A Tale of Two Soldiers

July 23, 2013 / Julie / 2 Comments

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?

Monday Morning Miscellany (Vol. 2)

July 22, 2013July 21, 2013 / Julie / 5 Comments

— 1 —

Well, good morning! I feel like I’ve just emerged from a tunnel, blinking at the bright light of the great outdoors. I’m worn out, bleary-eyed, and trying to get a handle on the long, long list of things I need to do so our family can function normally again. All because… we just got back from vacation. (A tad dramatic sometimes, Julie?)

It wasn’t even a very stressful vacation, it’s just that I’m coming off a few weeks’ worth of constant logistical planning, two flights with toddlers and all their associated gear, a week with my two rolling, wrestling lion cubs in a house filled with breakable things, and about four times the number of outings we’re used to having per week. Not to mention the fact that we had a houseguest with us for the two weeks prior to our own trip.

So, I’m tired. And a little loopy. Consider this fair warning, friends: Do not expect much of me for the next week or so. (Except for blogging – see number 5, below.) Talk about Recovery Mondays… I think I’m in for a good recovery week, at least.

— 2 —

Still, the stress of this year’s vacation was nothing compared to last year’s. Then, the trip itself (to Minnesota, like this year’s) was more complicated. The boys were a year younger and required, accordingly, more gear than they do now. The trip was longer, and it included a trip-within-a-trip: We started and ended the visit in the Twin Cities, but also fit in a visit to a lake “up north,” where Brennan’s family had a little mini-reunion.

But the real kicker is that, at the last-minute, we decided to put our house on the market the very day we left for our trip. So not only did we have to plan for our vacation and our vacation-within-a-vacation, but we had to clean our house from top-to-bottom, purge nearly half of our things from it, stage our furniture, etc. for photos and viewings, and conduct negotiations with our realtors and the people whose home we were trying to buy. And we did all of this in about two weeks – possibly the most stressful weeks of my life. Only those leading up to our wedding came anywhere close. Quite literally, we had our first prospective buyer walk into the house as we were marshaling our luggage and boys out of it.

I can see the carpet! Evidence of some serious decluttering.

Do you see that glass-topped coffee table in the living room? Yeah, the glass was only for show. Normally we removed it for toddler safety and let the little ones use the table as a jungle gym. Same goes for the end tables. We had to stick those lovely lamps in the basement whenever the house wasn’t being shown or photographed.

See, Mom? No dirty clothes on the floor or anything!

If only our room always looked so restful…

— 3 —

But back to Minnesota Visit 2013. We had a very nice time, and for all my bleary-eyed exhaustion, it really was a low-key, relaxing kind of a vacation. We stayed with Brennan’s (very kind) aunt and uncle, whom our littlest guy dubbed “Mama” (Grandma) and “Dat-Dat.” We got to see Brennan’s mother and stepfather, every single one of Brennan’s eight siblings, many of their spouses, one of our boys’ cousins, a couple of Brennan’s cousins, and several of his aunts and uncles. We spent one afternoon at the Como Zoo and another at Minnehaha Falls – just a few hours at each: long enough to have a good time, short enough to avoid toddler/parent exhaustion. And we even took a break from it all in the middle of the week: I did laundry and unpacked/repacked our suitcases while the boys watched a couple of movies. I made a big ol’ mental note to repeat this little mid-week break in all future vacations. It was great to be able to relax the second half of our vacation, knowing that our stuff was under control and we’d all had a bit of rest.

— 4 —

I’ll probably write more about our trip later, but for now, here are a couple of my favorite photos:

Cool kids with their cool shades at Minnehaha Falls

Cute little passengers, aren’t they?

— 5 —

A week away from my computer left me with something of a traffic jam of ideas in my mind. Normally when I have an idea for something I’d like to write about, I type up a few thoughts on a Word document, to be revisited later. And I try to capitalize on the times when the words flow freely. Without my computer, this week was a little frustrating in that respect. As great as smartphones are for keeping up with Facebook and peeking in on my favorite blogs, they are not good outlets for the creative juices, as far as I’m concerned. So I picked up an old-fashioned pad of yellow legal paper and started to jot down some ideas. By the time we got home I had more than a dozen posts lined up. (Lined up – not written.) Which is great, except – When will I get the time to do all that writing?

