A Tale of Two Soldiers, Revisited

November 11, 2013November 11, 2013 / Julie / Leave a comment

The following post is from this past July. To mark Veterans Day (and Ed’s 88th birthday tomorrow), I thought it was worth sharing again.

Thank you to all who have served and sacrificed for our country in the armed forces.

—

When we were in Minnesota last week visiting my husband’s family, we paid a couple of visits to Brennan’s stepfather, Ed, at his nursing home. Ed is the man who taught my husband about responsibility, who provided him with structure and support through his teenage years, who was there for Brennan in the difficult time after his own father passed away. Ed is also a World War II veteran who fought in the Battle of the Bulge and was wounded just days before the war ended.

With my own parents still in their ‘50’s, it was more than a little difficult for me to get used to having a (step)father-in-law who is a member of the “greatest generation.” And I have to admit that, having seen him only once or twice a year for the past six years, I don’t know Ed very well. But I know that my husband loves and respects him. And I know that he has lived a long and interesting life, with his fair share of pain.

Some of it, of course, can be traced to his service in that awful war. Shortly before it ended, Ed found himself in Passau, Germany. In trying to rescue his sergeant, who had been shot, Ed was himself shot in the lung and the arm. He earned the bronze star for his actions. And he has lived with the repercussions of his injuries ever since.

Standing in Ed’s nursing home room during this year’s visit, I was reminded powerfully of an exchange I had with another World War II veteran, 13 years ago. Then, I was sitting on a train platform outside Munich – exhausted, overwhelmed, and anxious – having just arrived hours before – by myself – for a summer studying German at a language institute in Bavaria.

The elderly, frail gentleman was sitting on a bench by himself. I’m sure he could tell I felt lost, looking around for a perch for myself and my unwieldy luggage. He indicated that I should sit next to him. Once it became obvious that I was an American (and quite possibly this was obvious before I even opened my mouth), he started speaking to me in English. We made small talk; I told him about my plans to study German that summer.

After a few minutes chatting cordially, he paused and looked at me intently. He said “An American did this to me.” Turning slightly, he revealed to me the shoulder that I could not, until then, see. It looked like a large chunk of flesh had been carved away from it. His scrawny arm hung lamely at his side. “I saw the man who did it,” he said. “I saw his eyes.”

Lightening his tone somewhat, he continued: “I don’t blame him. We were at war. We were doing what we were told. If he hadn’t shot me, I would have shot him.” (Pause – deathly still pause.) “War is an awful, horrible thing. It is always horrible. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Then, stripping away the tension entirely, the old soldier smiled and told me, “I love America. My wife and I visit New York with friends every year.” Before we parted, he raised his eyebrows at me and said, “Now, as soon as you arrive at your institute, you call your mother. You call your mother. She’ll be worried about you.”

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the experience.

Whenever I see an elderly person, particularly one who looks weak or ill, I wonder what kind of a life they’ve lived. I wonder at the events and the change they must have seen in their lifetime. Whenever I see an old man wearing one of those hats that veterans wear – the kind that denotes the ship they served on – I envision the young, strong man he must have been. I don’t know what to say or do, except to show a little kindness and maybe a little love. I want to ask, but I don’t want to intrude. I want to thank, but I don’t want to sound trite. So mostly I just wonder. And I say a little prayer.

With Ed, I know something of his story. But I still don’t know what to say. So I show some kindness and some love. I give him a hug and a kiss. I encourage the boys to do the same for their “Baba Ed.” Every once in a while, I have the boys color him a picture and we stick it in the mail. And I pray.

I still think of that old German soldier – a veteran of the same war as Ed. The war that forever damaged his shoulder and Ed’s lung. They fought on different sides. Maybe they had different aims, but I think they were probably both just doing what was expected of them. Years later, I get a glimpse of their service in that faraway time, and I wonder. Quite a thing to think about, isn’t it?

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 19)

November 1, 2013 / Julie / 6 Comments

—1—

I’m sorry for throwing that brain cyst thing at you and then walking away for two weeks.

I didn’t mean to be absent for so long. And I certainly didn’t mean to worry any of my loved ones who have been stopping by the blog looking for an update.

It’s just that following up on all those medical questions takes a lot of work. In the past two weeks I have met with a dermatologist, a cardiologist, an Ear Nose Throat doctor, a neurosurgeon, and an obstetrician. And I’ve had an echocardiogram. That’s six separate medical appointments. Plus I attended a board meeting and I helped out at my older son’s preschool, leaving my younger boy at home. That’s a lot of looking for sitters.

So as you might expect, I’m tired. And my mind has been rather too occupied with pondering illness and trial and the small, beautiful things in life to generate an actual, ready-for-public-consumption, finished product. Also, I’ve had to be brutal in distinguishing between the have-to-do’s and the want-to-do’s. My attention has gone to my boys and to stacks of medical forms. (And laundry when I have absolutely nothing left to dress the boys in.) Most other things (ahem, cooking and dishes) have been left by the wayside. Thus too went the blog.

—2—

I remembered (too late) last week that it’s probably never a good idea to say to oneself before bed, “I am so tired. I’m really looking forward to a good, solid night’s sleep tonight because ohmygosh I need it so badly.” You know what happens when you say such things, don’t you? The small children on the other side of your house hear you and collude to disrupt your oh-so-badly-needed sleep. They wake up multiple times per night. They may even end up in bed with you, together, fidgeting and giggling away your hoped-for last precious hour of would-be sleep.

(Co-sleepers, I really, truly do not know how you do it. Anytime we’ve had the boys in our bed, they get little sleep and we get less. And we all suffer accordingly.)

—3—

That said, I actually had two solid, interruption-free, 8-hour nights of sleep last weekend. After the second, I couldn’t believe how alert and energetic I felt in the morning. “This is what it feels like to be well-rested!” I thought to myself. “This is marvelous!” and “I should do this more often!” and “I’m never going to make sleep a low priority again!”

I don’t even need to tell you what happened next, do I? Because you know: schedules, commitments, medical forms, boys’ nightmares… Lack Of Sleep.

—4—

Okay, enough with the sleep stuff. It’s about time I gave you a little update on all those doctors’ visits, isn’t it? Here’s the deal in a nutshell:

Dermatologist: “No problem! Don’t worry!”
ENT and cardiologist: “We don’t think there’s a problem, but we need a bit more information before we can be sure.”
Neurosurgeon: “You have two potentially serious problems. But don’t go getting yourself all worried about them, because (1) due to the pregnancy, we’re not going to know anything more about them for at least a year and (2) there’s really no rush anyway, because both problems are years away from becoming truly problematic.
Obstetrician: “Baby looks good! Let’s just keep tabs on everything else.”

—5—

As I indicated above, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about trials in life and how we react to them. Personally, I tend to be a positive, glass-is-half-full, optimistic kind of person. So when these thoughts started running through my head two weeks ago, all I could think of was how comically, joyfully absurd my old stories of misfortune seemed to me now. I wrote a light-hearted piece on the subject… and then I didn’t post it.

I’d already felt a little silly to be extolling the “don’t let things get to you!” mindset when my own personal trials didn’t seem all that serious to me. I thought of people who’d been through much more serious ordeals and who (understandably) couldn’t move on. But then I happened to hear a few stories of people who lived through the most sobering and serious of trials, and still preferred to find the positive in their experiences. I was awed, and humbled, and taken down a few notches from my “delight in absurdity!” perch.

