Somebody or Nobody?

So anyway...

While she was cutting my hair, the beautician asked me what I do for work. When I told her that I stay home with my kids she paused, looked at me in the mirror and hesitantly started asking how I feel about that. I sort of cut her off (there's that phrase again) and said, "Oh yes, it's by choice! I love it." She gave a sort of half-believing, "O-kaaay."

Then I stupidly added that I do some writing from home sometimes, but I am able to be home with my kids full time.

This all reminded me of a bunch of similar experiences I've had here in Poland. In this country mothers just don't stay home with their kids. All kids attend preschool and often nursery, though many kids stay with their grandparents during the day until they are 3 years old (old enough for preschool).

In one of the English discussion classes I taught years ago I was very pleasantly surprised when, during introductions, one young woman said that she stayed home with her two year-old little girl. I jumped right on that! The first mother I'd ever met here who stayed home! I was obviously delighted and I asked her, "How do you like being at home?", excited to have something so important in common with another mother, happy to have met someone that maybe knew the value of --or at least had experienced the joy of-- spending all day working, playing and eating with your child. Someone who might really understand me.

She suddenly got a crazed look in her eye and said, "I hate it! I'm desperate to find a job! I really can't wait to get working." Oh. So never mind about that. Over the course of the semester, whenever she talked about her daughter it was usually only about what a burden she was.

In a different class a very feminist-type girl loved to talk about how terrible it must be to be home all day with your (my) kids, never doing anything, being totally tied down. She couldn't EVER imagine sitting at home babysitting all day, not being able to get up and go whenever and wherever she wanted. Kids belong in daycare. There are reasons people are paid to take care of kids. She said all this while talking about any possible future kids she may have, as if they would be adornments to be worn when it suited her. She wasn't even sure if she wanted any and I wasn't brave enough to suggest that she probably shouldn't bother.

Another actual feminist felt very differently, however. She thought it was great that I stay home with my kids. I told her that I thought feminists thought women should be out in the world making a difference and getting equal pay to men. She said that feminist believe that women should be able to do whatever they want, and since I obviously loved what I was doing any real feminist should think that was cool.

Before the hair cut, the most recent example, and the one that made me think the most, was when I was checking into the hospital to have Spencer. The nurse was taking down all my information. For occupation I said "mother". She asked what I do for work. I (or Greg) told her that I don't work outside the home. I stay home and take care of my kids. She jotted that down (or possibly wrote "N/A" or "unemployed" and I think there was a brief interchange about it.

A little later the subject came up again and Greg said, well, she's a writer, and explained that I do some freelance writing from home. The lady was hugely impressed. "A writer! Oh! Why on EARTH did you say "mother!?!" You're not unemployed! You have a great job!" She said and/or expressed as much on her face.

I was not flattered by her admiration. I was alarmed that typing things on a computer was something worth mentioning (and praising), while intensively spending my time trying to shape four human beings into the very best people they can be, dedicating all (okay, most) of my thoughts, prayers and energy to four little people that look to me to meet their needs, for direction and guidance in making good and right decisions, for unconditional love and acceptance and for everything else they need to be physically, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually ready to make their own way in the world--that didn't count for anything in the space on the sheet of paper that was supposed to tell What I Am.

But that is exactly What I Am. And it doesn't matter if not everyone understands this--But a mother is not a nobody. She is the most important kind of somebody.

Cut Short

I finally did away with the terrible haircut I've been sporting for the last few months. The cut I got on Monday was nice except for the three major things that were wrong with it.

So I took scissors to my own hair for the first time ever. Let me tell you, in case you are unaware: cutting one's own hair requires an entirely different level of skill than cutting one's children and husband's hair. In case you have never tried it I will paint you a picture:

It's like writing a story in a foreign language left-handed while looking at the paper upside down and in a mirror. The one difference being that if you get it wrong you can't just crumple the paper up and try again. Instead you are doomed to feel lame or wear a paper bag over your head whenever you're in public OR cut your hair really, really short.

I now have a renewed respect for people who cut their own hair well. Respect and also a slight hesitancy to believe them. (still, mine isn't bad enough to require a paper bag or shorter cut, but I'm not sure yet about how embarrassed I should feel to be seen in public.)

So anyway,

Actually, never mind. That was all lead-up to what I actually wanted to post about which has virtually nothing to do with poor haircuts, cutting one's own hair or even writing in foreign languages. But I'll post that one another day because going to bed sounds so very much better at the moment than trying to remember my point. And plus, cutting this post off awkwardly seems very fitting.

Mind Dump

I'm getting excited for Conference. 2 1/2 hours to go! (the first session starts at 6pm here). Before that, though, I think it will help for me to empty my brain and thus I shall.

