Five Favorites (Vol. 2): Anniversary Edition

July 10, 2013June 6, 2014 / Julie / 7 Comments

Linking up with Hallie for this week’s Five Favorites! Be sure to check out the rest!

(Updated to add that I’m also linking this post to Jenna’s “I Pray I Don’t Forget: What I Love About My Husband” at A Mama Collective. Check out those stories too!)

Tomorrow we’ll celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary. To mark the occasion, I thought I’d dedicate this week’s Five Favorites to my excellent husband, Brennan. So here’s some background on our relationship, Five of my Favorite things about B, and some of my favorite photos from our wedding. (Randomly placed and more than five, because I needed to break up the looong intro in #1.)

— 1 —

Brennan is interested in things – so many things.

In passing, this may seem pretty inconsequential: “Umm, big deal, Julie. Everybody’s interested in something. Even lots of somethings.” So let me back up for a minute and give you a little background on what lead up to our relationship. It should give more meaning to this and some of the other Favorites. Or maybe I just like to provide more information than anyone could possibly care about. One of the two.

Anyway, I was single for what felt like a looong time before I met Brennan. And I mean single single, not dating-but-not-yet-married “single.” Other than three very brief relationships in my early twenties, I was alone and lonely, day-dreaming of my ideal man. (Does that sound a little pathetic? Sorry. It was what it was.) Toward the end of my twenties I had the blessed insight that I needed to adjust my outlook on single life and my approach to maybe/hopefully finding the man with whom I could share a future. All-in-all, it’s a longer topic for another day. But the pertinent part is that I refined the list of qualities I hoped to find in my future husband. I realized that, most of all, I wanted to find a man who was good and kind, moral, responsible, hardworking – and interested in the world around him. I knew that I could never marry a man who didn’t have those values. And I figured that if my husband had an interest in the world, a hunger to learn and do, then our life together would be an open horizon – something to be explored.

We walked to the church, which was super fun,
except for how worried I was about the hem of my dress.

When I met Brennan, everything fell into place very quickly. Good? Kind? Moral? Responsible? Hardworking? Check, check, check, check… and check. But the clincher was really that he was interested in so many things. He caught my eye on eHarmony (yep, that’s how we met) because he said he loved bees.

Bees? Who loves bees? My beekeeper of a hubby, that’s who. A few years before, Brennan had gotten to talking with a co-worker who kept bees as a hobby. B thought it was interesting, so he started to read up on it. He read and read and researched… and the next thing he knew, he was putting together hive boxes and picking up packages of buzzing bees from unhappy postal workers.

We gave out little jars of Brennan’s honey as favors.

Brennan has done the same thing with other hobbies: skiing, target shooting, cooking, home improvement, etc. On the house front, he’s taught himself how to do all sorts of useful things: woodworking, plumbing, mechanics, painting, even pest control. Brennan identifies something he wants to know how to do and he just figures it out. There doesn’t seem to be a “What if?” with Brennan – just a “How?”

Likewise, Brennan has cultivated his interests in history, architecture, and politics by reading and reading and reading… The man loves the internet. And good nonfiction. And audio books that he can soak up on his commute to and from work.

Brennan didn’t grow up doing any of the above; he wasn’t influenced by beekeeper or carpenter or plumber or historian or architect or politician parents. He just happened upon something (many things) that interested him, he had an open mind, and he decided to pursue the new activities and ideas. With gusto. I love that. I can’t wait to see what will be inspiring my husband in ten or twenty years.

— 2 —

Brennan gets stuff done.

Just as I love how Brennan is active in pursuing his many interests, I also love that he takes the initiative to just go ahead and do what needs to be done – even if it’s tedious or unpleasant. Me? I’m the procrastinating type. The type who avoids the things I find intimidating or disagreeable. But, big or small, Brennan does what needs to be done. Hours upon hours of schoolwork while also working full time? He does it. Paying the bills, going to the doctor, cleaning the bathroom? He does it. Doing preventative maintenance on our very old house? He does it. And not just that – he does it well, without a fuss, and with very few complaints. What a great example to set for our boys. (And, er… for me too.)

— 3 —

Brennan is a loving father and a patient teacher to our boys.

On one of our first dates, Brennan and I visited an arboretum. Walking through the trees, Brennan spotted an insect hovering near some leaves. Very gently, he pointed it out to me, studied it a bit, and explained what it was doing. In that moment I thought to myself, “Wow. What a wonderful father he’ll be.” And he is. Brennan had very little experience with children before our boys were born, but he jumped in with both feet – doing all kinds of tedious tasks, showering the boys with hugs and kisses, playing all their wild games, teaching them about the world around them, and showing them great patience and a powerful love.

— 4 —

Brennan is a kind and supportive husband.

This cake tasted so good that our guests gobbled it up before we could even get pieces ourselves!

I love staying home with my boys, but I am a social person by nature and I need to be around other adults. I need some mental stimulation and I need a bit of a break from the constant demands that come with having two very active young boys. I also need to feel like I’m giving something to my community. Brennan understands this, he supports me in my efforts to do things outside of the home, and he has never once complained about it. And it’s no small thing on his part: I serve on the board of a historic home an hour away from our house and I sing in our church’s choir. Both require my presence at times that necessitate B leaving work early. Sometimes hours early, meaning he has to make up those lost hours on another day. But Brennan says that if I really want to do something, I should do it.

— 5 —

Brennan has high standards.

Gotta love the tiny spectators.

Brennan has high standards about lots of things – work, behavior, food, coffee and chocolate, goods and services that we buy – but let me feel flattered for a minute that he also had high standards when it came to finding the person he wanted to marry. When he was doing the eHarmony thing, going out on first date after first date, Brennan’s buddies at work started to give him a hard time. They’d joke about how he rarely made it to a second date. “What’s wrong with her this time?” was their standard question. One friend told him “everyone settles.” But my Brennan? He answered, “Not me.” He shared my conviction that it was better to be single than to be with the wrong person.

Perhaps this last Favorite sounds a bit self-gratifying. Certainly I’m glad that my husband didn’t “settle” for me. But more than that, I admire a person who will hold out and work hard for what he or she really wants. Too often these days, people expect instant gratification – in relationships, in their homes and careers, in their spare time. But Brennan couldn’t be farther from that. To achieve the kind of life he wants, Brennan works hard, he makes smart decisions, he sacrifices, and he is patient. He sets high standards for himself and he keeps to them.

I am so thankful that this man came into my life. I am grateful for all his hard work and careful planning. I am glad to have his love and his good company. I feel blessed to be building a life with him. Happy anniversary, Brennan. I love you.

All photos are credited to Gordon Eisner.

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 6)

July 5, 2013July 5, 2013 / Julie / 1 Comment

— 1 —

Happy 4^th (or, er… 5^th) of July! We took our little guys to see their first fireworks on Wednesday evening and last night we set off our own itty-bitty-baby version in our driveway. Their reactions? Our 3-year-old said it was “bery sary,” but our 21-month old was all squeals and pointing and screaming “Mommy! Daddy!” in delight.

— 2 —

We’re now a week into our 14-year-old German friend, Nina’s visit with us and… poor, patient girl. It can’t be much fun for a teenager to spend her vacation in a house with two toddler boys.

“We’re sary and you are too” says the bear to the bunny.

