Friday, July 20, 2007

1950's hair

My son got his hair cut on Wednesday of this week. It reminds me of 1950's hair. . . really short and clean. Couple the haircut with his freckles and he looks a lot like Opie Taylor.

He acts like Opie Taylor sometimes too. Today he had his "real fishing pole" that my Dad got for him, standing on the ottoman casting the line on the living room rug. He played this "fishing game" for 20 minutes or so. It's amazing how kids can entertain themselves when their imagination is given the chance to be free.

On a disappointing note, my son, who absolutely loved preschool last year, won't be going to preschool this fall. We recently went through a big move and will be going through a few more transitions this fall. His father and I finally decided that preschool would add too much to the plate. I'm hoping that I can find another mom to trade a couple of babysitting hours with my daughter so that I can work some one-on-one with him. He learned a lot last year and is very close to reading on his own. His sister tends to distract us both, so hopefully we can find her a fun playmate for a morning or so a week. We are in a very active playgroup so I don't think it will be a problem.

He will enter kindergarten next fall. I get all teary-eyed thinking of the little man he'll be. . . with the big backpack and the wide eyes walking in to a school building. He'll be such a big boy, and I hardly think I have blinked since he was a red newborn, scrunchy-eyes who just changed our world in an instant.

Being a momma is so hard, like this morning when the two of them were fighting and screaming. . . but who in the world would trade the way being a momma transforms your heart? A momma's heart has to be the biggest in the world, second only to God's. Maybe being a momma is how we can understand God a little more.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

My Little Pop Tart. . .

. . . that's what I'm calling my youngest. She's like a pop tart. I put her in her bed, tuck her in with all her necessary items (ten or so books, ten or so stuffed animals, two babies, her blankie, her stash of pacifiers), tell her nighty-night and slowly walk towards the door, making as little noise as possible. Within ten seconds of me walking out the door, she's up, right behind me saying "bed, bed?" This is her way of asking me to get in the bed with her. She also points to the pillow and says "bill? bill?" No, there isn't a strange man named Bill in our lives, but she is indicating that she wants me to lie on the pillow next to her.

She's almost 2 and we switched her to a big-girl bed recently. She had become quite adept at climbing out of her crib. She loves the big-girl bed but, for some reason, she doesn't like being in it alone. It's taking her 2 or 3 HOURS at night to settle down and sleep. I'm really at my wit's end.

Each time I get frustrated and feel like I can take no more, though, I remind myself that this is a season that will pass quickly. How many times in her teen years will she beg me to lie on her "bill?" So maybe I'll just take her up on that request more often. My books, housekeeping, and whatever else I need to do can wait.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Epiphany, of sorts

I find that I often have epiphanies. I realize that the very nature of an epiphany requires that it be somewhat unique in its time period. . . otherwise it wouldn't be all that noticeable. Certainly not noticeable enough to cause the "a-ha" moment.

I think that I have these moments more often than most because I am such a pensive person. I am constantly thinking. . . the brain never shuts down. It's tiring, really, and the constant analysis of my life always makes me feel as if I'm not living anything, but rather simply thinking about living.

Today the epiphany was that you must mix flour with broth before adding it to a chicken pie in order for thickening to occur. Without this important mixing, the flour will simply sit on top of the liquid and never cause any reaction, but just make the pie taste "floury." I read the recipe and I guess it was for a more seasoned chicken pie chef than me. It said to add "1 1/2 cups of chicken broth and a tablespoon of flour" and never mentioned mixing the two. Hmmm. The chicken pie was still delicious, but runny as could be.

Here's where the inevitable application to my life comes in: What good is it to read scripture and pray and attend Bible study and listen to uplifting Christian music if we never "mix" these activities with our daily routine? For me, this is a charge to start laying my thoughts captive to Christ. If I have a truly active mind (and I've already said that I do) then that's where I need to start to get my life on a more Biblically-centered track.

The last thing I want is a "floury" existence with little thickening.