****************************

I'm in kind of a weird state. Between reading Mockingjay, watching Bourne Identity last night and thinking a lot about a facebook friend who just lost two of his fingers I just feel sort of in a war-ish haze. Remind me not to turn on CNN.

I would like to be like the facebook friend. A couple of days ago in his status update he said that by, way of update, he's been watching season 6 of Star Trek this week, made several observations about some of the characters and then at the end said "Oh, and I also crushed my hand and lost two of my fingers." I hoped it was an April Fools joke, but today he posted pictures. I commented that his hand is much cooler than everyone else's boring hands, that I was sorry and that I'm impressed with how upbeat he sounds. He replied that there's no use whining about it now. Then said, "...but for the record: I'd much rather have boring hands."

I think he's awesome.

***************************

Today I found a potato masher in one bathroom drawer and a remote control car in another.

***************************

Yesterday Aaron was running around the house, jumping into room after room declaring, "Mission COOOOM-PLETELY!!!"

***************************

Sometimes I feel wronged by my children and husband. In many ways they are good to me and make living with them worthwhile, but sometimes I just really, really want breakfast for dinner. I plan something delicious (pancakes with buttermilk syrup, french toast with strawberry freezer jam and whipped cream etc.) and every. single. one of them is disappointed when I announce what we're having or when they come sniffing into the kitchen.

It is one of the times I wish my nearest and dearest were a little more American. If I'd announced that we were having mushroom soup and pickled herring with sparkling water to drink they would have been delighted.

**********************

We had a wonderful dinner last night. Before we went into the kitchen to eat I told everyone, "You know how I like breakfast for dinner? (Evie already starts pulling a face) Well, today I decided we'd have dessert for dinner, just to be crazy. For April Fools' Day. I figured as long as we have a vegetable with it, we can call it dinner."

Sorry, this is the only picture anyone took

David almost cried after we made him taste the frosting and then told him he had to eat the whole cupcake. Of course it was a meatloaf cupcake with mashed potato frosting but I guess he doesn't love those kind of cupcakes. In all honesty it wasn't my favorite meal either... I could surely have gone for a REAL cupcake, though. Even if I had to eat all my peas. Next year I think I'll make a non-fake dessert for dinner on April 1st. Or maybe tomorrow night.

******************

Oh good. I think there's a bit more room in my brain for important stuff now. Enjoy Conference, everyone!

You Think You Know Me?

Well, you don't.

But don't worry, I'm not sure I did either until I answered Stephanie's questions for her Find-A-Friend Friday today on her blog, Diapers and Divinity.

Now I know what I hate about motherhood (#2). I know that I can claim to be a homebody (#10) and then say that I love traveling (#4), all in the same interview. And I know that I can tell a whopping big lie*. (# 11). Oh, and also comment on my extreme honesty (intro).

No, I am not a "complicated" (read: confusing) or ironic person. Not me. And I don't much care for parenthesis, either (almost never use them).

To read her questions and my answers GO HERE. (and check out how awesome Stephanie is
while you're over there!!) You'll know you're in the right place if you see her cute button that looks like this:

*Someone once told me that when you are sarcastic/ironic you are lying. Fortunately for me she was wrong.

The Most Exciting List of ALL TIME!!!

Please read no further if you have any issues with your heart or if you are not securely seated or standed. Otherwise, the greatness of this post may possibly have the hypothetical potential to BLOW YOU AWAY.

You have been warned.

A bucket list. I'm making one. I'm not much of a bucket list maker, really. I mostly just want to be a better mother and raise amazing kids. I don't care where we go on the way or how many side skills I develop or anything like that. I have no ambition (I believe I have mentioned this lack-of-quality of mine).

So the bucket list I present to you today is things I ABSOLUTELY MUST do before...............
We leave to go to Warsaw tomorrow afternoon.

(if you are still reading despite a weak heart, I beg you to turn away now!)

1. edit reports written this week and email to client
2. pack four thousand of everything. A few of each item for each person in the family
3. bake something to take to the mission president(s wife) since they've invited us to stay in the mission home (bake extra for friends we will hang out with while we're there)
4. try not to even peek at facebook or Catching Fire
   
5. wash all sheets and hang to dry while we're gone
6. keep Spencer awake, despite the fact that it will be his bedtime so he will sleep for at least part of the 4-5 hour drive
7. do not explode when Spencer refuses to stop hanging on me/whining while I'm rushing around because he is so tired he can't see straight*
8. make sandwiches/pack snacks
9. tidy house after everything (if time allows. HA!)
10. get as frazzled as possible so the drive and the upcoming fun will be as well-earned as possible

There you have it! Did you survive? I won't ask if that was the best list of any sort you have ever read. I think we all know the answer to THAT one.

This list has been brought to you by Melanie, who, I know I have never mentioned on this blog, so sorry to throw her out at you so randomly. Go here to find out how you can post a bucket list on your blog and get serious entry points to win her book, The List, or other awesome stuff she's giving away.

