Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
First off, the boob situation. I’m not going to go into huge detail about this, but suffice it to say that I thought all the rumors were untrue and that somehow the way of all womanhood (and the way of gravity) would not apply to me. I was wrong. This old post from my friend Amy’s blog keeps coming to mind. (sigh.)
Next, I noticed that my skin was breaking out more. Stupid hormones.
Third, my restless legs have returned. I suffered for years from Restless Leg Syndrome (aren’t you glad the pharmaceutical companies finally gave us a name for it?) but noticed at some point during the last year that I hadn’t experienced it lately--like since giving birth. This might be a stretch, but I know muscle aches are sometimes caused by lactic acid pooling in the muscles, and my lactose has been focused elsewhere for the past year. Sound plausible?
On top of it all, I've just plain felt like crap half the time for the past few weeks.
Then again, the only baby weight I'm carrying around goes to day care three days a week, so maybe I'll just channel what you're probably thinking right now and shut up about it.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
It is my word of choice whenever I am getting overwhelmed by the clutter in our house, when I am frustrated by the cracks in the sink where mildew breeds or the gap in the back door through which creepy-crawlies enter, or in those fleeting moments when I think my mom might be right and I need to clean more.
But I'm always aware (or at least I try to be) how good I have it compared to the conditions in which many people live, both around the world and even in America.
And thanks to the Compassion Bloggers who were recently in Kenya, I feel like I have now seen real squalor, and I want to never again make light of those impoverished conditions by likening my palatial abode to the homes of mud and tin lining streets of sewage in places like the Mathare Valley--a slum near Nairobi.
I cannot imagine this being my neighborhood. As one blogger on the trip said "There wasn't just sewage in the streets. The streets were sewage." Kristen Welch (with whose permission I use these photos) described it as a hell hole--dark and oppressive, dangerous, sick, rank, the unliveable "home" of countless orphans, plagued with horrific violence, drug use, exploitation, and alcoholism. Read her full post from that day here. I may complain of a little dirt in my home. These homes are made of dirt. The teenage boy who lives in this home (about the size of a walk-in closet) has been an orphan for ten years. He cares for his younger brother, walks an hour and a half to school, and does his homework by the light of a kerosene lamp. The Compassion project in this slum gave him a job and is helping him to have a better future. Kristen described the project as a haven of safety and hope amidst these horrid conditions. It was amazing to follow Kristen's journey in Kenya and see how child sponsorship through organizations like Compassion and WorldVision really does make a difference in these children's lives. Only $38 a month can give these kids life, health, education, and hope.
I try not to take what I have for granted. Envy is a real temptation for me as I see people (often via the blog-world) with bigger homes than me, nicer furniture and decor, or at least homes they have chosen for themselves. I battle that temptation and desperately need reminding that, though no virtue of my own, I was born into a life where I've always had more than enough. Through no fault of their own, billions were born into lives of poverty.
I don't know what real squalor is.
But I know my home is not it.
(I hope my mom remembers that next time she visits. )
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
My Grandpa died yesterday at the age of 95 1/2. I didn't want him to go.
That's what I keep saying, through the tears. I know there should be a "yet" on that statement, since he had to go sometime, and given his age, probably sometime soon, but I just wasn't ready for him to go.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Monday 3/15: Kate has fun playing on our bed, but her penchant for flinging her body forward with little warning requires a close watch from Mommy and Daddy. She giggled like crazy falling back on our pillows.Tuesday 3/16: I have been bizarrely excited about filling out the census form. So, dork that I am, I was very excited to see that it arrived!! Naturally, I filled it out that very night and sent it back the next day. After all, "they can't move forward till we send it back"! ;0)
If you're just visiting for Project Life Tuesday, I recently posted pics of how I'm using the Becky Higgins Project Life kit even though I'm not scrapping all 365 photos. Check it out here!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
I've struggled for over a month on Kate's birthday party pages. They're difficult because we took so many pictures, and even with them narrowed way down, there were still a lot of photos I wanted to work in. Picking the papers were easy, though, since they were part of the same coordinated package of papers I used to make the invitations, flag banners, party hat, etc. for the party. I made a little miniature version of the flag banner for the page. I love that little element, though the spread is kind of crazy, overall. And that's not even all the birthday pictures I scrapbooked--there are other pages with messy-face cake pictures, a family photo and letter to Kate, etc.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
It's a forced choice between two things, neither of which a parent would wish for their child. No one wants to see their child in pain--physical, emotional, or otherwise--but if, hypothetically, the only alternative was for my child to cause other children pain, I would rather her be the innocent victim. To me, it seems to be a basic choice about the character you hope your child will possess.
After clicking “bullied,” I was really surprised to see that 59% had said they would rather their child be the bully. 41% said “bullied."
I suppose that a lot of parents cringe so strongly at the thought of their child being victimized, they would rather their child be strong and confident "to a fault" and simply have to teach them to reign it in and be nicer to others--as if it were that simple. Kids who bully often have very low self-esteem, and a whole host of other issues causing them to act out.
It would break my heart to know Kate was getting teased or picked on, but I would talk her through it, help her be strong, and take what action was necessary through her teacher, etc. It would be sad and difficult, but I would much prefer that to rehabilitating an angry child lacking empathy for others. What do you think?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Green has long been my favorite color, minus about a ten-year hiatus because I was a foolish and impressionable child. Basically, my kindergarten best friend told me that green shouldn't be my favorite color "because green is the color of slime." (This was in the days of "You Can't Do That On Television.")
So, my favorite color became pink.
Anyway, I realized today that I really love seeing green everywhere. Even traffic lights and road signs gained a new lustre. I loved walking Kate into day care and seeing all the little kids and teachers wearing their green, and was sincerely disappointed that not as many adults care about this. I gave our business manager a string of shamrock mardi-gras beads I had around, so he wouldn't get pinched. Sadly, I did not have enough beads for all the party-poopers among my colleagues. They informed me that green suits my coloring while it makes them look like, well, slime.