And then a few days ago the neurosurgeon told me that I might have a couple of my own serious trials ahead. He expects that the spine situation (herniated disc; vertebrae situated how they shouldn’t be) will get worse. Ultimately, he expects that I’ll need spinal surgery. (Remember that the problematic part of the spine is in my neck. For some reason, the prospect of spinal surgery in my neck is so much scarier to me than if it were my back.) Less certain, but perhaps more scary, is the (remote) chance that the brain cyst could impact my ocular nerve and cause me to go blind. There is only a small chance that this will happen, so I’m not panicking. I am, however, saddened at the thought that sometime in the future, I might lose my ability to see my family… and sunsets… and autumn leaves… and the written word.

But even with this news, I felt a redoubling of my conviction that positivity in the face of trial is the way to go. There is so much we can’t control in our lives: we can’t prevent all illness, we can’t protect from all harm, we can’t stop all misfortune. But we can control our reactions. Maybe not our first reactions, but certainly our processing of the situations and the ways in which we allow them to affect our lives.

When I think about positivity in the face of adversity, I feel like I’m touching on a powerful truth, a good. I feel hopeful and at peace. How could I choose any other path?

The above thought process brought me to the realization that all of that positivity-in-the-face-of-adversity stuff is part of the same story. Finding the joyful absurdity in small trials, the admirable strength in serious ones, the quiet hopefulness in those you see coming – they are all good, and they are all connected. I think I might go ahead and post that lighthearted piece after all. And then follow it with another, more serious one. Neither part of the story is less valid than the other.

—6—

Was that heavy enough for your Friday afternoon? How about we finish off these “Quick” Takes with some sweet pictures of toddler Halloween celebrations?

At our house, we had a “Big Gween Dwagon With Fire” and a “Bwave Knight.

Gotta love the preschool Halloween parades!

He seems to take the knight thing very seriously.

—7—

I don’t at all consider this to be a crafty blog, but I do enjoy being crafty when the occasion presents itself. I didn’t take a single in-process photo, but here’s how I made the boys’ costumes, in case you’re curious:

Knight:

I purchased a gray sweat suit, a loosely-knit gray/silver scarf scattered with a few sequins, a patterned gray/silver scarf, a loosely-knit gray/silver cap, and a child’s set of shield/swords (all from Walmart).
The sweat suit went on first, with no alterations.
The loosely-knit scarf was cut to the appropriate length (about three feet for my two-year-old), folded in half, and a head-sized slit was cut into the middle of the folded edge. It went on (just slipped over my boy’s head) after the sweat suit.
The other scarf was tied around his waist.
The tassles and pom were cut off the hat and it was set on his cute little head.
I handed him his shield and a sword, and we were done!

Dragon:

I purchased a green sweatshirt, two pairs of green sweatpants, a loosely-knit green cap with a rim on the front, a tightly-knit green cap, and two loosely-knit (one orange, one gold) scarves (all from Walmart). I also purchased some patterned brown felt, some (red, yellow, and white) foam sheets, some batting, and some googly eyes (from Michaels).
I cut the brown felt to size and glued it to the front of the sweatshirt (which conveniently covered a design on the front of the shirt). I also cut two small circles (for nostrils) and two triangles (for ears) from the felt.
I left one pair of the sweatpants alone. With the other, I made the tail: I cut away one of the legs, leaving the waistband intact and some extra fabric at the top. I folded the extra fabric over and sewed it in place to cover the hole left at the top of the remaining leg. I then stuffed the leg with batting and sewed the bottom of the leg shut.
I stuffed the tightly-knit green cap with batting and sewed it shut. I then place it on top of the rim to the loosely-knit green cap and sewed it on.
I cut teeth and fire (in three layers) from the foam sheets. The fire was hot-glued to the rim of the loosely-knit cap (just under where the tightly-knit cap was sewn on). The teeth were glued to the underside of the tightly-knit cap. The nostrils were glued onto its top side. The ears were glued onto the top of the loosely-knit cap. The googly eyes were glued onto its front.
I cut each of the (orange and gold) loosely-knit scarves into three pieces. The longest was sewn down the back of the tail. The next was sewn down the back of the shirt. The shortest was sewn down the back of the hat.
The sweat suit went on my boy first, then the tail, then the hat.

Have a great weekend, everyone! I hope you had a fun Halloween and you’re having a happy All Saints Day today! Be sure to jump on over to Jen’s to check out the rest of the Quick Takes.

The Weirdest Of Them All

October 19, 2013 / Julie / 6 Comments

I seem to have a talent for developing/attracting weird medical issues. (A fact pointed out to me by my weirdness-weary college roommates.) I’ve had eczema cover every inch of my skin from my fingertips to my elbows. I’ve had more eczema on my foot, so bad that my doctor had it x-rayed, fearing the bone was infected. I’ve had a weirdo, hallucinating reaction to a meningitis vaccine. I’ve broken my nose (and suffered a concussion) while tickling my little cousin. I’ve almost cut off my toe. I’ve lost my voice for a month because a coughing fit injured my vocal chords.

Have I lost you yet? Seriously, I could go on.

This week, however, I received the weirdest medical news yet: I have a cyst in my brain. I also have a cyst at the base of my tongue. And a herniated disc in my neck.

(No, this isn’t a joke. And yes, the news was a surprise to me too.) I went in for an MRI on Monday, trying to get more information on a pinched nerve in my neck. The next day my doctor called me with… all of the above. In a somewhat short, forceful conversation, she told me the news and instructed me to see an Ear, Nose, and Throat doc regarding the tongue and a neurosurgeon about the spine and the brain.

I was kinda sorta left reeling, kinda sorta not believing that it had even happened, and kinda sorta thinking, “Oh my gosh, I have the weirdest things happen to me.”

Now, perhaps you might think it’s a bit strange for me to be telling you all this, just four days since I got the news myself. I mean, I’m sure you’re all very fine people, but many of you are strangers to me.

However, the truth is, I can’t seem to move on – to write anything, to read anything, to think about anything else – until I get this off my chest. It’s my elephant in the room. Hopefully once I’ve articulated the following, I can start writing on other topics. Because for these last four days, every idea that’s crossed my mind has been met with: “Nope, not as interesting as the cyst in my brain.”

So here they are, some thoughts on this latest round of medical weirdness:

—1—

I’m a terrible procrastinator, especially when it comes to things that stress me out. Medical stuff most definitely qualifies. I’ve been putting off following through on various and sundry medical issues (including the stupid pinched-nerve-in-my-neck-causing-my-arm-to-fall-asleep thing) for years now.

With this third pregnancy, I’m trying to just bite the bullet and pursue whatever needs to be pursued. And to actually follow through on investigations I start. (A neurosurgeon confirmed my pinched nerve at the beginning of the summer and instructed me to have an MRI to see what was causing it. I promptly put it off for four months.)

—2—

Why do I do this? Why, when I experience some sort of medical symptom, do I take so long to start figuring out what causes it? Why, when faced with an actual diagnosis, do I set it aside and treat it like it doesn’t matter? Why does it take a pregnancy to get me to take my own health seriously?

