Rob was out with a friend today. A nice lunch.
Very nice.
The friend bit into his hamburger and THERE WAS A PUBIC HAIR IN THE BURGER. Not just any hair. A pubic hair.
(Shiver in revolted disgust.)
Yes, folks, this is true.
Said friend got his platter free, and a dessert! Woo Hoo. Rob continued to eat, apparently, and did not get a free meal for the vicarious trauma he suffered as a result of seeing his friend with pubic hair between his teeth.
I can't imagine what I would do if that was my restaurant.
I think I would do more than a free burger and dessert.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
44
I've been trying to write a blog about my 44th birthday since well before my 44th birthday.
Babies. They take up a lot of your spare time.
Anyway, I feel pretty happy and content at 44. Our sons are in the process of launching, which is great fun to watch. Our dog is getting a grey muzzle and continues to be a source of mirth. Our marriage is better than ever. We are s-l-o-w-l-y picking away at things that need to be done in our home. I am in decent shape though I would like to be more disciplined at working out.
I can't wait to take Harmony to work on the bike. It seems the only way I can actually get exercise is to make it part of how I get around in a day.
And then there is work. Wow. Work has been good. We just climbed the last mountain of the past few months.
First there was a broken commercial dishwasher and no money to get a new one.
Miraculous events beyond my control resulted in a new dishwasher plus extra money.
Then there was a break in.
Miraculous events beyond my control resulted in a 100-fold return on books and toys. We went from planning a wee book corner with a chair to having a mini community library with over 4000 books and more to replenish the shelves when those ones start depleting.
Then Sandy died.
We miss him.
Then we planned an event for 150 elementary and high school students.
No miraculous events, but we survived. Perhaps there is a miracle in that.
Anyway, after all that, I'm going to take some time to coast. I always find myself wanting to plan the next thing. In this case, I'd love to plan for a new kitchen that would allow us to do more teaching and more catering. But, as my wise board member and friend said, 'wait for the strategic planning.'
That is in April. It would be good, smart, wise to wait.
Babies. They take up a lot of your spare time.
Anyway, I feel pretty happy and content at 44. Our sons are in the process of launching, which is great fun to watch. Our dog is getting a grey muzzle and continues to be a source of mirth. Our marriage is better than ever. We are s-l-o-w-l-y picking away at things that need to be done in our home. I am in decent shape though I would like to be more disciplined at working out.
I can't wait to take Harmony to work on the bike. It seems the only way I can actually get exercise is to make it part of how I get around in a day.
And then there is work. Wow. Work has been good. We just climbed the last mountain of the past few months.
First there was a broken commercial dishwasher and no money to get a new one.
Miraculous events beyond my control resulted in a new dishwasher plus extra money.
Then there was a break in.
Miraculous events beyond my control resulted in a 100-fold return on books and toys. We went from planning a wee book corner with a chair to having a mini community library with over 4000 books and more to replenish the shelves when those ones start depleting.
Then Sandy died.
We miss him.
Then we planned an event for 150 elementary and high school students.
No miraculous events, but we survived. Perhaps there is a miracle in that.
Anyway, after all that, I'm going to take some time to coast. I always find myself wanting to plan the next thing. In this case, I'd love to plan for a new kitchen that would allow us to do more teaching and more catering. But, as my wise board member and friend said, 'wait for the strategic planning.'
That is in April. It would be good, smart, wise to wait.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Addendum
Having said all that, I am going to go INSANE if Harmony keeps waking up at night.
She was such a good early sleeper, and has gone for long periods of time without waking. But lately, whenever she sleeps upstairs in her little attic space, she wakes. Not when she has a sleep over at Auntie Linda's, not when she's at Kristen's. Just when she's in her own bed.
I don't know what to do! It's exhausting.
How do I work full time and have a life and get up every night with a baby? To be fair, Rob does his share, but no matter who gets up with her, we both wake up.
She was such a good early sleeper, and has gone for long periods of time without waking. But lately, whenever she sleeps upstairs in her little attic space, she wakes. Not when she has a sleep over at Auntie Linda's, not when she's at Kristen's. Just when she's in her own bed.
I don't know what to do! It's exhausting.
How do I work full time and have a life and get up every night with a baby? To be fair, Rob does his share, but no matter who gets up with her, we both wake up.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Thoughts on babies, birthing and life in general
I would never have imagined that I would approach my 44th birthday with a baby in tow.
