping.
To. No. Avail.
I shall have to break them.
This week I shall be running my children into the ground physically and mentally. Like ponies. {disclaimer: I know nothing of ponies}
I shall take them for walks and runs whilst forcing them to do long division and sentence diagrams.
I will win.
They shall fall into bed every night being absolutely and positively spent. They shall sleep soundly until at least 6:30am - whereupon, I will gladly make them pancakes or oats...whichever my little ponies request.
For the love of Pete!
6.09.2014
Little Girls and Comics
I was a fairly normal little girl.
I played with baby dolls and Barbie dolls. I even came up with an elaborate system of dismembering and organizing Barbie doll body parts so that I could "fashion" the perfect doll for whichever storyline Barbie found herself in that day. For example, an olympic gymnast can't have perma-bent arms. Back handsprings can't happen with bent arms. However, should Barbie decide to go dancing with Ken (obviously celebrating her gold medal win) she's gonna need bent arms for the waltz. It was all pretty obvious to me as a child, but my parents MIGHT have thought I was a sociopath.
Anyhow. I WAS normal.
My sister and I had a really awesome treehouse that my dad built. We played in it for hours on end and even camped out one night surviving a fairly vicious bat attack.
My sister and I went on make-believe adventures in 3 different secret locations in our neighborhood: "the circus" (a dilapidated park where we did back flips off of swings and were in constant danger of tetanus), "paradise" (a wooded area with what I believe were large boulders and possibly a stream), and my personal favorite, "Lake Little" (a small field at the bottom or our hill where water collected after it rained. Yep, my sister and I would often picnic next to a puddle).
My sister and I even tied sheets together and climbed out of the third story window of our apartment building while my parents were throwing a dinner party...in a foreign country.
One of my favorite (and safer) past times was walking with my sister to the bookstore after school. She would peruse TIGER BEAT or TEEN BEAT or TEEN TIGER BEAT. I, however, loved ARCHIE comic books. I was also a fan of GARFIELD and often borrowed my sister's CALVIN & HOBBES.
So, I have a fondness for comics.
My husband. on the other hand, has a LOVE for comics. He loves them. He loves SCI-FI. He loves all things generally geek. And I love him for it.
He has introduced me to Joss Whedon (Firefly & Buffy & Dr. Horrible & Dollhouse & too many awesome accomplishments to really name), Star Trek: The Next Generation (although, my dad was a big fan when I was a kid and I would watch along...so, I really just rediscovered these when we got married), MMORPGs, amazing strategy board games that can last HOURS on end (I will never play Caylus again) and yes, comics.
{I am omitting the fact that my husband introduced me to my beloved Doctor. A mention of him will certainly just lead to the longest tangential aside in all of history and I kind of need to stay on track.}
In my adulted-ness, I realized how much fun these things were - almost as fun as dismembering Barbies.
Looking back, I don't think I missed out on much as a little girl. I still had imaginary and fantastic adventures. But when we had kids - I wanted my daughters to enjoy these fantastic worlds and stories and imaginary play-lands that didn't necessarily involve Barbies or princesses. Barbies and princesses aren't all bad, but they can limit the imagination.
BUT, it's not like I'm going to introduce our children to Firefly or Dr. Who - space cowboys and time lords may be a bit out of their cognitive reach.
Enter Owly and "Mr. Kyle" at Gryphon Games & Comics here in town.
As soon as our big girl was able to sit down and hold a book and look through it, we walked to the comic shop. We perused some things and purchased a DC comic focused on the pets of superheroes...Super Pets. In the edition we purchased, Super Turtle rescues Streaky (Super Girl's cat) from the evil plottings of Ignatius Iguana (Lex Luther's pet lizard). It was good, but a little wordy for our (at that time) two-year-old.
On a subsequent visit to Gryphon our fave comic store employee and all-around-great-guy, Kyle, recommended Owly - a beautifully illustrated (no words) graphic novel featuring an owl, his pet worm, and his forest friends. It's a series. We own four of them. We're fans. Here's why:
Anyhow. It's a great series. I'm so glad that Andy Runton created it and that "Mr. Kyle" introduced us to it.
Thanks, Kyle. It sure beats teaching my girls how to dismember Barbies.
***I have not been paid or compensated in any way for this endorsement of 'Owly' or of Gryphon Games and Comics...or of Mr. Kyle. These are just all around great things, places, and people and I strongly encourage you to check them out. But don't check Kyle out...that would just be weird.