It’s not that I don’t value my own health or my own life. I think it’s that it’s difficult for me to imagine anything actually threatening them. Part of this is because of the whole medical weirdness thing: whatever weird things have come my way in the past, I’ve always been fine in the end. The bigger part, though, is probably more universal: I take myself for granted. I am my own reference point for life. To myself, I am a given. And it’s difficult to accept that a “given”… isn’t.

—3—

I’m a little worried about having had an MRI while pregnant. I wasn’t worried when I scheduled the MRI: Nothing I’d read had indicated any demonstrable risk to an unborn baby from an MRI. But the radiologist’s waiver form, not to mention my own doctor’s reaction when she realized I’d waited until after I was pregnant to have the MRI, both unnerved me. To them, the bottom line seemed to be that it’s not known that the test is safe.

That said, now that I know the results of the MRI, I’m glad I had it done. I’m glad I have the information now and that I can start following through with specialists now, rather than a year from now. Because who am I kidding? If I’d waited until I was no longer pregnant to have the MRI, I would have put it off for months more.

—4—

And the MRI experience itself? Not fun. I’d had at least one before, but this time the experience was far more intense than I’d remembered. Part of that was undoubtedly my anxiety from the doom-and-gloom pregnancy release form. But really, it’s just an inherently uncomfortable thing to do. You’re stuck in a tube for what seems an interminable length of time, you have to lie completely still, and there are big, strange clanging noises surrounding you. I had trouble breathing, not because of claustrophobia (which I’m blessed to not suffer from), but because I was worried about breathing too heavily. Breathing is one of those things that is hard to do when you’re thinking about it too much.

Anyway, as I endured the test I couldn’t help but wonder how pediatric patients do it. A couple of days later, reading about an engineer who transforms MRI machines into pirate or space adventures for children, I cried/smiled/laughed and thought, “God bless that man!”

—5—

Let’s see, where were we? How about a brief review of what Dr. Google has to say about brain cysts?

All-in-all, the big G cautioned me not to get too worked up about the whole thing. Brain cysts are not those scary-sounding “brain tumors.” Most are benign and they generally grow slowly, if at all. Many do require surgery, but usually because a cyst is interfering with the part of the brain it resides in, causing adverse symptoms for the patient. I have no such symptoms.

As scary as the idea of brain cysts may be, now that I’ve read a bit about them and a little time has passed, I’m not all that nervous about it. (Did you hear that, family? Oh, you world-class worriers? I’m not too worried, so you shouldn’t be either.) I think it’s quite likely that I’ll go to my appointment with the neurosurgeon and he’ll say, “Yep, you have a little cyst, but it’s in a boring part of your brain and it’s obviously not doing you any harm, so we’ll just keep an eye on it.” (Okay, fine. Neurosurgeons probably don’t think any part of the brain is boring. But certainly some parts have got to be more interesting than others.)

—6—

And what about the tongue cyst and the herniated disc? I haven’t looked for, or found, as much information on them as I have the brain cyst. I do know that they’ll likely do a biopsy on the tongue cyst, which I am not looking forward to. And I read a statistic that only one in ten herniated discs require surgery. Surely I’ve got to be in that non-surgical camp, right? I mean, I move and walk around just fine. The only problem I’ve got is a sleepy/tingly arm.

Either way, I’ll get some more information soon. I’m to meet with the ENT this coming week and the neurosurgeon the following one. I’m happy to have gotten appointments so soon; I’m eager to either (a) find out that this whole thing really is no big deal or (b) start moving on whatever it is that needs to be done.

—7—

Speaking of appointments (and “biting the bullet” in number one), I’ve also been pursuing some medical issues besides the whole cyst/cyst/disc thing. Yesterday I saw a dermatologist and my-oh-my, was it a relief to hear that everything looked great. The thing about putting off medical issues is, they often become bigger and more stressful in your imagination than they need to be in real life. I drove home from the appointment with an outlook considerably lighter and brighter than it had been on my drive in. Hopefully I’ll experience the same wonderful feeling leaving next week’s ENT and cardiologist appointments and the following week’s neurosurgeon and OB appointments.

—8—

So, if you’re anything like me and you’ve been putting off some medical issues of your own, I hope you’ll go ahead and tackle them. No time like the present, right? In all likelihood, taking care of them now will make you feel better, one way or the other: You might find that you had nothing to worry about after all. You might be set on a constructive course to improving your health. At the very least, you’ll stop feeling guilty about ignoring whatever it is and you’ll finally be doing something about it.

Whatever the case: Go you! You can do it! If little Miss Procrastination Is My Middle Name can do it, then you certainly can.

—9—

Not to belie any of the “I’m not worried!” declarations above, but if you’re inclined to do so, I’d appreciate your prayers for my good health and the safety of my baby. Prayers are something that are always, always welcome.

Thanks for humoring me with your attention. Hopefully now that I’ve said my piece, I can fight the impulse to walk up to complete strangers in the grocery store and say, “You know, I’ve had the weirdest thing happen to me. It turns out I have a cyst in my brain.”

After nearly four days of sitting on the issue and three drafts of writing about it, I think I’m finally starting to feel some release. Now that this post is out of the way, the floodgates (if they could ever have been called that) are re-opened. Let the regularly-scheduled blogging resume!

The Religious Climate In My Here And Now

October 14, 2013October 7, 2014 / Julie / 4 Comments

I was happy to see that Jen of Conversion Diary was revisiting her “religious climate” questions again this year. I always find the variety of answers she gets to be fascinating. (I’ve just realized that I always italicize the word “fascinating.” It doesn’t seem to work for me any other way.)

I’m not sure how fascinating my answers will be to anyone, as I live in the good ol’ U.S. of A. just like the majority of Jen’s readers, but I thought I’d tackle them nonetheless. Because I really like pondering questions of how religion and society interact.

First, let me (1) characterize my own little corner of the world, and (2) emphasize that this characterization, and all of the answers below, simply reflect my sense of my corner. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if one of my neighbors or relatives reacted to it with, “Where the heck are you? It’s not like that where I live!”

Just like so much of the United States, my State is distinctly divided along cultural/political lines. We have some very liberal areas and some very conservative areas. We have urban areas and rural ones. We have great wealth and real poverty. We have wealthy/intellectual liberal, urban/poor liberal, rural/suburban conservative. And the factions don’t always mix very well.

Too often, they quite purposefully don’t mix at all. Or if they mix in one sphere (say, the workplace), they feel like they have to keep their political/cultural/religious sides to themselves. It’s quite possible for the conversation in #3, below, to be very comfortable and friendly in one setting and extremely uncomfortable – maybe even laughable – in another. Same place; different mix of people; very different outcomes.

1. WHERE DO YOU LIVE?

In the greater Washington, D.C. area.

2. WHAT IS CHURCH ATTENDANCE LIKE? ARE THERE MANY CHURCHES?

There are lots of churches. Catholic churches in suburban areas seem to be full. Most of the parishes I’ve attended have been standing-room only for the main Sunday mass(es), less full at Saturday and early-Sunday-morning masses. They’ve had anywhere from 3 to 12 masses per weekend and their sanctuaries have probably averaged 500 seats. That adds up to lots of people.

