“Yet me hep you, Mommy,” Teyla says from her perch on the step stool next to the kitchen counter.
I smile and guide her hand to the handle of the knife. My fingers closes over hers, and together, we slice through the block of cheese on the cutting board.
I’ve missed this.
Summer was exciting. We had so much fun with everyone home. I loved spending days at the pool and evenings outside. Our mornings were relaxed and filled with two or maybe even three courses of breakfast. We would spend hours at the park with friends, playing pirates and super heroes and tag.
But having my attention split four ways – it’s exhausting. I felt like I was always ALWAYS divided. I never had a quiet moment to just sit and focus on one child. I was constantly juggling. “Here, Natalie, can you take the baby? Teyla, honey, I’m opening the cheese for you. Now Connor, what were you saying?”
So here we are, one week into our new school schedule. Both Natalie (4th grade) and Connor (1st grade) are in school all day.
And I feel like my brain is piecing itself back together.
I don’t have to multitask anymore. (Not much anyway. Two kids is a breeze compared to four.) I can focus. I can finish a conversation.
More importantly, I can listen. I can watch. I can adore.
And I have more patience and more energy for Connor and Natalie when they get home from school, since I spent the morning and early afternoon paying attention to the littles.
I’m sad summer is over. But fall feels good.
The Reasons for the Silence
If you write for God, you will reach many people and bring them joy.
If you write for people, you may make some money and you may give someone a little joy and you may make a noise in the world for a little while.
If you write for yourself, you can read what you yourself have written and after 10 minutes, you will be so disgusted you will wish you were dead.
- Thomas Merton
I’m not silent very often.
(If you doubt, just ask Corey. He does a happy dance when I get bronchitis.)
But right now, my little brain is so overwhelmed with big ideas, the words can’t get out.
Two streams of thought have converged to create this mental flood.
First, Compassion has a team of bloggers in Guatemala this week. I follow each Compassion bloggers trip so closely, I feel like I’m spiritually hovering over the team. This trip is especially meaningful. My sister traveled to Guatemala regularly before she got married (so often that, at one point, she was suspected by the DEA of smuggling drugs), so that country already has a story for me. Plus, some of my best blogging friends are on this trip. I am bathing in their stories right now and being convicted again that truth faith cannot have a non-response, that the God I know may need to be redefined in light of the God we encounter in a shanty town, that there isn’t always a neat bow to the end of the story.
Our God is crazy. He dwells with the poor and the orphan and the alien. I don’t know why. But I see it throughout the Bible.
It bothers me. Because I dwell with the rich and the comfortable and the lazy.
I am rich and comfortable and lazy.
I say I want to follow Jesus. But the truth is, I want to follow Jesus and have a nice house in the suburbs and put my kids in Christian school and take a vacation each January to escape the cold. (Even though my house has a roof and a fireplace and running water and a stove where I make food and bake bread at will.)
I don’t want to choose.
But I feel like God forcing the decision. I’ve felt it coming for years. There’s a swell of energy approaching, like a wave in the ocean.
I want to catch this wave. I pray I’m ready when it breaks.
So I’m silent right now, listening to the water.
The second stream of thought is less global. It has to do with my family.
Summer is over. (Literally. Two weeks ago, we lived at the pool to escape the 90-degree heat and blanket-like humidity. This week, I’ve lugged out the boxes of winter clothes to find pants and sweaters for the 50-degree mornings. What is it with September, Minnesota?) It was a great three months, crazy but fun, like a roller coaster, both terrifying and exhilarating.
But the sudden advent of fall punched me in the gut, frankly. It does every year, partly because I’m not ready for winter. (Summer! Don’t leave me!) But more because it is at the beginning of each school year I realize: My children are growing up. And there is nothing I can do to slow down time.
It always makes me wonder: Am I doing a good job? Am I loving my kids the way they need to be loved? Did I take live summer 2010 to its fullest? Because I will never get it back.
For the record, I’m not talking Mommy guilt here. This isn’t a maudlin emotion. It’s about authenticity. I say I love my kids and my family and that they mean more than anything to me.
Yet, if you look at my Twitter stream, you’ll see I’m at my computer a lot. A lot.
To make matters worse, I haven’t found a way to blog or email or even play with my photos without stealing that time from one of my loved ones. I am never alone. There is always a little person who is desperate for my attention. And after they go to sleep, there is my long-suffering husband, who waits patiently each day for just a few moments of my time.
