Mamas, don't let your babies be boys

I realize this might be too late for some of y'all, but for the rest-- for that portion of the reading audience that still has a chance-- let me offer you this advice.

As much as it depends on you, try to have daughters. OK? Because daughters talk to you. And then you'll never find yourself in the position of having to get information about your son from the mother of his girlfriend, because her daughter talks to her.

It starts around age 14. That's when sons realize that as far as acceptable people are concerned, you as a mother are pretty much dog meat. Pond scum. Toad poop.

Oh there's the occasional burst of chatter that may come at you out of left field, but it usually has to do with their homework demands or the NFL draft, their dad's unfairness or their need for new socks. But for the stuff that really matters -- the stuff you care about and want to know about? Like feelings, relationships, hopes and dreams? Zip. Silence. You are Persona Non Grata Numero Uno. Even if -- no, ESPECIALLY if you ask. The audacity! The nerve! The annoyance that is maternal questioning!

And it won't matter a bit that you have not stopped loving them and being interested in their lives and that you feel, well, invested somewhat. Or that you are still expected to wash their boxers and bake them cookies and buy Gatorade and ensure that they never EVER run out of milk. Because heaven help us-- that would be a tragedy of the most extreme level.

It might be gratifying when they receive accolades for their football playing, and it might be handy to have help carrying in the groceries. But if you want someone to let you into their lives?

You gotta go with a girl. Seriously.

Need help -- reely, I do

This is my kitchen phone.



I love my kitchen phone. It's red, and it makes me happy. Plus it never has a dead battery. It never gets misplaced. It works when the electricity is out. And I love to see the confused looks on the faces of my kids' friends when they ask to use the phone and I point to it. Most of them have never dialed a phone before.

I don't like my kitchen phone's cord, however. This is a portion of the cord.

Its only redeeming value is that it's long, and I can reach all the way to the stove with it -- or into the dining room. But it is always tangled, always under foot, always getting caught in these cupboard doors. Don't look at the cupboard doors, by the way, because they haven't been painted in about seventeen years and they're nasty.

This is a leash of Sadie's.

I don't like this leash, but I do like the reeling function of it. You can pull the leash out (or Sadie can), and it reels right back in. My vacuum cleaner has a cord reeler. When I'm done vacuuming, I push a little button and the cord slurps right back in. My hair dryer has a cord reeler. When I'm done drying my hair, I push a button and the cord just zooooops right back in.

So here's what I've been thinking. I need a phone cord reeler. And for the first time in my life, my amazing Fix-It Hubby has come up empty-handed. He ordered a little gadget from eBay but it just didn't have the zooopy slurpiness I require in a phone cord reeler. And it made the answering machine fall off, and it just was generally unsatisfactory in about eleven different ways.

He is claiming that what I need can't be accomplished, even though I have pointed to the dog leash, vacuum cleaner, and hair dryer as examples of Reel Perfection in motion.

I don't get it. I don't feel like my reel needs are out of line. It seems to me to be a matter of finding or creating a simple machine with reely capabilities.

I'm open to suggestions.

a different kind of pioneer woman

I've had childbirth on my mind lately. OK, I have childbirth on my mind a lot. But especially recently, because of our newest grandbaby's upcoming arrival, and because of Corie's talk of considering pursuing becoming (how many -ing words can I string together?) a childbirth instructor. I've had birth on the brain.

When I was expecting Corie (27 years ago, almost - yikes) we were living in Germany, obviously far from my mom and home. I wrote her a letter full of my concerns and questions about giving birth.

Growing up, I had only ever heard my mom say positive things about her birth experiences. I was 10 when my brother was born (my first sibling), and then 12 with my sister (I was 43 when my youngest sister was born, but that's a whole different story for another time). So I remember well the calmness and joy my mom expressed when she talked about labor and delivery. She had always been very open and honest with me. I knew I could ask her anything. That in itself, I realized later, was a gift not every young girl is given.

I saved the letter my mom wrote in response, and just got it out of Corie's baby book the other day. Re-reading it now, I am amazed that she demonstrated such a radical belief that birth was a natural, un-fearful event. She wrote of how important it was to relax, and trust that your body was working the way God designed it to work. She wrote of how difficult it was for her, when I was born especially (in 1958), to find a doctor who didn't pooh-pooh her desire to give birth without drugs. She talked about wanting the baby to have a peaceful entry into the world, and how she wanted to be awake and participating. She wrote that the hard contractions didn't bother her because she knew the worst was nearly over. "...It really is enjoyable and exciting because each contraction means the baby is nearer to being born."