That said, Christmas and Easter masses seem to draw at least three times as many attendees as “regular” Sundays. They necessitate additions to the mass schedule and/or the addition of an improvised worship space (i.e. a school gym). Which tells me that if all the Catholics in my area actually attended mass on a weekly basis, we’d need to get very busy building churches.

In short, Catholic churches seem full, but for every active Catholic, there must be several more who rarely or never attend mass.

Mainline Protestant churches seem smaller and (from my limited experience) emptier. Evangelical churches seem to have bigger, fuller parking lots, so I’d guess they do better in the attendance department. We also have some (not lots) of “mega-churches,” of which I know little.

We also have a fair number of houses of worship for people of faiths other than Christianity. Our region has so many people from other parts of the world, we’ve got members of just about any faith you can imagine.

3. HOW APPROPRIATE WOULD IT BE FOR A PERSON TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT HE OR SHE IS A BELIEVING CHRISTIAN IN CASUAL CONVERSATION?

Per the above, it depends. It would probably always be minimally acceptable. In some parts it would be accepted and encouraged; in others it would seem strange or even inappropriate.

4. WHAT KIND OF FAITH DO THE POLITICIANS CLAIM TO PRACTICE?

We have politicians of different faiths. Most would claim some faith; few would claim none. But even those who claim a faith in common with their constituents would be unlikely to talk about it too widely.

5. HOW COMMON WOULD IT BE TO SEE A FAMILY WITH MORE THAN THREE KIDS? WHAT ARE THE ATTITUDES TOWARD FAMILY SIZE?

Two to three children is considered normal; four is still mostly “acceptable.” Any number over that – or even three/four if they’re spaced closely together – is usually viewed as strange.

6. WHAT WAS THE DOMINANT BELIEF SYSTEM IN YOUR AREA 50 YEARS AGO? WHAT IS IT NOW?

My sense is that 50 years ago my area was more culturally and religiously conservative, if not politically. People were likely more church-going than they are now. There were far fewer religious minorities, but there was still a good mix of Catholic and Protestant Christians.

But that “mix” would have been in the broad sense. I’m under the impression that people of different faiths are much more comfortable with each other now than they used to be. I think the Catholic and Protestant communities were much more distinct and divided 50 years ago. My (Catholic) grandmother still vividly remembers a terrible experience from her childhood, when her (public) elementary school teacher in a predominantly Protestant rural area went on an anti-Catholic rant in class.

Per my answer in #2, there is much religious diversity. Still, Catholic and Protestant Christianity predominate.

7. DO THE PEOPLE WHERE YOU LIVE SEEM HAPPY WITH THEIR LIVES?

Given the current political stalemate in Washington and how dependent our local economy is on the government (many friends are furloughed right now), people don’t seem too happy at the moment. More broadly, I still sense a general unhappiness/sadness/frustration. Even if one’s own family has survived the economic (and political) crises just fine, they’re likely to have friends or family who haven’t.

Thanks for the great questions, Jen! I look forward to seeing what everyone’s got to say!

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 18)

October 11, 2013October 11, 2013 / Julie / 1 Comment

— 1 —

I think I’ll lead off today with my weekly NPR recommendation. Like last week’s, this one is a little off-beat, but I found it fascinating. It’s from one of my new favorite NPR programs: The TED Radio Hour. Per its website, the show is “A journey through fascinating ideas, astonishing inventions, and new ways to think and create. Based on riveting TEDTalks from the world’s most remarkable minds.” (TED = Technology, Entertainment, Design. Check out more about TED here.)

Anyway, last weekend’s TED Radio Hour focused on “Why We Collaborate.” The whole thing was interesting, but the second segment stuck out to me the most: “Luis von Ahn: Can You Crowdsource Without Even Knowing It?”

You know those annoying little “CAPTCHA” codes you have to enter to register a comment, etc. with more and more websites all the time? The ones you (or maybe just I) can barely type in correctly, because they’re just so hard to discern? Mr. von Ahn helped to invent them. (And he seems to express the appropriate remorse.) Though of course CAPTCHA codes have their utility (to prevent computer programs from posing as individuals), they take about 10 seconds to complete. And that 10 seconds per person adds up to an awful lot of time when you’re talking about millions of computer users.

So Mr. von Ahn started to think about how those 10 seconds might be used collectively for some productive purpose. He ultimately founded reCAPTCHA, a company that uses images from old books as its CAPTCHA codes. Yes, actual old books. Because – get this – the company is harnessing those individual 10 seconds, from millions of computer users, to digitize the books. When an old text is scanned so that it can be digitized, software is used to read/input as much of it as possible, but there remain portions that the software can’t read properly. So real people need to do it. With reCAPTCHA, you and I get to be those real people. We see a snippet of text from some old book, we use our human eyes and minds to discern what it means, and we enter it into some massive database.

I have to admit that the idea just about made me giddy. Preserving the information in old books for the future? Love. Making efficient use of a (cumulative) massive amount of time? Love. Turning something super annoying into something actually useful? Love! I’m sure I’ll never enjoy typing in CAPTCHA codes, but I’ll probably find them significantly less annoying than I used to. I’ll certainly never look at them the same way again.

* I have to end this Take with a little caveat: When I gleefully told my husband about this digitizing-books-via-CAPTCHA-codes thing, his technical mind was a bit skeptical. How, he asked, does reCAPTCHA validate your answer if you’re the one producing it in the first place? Sometimes you type in your answer and you’re told it’s incorrect. If reCAPTCHA doesn’t already have the correct answer on file, how can it know that your answer is wrong? He’s a clever one, my husband. This problem hadn’t occurred to me. I wish the radio host had asked about it, because I really am interested to know the answer. There has got to be one!

— 2 —

That was long. I promise to make the rest of my Takes much quicker.

I think the following was my favorite image from this week:

“Twain masters get weawy firsty.” He had just said, with authority.

— 3 —

Also (and this is rather less endearing), a short while ago I caught him shoving his little brother. When I stopped him, he said, “Dat’s because I have muscles!”

Me: “You are not allowed to push your brother!” Him: “But I have muscles!” Me: “Yes, and you’re supposed to use them to help people, not hurt them.” I don’t think he was convinced.

— 4 —

Did you see Jen’s post this week on giant, stinging centipedes that you wake in the middle of the night to find on your FACE? (Shiver.) I still don’t have anything to compare with those horrible Texas critters. (“We are NEVER moving to Texas!” I told my husband last night.) But we still do have critters. Brennan’s back into pest control mode here. After finding a few vacated glue traps in the basement earlier this week, he decided to replace them with the standard snapping variety. (Shudder.)

Well, yesterday evening I cautiously opened the basement door to maybe get something I needed down there. I listened closely, and I heard it: a rustling around, whipping back-and-forth sound. I decided I didn’t need that item so badly after all. Instead, I sent Brennan after it when he got home from work. And sure enough, he found another snake on a glue trap. This time he refused to tell me how big it was. Which probably freaked me out more than if he’d just gone ahead and told me. I don’t think I’ll set foot in that basement again until next summer. At least.

— 5 —

Speaking of critters, it looks like nobody triumphed on my little beekeeping challenge from yesterday. (Though Betsy got kind of close!) For those of you who didn’t see, I included the following picture (taken on an apple-picking trip earlier this week) and asked if anyone knew why my beekeeper husband found it puzzling.