I don’t believe the answer is to chuck my computer. (Especially since I just got a new laptop. Speedy Gonzalez. I wonder if I can get one of these nifty new Intel chips installed in my brain.) That would be too easy. Life isn’t a black and white drawing. I have to work within the colorful spectrum of the real world. Moms need an outlet too, and the friendships that exist between me and my fellow bloggers and Twitterees are real and precious.
But sometimes, I need to step back and re-evaluate my stance. Am I walking the path with grace and precision? Am I watching His footsteps – and only His footsteps? Do I know where I want my story to go?
And sometimes, silence is the only way to get those answers.
If, perhaps, you're wrestling with some similar questions, I'd love to have you join the "Radical" read-a-long being hosted by the fabulous Marla Taviano. And of course, if you're interested in catching the wave of child sponsorship, the children of Guatemala would be happy to teach you to the thrill of riding with God.
If you write for people, you may make some money and you may give someone a little joy and you may make a noise in the world for a little while.
If you write for yourself, you can read what you yourself have written and after 10 minutes, you will be so disgusted you will wish you were dead.
- Thomas Merton
I’m not silent very often.
(If you doubt, just ask Corey. He does a happy dance when I get bronchitis.)
But right now, my little brain is so overwhelmed with big ideas, the words can’t get out.
Two streams of thought have converged to create this mental flood.
First, Compassion has a team of bloggers in Guatemala this week. I follow each Compassion bloggers trip so closely, I feel like I’m spiritually hovering over the team. This trip is especially meaningful. My sister traveled to Guatemala regularly before she got married (so often that, at one point, she was suspected by the DEA of smuggling drugs), so that country already has a story for me. Plus, some of my best blogging friends are on this trip. I am bathing in their stories right now and being convicted again that truth faith cannot have a non-response, that the God I know may need to be redefined in light of the God we encounter in a shanty town, that there isn’t always a neat bow to the end of the story.
Our God is crazy. He dwells with the poor and the orphan and the alien. I don’t know why. But I see it throughout the Bible.
It bothers me. Because I dwell with the rich and the comfortable and the lazy.
I am rich and comfortable and lazy.
I say I want to follow Jesus. But the truth is, I want to follow Jesus and have a nice house in the suburbs and put my kids in Christian school and take a vacation each January to escape the cold. (Even though my house has a roof and a fireplace and running water and a stove where I make food and bake bread at will.)
I don’t want to choose.
But I feel like God forcing the decision. I’ve felt it coming for years. There’s a swell of energy approaching, like a wave in the ocean.
I want to catch this wave. I pray I’m ready when it breaks.
So I’m silent right now, listening to the water.
The second stream of thought is less global. It has to do with my family.
Summer is over. (Literally. Two weeks ago, we lived at the pool to escape the 90-degree heat and blanket-like humidity. This week, I’ve lugged out the boxes of winter clothes to find pants and sweaters for the 50-degree mornings. What is it with September, Minnesota?) It was a great three months, crazy but fun, like a roller coaster, both terrifying and exhilarating.
But the sudden advent of fall punched me in the gut, frankly. It does every year, partly because I’m not ready for winter. (Summer! Don’t leave me!) But more because it is at the beginning of each school year I realize: My children are growing up. And there is nothing I can do to slow down time.
It always makes me wonder: Am I doing a good job? Am I loving my kids the way they need to be loved? Did I take live summer 2010 to its fullest? Because I will never get it back.
For the record, I’m not talking Mommy guilt here. This isn’t a maudlin emotion. It’s about authenticity. I say I love my kids and my family and that they mean more than anything to me.
Yet, if you look at my Twitter stream, you’ll see I’m at my computer a lot. A lot.
To make matters worse, I haven’t found a way to blog or email or even play with my photos without stealing that time from one of my loved ones. I am never alone. There is always a little person who is desperate for my attention. And after they go to sleep, there is my long-suffering husband, who waits patiently each day for just a few moments of my time.
I don’t believe the answer is to chuck my computer. (Especially since I just got a new laptop. Speedy Gonzalez. I wonder if I can get one of these nifty new Intel chips installed in my brain.) That would be too easy. Life isn’t a black and white drawing. I have to work within the colorful spectrum of the real world. Moms need an outlet too, and the friendships that exist between me and my fellow bloggers and Twitterees are real and precious.
But sometimes, I need to step back and re-evaluate my stance. Am I walking the path with grace and precision? Am I watching His footsteps – and only His footsteps? Do I know where I want my story to go?