For her sake, I want us to be out and about doing things. But that’s very hard for us. For one, we’re super late risers. Our boys don’t wake up until 8 or 9 (or 10!) o’clock. Which makes it difficult to get out of the house before 11am. For another, I guess I’m the sort who is easily intimidated by outings with little ones. Fun mothers bring their children to library story hours, concerts in parks, petting zoos, children’s museums, etc. Boring mothers like me bring their children to… the grocery store. And say things like, “We’re going to the store, boys! Isn’t that exciting?!” (The worst part of it is that my poor, deprived children actually think the grocery store is exciting. They’re all like, “Yay! Grocery shopping! I’m out in public!”)

Thrilling.

Anyway, in the first six days Nina was here with us, we went to a train museum (which is super cool and fascinating… to a 3-year-old boy), the mall, one restaurant, three local playgrounds, the barber shop, and yes, of course – the grocery store. The poor thing told me on Monday that “Today was a really good day!” even though it began with one child having a major pull-the-car-to-the-side-of-the-road meltdown, the other throwing up in the car, and both causing a ruckus over breakfast in a restaurant. I’m sure we were saved by the trip to the mall: you can’t really go wrong taking a 14-year-old-girl there, even when your primary objective is buying toddler shoes.

We’ve started to redeem ourselves in the past day-and-a-half with fireworks, a cool small-city 4^th of July celebration that included outdoor concerts and yummy food, and then more fireworks at home. God-willing, we can complete our redemption with some pool time, more 4^th of July celebrations, and hopefully another day trip. But really, I think we’ll get there by handing her off to my wonderful mother, who will take poor Nina to the beach for a couple of days. Whew! I’m so glad Mom is able to take her! (This hermit of a mommy was almost getting twitchy thinking about the logistics — and the sand! and sunscreen! and sweat! — involved in taking two small boys to the beach for a day.)

— 3 —

Nina, though, has been such a good sport. Within a day of arriving, she dove right in to changing diapers, washing grubby little hands, putting shoes on wiggly little feet, and even dumping out potties! Go, brave and helpful Nina!

The boys have quickly fallen in love with her. In fact, I don’t think it took our 3-year-old more than a few hours to say his first, “I wuv you, Nina.”

— 4 —

Moving on, kinda sorta, from our houseguest, I just wanted to acknowledge that this blog is falling waaay by the wayside these days. In part because (even if the above results don’t point to it) I am indeed occupied with my hosting responsibilities. And with preparing for a 9-day, 4-airline ticket, 3-suitcase, 2-carseat, 1-double-stroller, 1-porta crib, 1-inflatable toddler bed “vacation” to visit my husband’s family in Minnesota. (By the way, Walshes: the quotes in “vacation” have nothing to do with you, dear ones. They have everything to do with the logistics and the stuff.)

In the past week or so, I’ve gotten part-way through blog posts on authority, abortion, media bias, and mortality. Fun stuff, hm? But between the above and the below, I think they’re all going to have to wait for now. August: I can’t wait to sit down and rest with you awhile.

— 5 —

Sometimes I go through phases where my mind is so cluttered and unsettled that I become all dreary-like and unproductive. And then of course the lack of productivity leads to mounting messes and tasks, which leads to intimidation at tackling them, which leads to more dreariness…

And then other times I just go about living my life, like it’s no big deal.

How is that? How is it sometimes so easy to just do, go, progress, and other times you feel like you’re wading through thigh-high mud?

After three weeks in a row of thinking “I’m in a funk,” I now realize that I’m “stuck in the mud.” I hate these phases. Wallow, wallow. Any suggestions on how to get out of them? How do I jump-start myself back into a peaceful(ish), productive(ish) rhythm of life? Of course I have some ideas of my own: The answers that keep floating to the surface of my mind are (1) pray and (2) sleep. But… can you tell I haven’t yet run with these? Sigh…

— 6 —

Since I can’t get it together enough to write a thought-provoking post for you, the least I can do is share some links I’ve been loving in the past few weeks:

These tips on flying with little ones. I especially love numbers 9 and 10, but I don’t know how she can swing the no-stroller thing in number 7. When I’m out in public places filled with lots of people, I like my boys to be strapped in to something. That goes double or triple for the high-stress situation of trying to get all four of us through an airport and onto our flight.

Red Shoes vs. Pink Sneakers

This call to stop labeling each other and start listening to each other.

The Earth [as] a Nursery

Michael Gerson on Pope Francis: “Whatever your view of Christianity, the example of Jesus remains one of history’s most surprising constants. A man who never wrote a word, who spent three years teaching in an obscure corner of a vanished empire, still stirs the deepest longings of the human heart. When we see his image even partially reflected in another human being, it appeals beyond every political division. When we see his image even partially reflected in the church he founded, true authority returns.”

— 7 —

See this little guy?

He has been so cuddly lately. I don’t know what it is all-of-a-sudden (hmm… maybe I do… maybe it’s having another set of helping hands in the house), but he seems to really be relishing his moments with me these days. He burrows his little face into my neck and chest, holds on tight, and does not want to let go. He picks up my arms and wraps them around himself while he’s sitting on my lap. He insists he wants me rather than his daddy (which is unusual for him). He even needed (many, long) hugs from me while he was eating lunch the other day. Like, every few bites. There have been times when this clingy behavior would have really gotten to me, made me feel trapped. But not right now. Right now I am soaking it up. He sat with me while we watched fireworks the other night and I just wrapped my arms tightly around him, enjoying the weight of his sweet little self on my lap. There’s nothing better.

And his big brother?

He’s been watching out for me. He handed me my coffee the other day, saying, “I fought you were going to need it.” And then: “I yike to help people.” Oh, how I love this child.

Happy weekend, all! Start it off right by heading over to see Jen and the rest of the Quick Take’ers!

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 5)

June 28, 2013 / Julie / 9 Comments

— 1 —

Do you remember those hydrangeas from my last Quick Takes? The ones that were supposed to inspire me to clean my whole house? Well, it only took an entire week, but I finally cleaned… one whole room. And I folded about 1/6 of my clean laundry and washed about 1/12 of the dirty. FAIL.

Still, do you want to see my clean kitchen?

— 2 —

But really, this is what my house has mostly looked like lately:

— 3 —

Which leads me to yesterday. I had a terrific idea. We’ve been going through that whole pre-dinner-time misery that is The Witching Hour, and I was fantasizing about somebody taking my boys for two hours (4 to 6pm, that is) every evening. Think of all the quiet… and the productivity… and the not dealing with weepy/hyper/aggressive/loopy/destructive/clingy toddlers…

And then it occurred to me – don’t working (outside of the home) people do these things called “happy hours”? These things that I maybe, kind of remember from a life I lived long, long ago? How absolutely amazing would it be to have a sitter come pick up the boys – and then chauffer me to a happy hour? (A stressed-out-mommy happy hour – not a normal, working-outside-of-the-home people happy hour. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about my disheveled clothes and that dazed witching-hour look in my eyes.)

The idea reminded me of this post from Ana Hahn. The happy hour playdate! How brilliant is that? I could do that! Except… I live a half-hour’s drive from all my friends. None of us would feel comfortable driving after sharing cocktails. C’mon, Ladies! Don’t you want to move out to this beautiful little downtown?

See? Isn’t it peaceful?