She never took a childbirth class. She'd never even heard of Dr. Bradley. Lamaze wasn't an option. But she said that HER mom had given birth (at home) naturally, and that it never crossed her mind that she wouldn't be able to. She just had the courage to pursue what she believed in her heart was right.

Then she wrote this about the way she felt after each birth:

"...Like THIS was what life is all about. I wept with happiness as each of you were born and laid on my tummy...such an outpouring of a feeling of mother love and utmost contentment and happiness! As you each curled your little hand around my finger the first time, the whole effort was worth it. I wanted nothing else at that moment but to look and look and touch and love you until you grew up. It never leaves -- that feeling of mother love. It lasts forever -- through all the spats and hard times and misunderstandings and changes and distances -- it's always there. ..... I would go through MUCH MORE pain than I had, just to experience it again."

I realized how blessed I am. When I had my babies I didn't have to overcome fear and negative perceptions of the horror of birth. When I was teaching childbirth classes, I wasn't just teaching "The Bradley Method," I was passing on my mom's confidence and faith in the process.

My mom has been a role model to me in so many ways. Her love of reading, her joy in her children, her selfless giving to her family. I'm grateful that she blazed the trail that I've been allowed to follow.

I love you, Mommy.

no days like snow days

I stayed up way too late last night reading*, and as I was finally, reluctantly, going to sleep I could hear the snow and wind outside just buffeting our house. It sounded ferocious, and I couldn't help but hope that our kitty was snuggled up in her blankets in the garage.

(This is the same amazing cat who survived all last winter when we thought she was lost and gone forever, dreadful sorry Clementine. She's gotta be 13?? years old?? but she's still hanging in there. )

There are no sweeter words on a brutally cold winter morning than, "school's cancelled today." I took full advantage of the opportunity to sleep in. Ahhhh...

I love lounging luxuriously with my kids when it's a snow day. Just lolling around in blankets, and having a pancake brunch. And the bonus is -- I don't have to leave the house to go pick anyone up. I did have that built-in alarm go off right around 3:15, but I was just as relieved to shut that one off as I had been this morning.

It's nice for Dan, too, who is missing school this week due to a particularly evil flu virus he brought home from the winter youth retreat. His temp on Monday was 104.7! I can't remember a higher temperature ever, with any of my kids. There was that one Christmas we bought him the riding-on police motorcycle when he was so sick, but I don't think it was higher than 104. We're hoping the rest of us will be spared. Pass the echinacea and orange juice!

*"World Without End" is the sequel to "Pillars of the Earth" and it's every bit as riveting...and long. But every time I read/say/think the words "world without end" I hear in my head "Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost. As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be. World without end, Amen. Amen."

works for me

Well, the day might have begun by freaking me out, but it has ended in a most satisfactory manner.

Here is my recipe for calming new-addition-related stress:

• go to the newly opened (10 minutes from my house) Panera Bread to have lunch with Annie
  

• take my kids to the mall to buy jeans for them...find a pair of long-wished-for trouser jeans for myself-- marked down 75% at JCPenney (bask in the certainty of just how much Stacy and Clinton would approve)

• settle in to read my favorite blogs while munching on Wheat Thins Toasted Chips (buy one bag, get one free at Meijer), sliced swiss cheese, a glass of red wine, and several pieces of Dove dark chocolate from my secret stash in the computer desk drawer

• take a load of freshly washed, deliciously scented baby clothes out of the dryer...fold them while reveling in their intoxicating softness, and imagining the time in the not too distant future when a small tiny person will be wearing them! Smile and sigh contentedly.
  

• Decide to turn in early--not to sleep, but to read "World Without End"-- knowing that hubby has the bed pre-warmed

Go ahead, Mr. Backhoe Man. Hit me with your best shot. I've got an arsenal not to be trifled with.

oh my goodness oh my dear sassafras and ginger beer

You know how sometimes even though you realize something is going to happen, it still catches you off guard when it happens?

We have known that my mom's condition was eventually going to require having her move in with us for some time now. At Christmas we met with my brother and sister and discussed that it was probably going to be sooner than later. Then we met with a builder and he drew up some plans for an addition on our house to accommodate an extra room for her. And apparently he went ahead with getting the plans approved by the township and got the building permit and all that.

I can't imagine why, then, it still seemed like a distant, remote, future ,theoretical possibility in my head.