And sometimes, silence is the only way to get those answers.
If, perhaps, you're wrestling with some similar questions, I'd love to have you join the "Radical" read-a-long being hosted by the fabulous Marla Taviano. And of course, if you're interested in catching the wave of child sponsorship, the children of Guatemala would be happy to teach you to the thrill of riding with God.
Silence
I rarely crave silence.
I am a people person. I am energized by conversation. I am happiest when I'm interacting.
But lately, I want to hit the the internal mute button.
To be clear, it's not you.
It's me.
I'm sick of me.
I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. I do not struggle with insecurity. About 90% of the time, I’m comfortable in my own skin.
I do mean that I’m weary of the me-focus and the me-blog and the me-Twitter and the me-me-me.
I want me to be quiet.
Be still.
I'm sure it's just a season - a balance to my nearly constant sanguine.
But right now, it's needed.
And good.
I am a people person. I am energized by conversation. I am happiest when I'm interacting.
But lately, I want to hit the the internal mute button.
To be clear, it's not you.
It's me.
I'm sick of me.
I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. I do not struggle with insecurity. About 90% of the time, I’m comfortable in my own skin.
I do mean that I’m weary of the me-focus and the me-blog and the me-Twitter and the me-me-me.
I want me to be quiet.
Be still.
I'm sure it's just a season - a balance to my nearly constant sanguine.
But right now, it's needed.
And good.
Focus
We were running late for church on Sunday morning.
With only 15 minutes to go until we needed to leave, Corey was getting dressed, I was getting out of the shower and the kids were playing downstairs.
“You’d better get the kids up here,” I called from the bathroom. “They’ve don't have long to get ready.”
Corey shouted down for the kids to come up. I knew, without looking, that Connor was the last one up the stairs. The boy has a hard time staying on task lately, especially when we need him to hurry. “Focus, Connor! Focus!” Corey constantly says. But it doesn’t do much good. Connor is just too six-year-old-boy to focus.
So Sunday, Natalie was dutifully brushing her teeth and Corey was changing Teyla’s diaper and Connor was … well, Connor was doing his usual thing, which is to play good guy-bad guy with his shirt and shorts. “Focus Connor! Focus!” Corey barked.
And so it continued. Corey hurried, Connor tried but failed to stay on task. I know this drill; it’s like trying to push Jell-O.
Finally, we were in the car (and only five minutes late). Corey was obviously frustrated. But he didn’t say: “We have got to do something to light a fire under Connor,” or “Does he not listen? How many times did I tell him to hurry?”
Instead, he turned to me and sighed and said, “We’ve got to give Connor more than 15 minutes to get ready. I should have called him up sooner. He’s only six. I hate riding him like that.”
Corey is a great dad.
With only 15 minutes to go until we needed to leave, Corey was getting dressed, I was getting out of the shower and the kids were playing downstairs.
“You’d better get the kids up here,” I called from the bathroom. “They’ve don't have long to get ready.”
Corey shouted down for the kids to come up. I knew, without looking, that Connor was the last one up the stairs. The boy has a hard time staying on task lately, especially when we need him to hurry. “Focus, Connor! Focus!” Corey constantly says. But it doesn’t do much good. Connor is just too six-year-old-boy to focus.
So Sunday, Natalie was dutifully brushing her teeth and Corey was changing Teyla’s diaper and Connor was … well, Connor was doing his usual thing, which is to play good guy-bad guy with his shirt and shorts. “Focus Connor! Focus!” Corey barked.
And so it continued. Corey hurried, Connor tried but failed to stay on task. I know this drill; it’s like trying to push Jell-O.
Finally, we were in the car (and only five minutes late). Corey was obviously frustrated. But he didn’t say: “We have got to do something to light a fire under Connor,” or “Does he not listen? How many times did I tell him to hurry?”
Instead, he turned to me and sighed and said, “We’ve got to give Connor more than 15 minutes to get ready. I should have called him up sooner. He’s only six. I hate riding him like that.”
Corey is a great dad.
Tough Guy
Hey you.
Yeah. You.
Wanna piece of this?
Just kidding! I'm such a prankster.
(Although I do recommend my fist. It's the perfect mid-afternoon snack.)
What's that?
You think I'm cute in my tank top, even with the chubby arms and the double chin?
Get out!
You're the best! I love you too!
Yeah. You.
Wanna piece of this?
Just kidding! I'm such a prankster.