Enter Jen Fulwiler’s “7 Posts in 7 Days: An Epic Blogging Challenge.” There’s still the whole “When will I get the time to do all that writing?” thing, but hey, the gauntlet has been thrown down and (surprisingly enough) I’m feeling up for a challenge right now. Sooo… check back in tomorrow! And the next day! And so forth – until next Monday, when I’ll finally be released from the bonds of Jen’s challenge. Or rather, from my own stubborn personality.

— 6 —

As a post-script of sorts, here’s an explanation of my “Monday Morning Miscellany” idea. I missed a few weeks of it due to the aforementioned houseguest and out-of-town trip, but now that we’re past those things, I’m going to try to get back into it. So I suppose I should amend my ending to number 5, above. I’m committing myself to posting through next Monday. And each Monday morning thereafter. (Cringe.) Happy week to all of you!

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 7)

July 12, 2013July 12, 2013 / Julie / 2 Comments

— 1 —

This week I opened a Twitter account. I don’t really know how it works and I’ve only put out three tweets, but still, if you want to follow me, you can click here. I think.

— 2 —

See this lovely thing? With the smashed glass and the partially-detached plastic cover? (Plastic which, by the way, was not attached as a preventative measure, but rather after the incident, to keep the glass from crumbling to pieces. And which has captured an unhelpful film of dust, obscuring the images on the screen even further than they were by the cracks.) Nearly three years after this beauty slipped out of my bag and onto the pavement, I finally replaced it this week. I can not express to you how excited I am.

However, the teensiest bit of me is a little disappointed (albeit chuckling at the same time), because apparently the loss of my cracked cell phone screen brings down my ‘cool’ factor. Or my “street cred” as this piece puts it. I heard a radio segment about this fad in which people leave their cell phone screens cracked as some sort of status symbol. Or worse, they purposefully crack them to achieve the look. I think I remember the segment also including something about plastic you can adhere to your screen to make it look like it’s cracked, but I just searched Amazon and couldn’t find it. So that probably means it doesn’t exist.

— 3 —

Between the new phone and the Twitter account and still getting used to WordPress, I feel like I’m experiencing something of a technology overload right now. This could go one of two ways: I could keep my nose to the screen for the following week and tackle the technology head-on. Or, I could take the more familiar path and scorn all instructions, manuals, and tutorials, forcing me to stick to the barest of basics. Hmm… decisions, decisions…

— 4 —

Yesterday I came across this piece by Elizabeth Scalia. It reminded me powerfully of the way I sometimes “wade through thigh-high mud,” as I put it in last week’s Quick Takes. I was not familiar with the concept of acedia, but I am so very familiar with the feeling. Elizabeth’s post lightened my load a little – this is a thing, with a name, that other people experience. Isn’t it a comfort to know you’re not alone? I need to learn a little more about acedia, so I’m better prepared to fight it next time.

— 5 —

A few days ago during a Diane Rehm Show discussion on Comprehensive Immigration Reform, one of the guests made a point that I found really illuminating. He said that the Democratic Party is a coalition-based party, while the Republican Party is based on ideology. Wow! What an idea! I think I had already sensed as much (and probably to everybody else who pays attention to politics, it’s old news) but for some reason, hearing it articulated was a big eye-opener for me. Of course he was talking about it in the context of immigration reform, but it plays out in so many other areas of public policy too. It’s an idea I’m going to be working through for a while…

— 6 —

My older son received the movie Cars for his birthday a few weeks ago. Surprisingly, it’s his little brother who has fallen in love with it. Every day, all day, he asks for “Moom! Moowee!” (“Moom” = car, I think because cars go “vroom.”) I’ve been giving in about once a day. The little guy (21 months old) gets so excited. He squeals and jumps up on the sofa and screams “BAST!” at all the cars whizzing by on the screen. The other day, my older son started to echo my sentiments on the subject, “You watch es too much. You watch da wacecars too much!” Good job, buddy.

“Yay! BAST!”

“Mommy, I cweaned up da famwy woom!”

— 7 —

Thank you to everyone who left such kind words for me here and on Facebook, regarding my wedding anniversary posts on Wednesday and Thursday. I haven’t felt so flattered in a long time. Thank you.

Now, go on and check out Jen for all the rest!