The answer is that (a) those hives are a lot taller than one would expect them to be this time of year, and (b) the boxes that make up the hives look to be “honey supers.” Supers are used for, yes… honey. Beekeepers generally only place them on their hives in the spring, for the bees to fill up with honey during the nectar flow. At honey harvest time (in this part of the country, that’s late June/early July), the supers are removed. Honey is extracted and the comb/supers are stored away for the following year. So fall/winter beehives are usually much shorter than their spring/summer counterparts.

As for why these particular beekeepers might have left supers on their hives, my husband could only assume that they’re being used for brood (that is the eggs/larvae/bees themselves) rather than honey. But who knows?

— 6 —

We’ve had a series of rainy days here this week and – seriously – I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time fantasizing about contraptions to channel my boys’ energy onto something other than myself. I am so very, very tired of being a human jungle gym. (Also, the noise, the noise! I think, for my sanity, I might need to invest in some noise-cancelling headphones.)

There is of course, the padded/bouncy room idea. On a smaller scale, I seriously wonder if I could buy them each a small trampoline and tie netting around each (trampoline, not boy) in such a way that the netting keeps the boys contained/safe/bouncing around happily. Similarly, I wish there were a safe way for me to stick them on the treadmill. And also, you know those lovely baby bouncers you can put a 9-month-old in to occupy them? Let’s see the toddler version. It would have to involve a major harness, a big-time bouncing capability, and various things to hit/bang/knock over.

Like this, only way more exciting.

— 7 —

All that said (and all my angsty Facebook complaining aside), I actually struck on a pretty good activity for the boys this afternoon. I suppose you might call it Pinteresty, though I’m not on Pinterest, so I wouldn’t really know. I call it motherly desperation. I threw a couple of bath towels on the kitchen table along with a bunch of measuring cups and spoons and various play kitchen items. Then I filled the bowls with water and told the boys to go at it (but not to tip over the bowls!) It kept the little one occupied for nearly an hour and the big one occupied for over two. I don’t think I’ve ever happened upon an activity (even our outdoor water table) that has held their interest for so long. I’m rather too proud of myself right now. (And yet also aware that this activity is probably a no-brainer to most mothers.)

On that note, let’s call it a week! Have a great weekend, all! Don’t forget to head on over to Jen’s to check out the rest of the Quick Takes. (And if you haven’t “liked” These Walls on Facebook, please do!)

The Glamorous Looking-Back

October 10, 2013 / Julie / 2 Comments

Last weekend I got a glimpse – just a small one – into my old life.

Now to be fair, it wasn’t so much a glimpse into my old life as a glimpse into the glimmering image of my old life that’s all-to-easy to become sentimental about. Especially when today’s version of life gets hard.

I tend to think of my adult life in two distinct phases: (1) the single, childless, responsible-for-no-one- but-myself twenties and (2) the married, mothering, responsible for very-important-little-lives thirties. If you don’t count college, I spent roughly eight years in the first phase. I’m about four years into the second.

Mine isn’t another tale of youthful, wild abandon given up for staid, respectable family life. Mine is a much tamer, perhaps more boring story of trying (and often not succeeding) to live a full and rich life, regardless of my circumstances.

Part of my single twenties was spent in Washington, DC. The corresponding glimmering images of that time involve exotic foods at cool restaurants; bars full of interesting, intelligent conversation; stimulating lectures by national and foreign leaders; formal dinners in fancy hotels; runs (I’ll just call them “runs,” even though I’ve never really managed more than a frantic-paced, arms-flailing kind of walk) on the Capitol grounds; lazy days at museums when I was – get this – free to sit and ponder and dawdle as long as I liked; and the exciting anticipation that comes from never knowing who you might meet next.

To some of you, that might sound like an enviable way to spend part of your twenties. To others (ahem, my brother), it might sound pretty dorky. To me, it’s downright dreamy. I look back on that time through a generous sort of haze – the kind that makes everything more beautiful/interesting/exciting than it could ever have been in real time. It glimmers.

And it is, of course, only part of the story. I spent the bulk of my time in Washington at work or at home or (so it felt) on the metro. I was bored and nervous and depressed. I was mugged. I was terrorized first by September 11^th, then by the Beltway sniper attacks. I experienced heartache. I was the victim of a hit-and-run car accident. Most of all, I was lonely.

But last weekend, during two short trips into DC, I was ready to forget all of that. I went to a ball (thank you to my lovely friend Betsy and her husband Will for inviting us along as their guests) benefitting a very worthy charity, which was held at a gorgeous location just steps away from the White House. Black ties + beautiful dresses + live band + amazing setting = GLIMMER.

I also spent an afternoon on the historic campus of Georgetown University to witness and celebrate the baptism of my best bud’s beautiful baby boy. (Thank you to my dearest Catey and her husband Eric for inviting us to be part of the big day.) Historic buildings + good company + lovely waterfront drive + witnessing a child I love enter the Church also = GLIMMER, as far as I’m concerned.

As you might imagine, my weekend was punctuated with wistful sighs as I looked around at reminders of (the airbrushed version of) my past. While physically in the District, I permitted (indeed, I encouraged) myself to wax sentimental about the whole thing. But on the way home, I wizened up enough to take the longer view.

On the surface, my life these days seems exponentially less interesting than it was in my twenties. I get boys out of bed, I change diapers, I dress squirming bodies that act like they’re made of Jello, I prepare meal after meal after meal, I do dishes, I break up fights, I kiss boo-boo’s, I buy groceries, I wash clothes, I clean up vomit. Again and again and again.

I get to be alone once every two to three weeks for a solo trip to Target or church. Every three to four months, I have the luxury of two hours by myself at the hair salon. Gone are my heels and business suits, gone are my cute-ish going-out clothes. I now dress for basic public acceptability and the comfort that enables quick response times to boyish antics.

My life is common. It is tedious. It is not entirely my own. In looking back, I don’t think my future self will ever see this life glimmer.

But it just might see this life glow. This right-here life of mine has a few wonderful things that my glimmering, fancy-dress DC life never had: It has love, commitment, and contentment. It has three sets of arms to hug me. It has people who need me. It has the firm understanding that I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

To my own heart, nothing can compare to that.

The single, in-pursuit-of-the-interesting-and-exciting, unattached life can be wonderful. I wish I’d taken better advantage of it. I wish I’d done more of the lectures and the travels and the museum lounging. I wish that, while I was in the middle of it, I’d seen that period of my life as precious, rather than an annoying wait for my “real” life to start. Viewing your current life as less real or less important than some supposed future is no way to live.

Noticing and appreciating the beauty and opportunity in your own life – whatever phase you’re in – is, I think, the way to do it. I’m glad I got a pretty little glimpse into my “old” life last weekend. I’m glad my response to it was a loving sort of wistfulness. And I’m glad that the glimpse prompted gratitude for both that season of my life and for the one I’m in now. I was blessed back then; I am blessed now. And that’s worth remembering.