I played with baby dolls and Barbie dolls. I even came up with an elaborate system of dismembering and organizing Barbie doll body parts so that I could "fashion" the perfect doll for whichever storyline Barbie found herself in that day. For example, an olympic gymnast can't have perma-bent arms. Back handsprings can't happen with bent arms. However, should Barbie decide to go dancing with Ken (obviously celebrating her gold medal win) she's gonna need bent arms for the waltz. It was all pretty obvious to me as a child, but my parents MIGHT have thought I was a sociopath.
Anyhow. I WAS normal.
My sister and I had a really awesome treehouse that my dad built. We played in it for hours on end and even camped out one night surviving a fairly vicious bat attack.
My sister and I went on make-believe adventures in 3 different secret locations in our neighborhood: "the circus" (a dilapidated park where we did back flips off of swings and were in constant danger of tetanus), "paradise" (a wooded area with what I believe were large boulders and possibly a stream), and my personal favorite, "Lake Little" (a small field at the bottom or our hill where water collected after it rained. Yep, my sister and I would often picnic next to a puddle).
My sister and I even tied sheets together and climbed out of the third story window of our apartment building while my parents were throwing a dinner party...in a foreign country.
One of my favorite (and safer) past times was walking with my sister to the bookstore after school. She would peruse TIGER BEAT or TEEN BEAT or TEEN TIGER BEAT. I, however, loved ARCHIE comic books. I was also a fan of GARFIELD and often borrowed my sister's CALVIN & HOBBES.
So, I have a fondness for comics.
My husband. on the other hand, has a LOVE for comics. He loves them. He loves SCI-FI. He loves all things generally geek. And I love him for it.
He has introduced me to Joss Whedon (Firefly & Buffy & Dr. Horrible & Dollhouse & too many awesome accomplishments to really name), Star Trek: The Next Generation (although, my dad was a big fan when I was a kid and I would watch along...so, I really just rediscovered these when we got married), MMORPGs, amazing strategy board games that can last HOURS on end (I will never play Caylus again) and yes, comics.
{I am omitting the fact that my husband introduced me to my beloved Doctor. A mention of him will certainly just lead to the longest tangential aside in all of history and I kind of need to stay on track.}
In my adulted-ness, I realized how much fun these things were - almost as fun as dismembering Barbies.
Looking back, I don't think I missed out on much as a little girl. I still had imaginary and fantastic adventures. But when we had kids - I wanted my daughters to enjoy these fantastic worlds and stories and imaginary play-lands that didn't necessarily involve Barbies or princesses. Barbies and princesses aren't all bad, but they can limit the imagination.
BUT, it's not like I'm going to introduce our children to Firefly or Dr. Who - space cowboys and time lords may be a bit out of their cognitive reach.
Enter Owly and "Mr. Kyle" at Gryphon Games & Comics here in town.
As soon as our big girl was able to sit down and hold a book and look through it, we walked to the comic shop. We perused some things and purchased a DC comic focused on the pets of superheroes...Super Pets. In the edition we purchased, Super Turtle rescues Streaky (Super Girl's cat) from the evil plottings of Ignatius Iguana (Lex Luther's pet lizard). It was good, but a little wordy for our (at that time) two-year-old.
On a subsequent visit to Gryphon our fave comic store employee and all-around-great-guy, Kyle, recommended Owly - a beautifully illustrated (no words) graphic novel featuring an owl, his pet worm, and his forest friends. It's a series. We own four of them. We're fans. Here's why:
- It features animals...not people...so, you can avoid some of the more "adult" images that many adult comics and graphic novels contain.
- It focuses on basic kid stuff - facing your fears, making friends, good life lessons.
- My kid can "read" it. Only once has my oldest daughter brought Owly to me and asked me to read it - every time since, she has sat down and narrated aloud to whoever was within earshot the story that the pictures were telling. It is an excellent pre-reading activity and gives my girl just a ton of confidence.
Anyhow. It's a great series. I'm so glad that Andy Runton created it and that "Mr. Kyle" introduced us to it.
Thanks, Kyle. It sure beats teaching my girls how to dismember Barbies.
***I have not been paid or compensated in any way for this endorsement of 'Owly' or of Gryphon Games and Comics...or of Mr. Kyle. These are just all around great things, places, and people and I strongly encourage you to check them out. But don't check Kyle out...that would just be weird.