How We Met

July 11, 2013July 11, 2013 / Julie / 10 Comments

Grace of Camp Patton has been telling the story of how she met her husband and decided to turn it into a little “how we met” link-up. (So go check them out!) I have entirely too little time to be doing this right now, but…

Today is my wedding anniversary, and I did post this little piece yesterday in honor of my husband, and (it being just past midnight) I have just been drinking this glass of wine, and my husband did walk in with these lovely roses a few hours ago…

So, all the stars seem to be aligned. I can’t resist. Now is the time for me to write about how Brennan and I met. (In a quickish amount of time, hopefully.)

To put it most simply (and I already mentioned this in my earlier piece), we met on eHarmony. Brennan and I had both been single for quite a long time. He (as always) was very pragmatic in his decision to join – it was just no big deal. I, on the other hand, had anguished over whether to try eHarmony or something like it. I just couldn’t imagine having to tell my family that I’d met someone online. The horror.

Eventually, though, I got over myself and decided to give it a shot. (To give credit where it’s due, I only got over myself when a friend of mine, someone whom I admired, became engaged to a really wonderful man she’d met on eHarmony. Kathleen, I’m looking at you. Thank you.)

By this time, I was in my late twenties and I had almost always been single. I’d had a couple of very quick, not very meaningful relationships looong before and another that went on (and off) for a couple of years, but was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. More recently, I’d had a couple of guy friends who were maybe-more-than-friends (maybe?) but nothing ever seemed to progress. So I didn’t exactly have high hopes for this internet thing.

But, whaddy’a know? In the slew of guys I was matched with when I opened my account, there was this one who mentioned something about bees. Everybody else was saying how they liked to keep in shape or hang out with friends – one guy even went on and on about how much he loved his iPhone. But the bees… I was intrigued. We progressed through the million-and-one eHarmony steps (me waiting with baited breath each morning to see the response that would be waiting), until we finally spoke on the phone. And he was so nice and talking to him was so easy… it wasn’t long before we set our first date.

Brennan and I decided on the county fair – a fun place to walk around and see some sights; public enough for me to run away if I needed to. (I can be quite practical too, you know.) I did warn him, though: “The fair would be fun, but we’re liable to run into some of my family there. If you have a problem with that, we can go somewhere else.” But he didn’t – not at all. And it’s a good thing, because we did indeed run into some of my family – my great-uncle, a couple of my aunts, a few of my cousins… I think we hit ten of them in all.

But Brennan was such a great sport about it! And we had so much to talk about. It was easy and comfortable… and I was so happy. He was too; later he told me that he knew that very evening that I was the one for him. (Blush.)

Within the next couple of weeks, we went out a few more times, including one impromptu and very cozy weeknight date at a coffeehouse concert in my little city. The next day Brennan left for a family wedding back in his home state of Minnesota. Oh, how I missed him. I was trying not to call and bug him, but when I found out that I had the opportunity to go to a big, fancy dinner through my work – and I could bring a date – I had to call to see if he wanted to join me. He did – no question. When we went to said big, fancy dinner a couple of weeks later, Brennan introduced himself to our fellow guests as my boyfriend. It was hard for me to hide my excitement.

I won’t go on in any more detail. The basics are that a year later, we were engaged. Nine months after that, we were married. Eleven months later, we had our first child. After another fifteen months, we had our second. The time has FLOWN.

And today – exactly four years since we were married and just shy of six years since our first date – I am still amazed by how quickly my life changed. In June of 2007 I was 28 years old, long single, and (though yes, I was still hoping and trying to meet “the one”) just starting to come to terms with the idea that I might never marry. By August, my future husband knew that I was “the one” for him. Soon after, I knew it too.

The whole thing happened so easily and naturally and comfortably. (I think I might have typed the words “easy” or “easily” 13 times so far in this post.) After years of angsting over the whole business of meeting my hypothetical future husband, all of a sudden everything just fell into place. Like it was no big deal. How. Amazing. And what a blessing.

So… that is my own story. But maybe I can be so bold as to suggest that it might hold a little glimmer of hope for some of the long-single ladies out there. I’m not going to tell you “Don’t worry; it will happen.” (Because I hated when people told me that: They didn’t know what the heck would or wouldn’t happen in my life.) But I will tell you that you just never know. Whatever your life ends up looking like later, it will most definitely be different from how it looks right now. You just never know; change could happen soon. And it could happen quickly.

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!

These Walls

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

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