Until this morning.

When the backhoe arrived.


And all of a sudden it was like HOLY COW! THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE DIGGING UP MY YARD! WHAT THE HECK!
Just this morning I enjoyed watching five deer outside my kitchen window as they stood at the edge of the woods. Now this is what I see out my kitchen window -- a backhoe, a dude with a big stick, and a can of fluorescent paint:



I think somehow all this time I was going ahead and giving assent to this project with the understanding that I would be assuming the eventual role of full-time caretaker for my mom. And surely somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness must have been the glimmer of an idea that some disruption may occur. But I never really fully embraced the reality of it until this morning.

And now I'm terrified. Because now there's no denying that ohmygoodnessthisreallyishappening.

Of course she has no idea. And we're just hoping that by the time she does in fact need to move in, the addition will be ready for her. At the rate that things seem to be progressing this morning, that shouldn't be a problem.

Back when my kids were little --back when I had only three kids -- and my parents were still married and living in Indiana together, we used to do this thing called "kid days." My kids would go stay with my mom and dad for a week and the kids ruled. Whatever they wanted to eat, she'd get for them. Whatever they wanted to do, she'd do with them. It was glorious for them, and glorious for me, because once it coincided with Jim being away on reserve duty and I got a week to MY OWN HEAVENLY SELF. Oh sweet merciful wonderfulness! I started the week off by cleaning the house from top to bottom, and then IT STAYED THAT WAY. I drove around with no car seat in my car and I pretended that I was completely footloose. ~~sigh~~ the memories...

This week my mom is in Nashville with my sister and I keep getting the same sensation. I keep thinking I should call her, stop in to check up on her, make sure she's eating, offer to take her to the grocery store... but then I remember (!!) and it feels strange.

Isn't it funny how life goes in circles? The emotions are the same --but the characters change.

the other side of the world

Here are some shots from the Korea trip just to see if I can figure out how to post them. This was the first restaurant Jim and I ventured into, the first day we were there. We had no idea what to order or what to do with the bowls of food that came. They cooked the meat right there at the table on a grill over coals...cool. Please don't ask me what all the food items are, because I honestly still don't know. I can tell you that the bowl in the front, at the far right, that looks like lasagna, is that infamous Korean delicacy, kim chi. Jim ate it. I didn't. Yet.





This is called Bi Bim Bap. I did eat this. Most of it. But not those things that look so very much like earthworms. I really wanted to convince myself that they couldn't be earthworms, that they would be entirely safe to eat. But everything about them looked exactly like earthworms to me, (don't they to you?) and I couldn't overcome my aversion.


Jim is so brave. Look at him about to eat that "couldn't-possibly-be-a-worm" thing.

What HE was concerned with was this particle of some vegetable that was translucent and unidentifiable. He suspected and accused it of being tofu, which it clearly wasn't. I recognize, endorse, and accept tofu. But he was afraid to eat it, just in case. I asked him if he'd rather eat worms than tofu and he said he would. Can you imagine?

The chopsticks were metal, too, which made them more difficult to manipulate. He's a pro. I'm wondering if he's been to Korea before..... hmmm.

I really thought I should have purchased this classic Korean attire to speak in Friday night, but Jim said maybe next time.


I would love to show you pictures of the group we spoke to, but there were military personnel there who were in such a critical and sensitive assignment that they asked not to be photographed. No joke. These people take their mission seriously. But we met some wonderful people and were honored to have that time to share with them.

Here we are at another Korean restaurant on Saturday night, after the seminar. Look! You can tell we're feeling much more confident now with the food and the chopsticks because we've been in the country for three days. I ate all kinds of stuff you'd never believe. Even quail eggs and some kind of an omelet-looking deal that had squid in it. True fact.


They just kept bringing bowls out until there was no more room at the table for one more bowl. I'm still not really sure I want to know what they all were. I did take a teeny bite of kim chi. I wish I could tell you that it was surprisingly tasty and delightful, but that would be a lie.

We did not eat here, in spite of the fact that it's Jim's most favorite restaurant. (can you see that it's an Outback?) We saw about 5 of them in downtown Seoul. But we do have scruples. Nor did we eat at McDonald's or Burger King, even though we could have, because we saw both. And a 7-11. But we were torn, because we wanted to try authentic Korean fare. Just not this


Or this

Or this, tempting as it was

But our time wasn't entirely spent thinking about and eating food. We also shopped!