(Although I do recommend my fist. It's the perfect mid-afternoon snack.)
What's that?
You think I'm cute in my tank top, even with the chubby arms and the double chin?
Get out!
You're the best! I love you too!
The Summer of No Naps
Teyla, bless her heart, has given up napping for the summer.
(Bless my heart, while you’re at it.)
It’s not that she doesn’t need the sleep. She’s a whiny, temperamental drama queen by 5:00 PM most days. It’s more that conditions aren’t right for napping right now. There’s too much noise, fun, craziness, hoopla to sleep in the middle of the day. And I don’t have the time to lay down with her and coax her toward dreamland, as I used to do before Kieran was born.
So she stays awake most days, and we muddle along and give extra grace during the pre-dinner meltdowns and wait for blessed September when routines make their return.
Still, she is tired. (Bless her heart.) If I can time our daily activities so we are driving home around 1:30 PM, she will zonk out in the car for a brief respite. Occasionally, she’ll lay down on the floor right at lunchtime and fall asleep with a Little People figurine tucked under her chin.
Or she might do what she did yesterday, which is to resist the nap all the way until 4:30 PM, at which point she suddenly yawned and curled up into a ball and built an invisible chrysalis around herself, and nothing I could do would rouse her, not even rubbing her back and moving her arms and legs and whispering sweet promises of ice cream into her ear.
She didn’t wake up until 6:00 PM, when dinner was almost ready and her Daddy was on his way home.
I know I shouldn’t have let her nap that late. I should have tried harder to wake her up after just a short snooze. Or maybe I shouldn’t have let her indulge the sleepy at all.
But the quiet. It was so blissful. And I love to watch her sleeping, a sprite with curly hair and peaceful breaths resting on my sofa.
I paid for it later, when she was wide awake and singing at 10:30.
But to be honest, I didn't really care.
Because she needed that. And so did I.
(Bless my heart, while you’re at it.)
It’s not that she doesn’t need the sleep. She’s a whiny, temperamental drama queen by 5:00 PM most days. It’s more that conditions aren’t right for napping right now. There’s too much noise, fun, craziness, hoopla to sleep in the middle of the day. And I don’t have the time to lay down with her and coax her toward dreamland, as I used to do before Kieran was born.
So she stays awake most days, and we muddle along and give extra grace during the pre-dinner meltdowns and wait for blessed September when routines make their return.
Still, she is tired. (Bless her heart.) If I can time our daily activities so we are driving home around 1:30 PM, she will zonk out in the car for a brief respite. Occasionally, she’ll lay down on the floor right at lunchtime and fall asleep with a Little People figurine tucked under her chin.
Or she might do what she did yesterday, which is to resist the nap all the way until 4:30 PM, at which point she suddenly yawned and curled up into a ball and built an invisible chrysalis around herself, and nothing I could do would rouse her, not even rubbing her back and moving her arms and legs and whispering sweet promises of ice cream into her ear.
She didn’t wake up until 6:00 PM, when dinner was almost ready and her Daddy was on his way home.
I know I shouldn’t have let her nap that late. I should have tried harder to wake her up after just a short snooze. Or maybe I shouldn’t have let her indulge the sleepy at all.
But the quiet. It was so blissful. And I love to watch her sleeping, a sprite with curly hair and peaceful breaths resting on my sofa.
I paid for it later, when she was wide awake and singing at 10:30.
But to be honest, I didn't really care.
Because she needed that. And so did I.
Zucchini In My Kitchen
My kitchen is overrun with zucchini.
And I couldn't be happier.
I know it sounds weird, but the last time I was overrun with zucchini, I had a garden. And I miss my garden.
To quell my veggie lust, I jointed a CSA this past June, which is a lot like buying a share in a local farm. Practically, it means every other Monday, I drive to the chiropractor's office around the corner and unload a box of veggies and drive home giggling that I get to have the bounty of a garden without all the work.
Yesterday, I was pondering Beth's You Capture challenge and I looked in my fridge and saw four different varieties of zucchini just waiting for some attention.
And lo, a light bulb went off over my head. It was a gloomy, cloudy, summer day. Everyone was a little grumpy. I had a bounty of squash. What we clearly needed was cake.
Or should I say, vegetables disguised as cake.
I got busy shredding. (I heart my Cuisinart.)
A globe zucchini. I know it looks like a pumpkin, but I promise. It's not.