— 4 —

Speaking of the witching hour, on Tuesday we spent it at the eye doctor’s. (Sounds like fun, doesn’t it?) It had been FOUR years since my last appointment and therefore my last pair of new glasses. It had been one year since my son ripped one of the arms off said pair. The arm was taped into place until about a week ago, when the tape would no longer hold and I just made do with the glasses perched precariously on my nose and left ear. It’s very attractive, I assure you.

(Perhaps I can seem slightly less pathetic by informing you that I only use my glasses to drive, so it’s not like I have to walk around with just 2/3 of the frames on my head. But then again… this is not the first time I’ve resorted to wearing glasses with an arm missing. For an extended period of time. I believe my last pair met the same demise as my current one. It’s pretty sad that what excites me most about new glasses is that they rest on both of my ears.)

Anyway, on to the kiddos’ doctor’s office behavior – or misbehavior, as it is better described. Here’s the good and the bad of the experience:

Good: I had the foresight to buy the boys bribery milkshakes on the way there.
Bad: The shakes lasted about five minutes each. And I had to jump up from the examination chair about a million times to wipe up the splatter, using half a package of baby wipes in the process.

Good: My older son was asleep in the double stroller at the onset of the appointment.
Bad: He woke up about 15 minutes later.
Worse: My younger son didn’t sleep at all.

Good: My younger (20-month-old) son knew enough about the alphabet to shout out “F!” as I tried to discern the letters on the screen.
Bad: Um… let me reiterate that the letter he chose to shout was “F.” Also, I felt like I did one-thousand times worse on the tests than I had ever done before.

Good: Before arriving, I had told the boys what to expect from the appointment, resolved to keep them in their stroller the entire time, packed plenty of books and toys, and warned them that, no matter what, they were NOT TO TOUCH ANY GLASSES.
Bad: They cried. They squirmed. They panicked. I caved on the stroller thing. They climbed. They screamed. They grabbed pair after pair after pair of glasses. They wrestled me as I tried to wrangle them. They wrestled each other because that’s what they do. They tried to make off with the keys to one of the glasses cases. They pushed the stroller into another case of glasses.
Good: They did no real damage, except maybe to my blood pressure.

Bad: As I told the poor optician, this was the worst in-public behavior I’d ever had from my boys.
Good: She said it was not the worst they’d ever had in their office.
Better: The staff could not have been nicer or more patient about it all.

Good: By the end of the ordeal, I had ordered two new pairs of glasses – regular ones and (my first-ever! I’m so excited!) prescription sunglasses.
Bad: Even with insurance and discounts, they cost about twice what I expected them to.
Good: They cost a little better than half what my husband expected them to. (This is pretty indicative of our wildy different styles of estimation: He allots himself more than enough time, money, etc. I always estimate a level way below what I need.)

— 5 —

I feel like I should step back from the complaining a bit to acknowledge that my boys gave me a bunch of sweet moments this week too. Even when I’m in a funk and everything’s a mess and the boys are rolling around the house like a pair of lion cubs, they brighten my day like almost nothing else can. This week my 3-year-old twice asked me if I was a princess. I told him I was. His imagination is taking off; it’s a thrill to see him always “yookin’ for abenture.” Both boys are expert snugglers; they give me lots and lots of hugs and kisses. The three-year-old has started to randomly tell me that he loves me. (Sometimes he’s especially clever and says “I wuv you” just as he’s about to be scolded for something.)

Frequently when I find myself worked up over something the boys have done, I have the blessed insight to ask them for a hug. I get a big bear hug from one or both of my little guys (both at once is the best) and I feel a world better, even if nothing else has changed.

— 6 —

And speaking of needing to feel a little better… I can’t say that I want to get into some controversial issues of society, religion, and politics on this blog and not touch on the Supreme Court’s DOMA and Proposition 8 decisions this week. I was not surprised; it’s clear to me that Western society is well on its way to accepting gay marriage. But the decisions still hit me hard. I was saddened and disheartened and I am allowed to be so.

I understand the jubilation of the gay couples wanting to marry and that of their friends who want marriage for them. But gay marriage is one of the most fundamental changes to the concept of family in all of human history. It is no small thing. And its impact is not confined to the individuals whose legal union it will enable.

I have a lot to say on the subject. I will say it. I hope you’ll read and consider what I have to say and weigh in with your own opinions. But I’m not going to say it all here, in number 6 of a “7 Quick Takes Friday.” Here, I’ll just acknowledge the enormity of what happened this week.

— 7 —

To end on a brighter note, let me say how happy I am to be having our dear teenage friend/ridiculously distant cousin Nina visiting us from Germany for a few weeks. I picked her up at the airport last night. We’ll be trying to fit in a bunch of fun activities while she’s here (and we also have a vacation to Minnesota coming up), so I don’t know how much blogging I’ll be able to do in July.

I hope, though, to have a chance to write up the story of how I met Nina’s family. To super-condense what is a very long, strange story: When I was studying in Germany 13 years ago, I visited the village that one of my ancestors had come from over 220 years before. While there I rang the doorbell of Nina’s grandfather’s house and he and I became friends. On one of my subsequent visits we discovered that we were indeed related – but that our last common ancestor lived in the 1600’s.

Myself and Nina in Germany, ten whole years ago

And believe it or not, my husband and I did something similar with his cousins on our honeymoon in Ireland. As my best friend puts it, “Julie, that’s just like you to walk into random villages and find people you’re related to!”

Go visit Jen to check out the rest of the Quick Takes!

Monday Morning Miscellany

June 24, 2013 / Julie / 1 Comment

Do you ever come across a word you haven’t used in a while and realize how much you love it? I did that this week with “miscellany.” I happened to type it (maybe on Facebook?) and thought, “Wow, that’s a great word – nice and concise. I should use it more often.”

And then on Sunday afternoon I was thinking of the miscellany of little thoughts and observances from the previous few days, which I wanted to share with you.

And of how, more than any other time of the week, I like to sit still and read blogs on Monday mornings. That’s when I’m all numb and exhausted from busy weekends and I have enough time in my schedule (Hello, Recovery Mondays!) to sit for a while. But (boo-hoo) none of my favorite bloggers tend to publish new posts on Monday mornings. When I started the blog, I thought it would be nice to try to regularly have something new to share at the very beginning of the week.

Enter: Monday Morning Miscellany. I’m going to try – when I don’t have another, more substantial post to offer, that is – to at least throw a few miscellaneous items on the blog each Monday morning. Today, this is what I have for you:

— 1 —

I have about a half-dozen blogs that I keep close tabs on. (And a number of others that I dabble in, too.) The big seven are all written by Catholic mothers. Some write primarily on their home lives, some also get into some other issues – faith, society, public policy, books, art, music… I love them and I’m very happy with my daily clicks onto each of their sites:

Testosterhome by Rachel Balducci
Conversion Diary by Jennifer Fulweiler
I Have To Sit Down by Simcha Fisher
Camp Patton by Grace Patton
Mama Needs Coffee by Jenny Uebbing
Like Mother, Like Daughter by Leila Lawler and her daughters
House Unseen by Dwija Borobia

But in the past week or so I’ve been realizing that I need to expand my horizons somewhat, especially toward bloggers who write on society and politics. (On those fronts, I’ve been getting my news and commentary from NPR, the Washington Post, the BBC, and the Economist.) I’m starting to check out more of the Patheos blogs. Do you have any suggestions as to additional blogs I should be reading?