Jim was a good sport, and said he felt like he was spending Monopoly money, because the Korean "won" is like 1000 to the dollar. So we'd ask how much something was and they'd say "seven thousand".. we were such big spenders, throwing thousands around like that.
By the way, I'm realizing that my camera's date didn't get set ahead to accurately reflect the Korean date. Not that that's important. Just kind of interesting to see.


Our last day before flying home we were able to visit the DMZ -- the border of North and South Korea.


I have to say that that was a slightly scary thing for me. They cautioned us that we would be watched by the North Korean soldiers, and we should avoid gesturing to them or making any attempt to communicate with them verbally or nonverbally. We went into one building that was built on the border -- half of it was in North Korea and half of it was in South Korea. When we went in, the door to the North Korea side was locked, but we were able to cross to that side of the room. While we were in there, we were being guarded by South Korean soldiers and US soldiers who told us that our conversation was being monitored by the North Koreans. What an experience!

So cool to find out that Pam had prayed for our upgrade to business class for the flight! Talk about an immediate, specific answer to prayer! Wow. Now that I know her prayers have that kind of clout, you can bet with whom I'll be sharing my prayer requests from now on.

looming things

Having the Korea trip behind me is a huge relief. It goes without saying that I worried about it probably more than I should have. If someone asked me to go again next month, I'd be happy to...just as long as I didn't have to sit in coach.

The hand of the Lord was upon us when we got to the Seoul airport -- there's no two ways about it. The friendly United agent said, "today you get a free upgrade to business class." We still can't come up with any reason for it -- we just know it was exactly what Jim needed to recuperate from his cream cheese laxative/ ipecac misfortune. The bummer of the deal was that the upgrade was for the flight from Seoul to Tokyo, and not the flight from Tokyo to Chicago. But we were soaking in luxury for those two hours, baby. To the point that we really didn't even want to get off the plane when we landed.

So being home with that whole big thing behind me should leave me just serene and blissful.

You'd think.

But because this is me, I've got four or seven things just waiting in the wings -- ready to slip right into the role of The New Big Stresser.

Vying for the title currently are:

• putting away the last remnants of the Christmas plates, cups and such. I've been telling myself that the snowmen can stay up since it's still winter, but I really can't make a case for the red and green Waechtersbach mugs with the Santas and Christmas trees on them. I suppose I could pretend that we're waiting until the lunar new year, like they do in Korea.
  
• trying to get caught up on all the blogs I missed this past week. I am in pretty severe Pioneer Woman withdrawal right about now, but it's overwhelming thinking about how long it would take me to get up to date on her, Big Mama and Boo Mama.
  
• The Scrapbook. Which I've been shoving to the back burner since fall. First it was football season that I had to get past, then the holidays, then the marriage seminar, and now.....
• Our newest grandbaby, who is permitted to come any time now, just as soon as the baby clothes are washed, which makes me think of...
• the mountains of laundry that are decorating my usually meticulous laundry room.

So ugh.

two-fer Tuesday

We're home. And I'm in some kind of strange, surreal time warp thing. Even though I've been up and traveling for 27-ish hours, with only intermittent airplane naps, I'm still awake.

This traveling thing just blows my mind. I got up on Tuesday morning and spent the day getting from our hotel in Seoul to the Tokyo airport, where I watched the sun go down around 6:00 in the evening. Then I got on a plane bound for Chicago, and arrived at 3:30 in the afternoon -- TUESDAY afternoon. I sat at O'Hare and watched the sun go down while waiting to get on the last leg of the journey home. (play Twilight Zone music here).

I have way too much to record about the trip, the seminar, the great people we met there, the interesting foods we ate, Jim's food poisoning (NOT from kim chi or quail eggs or sushi or anything weird, but from a cream cheese bagel at the hotel coffee shop -- go figure), and how heavenly the idea of my very own bed is starting to seem.

So I think I'll call it a day. Or two.

I think I'll try this instead

I once listed all the good things I did over the past year,
and then turned them into resolution form and backdated them.
That was a good feeling.


-Robert Fulghum

blog shopping

I've been feeling the move coming for a while now, but I haven't known how to proceed. I started a blog on xanga a long time ago, and it has been a good friend, but I believe we've begun to part ways. We don't share the same dreams for our future.

I'm ready to take the next step, but I don't know which direction. So please be patient with me, faithful readers, while I navigate these unfamiliar waters. I know I'll need help along the way.