{pretty, happy, funny, real} (Vol. 4)

October 10, 2013 / Julie / 3 Comments

We went apple picking this week. Our sister-in-law is staying with us right now and she suggested that it might be a nice activity to do with the boys. And of course Lisa was absolutely, 100% right: Apple picking is not only that classic, American, feel-good, crunchy, fall-time activity, it’s also perfect for small children. Lots of walking, fruit that won’t smash all over your person, confined avenues of densely-growing trees that don’t allow for easy toddler escapes… perfect.

So why would it never occur to me to do such a thing?

Laziness probably plays a part. So does that fear of toddler escape. And intimidation at the idea of doing something new. But I think the crux of it has been the “survival mode” mindset of having one small boy right after the other. Just as we started to enter toddlerhood with our first, we introduced a second and got pulled right back into baby mode. So all those fun things like trips to the orchard and library visits and heck, time at the playground, got put off in favor of the safety and convenience of home.

Now that our oldest is three and our youngest is two, we don’t have to live like that any longer. (Did you catch that? We don’t have to live like that any longer!) But I keep forgetting. Walking around the orchard the other day, I gloried in the fact that both of my boys (1) can walk by themselves, (2) can even kind of help to carry/push the load, (3) can stay out for an extended period of time without having to be fed/changed, and (4) will, when-push-comes-to-shove, follow my directions. I can scream “Don’t you run into that field!” and have a reasonable expectation that they will listen to me. Do you have any idea how liberating that is? (I’m sure many of you really, really do.)

Anyway, I need to do a better job of remembering that we’re in a short window of (relative) familial freedom. April will come quickly. Third-trimester fatigue and discomfort will come sooner. We should be taking advantage of this brief and lovely season. Maybe I should make myself a second-trimester-countdown calendar – something to pound home the message: “Enjoy this time while you can, lady! Soon enough it will be all you can do to breathe properly!”

On that lovely image, let’s move on to this week’s {pretty, happy, funny, real}.

(Pssst! Wait! Before I really direct you on to {p,h,f,r} I have to put in a little shameless plug. If you haven’t already done so, please “like” These Walls on Facebook. The page is new and I’d love to see you over there. Okay – done. Continue on!)

~ Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life ~

Every Thursday, at Like Mother, Like Daughter!

{pretty}

Gosh, it was a pretty day. The kind of day that makes you want to stretch your arms wide and take a deep breath and maybe even do a Sound of Music twirl around a field or something. Don’t worry: I didn’t.

{happy}

The reds were indeed delicious, but not as much as the greens, called Mutsu.

We really had to hunt for the apples, but we had such fun doing it. So simple, so so happy.

{funny}

The boys were so funny pushing our wheelbarrow – especially the two-year-old, who had the tenacity to push it almost the entire time we were there, long after big brother had gotten tired of it. He required a little adult help, but he really did a great job.

This apple was pretty funny too. It had grown in the crook of those branches, so that it was utterly wedged in place. No amount of pushing or pulling could get that beautiful apple to budge. I was interested to see what shape it had grown into, but I suppose it will be rot that finally moves the fruit from its place. It somehow doesn’t seem right to let a knife do the job.

{real}

Boys always love rocks, don’t they?

These hives were pretty, but they sure did make me miss our bees. We lost our colony this past winter (they didn’t tolerate our move very well and then an overdose of mite treatment finished the job), so this was the first summer in years that my husband didn’t have a honey harvest. We’re looking forward to the spring, when we can get in an order of new bees.

(And by the way, my beekeeper hubby was puzzled by this picture. Do any of you – maybe a beekeeper yourself – have an idea as to why? I think I’ll go all dorky and explain it in tomorrow’s 7 Quick Takes. If you think you know the answer, leave it this post’s comments section. I’ll give you credit tomorrow and I’ll try to think of a worthy prize to send to you.)

Twenty pounds of apples! So far we’ve eaten a bunch fresh, Lisa has made a lovely apple cake, and we’ve made kielbasa with cabbage and apples. I think applesauce will be next on the list. I’m sure some will make their way to the dear brother/brother-in-law/husband in Indiana. But what to do with the rest? It’s a great problem to have.

Be sure to visit Like Mother, Like Daughter to see what contentment those dear ladies – and all the rest – are sharing this week. Take care!

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 17)

October 4, 2013 / Julie / 4 Comments

— 1 —

Well, it looks like I’ve done it again: I’ve fallen into the rut of only blogging when I have a list of miscellaneous items to post. 7 Quick Takes? {pretty, happy, funny, real}? Monday Morning Miscellany? Check, check, and check. Anything requiring more substance and focus? Nope and nope.

Sorry.

It’s just that, well, I have a schedule all-of-a-sudden. I know, I know: Most of you have bunches of kids, or kids in big-kid school, or kids Who Do Activities, or official jobs, or all-of-the-above. I only have a preschooler and a bunch of doctor’s appointments.

But still, I’ve gone from a wishy-washy “Schedule? Who needs a schedule?” mentality to an “Oh-my-gosh-I-actually-have-to-be-someplace-at-a-particular-time?” one. All-in-all, this is a good thing. I’m a happier person when I have places to go, people to see, and a bit of structure in my life. And my boys seem to be too. But it’s been taking some adjusting.

This week we had two playdates, two days of school, a sonogram, an ob appointment, a 2-year-old check-up, and the arrival of an out-of-town guest. It’s not like I wasn’t busy before the start of the school year and the onset of prenatal appointments; it’s just that life seemed a little more malleable back then. Now I’m (shocker!) relying a lot more on my calendar to get me through my week. I’m prioritizing sleep. And I’m having to plan. What a concept.

Looks like writing time will be the next thing to plan for. Because I can no longer trust that a sufficient period of available time will magically appear. And apparently, I can no longer stay awake past 11pm.

— 2 —

Speaking of the pregnancy, here are some quick updates from this week:

(1) I had my 12-week sono on Tuesday and the baby was very stubbornly uncooperative. After three tries, the doctor just kind of went with what she had. The tech said that it had been a long time since she’d had such a stubborn one at 12 weeks. Wonderful! It bodes so well, doesn’t it?

(2) Morning sickness has made a comeback – every day this week. I feel like trying to cajole the baby, like s/he can somehow put a stop to it all. But… what was I just saying about stubbornness?

(3) Last night I asked my two-year-old where Mommy’s baby was. He lifted up my shirt and gave my belly a kiss. Be still, my heart! This older-children-aware-that-they’re-getting-a-new-sibling thing is going to be so cool. My first two are just 15 months apart, so there wasn’t exactly any awareness coming from big brother back then.

(4) Yesterday I tried on a pair of shorts that I hadn’t worn in a few weeks and I couldn’t come anywhere close to fastening them. As I haven’t gained any weight in the past month (wonder of wonders), it’s got to be that my shape is starting to change already. I’m just 13 weeks! Craziness!

(5) The other day, my three-year-old asked me if the baby was going to come out of my mouth. Fortunately, there were no follow-up questions.

— 3 —

I’m a little freaked out by the animal presence in my house right now. No, I suppose it’s not as bad as Jen and her scorpions. But this morning my husband came upstairs from his morning workout in the basement and said, “Just so you know, I found a snake down there.” I’m sure my eyes got all bugged-out big as I looked at him, begging him to be teasing. “You’re kidding.” “No.” “Really?! How big was it?” “Very small – small enough to get caught on the glue trap.” (We have mice too.) “Why would you tell me this?! I don’t want to know this!” “Because if you see the boys playing with a ‘string’ at some point, you should know that it could be a snake.”