— 2 —

One of the bloggers I mentioned above, Dwija Borobia of House Unseen, has been having a tough go of it lately. She’s experiencing some very serious issues with her pregnancy, which pose great danger to her baby and require Dwija to limit her activity. At the same time, her laundry facilities (an ailing washer and a nonexistent dryer) are adding to her burden. Cari Donaldson of Clan Donaldson is spearheading an effort to raise enough funds to repair/renovate Dwija’s laundry machine(s)/room. If you’re one of the many, many folks whom Dwija cheers and makes laugh on a regular basis, I hope you’ll consider donating.

— 3 —

My husband and I had a wedding to attend on Saturday evening. As usual, we were running behind in our preparations and feeling a bit of stress about it. But this time we had something pretty darned unusual to slow us down. A swarm of honeybees. Which had set up shop under our siding – three stories up. Here are a couple of pictures of the little buggers flying into their gap in the siding:

But you know what? My husband happens to be a beekeeper. How fitting is that? Now, if these bees had lodged themselves closer to the ground, this whole situation would have actually been an odd little stroke of luck. His hive died this year, and as swarms can sometimes be caught and successfully housed, this could have just meant free bees for us. But – three stories up. My husband would have needed scaffolding to do the work that needed to be done to get the bees out of the siding and still save the colony. But he doesn’t. And you have to work fast to remove honeybees, before they fill the cavity behind the siding with wax and honey. So he had to improvise:

Yes, that’s a vaccum. Taped to the outside of our house. Sucking up the unsuspecting little bees as they fly in and out of their unfortunately-placed hive. And yes, it will kill them. We’re sad about that. We would have loved to have kept them. But you gotta do what you gotta do. Poor bees.

— 4 —

Our three-year-old was on a roll on Friday. I was keeping Facebook very busy with reports of all the funny things he was saying. Here they are, along with a few more comments from the weekend:

As he was resisting my efforts to get him to eat some fruit with his lunch:
Him: “Just weave me awone.”
Me: “You don’t say that to me.”
Him: “I just need a bweak.”
(I let him have his “bweak” and then he told me which fruit he’d eat.)

Me: “How old are you now?”
Him: “I free ears ode. I jus had a buhday cake. Es was yummy. But now es awww gone.”
(Noticing it still sitting on the counter.)
Him: “Oh! My buhday cake! Es aw bwoken!”

After I got the boys set up at their water table I told them, “I’ll be in the kitchen!”
Him: “Okay. Imawoar if I need you.”
(It took me a few repeats before I understood that “Imawoar” = “I’m going to roar.”)

Him (holding a tiny bug): “See dis, Mommy? Dis my yiddle buddy. Him my besss fwend.”
Me: “I thought your brother was your best friend.”
Breck: “No, he was fwashin’ (splashing) me. Dis my bess fwend.”
He then carried carried his bug around in a basket, saying things like, “Don worry, yiddle buddy.” and (to his brother) “SOP! Yeave my yiddle buddy awone!”

Him: “My tummy’s cwyin’.”
Me: “Why is your tummy crying?”
Him: “Just nuffin’.”

While a fly buzzed around the boys as they ate:
“Mommy! Can you bwow dat fwy in your mouf, yike a wind?”
“Oh, my budder sared it! Amazin!”
And: “Fwy! Your upposed to fwy, emember?”

Him: “Shoo, fwy!”
His little brother, who calls all bugs “boo-boo”, mimicking him: “Doo, booboo!”

Me: “Did you have a bath?”
Him: “Yeah. Daddy watered me. But it’s okay!”

All prepared with his flashlight:
I’m imbestigate in da dark!

— 5 —

Lately our 20-month old doesn’t want me to put him down for his nap. We go into his room and he points toward the door, saying “Dairs! Dairs!” (Stairs, as in, I want to go downstairs.) So I’ve been going the lazy/sneaky route and letting him sit on the sofa while his brother watches his quiet-time movie. It only takes the little guy about five minutes to fall asleep and then I carry him upstairs to bed. Here are a few asleep-on-the-sofa pics from this past week:

Happy Monday!

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 4)

June 21, 2013August 12, 2013 / Julie / 6 Comments

— 1 —

This has been one of those weeks when I feel like I’m behind on every front: My house is a mess; piles of (possibly damp and smelly) dirty laundry and baskets of unfolded, clean (yet probably still smelly) laundry seem to be taunting me; a rotating collection of dirty dishes has been occupying my kitchen counters; I owe a long list of emails and phone calls; I’ve been getting to bed too late and my boys have been waking up during the night (usually with their sheets soaked – seven crib sheets in three days!); and my list of interesting-looking articles to read has been growing and growing…

I guess I feel like I should be caught up on something. Like, if I’m going to neglect my house, at least my mind should be stimulated with interesting reads. Or if I’m not responding to people’s emails, it should be because I was busy eliminating the mountains of laundry and dishes.

— 2 —

Also, someone has vomited every day this week. As anybody who is friends with me on Facebook knows, my boys are prolific vomiters. Some parents deal with children who won’t sleep through the night, or are picky eaters, or throw major tantrums. Ours vomit. All the time. And it’s not because they’re sick – we’ve never been so unfortunate as to have a stomach virus visit us. (I say with trepidation, because you know that once I say it, we’ll get one.) The boys are gaggers. We have to go to ridiculous lengths to feed them food in such a way that they won’t gag and vomit. And when we get a respiratory bug with phlegm and coughing: Watch Out.

Anyway, last week I made the stupid mistake of saying to my husband, “Can you believe that we’ve gone almost a month without anybody throwing up? Maybe the boys have finally outgrown it! And even if they’ve haven’t entirely, at least #2 knows to lean over the side of his booster seat so he doesn’t get it on his clothes anymore and #1 runs to get a bowl to catch it! Win, win! I barely even have a mess to clean up anymore!”

Yeah. So on Sunday, the little one throws up on his Grandpa. (Sorry, Dad!) On Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, he throws up all over himself. On Wednesday, the big one gets carsick and throws up all over himself and his car seat. Once again, I have a load of vomity clothes to deal with. And a car seat to clean.

— 3 —

But. Yesterday when I came up the driveway, I saw this:

Isn’t it lovely? And have you ever seen a hydrangea with both blue and pink blooms? When I saw the bush after a long day out with the boys, I had kind of a funny response:

Wow, that’s beautiful. I love hydrangeas. I should cut some to put in vases around the house. That little white pitcher would look really nice filled with hydrangeas and placed on the kitchen mantle. But it’s covered with junk right now. What’s the use of going through the effort of cutting and arranging flowers when the house is so messy? I should clean. Really clean. I should do a big push and get the house in great shape and put hydrangeas everywhere.

Makes sense, right? That a five-second glance at a flowering shrub would turn into enthusiasm for cleaning my house? Whatever; I don’t care where the enthusiasm came from. After a week of vomit and no sleep and peed-on sheets, I’ll take whatever enthusiasm I can get. So let’s see what I can do today: Dishes and laundry and junk, here I come! Hydrangeas, don’t fail me!

— 4 —

I have to admit that part of the reason (besides the rough recovery from a full weekend and the boys not sleeping and the vomiting) that I’ve been in a funk this week (and btw, Grace Patton had a good post this week on being in a funk) is that I spent a couple of nights staying up waaay too late writing blog posts.