Sometime during transition, almost 16 years ago, I grabbed Rob by the shoulders and said, "I am never doing this again."
And I didn't. Birth again, that is.
Over the years, we thought about adoption and fostering from time to time, but the time never seemed right, or ripe, depending on how you think of such things, and so we waited. Once Micah reached the age of 10, I figured that although we had been open to the idea, it wasn't something the universe held in store for us. We were supposed to have our two sweet boys, and other babies would come through those we loved and knew already. We would be auntie and uncle, godparents, guardians and maybe some day Oma and Opa.
And then Harmony dropped in. With about 24 hours warning. I mean, we knew she was coming; we knew her parents, but we didn't know that we would have such a large part in raising her, at least for her early months. We still don't know how long our present situation will last, all we know is that for now we get to love her every day.
I feel simultaneously old and young with her: My knees creak when I walk up the stairs to get her up from her nap. Some days I feel arthritis in my fingers. Today I was researching how soon I could hook up a bike trailer and take her for a ride. When young moms talk about good deals and where diapers might be on sale, I listen for good first hand information. Sometimes I feel kind of ridiculous. I am certainly not as old as Sara when she gave birth to Isaac, but it does make me laugh. I am too old to be a Mama.
Harmony calls us Papa and Mimi. Or at least she will, when she's old enough to talk.
What is most interesting to me is that when Rob and I first married, I wondered whether we would ever have our 'own' children. I thought the world was over populated, that there were so many unwanted children that we should just take care of them, that I was incredibly fulfilled working with (other people's) teenagers that I didn't need any children of my own.
And then Rob had cancer and we were told it might result in no chance for children, ever.
Kinda realized I wanted kids after that. Thought that we should quit at two. Felt good about that. Still wanted to care for other people's kids. Figured it would never happen after the first 10 years passed by with no nudging in sight.
Interesting thing, God's timing. Long after I thought that dream had died, there came Harmony. And she came, not in the way I was expecting, but completely differently. We won't adopt her, I believe her parents will eventually gain custody, she will never be mine.
But this time we have, it is precious. She knows she is loved. She expects love. She expects that each person she sees will love her and be interested in her funny little sounds and her show-offy head shake. She expects that if her diaper is dirty, someone will come, and it better be soon, to take it off. She expects a warm bath and the chance to kick. She expects new and interesting toys, and she expects a lot of attention. She has two big brothers after all. She also has a Mom and a Dad and a Mimi and a Papa and a whole bunch of cousins.
The other day I was holding her at church and she got really animated and excited. I looked up and there was Ben. She mostly just sees him on Monday nights, and he's busy with his own kids, but Harmony recognized him as one of her own.
That is part of the sweetness of life.
Sometime during transition, almost 16 years ago, I grabbed Rob by the shoulders and said, "I am never doing this again."
And I didn't. Birth again, that is.
Over the years, we thought about adoption and fostering from time to time, but the time never seemed right, or ripe, depending on how you think of such things, and so we waited. Once Micah reached the age of 10, I figured that although we had been open to the idea, it wasn't something the universe held in store for us. We were supposed to have our two sweet boys, and other babies would come through those we loved and knew already. We would be auntie and uncle, godparents, guardians and maybe some day Oma and Opa.
And then Harmony dropped in. With about 24 hours warning. I mean, we knew she was coming; we knew her parents, but we didn't know that we would have such a large part in raising her, at least for her early months. We still don't know how long our present situation will last, all we know is that for now we get to love her every day.
I feel simultaneously old and young with her: My knees creak when I walk up the stairs to get her up from her nap. Some days I feel arthritis in my fingers. Today I was researching how soon I could hook up a bike trailer and take her for a ride. When young moms talk about good deals and where diapers might be on sale, I listen for good first hand information. Sometimes I feel kind of ridiculous. I am certainly not as old as Sara when she gave birth to Isaac, but it does make me laugh. I am too old to be a Mama.
Harmony calls us Papa and Mimi. Or at least she will, when she's old enough to talk.
What is most interesting to me is that when Rob and I first married, I wondered whether we would ever have our 'own' children. I thought the world was over populated, that there were so many unwanted children that we should just take care of them, that I was incredibly fulfilled working with (other people's) teenagers that I didn't need any children of my own.
And then Rob had cancer and we were told it might result in no chance for children, ever.