WHAT?

And then this afternoon, I found a bird flying around upstairs. Inside the house. I ran around closing doors and opening windows and opening doors and closing windows on all three floors of the house, squealing and jumping most of the way, until I became fairly confident that the little stinker had flown out. For now, a couple of windows remain open, and interior doors remain closed, just in case it’s still inside. When my three-year-old (who was very excited about the whole thing and presented a box that he suggested the bird could live in) gets up from his “nap,” I plan to let him look around for the bird. Surely he’ll do a more thorough job, with far more delight, than I’m capable of right now.

— 4 —

Said three-year-old is currently singing Fountains of Wayne’s “Radiation Vibe” in his crib. You can blame his father.

— 5 —

I heard a fascinating piece last week on one of my local NPR stations’ midday programs: “The McCormick Spice Guru.” According to the station’s website, “As the chief spice buyer for McCormick, Al Goetze regularly travels the globe seeking herbs and spices from farms in some of the world’s most exotic regions. Goetze joins us to talk about his job and what goes into bringing the spices to market.”

Like I said, the piece was fascinating. I think it was one of the most enjoyable hours of listening I’ve had in some time. Mr. Goetze spoke about his travels, how spices are grown, what they look like in the field, how they can be used, etc. If you have any interest at all in cooking, gardening, plants, or world travel, you should check it out.

— 6 —

Do you remember my mention of Nella in last week’s 7 Quick Takes? She posted the happiest of updates on her blog this week: her cancer is in remission! Stop on over to her place to share in her joy. And please continue to keep her in prayer. Nella still has a couple of chemo treatments left, just to be sure she’s done everything she can.

— 7 —

Our sister-in-law is visiting us this week and we’re so happy to have her with us. She’s a jewelry designer who is in town to participate in a couple of local arts and crafts fairs. Her designs can be found on her website. If you like glass beads and creative, high-quality jewelry, you should check her out!

Stop on over to Jen’s to see everybody else’s Quick Takes. (And to wish Jen and her hubby a happy 10 year anniversary!) Oh, and if you haven’t “liked” These Walls on Facebook, I hope you’ll do so. Have a great weekend, everyone!

Monday Morning Miscellany (Vol. 7)

September 30, 2013September 30, 2013 / Julie / Leave a comment

— 1 —

Today is the little guy’s big 2^nd birthday! When I went to get the boys out of bed this morning, they were standing up, waving around stuffed animals, and cheerfully yelling. I said, “Good morning, boys!” and then: “Happy birthday, Jude!” True to form, the child dropped his eyes, scowled, and flung himself face-down onto his mattress. He is the cuddliest little thing, but he does not like being the center of attention. I think his motto should be: “Love me, but don’t look at me.”

More motherly mush to follow in a later post, but for now, here’s a glimpse of yesterday’s birthday party:

Oh, and by the way: he successfully made it through his “Happy Birthday” serenade without screaming. He did, however, squeeze his eyes shut the whole time, likely thinking that if he couldn’t see us, we couldn’t see him.

— 2 —

In last week’s Quick Takes, I announced my new Facebook page for the blog… but I forgot to include a link. That’s brilliance for you.

So here you go! If you haven’t “liked” These Walls on Facebook, I hope you’ll stop on by!

— 3 —

Living in the greater DC metropolitan area, just about everybody I know has some relative who works for the government. Most of my closest friends have at least one income earner who is employed by the federal government or a government contractor. So what’s everybody worried about right now? That’s right: a potential government shutdown! I don’t know, it might not be big news in the rest of the country, but it sure is here. I’m saying a couple of prayers today that someway, somehow, people find a way to work together to avoid this thing.

— 4 —

Okay, I’m going to fit in just one more thing to round out this very quick little Monday Morning Miscellany and then we’re off to continue our birthday celebrations.

Mass tips. That is, tips on how to get your children to make it through mass without anyone going crazy. A couple of weeks ago, Rosie (who has four small children, including infant twins) at A Blog For My Mom posted a list of helpful tips and encouraged readers to weigh in with more. If you’re trying to figure out how to get your little ones through church, stop on over to Rosie’s to check out what everyone had to say. I really loved that there was such a variety of strategies: a perfect illustration of the differences amongst children (and parents too).

Two sort of foundational tips from me first, though. (Part of which Rosie alluded to. And Auntie Leila writes about frequently.) Unless you were given the most naturally docile children in the world (Ha!), I think you have to have at least two things in order for any of those tips and strategies to make a difference. (1) Your children have to have some regular practice in sitting in one place (note that I don’t say sitting still). If they can’t sit in one place for the course of a 30-minute meal, they’re not going to be able to make it through a 60-minute mass. (2) There has to be a given expectation that your children will obey you. If they’re not expected to obey your (sometimes loud? Mine are often loud!) directions at home, they’re not going to obey your whispered directions in a crowd of hundreds of strangers.

So, work on (1) and (2), and then be creative about what little things will help your particular children to make it through your particular church service quietly enough to (a) not embarrass you, (b) not distract your fellow parishioners, and (c) eventually learn to get something out of it. Because that last one is really the point, isn’t it?

Just my two cents!

Have a great week, everyone!

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 16)

September 27, 2013September 28, 2013 / Julie / 3 Comments

— 1 —

You see this cute little stinker?

He’s turning TWO in a few days. (Which, I have to admit, I’ll be kind of relieved to say. Just like his older brother, the kiddo looks about a year older than he is. I always feel a little awkward admitting to people that the child they took as three isn’t even two yet. You should see their eyes bulge when I point to my older son and say, “That one’s three.”)

Anyway, little guy’s birthday is approaching, so I’m entertaining all sorts of mushy thoughts about the swiftness of time’s passage, etc. Don’t worry – I’ll spare you.

Instead I’ll tell you that the kid’s been eating like a little piggy these days. (The last three times I served hot dogs, the child ate two and would’ve gone for a third if I’d let him. Yes, hot dogs. Yes, two. Go ahead and judge.) And I’ll tell you that I think there’s at least a little growth spurt of the brain going on, because he’s spurted out a bunch of new vocabulary in the past couple of days. My favorites have been “Chee Chee Boom Boom!” as in a request for the book “Chicka Chicka Boom Boom.” And also “eddy” (empty), as in: (While shaking his sippy cup) “My cup is empty! Get me some more milk, Mom!” or (while slapping his own little bottom) “No, I don’t have a poopy diaper! It’s empty!”

Genius, that kid is.

— 2 —

While I’m on the subject of my boys, I’ve got to share how pleased I am at some new signs of camaraderie around here. As much as toddlers tend to think first and foremost (only?) of themselves, these boys seem to increasingly see themselves as part of a two-man unit.

There’s all the whimpering and sulking from the little guy when we drop his big brother at school. There’s his delight when we return to pick up the big guy. And there seems to be a lot “we” in the three-year-old’s conversations lately. Last night when I asked the boys if they would like an apple, he answered, “We was sinkin’ about dat.” (sinkin’ = thinking)

The other day the little one came to me, held up his leg, and said, “Ot!” I had no idea what he was talking about. “Are you hurt?” I asked. He shook his head. “Are you hot?” No. “Are you sure your leg isn’t hurt?” No.