Add This to Your List

I can tell you right now that if I had made a list fifteen years ago of the things I wanted to do before I got married -- I mean, if I had sat down and really thought it through -- it would have looked like this:

1. Make sure he's the right one.

Possibly with another short list of qualities that "the right one" might have.

But I never made that list. Because I was pretty sure I'd know him when I found him. And I did.

But not everyone's list would be as boring as mine. Not that mine would have been bad, just lacking in... adventure. Ambition. Interest. (and actual, un-obvious things to do before getting married)

A friend of mine, Ashley Barrett, had a list of her own. A paper on which she wrote 25 things that she absolutely had to do before she settled down to get married. And how much overlap do you think there was between her list and mine? Exactly none.

No, Ashley spent every day after she made her list (at age 18) specifically trying to not complete the task on my (past tense hypothetical) list. And besides, she had her own 25 things to work on. And though some of them were relatively simple things like "read a Russian classic" and "sing karaoke", there were others like, "get a sports car", "learn a language" and ""get a master's degree". And there's also the fact that for Ashley, "sing karaoke" was a harder one to complete than another one, to "climb a mountain".

Watching Ashley climb mountain after figurative mountain as she worked her way through her list was a joy. Besides that she's just a funny, confident and beautiful person, she also happens to be a smarty and a tiny bit of a spaz. Yes, she's fun to keep tabs on.

But I'm pretty sure she never could have guessed how it would all turn out with that list of hers. After 6 good years of slowly but resolutely chipping away at it, she came to the Summer From Hell.

Her hellish summer included months by the beach, an extremely hot surf coach-turned-love interest, plenty of activities, hanging out and Jamba Juice, a fun waitressing job, and an excellent new online friend.

Now how could that be hell, you might ask? That was the summer that her list started to get a little wrinkled. A bit scruffy around the edges. Not just from overuse (though it was certainly being used), but in a figurative sense, too.

Although she was completing more things from her list in those short months than in many years combined before that summer, the list was still in jeopardy. She lost her original, handwritten copy but typed it up again from memory. Still, she struggled not to lose sight of the goal of the list: to have no regrets when she got married. Nothing to look back on with resentment because she didn't do it when she had the chance.

Life seemed to be getting better and better as hanging onto those last few items on her list became harder and harder. Still, this is Ashley. She has a very strong grip.

Very strong.

I really wish you could all meet Ashley!! She is seriously awesome. Of course I've never met her either, but I still consider her a friend.

I know! Why don't you go get your to-do list and add one more item. I promise this one will be far less painful than "cut the kids' hair" or "scrub the grout in the shower". As a matter of fact, it might even be more fun than "go out on an awesome date with husband*" (don't tell him I said that) or "Eat a piece of Adam's peanut butter cup fudge ripple cheesecake". Write in "get this book:

"

Because it is FUN. Fun, fun, fun. Funny, sunny, with one Hot Honey. Oh my gosh, I just wrote that. And I'm leaving it. The book is clever, charming, and seriously delightful (unlike my rhyme above). And don't you want to know what happens with Ashley? It didn't all play out exactly how I expected (a good thing!) but/and it is a completely satisfying read. I love. I recommend. As strongly as Ashley holds onto 6-year-old resolutions. Or possibly stronger (see how I don't give anything away? I said possibly).

I've already told you what I think of Melanie J the blogger (hmmm, we could use the same adjectives that I used up there for the book! No, not the bad rhyme again, the clevercharmingdelighful thing), but you really need to get a feel for how stuffy and hoity-toity Melanie Jacobson the author is. Check out her author website. Seriously. Stu-ffy. And then click on the book to buy! If you're like me (and you know you are) you will be reading this one over and over to recapture the humor and FUN of it. (I'm sorry to keep going on about the fun, but the book is seriously ef-yoo-en.)

* I had a hard time wanting to sit down to a movie with Greg on Valentine's Day because I was in the middle of The List and really just wanted to read! Or better yet watch it on a screen with my honey. Maybe some day...

Built-in Girlfriend

She didn't get much for Christmas this year. In fact, most of her presents were small amounts of money or tiny little gift certificates. The amount of each gift just about enough to buy a shirt.

She went out to spend her gift money at one store and came home excited to show me what she bought, not because she was excited to wear it to school the next day, but because it was for me. She hadn't found anything she loved so she decided to buy something to liven up our living room, a purple vase and some brown decorative rocks.

The next week she went to another store to get something with a gift certificate. When she came home she showed me the scarf and hat set she had chosen... for me. Again, nothing jumped off the shelf at her, so she chose something she knew I needed and made a gift of it.

---

I'm not the most physically affectionate person (or the second most, or third, either) and she recently told me we needed to hug more often, and we do. Now before bed she sometimes says, "Let's do this right" and comes for a hug while we say goodnight.