A vortex of shredded squash. (Way more than I needed for the cake. Guess who's going to make zucchini bread and muffins later today?)
The cake batter just before I added the shredded zucchini.
The finished cake.
Connor (who wore his pajamas ALL DAY yesterday) eating his veggies.
Chocolate Zucchini Cake
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup oil
1 3/4 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup sour cream
2 1/4 cup flour
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 tbsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt
2 cups grated zucchini
Cream margarine, oil and sugar. Stir in eggs, vanilla, sour cream until well blended. Sift dry ingredients together (or don't; I never do) and add to batter. Stir in zucchini. Spread into greased 9x13 pan. Bake at 350 for 35-40 minutes.
Optional topping: Combine 1/2 cups chopped pecans, 1/4 cup brown sugar and 1 cup chocolate chips and sprinkle on top.
Notes:
*This is a really sweet cake. So feel free to decrease the sugar a tad if you wish.
*I haven't tried it, but I bet you could replace some of the flour with whole wheat flour without anyone noticing.
*Because I had so much zucchini, I piled my cups high. I bet I put in more like 3 cups when all was said and done.
*The topping is really good. But I have trouble with it. It always sinks into the cake, making it even more sweet. I tried putting on just chocolate chips and pecans last night, and the chocolate chips still sank into the batter while baking. If you want to try it, maybe put it on halfway through baking?
*My oven is anemic, so I always end up cooking it closer to 50 minutes. Just look for a clean toothpick to come out of the middle and you'll be fine.
*This cake is super moist (can't believe I just said that word because I LOATHE it), so eat it quickly or refrigerate it. It will go bad quickly otherwise.
*If you don't tell them, no one will know there is zucchini in this cake. Muwhahahahaha..
This post is part of You Capture: In the Kitchen at I Should be Folding Laundry.
And I couldn't be happier.
I know it sounds weird, but the last time I was overrun with zucchini, I had a garden. And I miss my garden.
To quell my veggie lust, I jointed a CSA this past June, which is a lot like buying a share in a local farm. Practically, it means every other Monday, I drive to the chiropractor's office around the corner and unload a box of veggies and drive home giggling that I get to have the bounty of a garden without all the work.
Yesterday, I was pondering Beth's You Capture challenge and I looked in my fridge and saw four different varieties of zucchini just waiting for some attention.
And lo, a light bulb went off over my head. It was a gloomy, cloudy, summer day. Everyone was a little grumpy. I had a bounty of squash. What we clearly needed was cake.
Or should I say, vegetables disguised as cake.
I got busy shredding. (I heart my Cuisinart.)
A globe zucchini. I know it looks like a pumpkin, but I promise. It's not.
A vortex of shredded squash. (Way more than I needed for the cake. Guess who's going to make zucchini bread and muffins later today?)
The cake batter just before I added the shredded zucchini.
The finished cake.
Connor (who wore his pajamas ALL DAY yesterday) eating his veggies.
Chocolate Zucchini Cake
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup oil
1 3/4 cup sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup sour cream
2 1/4 cup flour
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 tbsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt
2 cups grated zucchini
Cream margarine, oil and sugar. Stir in eggs, vanilla, sour cream until well blended. Sift dry ingredients together (or don't; I never do) and add to batter. Stir in zucchini. Spread into greased 9x13 pan. Bake at 350 for 35-40 minutes.
Optional topping: Combine 1/2 cups chopped pecans, 1/4 cup brown sugar and 1 cup chocolate chips and sprinkle on top.
Notes:
*This is a really sweet cake. So feel free to decrease the sugar a tad if you wish.
*I haven't tried it, but I bet you could replace some of the flour with whole wheat flour without anyone noticing.
*Because I had so much zucchini, I piled my cups high. I bet I put in more like 3 cups when all was said and done.
*The topping is really good. But I have trouble with it. It always sinks into the cake, making it even more sweet. I tried putting on just chocolate chips and pecans last night, and the chocolate chips still sank into the batter while baking. If you want to try it, maybe put it on halfway through baking?
*My oven is anemic, so I always end up cooking it closer to 50 minutes. Just look for a clean toothpick to come out of the middle and you'll be fine.
*This cake is super moist (can't believe I just said that word because I LOATHE it), so eat it quickly or refrigerate it. It will go bad quickly otherwise.
*If you don't tell them, no one will know there is zucchini in this cake. Muwhahahahaha..
This post is part of You Capture: In the Kitchen at I Should be Folding Laundry.
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