I was stumped. So my three-year-old came to my aid. He looked over nonchalantly and said, “He wants you to take his socks off.” The little one nodded vigorously.

“Do you understand everything your brother says?” I asked the big guy. “Umm… Yeah,” he said with a little shrug, as if to add, “Of course I do, Mom. Isn’t it obvious?”

Does this look like camaraderie to you?

— 3 —

I can’t tell you how excited I am to have this sitting before me:

Yes, a little ol’ cup of coffee. I love coffee, especially my husband’s freshly-roasted-at-home-every-other-day variety. (Seriously, once you’ve gotten used to home roasted, there’s no going back.) However, with this pregnancy, just like my first, I have had a strong aversion to the stuff. One day I’m savoring my morning cup, the next day the sight of it makes me want to be sick.

Unfortunately, the aversion eventually extended to my standard second: black tea with lots of lovely milk and sugar. And even hot cocoa wasn’t cutting it. Starbucks’ chai lattes were an acceptable replacement until yesterday, when I could no longer stomach even them.

But! All of a sudden, at precisely 12 weeks, coffee started to look more appealing to me. Thank you, 12 weeks! I’ve never had a pregnancy aversion expire with the first trimester, but this one seems to be (hopefully!) doing so. Wahoo! Off to the store to buy some half-and-half. I am so much happier with a warm cup of something in the morning.

— 4 —

The other day my three-year-old pointed up into these trees and said with delight, “Wook! Dare are fwowers in dose twees!” He’d noticed the uppermost leaves starting to turn. I smiled and shared in his delight and explained to him about leaves changing colors and falling to the ground. It was such a sweet moment.

Later that same day, I listened to this interview with Richard Dawkins on The Diane Rehm Show regarding his new memoir, “An Appetite for Wonder: The Making of a Scientist.” Now, I’m no fan of Mr. Dawkins, but the interview was mostly very interesting and pleasurable to listen to. (I have no problem listening to the ideas and experiences of people who rub me the wrong way. Most ideas interest me to some degree, even if I disagree with them. It’s a certain tone – i.e. hysterics or yelling – that I can’t stand and avoid whenever possible.)

Anyway, the interview included some interesting discussion on wonder, as you might guess from the book’s title. One caller suggested that children have heaps of it, but that adults have none at all, because they’ve been taught to repress it. Or something like that. I’ve heard lots of similar statements before and I’ve always been bewildered by them. Do the people who claim that adults are incapable of wonder really feel no wonder in their own lives? Do they not feel wonder when they stare at their newborn child? Do they not feel it when they take a drive into the mountains? When they see the ocean?

I’m continuously finding wonder in my own life. I may express my wonder differently than my three-year-old does, but I feel it all the same. I find wonder in nature, in my children, in a good read, in the kindness of strangers. When I encounter it, I ponder it and I say a prayer of thanksgiving. I may not shout, “Wow!” but my wonder counts all the same.

— 5 —

Okay, one more light thing before I get into a couple of serious items: I created a Facebook page for the blog yesterday. Hopefully this will turn out way better than my attempt at opening a Twitter account. Then, I (barely) figured out how to open the account, I got precisely three followers, and then I left town on vacation. I haven’t opened the stupid thing since.

I think this little social media push for the blog is likely to go more smoothly, because I at least understand how Facebook works. I use it, in fact. Like, (I won’t admit just how many) times per day. So if you’re on Facebook, I hope you’ll stop on by to “like” my page. I promise to actually use it.

And I’m sure someday I’ll decide to figure out how to use Twitter too. (My biggest hang-up might be that I don’t understand how to get URL’s to go all tiny-like so they fit into a Tweet. Tips, anybody?)

— 6 —

My friend Mary over at Quite Contrary has a great series going on c-sections right now. It’s called “Under the Knife, Under Control: Recovering From a C-Section.” Tuesday she posted an introduction to the series and a description of what it’s like to undergo the procedure. Thursday she posted on helpful preparations for a c-section. Next week she’ll post on logistics and food. If you’ve had a c-section or you’re about to, you’ll find Mary’s series very interesting and helpful.

I certainly found it very interesting, and I’ve never even had the procedure. (And by the way, a lot of Mary’s advice on preparations would be helpful even to those who expect to have a vaginal delivery. So if you’re pregnant, check that one out! I think I’ll be revisiting it around February or March.)

— 7 —

Nearly two months ago, I wrote a little about Nella, who blogs at Is There McDonald’s in Heaven? Nella discovered she had cancer around the same time she discovered she was pregnant with her sixth child. She underwent testing and treatments throughout her pregnancy and ended up delivering prematurely. Thankfully, the baby now seems to be doing well, but Nella’s treatments have continued and intensified since her delivery, and they seem to be catching up with her. Understandably, Nella is tired. On so many levels. In her most recent post, “Where the Rubber Meets the Road,” Nella asks for readers’ prayers.

So much about Nella’s posts are touching and sobering, but I found the following (in “So It Turns Out I Have Cancer”) to be particularly powerful:

You hear a lot about “battling cancer” and “fighting cancer” and I understand what people mean, but that can be a lot of pressure on a patient. A lot of the “fighting” and “battling” looks and feels like doing nothing. It’s hard to reconcile all that brawling everyone’s talking about with laying down and sleeping and watching Downton Abbey reruns and reading blogs but that’s really what it is. Sometimes the battle is really just the battle to sit down and let someone else do the dishes or pack the lunches. Sometimes the battle is telling yourself to sit down and accept help graciously.

I had never thought about this before. Do we do cancer patients a disservice when we talk about their “battle” or their “fight”? If I were in her position, I think I’d feel just like Nella. It would be hard for me to accept that I needed help. It would be hard for me to agree to let others inconvenience themselves for my sake. I’d try to do too much; I’d try to live my “battle” even in the mundane responsibilities of my life. I’m glad that it’s finally sunk in for Nella that her role in this “battle” is to rest and let her medicine and her body do its important work. I hope that I’d have the strength to do the same.

Please join me in praying for Nella – and for everyone else who’s engaged in that terrible “battle” with cancer. Let’s ask for their comfort and strength. Let’s ask for their patience and their humility to accept the help and the rest they need to heal. Let’s ask for guidance for their caregivers. And let’s all try to give the best support we possibly can to our own loved ones with cancer.

***

That’s enough for this Friday. Please stop on by Jen’s to check out the rest of the Quick Takes. Oh, and maybe wish us a little luck for the big two-year-old birthday party this weekend? The little guy is oddly averse to singing and the last couple of times he’s heard the “Happy Birthday” song, he’s completely flipped out. We’ll see how far we get into it on Sunday. It should be… interesting. Have a great weekend, everyone.

These Walls

Sharing stories from within the walls of my home; encouraging discourse on the wider world outside them.

Author: Julie

A Tale of Two Soldiers, Revisited

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 19)

The Weirdest Of Them All

The Religious Climate In My Here And Now

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 18)

The Glamorous Looking-Back

{pretty, happy, funny, real} (Vol. 4)

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 17)

Monday Morning Miscellany (Vol. 7)

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 16)