---

Thursday morning while I made the kids' lunches before school I was reviewing all the things I needed to get done before Greg's sister arrived in the afternoon for a weekend visit. I listed them aloud and Ev calculated that I had a good seven hours to get everything done. I whined that I didn't think it would be enough (I'm a professional whiner).

Without missing a beat she offered this advice, "First just make everything look nice, then worry about all the other stuff."

How well this girl knows me! I want things spotless before we have overnight guests and struggle every time to make that happen. I spend the day or two before they arrive working like crazy and often end up with not a speck of dust anywhere, clean light switches and doorknobs and organized toy drawers but also piles of books that haven't been put on shelves and pots from the night before that haven't been cleaned. And no dinner ready to eat. Whacked priorities.

She knows that, and her advice (tidy first, then scrub) could not have been more sound or helpful.

---

This morning we chatted while she fed Spence and I made sandwiches. Greg came into the kitchen to get some breakfast and listened in as I bagged the sandwiches for the trip (to church) and Ev filled up water bottles, talking the whole time.

It was getting late and we really needed to hit the road and our gabbing made Greg nervous so he said, "Okay guys. How 'bout no more talking; we really need to go." And then, "A little less conversation, a little more action." (which caused me to laugh, and also caused me to have a non-hymn stuck in my mind for the rest of this Sabbath morning)

---

Heaven knows I love my husband and my boys, but Heaven also knew that I needed a girlfriend and that's why He gave me Ewelina. I thank Heaven for her!!

Same to You but More of It

I don't personally know any bad mothers. I am aware that there are some out there, but only from what I read or see in the news. This doesn't mean that I don't occasionally see or hear a mother doing something that I know is not in her children's best interest (including myself) but as a general rule, mothers are awesome.

We're awesome because every one of us does things right. Not everything, of course. Some days we might feel like we do hardly anything right, but I'm pretty sure we usually do more things right than wrong.

I love seeing when other mothers do something right that I haven't thought to do, or used to do but seem to have forgotten. And I love when another mother thinks I've done something well. I love how we can learn more right things to do from each other.

Two weekends ago we visited a branch that has a few really great families in it. The Zańs are a super sweet clan with a mother who is incredibly patient and takes her responsibility as a mother more serious than most other moms I know. She is also a very good friend of mine and we talk motherhood a lot. She is a super humble person and, despite her awesomeness as a mom, asks advice, always wanting to be better.

She drove with her husband and 3 boys, ages 4 and under, an hour each way just to hang with me and my four kids in our hotel room on Saturday! Being around her made me want to be a better mother. It always does. She is so loving and teaches her very intelligent kids about the gospel and how to be creative in such a motherly way. It's hard to describe, but here's what she and her family look like:


Another family is the Cielenskis, the branch president and his wife and daughter. Agata is a wonderful mother and has lots of experience with kids and is just a logical thinker and instinctive mother. Her daughter is 10 months old but she was already asking me how I get my kids to behave at church.

Well, this is a great question for the wife of a branch president to ask. I asked myself it about ten years ago. Greg has been sitting on the stand for that long (well, only on Sundays. He comes home and goes to work etc. during the week) and, as a Single Sacrament Meeting Mom, having kids who behaved at church was not a luxury, but a necessity for me. I shared my tricks with Agata and then told her what I'd learned from her that Sunday:


Here is her baby chomping on a carrot as a snack/toy (and Aaron staring in wonder). I have never had my babies do that (!). And I really want Spencer to love veggies. I have started giving him carrots to gnaw on (when he is well supervised, of course). My life is better for having learned that.

The main thing other people seem to think is good about my kids is their public behavior. They are mostly pretty well behaved at church, in restaurants and other places where we expect them to be calm and civilized and I am happy, when asked, to share how I try to train my kids in those situations in exchange for information, much of which I gain through observation, such as how to be more patient with my kids or teach them good eating habits.

Thanks, other mothers, for the things you teach me just by being the good moms you are! And also, please never come to my house and see how my kids act in their own environment. :)

Today, and My Kids Can't Speak English.

We are Gregless this weekend. He is making his way to Warsaw on invitation to attend the District Conference there. On our trip last weekend when he left us in the hotel for the day he told the kids, "Be good and helpful today, guys. When I come back I want a wife with hair." Today he didn't say anything like that, I'm sure because he knows I have this day planned out. Cleaning, reading, story writing, M&M eating, homeworking, baking, movie watching; it's gonna be awesome.

After some cleaning we sat down to our chicken Caesar salad for lunch. Aaron pointed to the bag of Parmesan and said, "I don't like to eat this sugar. It's yucky." I have to say, I think it's the grosses sugar I've ever eaten, too.