Kinda realized I wanted kids after that. Thought that we should quit at two. Felt good about that. Still wanted to care for other people's kids. Figured it would never happen after the first 10 years passed by with no nudging in sight.
Interesting thing, God's timing. Long after I thought that dream had died, there came Harmony. And she came, not in the way I was expecting, but completely differently. We won't adopt her, I believe her parents will eventually gain custody, she will never be mine.
But this time we have, it is precious. She knows she is loved. She expects love. She expects that each person she sees will love her and be interested in her funny little sounds and her show-offy head shake. She expects that if her diaper is dirty, someone will come, and it better be soon, to take it off. She expects a warm bath and the chance to kick. She expects new and interesting toys, and she expects a lot of attention. She has two big brothers after all. She also has a Mom and a Dad and a Mimi and a Papa and a whole bunch of cousins.
The other day I was holding her at church and she got really animated and excited. I looked up and there was Ben. She mostly just sees him on Monday nights, and he's busy with his own kids, but Harmony recognized him as one of her own.
That is part of the sweetness of life.
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
Not much going on...
It's a quiet night for me here at home now that Harmony is finally asleep and has stopped crying.
Wow. She had a hard time. An over stimulated day led to this veteran of parenthood's most difficult evening.
I am a little overstimulated, too. We did some educational activities with a school today, and I have to say that I have never encountered such an unpleasant group of high school students in my life. And working with teenagers used to be my job.
Not all of them were unpleasant, and I have to say that there were too many of them and it was after lunch and some of them had eaten and were probably carb filled and tired, and others had not eaten and so were hungry, but really.
I came home thankful for my boys who have learned to be polite even if they need a sandwich. Or have just eaten one. And may I say I came home to a nice neat house because Joey cleans up every Tuesday?
Joy. Even after an over stimulating kind of day.
Wow. She had a hard time. An over stimulated day led to this veteran of parenthood's most difficult evening.
I am a little overstimulated, too. We did some educational activities with a school today, and I have to say that I have never encountered such an unpleasant group of high school students in my life. And working with teenagers used to be my job.
Not all of them were unpleasant, and I have to say that there were too many of them and it was after lunch and some of them had eaten and were probably carb filled and tired, and others had not eaten and so were hungry, but really.
I came home thankful for my boys who have learned to be polite even if they need a sandwich. Or have just eaten one. And may I say I came home to a nice neat house because Joey cleans up every Tuesday?
Joy. Even after an over stimulating kind of day.
Sunday, February 05, 2012
Got 5.7 minutes?
I keep listening to Shane Koyczan and the Short Story Long. Especially the song I linked you to, This is my Voice.
You see, he is coming to Winnipeg on March 31 and we bought tickets to see him, and by the time he comes here, I am hoping I will be able to get through the whole piece without crying.
If you've never heard of him, you might remember that he performed in the Vancouver Olympics opening ceremonies.
If you're not a link clicker, then here's a few lyrics to whet your appetite.
You see, he is coming to Winnipeg on March 31 and we bought tickets to see him, and by the time he comes here, I am hoping I will be able to get through the whole piece without crying.
If you've never heard of him, you might remember that he performed in the Vancouver Olympics opening ceremonies.
If you're not a link clicker, then here's a few lyrics to whet your appetite.
this is my voice, there are many like it, but this one is mine.
and this time it’s for the sons and daughters
who watch their mothers and fathers drown in shallow waters while
panning for the “American dream” in the polluted creek called the main street.
This is for the homeless people sleeping on steam vents,
making makeshift tents out of cardboard and old trash,
trying to catch 40 winks in between the crash of car wrecks
risking their necks by surviving another day so that they can starve
so that famine can carve their body into a corpse before their heart stops beating
so that men in a boardroom meeting
can make it harder for them to get welfare, health care,
it’s no wonder some of them pawn off their own wheelchair
and every time I walk ‘em by, I can’t help but feel at fault,
that maybe I didn’t search myself hard enough
for the control alt “s” so that I could save the world.
Or at least this little girl curled up into a ball
I’ve spent most of my life throwing compassion back like a fish that’s too small.
Gotta cash in my reality checks. drop her some spare fantasies
cause I’ve got three separate degrees from different universities,
but the most valuable thing I ever learned
was to believe people when they say “Please.”
This is my voice, there are many like it, but this one is mine.
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