I am someone who is very easily distracted; I can’t concentrate well when there’s commotion around me. (Rachel Balducci had a good post this week about needing quiet in order to write.) So starting a blog with two toddler boys in the house was a great idea, wasn’t it? With my days full of monster roars and “pwetend kitty-cats” mewing at my feet and boys who like to act, alternately, like rock stars or members of a marching band, the quiet of a late-night, everybody-is-asleep-but-me house is oh so enticing. Enter one, two, or ahem three o’clock bedtimes. With 3:30 wake-up calls from a soaking wet 20-month-old. Yes, sometimes I am brilliant.

I’m nearly a month into the blog now and I’m trying to figure out how best to fit it into my life. Right now I feel like I’m in the trying-it-on phase. I’m hoping (hoping!) that once I’ve done it for a little while and examined its impact on the rest of my life, I can find the right balance of writing time to housework time to time with the boys. In the past year or so, I’ve done a pretty decent job of establishing some general guidelines for running my home and schedule to minimize my stress. Soon I’ll need to recalculate them to account for the blog.

— 5 —

In particular, I want to make space in my schedule to take on some meaty subjects. I was decently well-pleased with how these longer, more serious posts on my background, immigration, and parental love turned out. And I’ve done a few shorter ones that fall into the same mold. But I feel like most of what I’ve been writing so far has been light and focused on my home life. And though there’s nothing wrong with that (and I very much enjoy reading such things from other bloggers!), I’d like to keep a steady pace of at least one or two more meaty posts a week.

Like I said when I started the blog, I want this space to become a comfortable place for readers to dialog on some societal/religious/political issues. I don’t have in mind a certain number of visitors I want to attract; I only hope it’s enough to generate some good discussion in the comments section. So, (hint, hint!) speak up if you have something to say! For my part, I’ll try to keep up that steady pace.

Here are a few topics I’m thinking about right now, and on which I plan to write once I’ve read up on some of those interesting articles I mentioned in #1: The worth of the individual, religious freedom, Pope Francis and the liberal/conservative split, and global poverty. I hope you’ll come back to weigh in!

— 6 —

I spent a long time Wednesday night cooking a very complicated meal for my husband. On the one hand, doing so made me feel like a very good wife, because it took FOUR hours and like a million steps and it involved a couple of his favorite dishes: Spaghetti Bolognese (as in the real deal, with carrots and mushrooms, veal/pork/beef, wine, etc.) and a dark chocolate tart with a gingersnap crust (which, to be honest, sounds fancy and tastes divine, but isn’t all that hard to make).

Father's Day Dinner, 2013 But on the other hand, Wednesday night made me feel like a bad wife, because (1) dinner wasn’t ready until 10pm, which (2) meant that the boys got their standard hot dogs instead of partaking in the deliciousness, (3) the whole reason we had a fancy dinner on Wednesday was to celebrate a belated Father’s Day because I wasn’t prepared on Sunday. (I’m blaming that one on our family reunion and the celebration of our son’s birthday, both this past weekend.) And (4) one of our gifts for my husband was the oh-so-thoughtful catalog in a gift bag, so he could pick out which item he wanted. (Though I was thoughtful about which catalog it was: The Great Courses, because we’re the kind of nerds who like to listen to recordings of university lectures.)

Working on a Father’s Day card for his grandpa — also belated.

— 7 —

I’ll sweeten the end of this mildly negative Quick Takes by leaving you with some of the cute/funny/stinkerish/sweet things our big 3-year-old boy said this week:

“I’m havin’ a bad, wough day!”

After being put into time-out for yelling a nasty “No, Mommy!” at me:
“I sorry for sayin’ a bad no to you, Mommy.”

“Dere’s a bug in my back! Es eatin’ me!”
(There actually was a bug under the back of his shirt; it was not eating him.)

“Yiyons and mans and bears, oh my!”

Lunging and dancing while singing into his new toy microphone:
“I yike a wock sar!”

Pointing out the sunset:
“Yook! A boo-ful sy!”

Just after I walked away from him and his little brother, who was pretending to be a cat. I’d heard the little one scream and marched back into the room, asking big brother what he’d done.
Him: “I hit da cat.”
Me: “Do you mean you hit your brother?”
Him: “No. I hit da cat.”
Me: “Did you hit the cat that is your brother?”
Him: “Yes.”

After I gave a quick kiss to his injured thumb:
“No, not a pwetend kiss! I want a weal kiss yike diss.”
(He demonstrates.)

“I’m a man washin’ my hands.”

Him: “Mommy! Da table is waffin’ at me!”
Me: “The table is laughing at you? Why?”
Him: “Because, es funny! I bedder take a nap.”
(He lays his head down on the table.)

“Dis is a tart.”

At the playground as I was pushing him on the swings:
“You’re good. You’re a nice mommy. Sank you pushing me SO fast.”

Now be sure to go vist Jen and all the rest of the Quick Take’ers!

Five Favorites (Vol. 1)

June 19, 2013August 12, 2013 / Julie / Leave a comment

I’m linking up with Hallie at Moxie Wife for the first time today. If you aren’t familiar with Hallie and her beautiful writing on marriage and family (amongst other subjects), go check her out! And also be sure to visit the folks linking their Five Favorites!

— 1 —

This newly-minted little THREE-year-old!

I intended yesterday’s post to be an ode to my little guy, but I soon found myself heading in a somewhat different direction. So I’m going to take this opportunity to share three things I love about my new three-year-old: (1) He loves people. From his daddy to his friends to the UPS delivery guy, he loves them all. I have honestly never met anyone more outgoing than he is. (2) He loves to show people that he loves them. Hugs, cuddles, kisses, “I wuv you”’s – we’re so lucky to get them from him all. the. time. The other day I even heard him tell one of his birthday cards, “I wuv you, Thomas and James and Percy. SO much. Dee end.” (3) His imagination is really taking off lately. Just in the past couple of weeks, I’ve noticed him narrating his imaginary play, which is mostly full of pirates and fire trucks and “ress-you-ing” people.

— 2 —

Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood

I seriously cannot heap enough praise on this PBS spin-off of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. For one thing, my boys LOVE it. It’s the only show that captures their attention completely. No matter what else happens, I can count on at least 60 minutes of quiet per day – 30 minutes at 11 am when Daniel Tiger comes on one of our local PBS stations and 30 minutes at 5:30 pm when it comes on another. The boys don’t even care that they’re seeing the same episode twice in one day – they love it that much.

Also, I love it. The show teaches a bunch of little life lessons tailored to the pre-school set: how to share and wait and play nicely with your friends, etc. Each episode focuses on one of the lessons, which is set to a short song. We find ourselves singing them all the time: “Clean up, pick up, put away. Clean up, every day.” Or “When you have to go potty, STOP and go right away. Flush and wash and be on your way.” (I know, I know, I’m a dork to be reciting lyrics about going to the potty. You don’t need to remind me.)

— 3 —

“The Royal Sandbox” episode of Daniel Tiger

This episode teaches children how to make a good apology: “Saying I’m sorry is the first step. Then, ‘how can I help?’” And boy, did it come at the right time for us! At this point my little guy has learned the ropes of the harass your brother/get a time-out/apologize sequence of events. But I’ve been getting frustrated because he doesn’t seem to take his apologies very seriously. Enter Daniel Tiger! Since this episode aired, my boy has been following “I’m sorry” with “How can I help?” On his own! With no prompting from me! The other day at lunch, he purposefully crumbled his chip and dropped the crumbs all over the floor. When I told him that I was unhappy about what he’d done, he promptly apologized and asked how he could help. I suggested that he retrieve his toy dustpan and brush and clean up the mess. And whaddya know? He DID! Thank you, Daniel Tiger!