While we ate, I asked our well-travelled children where on the road to Warsaw they thought daddy was. They calculated that he had been driving about two hours and David guessed he might be in Kraków about then. Or maybe Kielce. Evie guessed that he was probably somewhere between Kielce and Kraków. This, of course, is only funny if you know Poland or have a map in front of you. The kids only know that our two nearest branches are each about two hours away and they are Kielce and Krakow so Greg must be in one of those two cities, right? (or somewhere in between). Never mind where they are situated compared to Warsaw. Or each other.

********

Aaron is my first child who makes all the cute grammatical errors you expect of a two/three year old. He does not use past tense. Instead he uses did+present tense. Always. Very scriptural of him.

I have no idea why he does this. He comes to me excitedly declaring, "I did find my dinosaur!" I say, "Oh, great job! Where was it?" and he says, "It did be in the play room."

Last night David was explaining why he got an A+ on an assignment and he said, "So I was supposed to write a zadanie (story problem) and I did it really good, so my--". I cut him off with a "What?". Knowing what I meant he answered, "I did it really good...ly?"

I really wish my boys did speak English more goodly.
(not really. I appreciate the laughs I get out of their mistakes.)
Now excuse me while I get back to our excellent Saturday.

Time Traveler

One of my favorite things about dying is that afterwards (at least at some point) you're able to travel in time. As far as I know this is not strictly doctrine, it is more of an obvious (to me) truth and one of the things that makes dying worth the hassle.

I really wish I could travel in time now. The fact that I'd like to travel back in time far more than I care to see the future perfectly reflects my taste in literature: give me the classics over sci-fi any day. I often imagine taking an iPhone to Molly Gibson or Lucy Snowe and making their day. Which, I realize, would be combining the classics with science fiction or, rather, science fact. And Molly and Lucy may be fictional characters but that wouldn't stop me..

I won't be visiting any of my beloved book characters any time soon but I have done some time traveling.

For our date last week Greg and I went to a little cafe for some cake. Afterward, the romantic part of our date was a visit to a large, German chain drugstore that just opened in our town. Oh how I love Rossman.

They have everything there. Everything I tell you, as this story will show. Wandering down the aisles, staring in wonder at the variety of everything they had, I rounded a corner and saw a wall full of chapstick. More chapstick than I've seen in one store in Poland ever. And one entire row was Carmex. Carmex!! I haven't seen that stuff in forEVER!! (not to be confused with "I have never seen that stuff").

I grabbed a tube and took it to show Greg. "Throughout high school I wore Carmex all day every day and I haven't seen it in forever! I think it's addicting because once you start wearing it you have to keep wearing it. Really, I think I read somewhere that it is addicting. Carmex! Honey! I'm buying Carmex!"

As we walked to the parking lot I took the package out of the bag and started reading it. We got to the car, settled in and started driving through the night toward home. I twisted off the lid and applied the goo to my lips.

Oh. My. Gosh.

Suddenly I was in a car full of friends on our way to a tri-stake dance. The Cure was playing and I had the familiar butterflies in my stomach from anticipation of one of my favorite social activities. I had visions of what the cultural hall would look like and who would be there.

Whoa. After a few minutes I was back in the car with Greg on our way home from our date. The Cure was still playing, it was still night and I still had that vague sense I was back in high school, but I knew I really wasn't.

It was weird. Not just deja vu. I actually travelled in time.

Then a few days later I bought some chocolate covered Digestive cookies. One night we sat around the kitchen table and I opened the cookies for dessert. I took one bite and

Holy. Hannah.

Evie and David were 3 and 5 years old and the warm summer sun was streaming in through the windows of our 9th story apartment. We were having a snack as part of our structured day in our tidy living room. I was an awesome mother with darling kids again! Pass the Digestives!! I could go for more of that and, again, it was so real.

Now I don't want to go all Bella and seek out this kind of thrill by buying up some of everything I've ever eaten or used in the past that has memories tied to it. I also don't want to be obsessed with the perks of the next life like Aaron who tells me many times a day, "I'm gonna get bigger and bigger and then I'm gonna die. Then when I'm a scary ghost I'm gonna FLY!!!" with all sorts of excitement. I'll wait patiently for death and its benefits to come in its proper season. For now I'll just keep building memories knowing that some day I'll love coming back here, like when I am transported upon opening a box of the kind of soap we're using right now, or something.

I found this post that I started months ago unfinished in my drafts but I think it's interesting that I mention the time travel thing after we die, just like I sort of did about being able to revisit the days of nursing babies.

"Please Refrain. . .

. . . from using profanity while I'm in the vicinity."

My sister, Anne, and I were probably 13 and 14 years old and at the height of our cleverness when we came up with that little gem. What a perfectly polite and intelligent way to let those around us know our tender ears were being defiled by their undiscriminating vocabulary. I'm not sure we ever actually used it, though neither of us was reticent when it came to making our displeasure at the sound of foul language known to those who used it.