6.07.2014
Happy {Music} Friday + a day
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Love the Lumineers.
6.05.2014
That Which Shall Not Be Named
Do not call it breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
For if thou utterest such names to my children,
they shall throw thy own food at you
while spitting
and crying
and gnashing teeth.
They shall grovel
and flail
and throweth the grandest of all fits as to mimic a gran mal seizure.
They shall pusheth plates
and spilleth milk
without remorse.
Pure agony they know.
A biblical, Job-like despair they experience.
Do not name their food
breakfast,
lunch,
dinner.
It is snack
and only snack
in this house....
Everything else is seemingly
an abomination.
For if thou utterest such names to my children,
they shall throw thy own food at you
while spitting
and crying
and gnashing teeth.
They shall grovel
and flail
and throweth the grandest of all fits as to mimic a gran mal seizure.
They shall pusheth plates
and spilleth milk
without remorse.
Pure agony they know.
A biblical, Job-like despair they experience.
Do not name their food
breakfast,
lunch,
dinner.
It is snack
and only snack
in this house....
Everything else is seemingly
an abomination.
6.04.2014
Less Words
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So, get on board or get out of my way.
6.03.2014
Plenty and Want
I have been lucky that for most of my life, I've experienced times of plenty.
Plenty of loved ones near (or the ones that I needed near).
Plenty of friends.
Plenty of passionate community.
Plenty of life giving activities nearby.
Plenty of food.
Plenty of hope.
Plenty of laughter.
And yes, in retrospect (and comparison) plenty of money.
I am currently in a time of want.
I am wanting my family. I am wanting a few very dear and wonderful and close friends to be nearer to me (I miss you L&M). I am wanting passionate community. I am wanting a city that inspires me and brings me LIFE. I am NOT wanting for food (don't send money, Mom). I am wanting hope. I am wanting laughter. I am not wanting so much for money, but it would be so nice to have a little wiggle room or the ability to buy my kid a bike...or the ability to take a vacation that is not entirely funded by our parents.
I don't like to admit that I am wanting. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable. More so, I fear that I will be judged as superficial by people who read this. I don't like being in perpetual want. I'm not particularly good at it. Right now, it certainly feels as though we are wanting for everything excepting health...and if you looked at our mental health, at times we would most definitely be wanting for that.
This is not to say, "Oh, woe is me!"
But to depserately approach the throne and cry, "Oh, Lord. You know my needs. I am still alive. I still draw breath. I have made it through these wanting and empty days. You've seen to it. Oh Father, thank you for sufficiency and for molding me and shaping me. I am glad you know what you're doing. I, however, have no idea what you are doing. No inkling. Not a clue. Please, walk me through this...and help me to kick the dust from my feet joyfully as soon as you call us to leave this season. But for now. I will walk. I will look for joy. I will look to you."
Plenty of loved ones near (or the ones that I needed near).
Plenty of friends.
Plenty of passionate community.
Plenty of life giving activities nearby.
Plenty of food.
Plenty of hope.
Plenty of laughter.
And yes, in retrospect (and comparison) plenty of money.
I am currently in a time of want.
I am wanting my family. I am wanting a few very dear and wonderful and close friends to be nearer to me (I miss you L&M). I am wanting passionate community. I am wanting a city that inspires me and brings me LIFE. I am NOT wanting for food (don't send money, Mom). I am wanting hope. I am wanting laughter. I am not wanting so much for money, but it would be so nice to have a little wiggle room or the ability to buy my kid a bike...or the ability to take a vacation that is not entirely funded by our parents.
I don't like to admit that I am wanting. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable. More so, I fear that I will be judged as superficial by people who read this. I don't like being in perpetual want. I'm not particularly good at it. Right now, it certainly feels as though we are wanting for everything excepting health...and if you looked at our mental health, at times we would most definitely be wanting for that.
This is not to say, "Oh, woe is me!"
But to depserately approach the throne and cry, "Oh, Lord. You know my needs. I am still alive. I still draw breath. I have made it through these wanting and empty days. You've seen to it. Oh Father, thank you for sufficiency and for molding me and shaping me. I am glad you know what you're doing. I, however, have no idea what you are doing. No inkling. Not a clue. Please, walk me through this...and help me to kick the dust from my feet joyfully as soon as you call us to leave this season. But for now. I will walk. I will look for joy. I will look to you."
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