— 4 —

Family Reunions

This past weekend my extended family marked over thirty years of bi-annual, weekend-long family reunions. We had our usual campfires and card games and pool time and shared meals and hikes. And it was a blast. I feel so fortunate that my family has this tradition. What a way to demonstrate the importance of family. And what a way to foster friendships between family members who might otherwise never interact. This weekend we had nearly 100 people come for some portion of the reunion: four generations, a 90-year age span, relatives from the West and East Coasts, from as far south as Florida and as far north as Wisconsin, relatives who represent different tastes and religions and political stripes. I’m so happy that my own little family was able to take part in it.

— 5 —

Okay, this one’s a little silly.

G.H. Cretors Chicago Mix Popped Corn

At the tail end of this weekend’s reunion, the family gathered at our house for an after-party. So we became the repository for all the miscellaneous snacks, chairs, games, etc. that were gathered from the camp. This (very large) bag of “Chicago Mix” popcorn was one of the miscellany. And, oh my word – amazing! Maybe I’m totally out-of-the loop on this one and everybody else has heard of mixing caramel and cheese popcorn together, but the idea was near-revolutionary to me. Thank goodness the bag was almost empty when I found it, because I was compelled to finish the job! (And yes, in the photo the bag is entirely empty.) Warfields: Please do not tell me who brought this most delectable of snacks. And under NO circumstances should anyone tell me where it can be purchased!

A Love That Changes You

June 18, 2013October 7, 2014 / Julie / 4 Comments

I have always loved children. I was one of those girls people call a “Little Mother.” The kind who sit in the shade under a tree with all the strollers, “helping” the babies and their mommies, despite all the fun-looking older kids running around playing tag.

Later I was a prolific babysitter, my weekends full of watching cousins and neighbors and my mom’s friends’ children. I loved all those little kids: the angels and the troublemakers, the lively ones and the meek. (Or rather, I loved almost all of them – we won’t talk about the spoiled 12-year-old who locked me out of her house.)

I especially loved my cousins, and later my nieces: The children whom I loved not because they were cute or sweet (though of course they all were), but truly for their own sake. They were born and with us and part of our family and I loved them. It’s as simple as that.

So it’s not like I entered motherhood as a complete novice in the baby department. I felt prepared for the work involved in caring for a child and I was aware that there would be a tremendous emotional strain to deal with. I also knew that I would feel a love for my own child that would be different from any I had yet experienced.

But I wasn’t prepared for my infant son to teach me something about the whole of humanity. Or for him to give me a humbling, awe-filled glimpse into the heart of God.

So many nights, I sat in the rocker and nursed my baby boy. I studied his perfection: smooth, clear skin; long eyelashes; soft, round cheeks; creases at his wrists and thighs; dimples on his hands; wispy, fair hair; chest moving gently as he breathed his sweet breath; heart thump- thump- thumping in that reassuring way… I could go (and I have gone) on. At any rate, I can provide the images, but I can’t express the depth of the love I felt in those moments.

The love which, of course, I continue to feel. We just celebrated my son’s third birthday. These days when I kiss my boy’s forehead, I think more on the funny and imaginative things he says; on his hugs for his brother; on his flushed, sweaty face and bright blue eyes when he runs around the playground; on the way he likes to kiss both of my cheeks, like the little French boy he isn’t. And the feeling is the same. Stronger, perhaps.

A couple of years ago I sat in a different rocking chair, listening to a C-SPAN Booknotes interview with Iris Chang on her book The Rape of Nanking. I won’t describe the horror of the event on which the book is centered; I will only say that I was horrified. More than horrified: I felt a pain that seemed to go straight to my soul.

I sat there rocking my baby as I listened and I had this powerful image in my mind of all those other women who had rocked their babies – the babies who grew to become the victims and perpetrators of this most terrible of crimes. I thought of how I stroked my own son’s skin as I held him, how I smoothed his hair and absorbed the feeling of his weight against me. I treasured my son. I saw him for the precious, important being that he was – a human life and a child of God. Surely, those mothers must have felt the same about their babies. They must have known exactly how precious those lives were.

And yet some of those lives were treated with contempt. They were brushed aside, abused, degraded. I felt like screaming, “Didn’t you know how important those people were?!” Others were degraded by their own actions. Their mothers rocked innocent babies who grew to do grave evil. I can’t imagine that any mother would want such a future for her child.

So it goes on. I hear about atrocities and I think of mothers rocking their babies: The Holocaust, the Rwandan Genocide, the rampage in Afghanistan, the murders in Newtown. I think of the victims, but I think of the perpetrators too. I can’t hate them. I mourn for them and the damage they did to their souls. I mourn for their mothers’ sakes. I mourn even for Kermit Gosnell, who took those most unfortunate of babies: the ones whose mothers did not protect them, did not rock them, did not realize how very precious they were.

But I firmly believe that someone else knew exactly how precious those babies were. I believe that God valued and loved those babies from the moment they were conceived. All of them: those of Nanking, the Holocaust, Rwanda, Afghanistan, Newtown, Gosnell, and so many other tragedies. And us too. We may think that we live normal, unremarkable, run-of-the-mill lives, but I believe that God views each and every one of us as unique and infinitely precious.

When I remember rocking my babies and I ponder the intense, indescribable love I feel for them, I think to myself, “If I love my boys this much, how much more must God love me?” When the answer sinks in, when I get that small glimpse into the heart of God, it just about takes my breath away. I am full of awe and gratitude and a keen awareness of how little I deserve that love. But I also know that I don’t have to deserve it. My boys don’t have to do a thing to earn my love. And there’s nothing they could do to stop me loving them.

I think most mothers would say the same. Through all of history and across all the world, mothers love their babies. They hold them tight and rock them. They treasure them. In them they see individuality and worth and promise. And all the while, God looks over their shoulders. He gazes at each and every one of us with a parent’s love, but greater. He loves and values us when our own parents fail to, when other people make victims of us, and even when we damage our souls with acts of evil.

Feeling that love, letting it all sink in and settle around you as you rock your child on a quiet afternoon, that’s a love that changes you.

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 3)

June 14, 2013August 12, 2013 / Julie / Leave a comment

— 1 —

Whew! I finally took the plunge into controversial topics yesterday with this post on immigration reform. That (posting on controversial issues) was the idea when I started this blog, but so far my posts have focused primarily on the stay-at-home mom thing. That and explaining myself. It felt good to get something out there on a Big Topic. Hopefully I won’t chicken out before writing on any more.

— 2 —

The only reason I was able to write such a long post yesterday is because my 20-month-old (above, haunting the laptop) took a FOUR hour nap! But don’t be too jealous. He only slept that long because he was up until 10:30 the night before. We’ve fallen into a terrible pattern of sleeping late, eating and napping late, and then going to bed way later than is decent for a household with two toddlers in it.