On one of our trips to Disneyland we heard some profanity and lots and lots of "Remain seated please. Permanecer sentado por favor", which was our inspiration for a little addition to our catch phrase, "Please refrain from using profanity while I am in the vicinity. Exit to your left and thank you for your support."

Oh, my. It really is a wonder we had any friends given our level of dorkiness. Sure we didn't actually say this to anyone but the very fact that our brains came up with it and we thought it was awesome are clear evidences that we probably did not deserve any.

Once in my 10th grade Spanish class we were taking turns reading some dialogue. When it came to me, instead of "Dios mio!" I said "Ay, caramba!" My teacher did not appreciate it and asked why I could not just read the text as it was printed. There is a slight chance that I was one of the few who understood her extremely dry and harsh sense of humor and the only one who responded with sarcasm, so she did not especially like me. When this incident happened I explained that I do not take the Lord's name in vain. She assured me that this is perfectly acceptable in Spanish. I assured her that I would not say it in any language. She stared at me in silence for a long while before moving on.

I grew up in a home where there was very, very little swearing. I remember running to my parents and tattling that one of my older brothers had said the f-word. My dad asked what he said, and I whispered in his ear, "fagot".

When my mother was at her whit's end she would say things like, "Oh, fiddlesticks!" or, on a really bad day, "Dang, dang, double dang!" I believe my dad swore on the very, very rare occasions he got really angry.

I remember the first time I ever swore when I was about 13. I had a friend who used mild swear words occasionally. She was at my house and we were sitting there chatting and I said, "What the he**" in the conversation. I stopped suddenly, in shock. My friend laughed and told me it was okay! I... started crying and never swore again until after I had children. (no more about that later)

So the concept of using bad language just to color your normal sentences is one I don't get. It seems so very jr.high and high school to me. Some of my old friends from high school still use language like that occasionally on facebook and I feel like, "did you never grow up?" The answer, of course, is "no". I mean, the answer is that they just live in a different world than I do. And also a different country.

And speaking of which: I love living in Poland. I never hear any swearing here at all. This is not because this is the only country in the world that doesn't have or use swear words, but because I don't know any of them. The only way I ever know that someone is using bad language is when my husband or children say something about it.

Teenagers over here live in the same world as teenagers (and former teenagers who became adults and still use obscene language all the time) in America . We were reminded of this one day when Greg was planning to wait in the cafe area of our grocery store while I did the shopping. As always, there was a group of teenage boys hanging out and being extremely cool. Their language was awful. Greg sat there for awhile and then told me that he could not stand it. I told him I was sorry for him and left to shop.

Forty-five minutes later I paid for the food, returned to the cafe area with my loaded cart and saw that the boys were just leaving the area. As they walked past Greg they gave him the "sup?" head tilt (what do you call that?) I asked him what in the world had happened.

He told me that one kid saw him looking at them in disgust and the kid asked Greg if he had a problem. Greg asked him if they had to use that kind of language. The kid was insolent. Greg explained that some people simply do not want to hear that kind of talk. The kid said that it doesn't bother them. Greg explained that he was sure it didn't but that it did bother many of the people who had to listen to it. It was as if this kid had never heard such a crazy thing.

The boys kept cussing but had somehow come to respect Greg for expressing his difference of opinion. They seemed to understand that he was living on a different planet than them and could respect his alien culture. Not enough to give up their swearing for a few minutes, but still.

Miss Delacourt FINALLY Has Her Day (on my blog)

Last summer, no wait, summer before last (!!) I was in the most difficult part of my pregnancy. I wanted only to lay in bed and read book after book, and that is just what I did. I escaped from the pregnancy induced depression that was threatening to smash my heart, if not my entire self, by stepping into other people's stories. And it helped.

One of the books I escaped into I had been waiting almost a year to get my hands on. My opinion of the author I will state after I tell a little about the book.

It looks like this (the book, not the author, though she's lovely, too):

The large print version happens to look a lot like my current background (put up just for this post in honor of Heidi, lover and grower of the most beautiful roses and also because the book has a rose growing/thieving element!):

See?

This was the first modern regency period romance novel I have read (I may possibly have bungled the genre a little). I saw one review that said in effect, "This book will mostly appeal to those who like other classic or period novels." I have to say, my personal reflections are that this book can appeal to people who prefer books outside the genre. Yes, it is full of phrases in both dialogue and narrative, that harken back to a time when English was more lovely to the ears, but I think there is much about this book that will appeal to readers of modern chick lit as well.