— 3 —

Which is why I keep finding the boys asleep on the sofa:

Usually they only fall asleep while eating:

— 4 —

Maybe we can get ourselves on a better sleep schedule this weekend. We’ll be heading to a family reunion, where my older son and I will “camp” out with my extended family in some cabins in the woods. My family (my grandmother and her nine siblings and their families) have been doing this every other year for 30 years. And all but one of the reunions has been at this same camp. I’m really looking forward to introducing my boys to the woods and the stream and the campfire ring and the trails that I enjoyed so much as a child. Not to mention all the family I love so dearly.

— 5 —

I’m sure my boys, though, are really going to love all the bugs. They have no fear of the little critters. They love picking up ladybugs and ants and stinkbugs from all over our house. I’ve even (I report with glee) trained them to carry the latter varieties straight to the trash can. So this morning I found my 20-month-old laying on his belly, picking up an ant, running it over to the trash can, and then returning for another. Over and over again. Who needs exterminators when you have little boys around?

— 6 —

I thought this short piece in yesterday’s Washington Post was really great. It’s connected to what I was trying to say in this post: Washington’s “brokenness” or inability to resolve policy differences isn’t an accident. It’s a symptom of division in the country at large.

— 7 —

And speaking of division and discord… My boys have recently refined their own particular methods of tormenting each other. The older one (who turns three in just a few days!) has a somewhat scatter-shot approach: he walks past his brother with a feigned innocence, randomly shoves or hits the poor little fellow, and then just keeps on going.

But the little guy is more focused: He stares down his big brother with a scowl on his face and shouts, “No, Beh Boys!” (His nickname for his brother.) And again and again… “No, Beh Boys, No!” The bigger guy Can. Not. Stand it. He howls, “No, Jude! Jude say NO to me, Mommy!” It goes on for some time, the little one steadfast and shouting and clearly in control, the big one cowering and crying.

Oh, my goodness. What in the world am I in for?

Thanks for coming ’round! Be sure to go see Jen for all the other Quick Takes!

The Immigration Question

June 13, 2013August 29, 2016 / Julie / 3 Comments

Yesterday and today the U.S. Senate has been discussing immigration reform, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to write up my thought process on the subject. This post is LONG, but immigration is a complicated issue and I think there’s been enough of distilling it into sound bites. I’m aiming for honest and thoughtful discussion on this blog. So you’re getting LONG on this subject.

I’m going to lay out my thought process in bullet points, because it would take me days to formulate my thoughts into a coherent essay. And, true-to-form, I don’t have days. I have stolen moments between meals and dishes and laundry and breaking up fights and pretending to be a “Mommy Wobot.”

So.

First, though the opinions below are my own, let me disclose that I worked on some immigration-related issues when I was a lobbyist. I represented the positions of the Catholic Church, which could (fairly, I think) be described as pro-immigrant. Second, let me acknowledge that this is most definitely one of those touchy issues. People bring very strong, personal opinions to the table. I get that. And I can empathize with many whose opinions conflict on the matter.

I found my work on immigration issues to be at once incredibly difficult and incredibly rewarding. More than any other issue I worked on, immigration seemed to bring out the anger, fear, and even hate in people. I had people yell and scream at me. I had them email hateful things to me. I had a guy blog (repeatedly) that I should be fired. But I also had people hug me and thank me. I encountered so many strong, brave, hard-working people with inspiring stories to tell. And I came to see immigration as a subject where there is real hope.

So here’s my own, personal thought process on the matter:

1) People have always moved. (Diving right in to the looong view here.) Through all of human history, people have moved from place to place seeking food, better living conditions, and more freedom. They have fled famine, war, and persecution. They always will.

2) People deserve a chance to protect and provide for themselves and their families. There are still plenty of places in the world where hunger and war abound. There are even more where corruption or drought or poor economic conditions stymie individuals’ abilities to provide their families with an adequate living. I would move to a different part of the world if doing so would protect my family and secure my future. You would too.

3) Things change. My family has lived in my state for over 10 generations. The first ones came here in the 1630’s, the last came during the American Revolution. Other than being of Native American ancestry, I’m about as “native” as you can get. But in reality, my family lives in a very different place today than it did in the past. Our state has changed visibly since I was a child; it has changed dramatically since my parents were children. Not long ago, it was largely agrarian with a few long-settled, urban centers. It was the kind of place where the same handful of family names were seen, time and again, on businesses and place names and headstones.

Today it is mostly populated by people who came from someplace else. They came from different parts of the country and far-flung parts of the world. They drove massive development. They brought their own foods and languages and preferences and opinions. They are making this place their own. Never mind the families whose names still grace the towns and street signs. We have, in a sense, been relegated to the past.

But you know what? These newcomers became our friends and eventually, our family. (I, for one, married one of them.) They built businesses and gave us jobs. They brought their skills and came to work for us. In some communities they drove up costs to the point where we can no longer afford to live there. But they also drove growth in ways that have benefited us all.

At heart, I am a rural, small-town girl. I love my family, I am interested in our history, and the biggest part of me wants to live in a place where both are obviously present. It wants to live amongst people who share my values and my tastes. That’s just how I’m built. But things change. The old kind of community of my fantasies (and my family’s past) isn’t here anymore. I can let that frustrate and sadden me, or I can find the good in the way things have become. I choose to seek out the silver linings. I choose to cultivate that part of myself that rejoices in new experiences.

Yes, immigration will change our country. It has many times over. And yes, I can understand how that is an uncomfortable, even frightening prospect for some people. Sometimes I feel it too. But things change. At the end of the day, we can’t stop change from happening. We can only control how we react to it.

4) Laws change. The United States is a nation of immigrants. All of our ancestors, at some point or another, came here from someplace else. The vast majority came in the past 200 years. It seems to me that most of us have this idea that our own families arrived in careful consideration of American immigration law. That they waited their turn and filed all the proper applications and did everything By The Books. But that’s just not the case. The kind of complicated immigration system we have today is a product of the past few decades. Until the 1920’s, American immigration was wide-open to almost all Europeans. Nearly everyone who arrived at Ellis Island was approved for entry. In the wake of World War I, immigration laws became more restrictive. Later, they became much more complicated.

Today, immigrants gain legal entry to the United States in three primary ways: (1) through the sponsorship of a close family member, (2) through the sponsorship of an employer, and (3) through the Diversity Lottery, which is designed to favor immigration from countries less well-represented in the first two avenues. People from countries that send a lot of emigrants to the United States via family or employer sponsorship are ineligible to apply for the Diversity Lottery. In 2013, people from the following countries are NOT eligible to apply for the Diversity Lottery: Bangladesh, Brazil, Canada, China (mainland-born), Colombia, Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Haiti, India, Jamaica, Mexico, Pakistan, Peru, Philippines, South Korea, United Kingdom (except Northern Ireland) and its dependent territories, and Vietnam.

So if I’m from England or Canada or Mexico or the Philippines and I don’t have a close family member or a prospective employer in the United States to sponsor my immigration, I can’t go. There is no line to wait in. There is no application to fill out. There is no such thing as “legal” immigration for me.

This is entirely different from the system under which my ancestors – and most Americans’ – came to the United States. Our ancestors had wide-open ports or lines at Ellis Island. They had a chance to seek their fortune in an entirely new land with no one to depend upon other than themselves. That system simply cannot be equated to today’s.