Every character in Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind has a distinct personality with their own quirks that contribute to the fun of this comedy. Just like comedies that take place in more modern settings, you have the person you want to smack, the one you roll your eyes at, the one you want to high five, and the ones you are hoping will finally fall in love with each other etc. The colorful cast of characters goes from misadventure to misadventure, much like more modern heroes/heroines, but rather than scoffing at someone's terrible DVD selection they are gagging over a poor recitation of an even poorer poem. Rather than cruising down the freeway, these ones are driving carriages through the countryside and so on and so forth.

If I was better at weaving words together this is the order in which I would put them to describe this book (L.T. Elliot is a master word crafter so I begged to borrow hers. She also happens to be one of the most sympathetic bloggers and future authors I know.):

"Miss Delacourt does speak her mind--which is exactly why she doesn't fit in typical London society. The well-speaking masks and feigned affections are just the sort of thing Ginny would rather do without. So when her great-aunt traps her with Sir Anthony, the very picture of everything abhorrent to her, Ginny is determined to discover whether the mask he wears can be removed of if he's worn it too long to be anything other than a pompous fake.

With broken carriages, quarantines, and poets catching fire, Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mindentertains up to the very last page. Jovial and light hearted...the characters and side stories will have you guessing who comes out on top while you chuckle over their unbelievable antics. You'll find yourself wishing the Hero will abandon his stoic ways while hoping the heroine can be tamed. Can a happy medium be found? Who will give in? Read it and find out!"

And now the sequel to the story is out!! My copy is on it's way to my sister's house, from whence it will come to ME! It's called Miss Delacourt Has Her Day and looks like this:

Doesn't that cover almost make you wish you lived in a day when your lady's maid spent a half an hour buttoning your dress to get you ready for the day, or more likely, the evening?

You can purchase either (or both!!) of these books by following the links on their titles, or you can request that your library carry them. As a matter of fact, why don't you do that anyway? Don't you think the people in your city need to read these books? Super easy to ask that the library order them next time you're there!

Now, about the author. Heidi Ashworth happens to be one of my favorite blogging friends. Again, our differences (like with Melanie) are the things I love most about her.

• She is sensitive and considerate
• She has a well developed sense of style and an awesomely decorated home, which looks exactly like you're walking into one of her books.
• She is wise. She is slightly older than me, but probably has 20 times more life experience than I have
• She has about a billion BIG things that she could complain about but rarely does (I have a few small things that I always DO complain about.)

I have had a number of good discussions with Heidi. These are sometimes centered on things we disagree on slightly. I don't know why, but I love that. I really, really want to sit on a couch with her and just chat. About anything! I've invited her over but she still has never come. I'll bake something gluten free!! Come on, what's a few thousand miles between friends!?! :) I guess we'll just continue to converse through email. Love you, Heidi!

Mourning Temporarily

Last night after I changed Spencer, I left the room to throw the diaper away and wash my hands. When I came back he was still laying right where I'd changed him, half asleep. It was an hour earlier than he normally goes to bed but I decided to put him down anyway, he was so sleepy.

He and I both have colds so we stayed home while Greg took everyone else to church. In the quiet house this morning I realized something. Before I put Spencer down last night I didn't nurse him. I've been doing only the one feeding right before bed for the last two months or so. In recent weeks it is more and more symbolic and less and less to provide any sort of nourishment. I have been planning to quit completely for the last week or so. This morning I realized that, just like that: it's all over.

And I sob.

I have spent four and a half years of my life nursing my babies. There have been times when I almost would rather have died and times when I was sure it was not worth it. I have often been forced to sit down and cuddle my baby to me when I did not have time or to retrain a newborn who seemed to suddenly forget how he had been getting his sustenance for days or weeks before.

I have spent countless hours pondering the wonder of being able to feed my babies any time I need to, to provide everything their little bodies require. I think about my body and the miracle it is and all that it has done for the people I love most in all the world. I think about how much that love has grown in the days and weeks and months of cumulative hours I have spent gazing down at a sweetly nursing baby. How grateful I am for that. For all of it. The good and the difficult.

And suddenly I have come to the end of it all. And I can't bear it. How do people bear these things, "The Lasts"?

My life is so full. I love my children dearly and find it hard to contain the excitement and happiness I experience watching them learn new things every day. A toy drops and Spencer says, "Uhhh-oooooooh" for the first time, his lips forming the cutest little "O" as he says it. Aaron comes up with the idea to bring a stool to the stove where I'm making "crunchy cheese" for him. Climbing on it he says, "Oh! Now I can see betterly!" David gets his first retainer and is so excited to feel that the protruding tooth he's been hating for years is starting to move backward and I know he will be way too handsome. Evie pulls me into another room, excited to tell me about the "Między nami Kobietami" ("Between us Women") maturation class she had at school.

So many firsts, all the time.

Right now I mourn this last.The grief is real and the sobs are deep. Does it go away, this ache in your heart when one of the most important, challenging and fulfilling things of the last 12 years of your life has ended? Forever?

I will keep a more vigilant eye open for "firsts" and rejoice in all the good things my babies bring into my life today. And tomorrow. And I will content myself with the feeling that somehow I will have all the yesterdays back. I don't know how it works but I know that one day I will have a fullness of joy, and that can only mean that these experiences will be part of me, as they are now, but without the tragedy of their being only a memory.

Recommendations, Please!

If you're not interested in my blah, blah, blogging journey skip to below the stars if you want to know how you can help me out.

There was a time, years ago, when I was obsessed with blogging. Nothing terrible, just the way most of us felt early on when we were making lots of new friends and really coming to love this community and the ability to toss out things we are thinking about, however important, trivial, silly or serious, and the surprise of realizing that we aren't the only one, or at least if we are, people like us anyway.

It was pretty early on that I realized that it was getting to be too much. I was on the computer too long. The little follower widget was a source of happiness but I realized that I kept looking at everyone's number. I hated that. "Oh! She's got a lot of new followers since I last checked!!" and "What is the deal!?! Why isn't she getting more followers!?!" I felt it was against my own philosophy (blog for fun and don't worry about number of comments or followers). So, to keep from feeling like it was a competition, I removed the widget.

Soon after that I realized that I could not keep up with everyone who visited or followed my blog. I seriously hated knowing that I was missing out on potentially awesome friendships but I hated even more knowing that I was missing out on my children's potentially awesome childhoods.

Awhile later I had the pregnancy from Hades and had no desire to communicate with anyone, though I did try to peek in on others now and again. The baby came and suddenly family was all I ever thought (and sometimes blogged) about.

As things normalized I started getting back into reading blogs and posting occasionally. I realized that many of my friends had also stopped posting regularly (or at all!) while I'd been pre(self)occupied. Sad! But then I definitely understand.

******

Here we are today. I feel fairly disciplined in my blogging habits since getting back into it and I am realizing that with the changes in my friends' blogging frequency I can definitely afford to add a few more blogs to my reader. Now my problem is that I don't know which ones to add. I definitely don't want to spend hours blog-hopping to find people that "fit" me, so I thought I might ask YOU.

I really value having blogging friends that I feel are either like me, or like the person I'd like to be in some way or another. I guess that is sort of the definition of "friend". Duh.

Anyway, so who do you think I might like (or love) to read? I don't read any of the hugely popular blogs but I would if you told me I had to, but mostly I'm wondering about the people in your comment trails that I have seen around all this time but never got around to checking out their blogs.

Could you let me know (by either comment or email) who are maybe a few of your favorite bloggers? I would really appreciate it! It will narrow down the time I spend searching out new people and give me more time to make my children's childhoods awesome. Ha!

(I am looking forward to Stephanie's Find-a-friend Fridays! I'm already emailing the first one from friday, Jocelyn, about some family history info she needs from Poland! Hooray for new friends!)

Becoming My Mother

There are many ways in which I want to be like my mom. There are also some ways I don't mind not being like her. For example, my mom is approximately three feet tall, and I don't particularly care to sink to her level on that one (kidding! She's like 4'9" or something).

I have earned the absentmindedness she mastered long ago (one of motherhood's awards). I am getting the lack of attentiveness down, too. She showed it by "listening" to what we said with a faraway look and then slowly repeating the last three or four words of our discourse, as if it might help her register the other 300 words that came before (it did not help and she never remembered what we had said). I show my inattentiveness by saying, "I'm thinking of a million things right now: tell me later. " or just "Now is not a good time." or occasionally, "Leave me the heck alone." (they know I'm kidding) or if I'm stressed, "I don't care right now." (such a dear, dear mother!)

Another thing I have in common with my mother is the ability to laugh at myself. I am grateful to have inherited this trait. If my future is going to be anything like my mother's I'm going to need it. It's a good thing she has this one mastered because her offspring are terrible teasers and there is nobody we like to tease more than mom (and she makes it so easy! Love you, mom).

Evie is already starting to tease me a lot. She has always been the best laugher at jokes but now she laughs at my personality a lot, too. This is a good thing because I sort of talk through things a lot and my internal dialogue comes out, which is often humorous (for one reason or another) and so should be laughed at, I suppose. But it's the making fun of me that I'm not sure I'm ready for.

Tonight we had this conversation:

Me: (looking at the clock) What!?! It's 7:20 already!?! I don't believe that!!

Greg: (in a sing-song voice) You never do.

Me: I know. I have never, ever believed it was 7:20. Not once.

Evie: No mom, you're supposed to say, "How did that happen!?!"

Me: (seriously confused) What? Am I often surprised at how late it is?

Evie, Greg, David: giggles/laughter

Me: Ugh.

And so it begins, I suppose. I guess I'd better start getting used to it since as we age my absentmindedness will only get worse and my kids will only get sassier. *sigh*