To inject a little humor here, I’ll add that when I used to testify on immigration matters, I would tell legislators (truthfully) that my last ancestor to arrive in America was a Hessian soldier paid to fight against the Americans in the War of Independence. And I’d quip, “How much more illegal can you get than that?”

5) Families matter. It is right that people can sponsor close family members to immigrate into the United States. But the system should be better at ensuring that sponsorship actually results in a successful and timely family reunification. As it is, the immigration system is so backlogged that reunification can take years. It can take five years for a legal permanent resident to bring his or her spouse or minor child into the country. It can take twenty years for a U.S. citizen to bring his or her adult sibling here. (Here is an interesting story about efforts to bring over the adult children of Filipino veterans who fought for the U.S. Armed Services in World War II.)

The family is the most fundamental unit of society. It’s just basic human decency to allow spouses, siblings, and parents/children to be together. Can you imagine having to live without your spouse or small child for five years? Your siblings or adult children for a decade or even two?

6) Skills matter. It is also right that employers can sponsor workers who will bring vital skills and knowledge to their companies. There should be more of this. There should also be more opportunities for entrepreneurs to come and establish their own businesses in this country. The United States’ success has, in large part, been due to our entrepreneurial spirit and our culture of encouraging ingenuity and innovation. We should unabashedly pursue the immigration of people who will feed that spirit and culture.

7) The labor market doesn’t lie. When millions of people can come into the United States and find work despite their legal ineligibility to do so, it is proof that the labor market can support them. At the same time, it is understandable that low-skilled Americans would be fearful of competition from an influx of similarly-skilled immigrant workers. I have sympathy for those in that position. But I am also hopeful that higher numbers of legal workers would encourage more entrepreneurial activity, more business, and better opportunities for all.

8) Long borders will never be 100% secure. The U.S. border with Mexico is nearly 2,000 miles long – just about equal to the length of the East Coast. It goes through deserts and rivers, remote areas and urban ones. And that’s just the Mexican border. Undoubtedly, border security can be improved. Even just fully-funding current programs would help. But insisting that immigration reform wait on complete border security is another way of saying reform should never happen.

9) We should encourage immigrants to invest themselves in this country. I want people living in the United States to feel like they have a stake in its success. I want people to feel a connection to their communities. I want them to work hard, start businesses, pay taxes, buy houses, volunteer, report crimes, and help their neighbors. We encourage investment when we enable families to be together, when we bring people out of the shadows of illegal immigration, and when we provide people with an opportunity to someday become citizens. It is a terrible idea to legalize a person’s immigration status without providing them a path to citizenship. That sends the message, “We want your labor, but we don’t want you.”

So.

That’s my thought process on the matter. (Or most of it. As long as this post is, I’m sure I’m still forgetting some important points.) In sum, I’m in favor of immigration reform. But not just that – I’m in favor of more immigration. I understand why some oppose it and I’m sympathetic to their concerns. But that (the above) is where I am on the matter. Where are you?

These Days

June 11, 2013August 12, 2013 / Julie / 2 Comments

It never ceases to amaze me how dramatically different one stay-at-home-with-the-kids day can be from the next. And how very, very difficult it can be to predict what kind of day you’re in for. Yesterday, for example, we had a really nice, quiet day. Everybody was in a sleepy kind of pleasant mood, nothing happened to stress us out, and the boys both took long naps. (That’s right, both of them! Even the almost-three-year-old who almost-never naps anymore.) Today, though, it was all exasperation and not listening and rising blood pressure. Me with them, them with me, me with all the stuff flying around in my mind.

This morning I was trying to handle all the normal breakfast and dish-washing and diaper-changing and potty-emptying duties, while also trying to make arrangements for a family party this weekend and a visitor this summer. And purchase four plane tickets to visit my husband’s family in Minnesota. And respond to my choir director about my summer schedule. And make my grocery list. And purchase birthday and Father’s Day gifts online. And research car seats so we can get a new one before this weekend. And (though I know I shouldn’t have been thinking about this one, with everything else I had going on) plan out a bunch of posts I want to write for the blog. Oh, and deal with an ant infestation by first wiping them up, then spraying them with poison and flipping out every time the boys approached them, then cleaning all the dead ants and poison spray off the floor, and then repeating the poison/flipping out steps when the ants returned.

All while a boiler repairman walked in and out of my house.

So I was going a little crazy, you know? And I was also feeling guilty because I’m sure to my boys, it looked like Mommy was just sitting at her computer, ignoring them for the heck of it. It’s not like I can explain parties and visitors and tickets and schedules and, and, and… to two toddlers. All they saw was distracted Mommy, typing and mumbling, and then screaming every time they walked on a certain piece of floor. Poor guys.

This evening we were pretty much back where we started. My husband was working late and I was (as usual) unsuccessful in getting the 20-month-old to bed. (My boys will NOT go to bed for me. Me, who takes care of them all day long and who puts them down for their naps. To them, bedtime is Daddy Time. Which is nice, except when Daddy’s working late or – GASP! – away on a trip.) Anyway, my feeble little brain had had enough. So I strapped the little one into his high chair in front of the television (hoping he’d fall asleep if confined), I walked into the kitchen, and I turned off the lights. I was kind of hoping they wouldn’t notice me. After a while, my older son walked in and said, “Mommy, are you mad for me?” (Heartbreaking, right?) I pulled him close and replied, “No, sweetie, I’m not mad at you. I’m just tired and I want to sit still in the quiet and read and write for a little bit. Okay?”

This afternoon, I had planned for us to go to the grocery store, but around 2pm (with no naps in sight!) I surveyed the boys and the house and myself and decided that we all needed a break. So, out with the groceries and in with the playground. We arrived to find it totally empty, the sky gray and threatening rain, and a lovely, brisk wind whipping around. It was perfect. The boys were thrilled to run around and play. I was invigorated by the wind. And I was delighted to see my little guys look like such boys – scraped knees, pink cheeks, sweaty foreheads, tongues sticking out in concentration. My older son kept coming over to me with a huge grin on his face. He said, “You’re a nice mommy,” and “You’re a good mommy,” and “I wuv dis.”

Like I said, I’m always amazed at how different one day can be from the next, even when so many of the days’ characteristics seem the same at a glance. X amount of sleep plus Y preparation can equal loveliness one day and angst the next. Some days these boys fill me with wonder; some days they make me want to tear my hair out. Some days have peace and light; others the gloom of depression. Et cetera.

So often it is so hard for me to see my way out of whatever kind of day I’m having. But they all come and go, don’t they? I need to be better about keeping that perspective on the hard days. And I need to do a lot more of what I did today: stop, survey the damage, and do what I can to get us – all of us – away from it.

Oh, and that repairman? He came to clean out the boiler but (thank you, Lord!) caught a potentially-dangerous problem while he was at it. So he had to replace a couple of parts. This is how he described it to me afterward:

Him: “So, you see this part here? Usually when these things go, they leak a little bit. But even though this was really corroded, it wasn’t leaking. So if it had gone, the pressure would have built up and up and…” (His eyes got big and he made a funny face.)

Me: “Are you saying… the boiler would have… exploded?”

Him: “Well, now I don’t like to use that word.” (But he made the funny face again.)

Me: “Okay…”

Him: “Do you watch ‘Mythbusters‘? You know that one where they have a water heater under too much pressure and it takes off like a rocket? Well, your boiler wouldn’t have done that.”

Good to know.

These Walls

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

Author: Julie

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