interruptions

After I nailed down that my in ability to finish nearly any projects I start stems from my disgraceful absent-mindedness coupled with the high rate of interruptions, I started making a mental note of the sequence of events on a given morning.

While I'm cleaning off a clean path on the kitchen countertops, Sam wakes up, usually crying. (what he encounters those finals minutes of sleep or at the moment he opens his eyes, I'd like to know). He wants the first round of breakfast, usually toast, sometimes an egg. While he's munching toast, I'm still clearing off a dirty knife, toast crumbs and a cutting board from yesterday's breakfast. Priya wakes up, mostly in a sore disposition. Sam wants juice. I remind Priya to quick use the bathroom, then encourage her strongly again, then mention that she doesn't get breakfast until she done that. Peanut butter and toast crumbs are gracing the countertop I just cleaned.

We move to the dining room for the first round of breakfast with both kids...three steps forward (two knives and one cutting board cleared), four steps back (two dirty plates, two cups, a dustpan full of crumbs on the floor and a pool of milk on the table.)

Oh well, at least the nutrition is better than an alternative such as toaster strudels which require no utensils...

Sam put three words together in a sentence the other day: Trap - nouse (mouse) - in.

We've had some rodent issues lately and apparently the issue has made an impact on Sam. He faithfully checks the trap behind the nightstand at least a couple times a day. Every hole he sees, must have surely been put there by a "nouse."

Some kids' first sentences are about warm, happy, fuzzy things. My kids think its normal to bury dead animals and obsess about catching rodents. I guess I've never claimed to be normal myself so they will always be at least half not-normal.

First a disclaimer: Yep I admit that I, of all people. probably have no leg to stand on talking on this subject. But I'm going to think about it anyway.

I read this just today:

We are uncomfortable that thousands of children on other continents starveto
death. We grieve over the ravages of disease in impoverished places,especially
when the diseases could have been easily treatable; but we casually hold the
antidote for the sin epidemic in our hands as let thepathogen with eternal
consequences consume its many victims unhindered.

Can I just step out and say that I am slightly weary hearing of fad causes. By this I mean things that have been a problem for years or decades or centuries, but that some or several celebrities (i.e. presidential candidates, actors or actresses) discovered one day while they were either trying to relate to the little guy to boost their poll numbers or they actually stepped out of their glass houses long enough to realize that the whole world doesn't live like them.AIDS has been around for many years, has orphaned many children, destroyed relationships, but suddenly we all are supposed to praise a certain female presidential candidate because she PROMISES five billion dollars to fixing the problem. I wish somebody there would have had the courage and the opportunity to stand up and remind her that promising to throw lot of dollars at a cause doesn't fix it. Unless she's donating five billion of her own dollars, she should spend her time talking about what she can realistically accomplish.

And what if the actor and actress that like to pride themselves on their multicultured family, went to Africa to hold and feed AIDS babies or adopted a sibling group whose parents are casualty numbers without the smiling in front of the camera with their perfect hair and lipstick. What if we strove to adopt kids orphaned by AIDS, even if it was expensive and two or three of them came together? I think that might be obeying Jesus mandate to "go and make disciples." If their faith in Jesus Christ is pure and true, like the presidential candidates are falling all over themselves to tell us, shouldn't their money (and time) go to causes hat get their hands dirty, that care for sick humans, showing them Jesus love and keeping their words to a minimum. But of course, talk is cheap and actions are costly. And for us regular citizens too. I suspect it might be easier to write out a check to fund more research that promises some lofty solution, but much more difficult to write out a check to support somebody who has put feet to Jesus words and making the Solution visible.

making hay

That saying, "Make hay while the sun shines" came to mind the other day. Here in the part of the country that we live, any of the following could occur all in the same day: wind, rain, snow, sun. Plus the temperature can fluctuate 30, 40 or 50 degrees in a matter of 24 hours. This has implications for many things, not the least of which is raising children.

How the pioneers or even people 50 or 75 years ago, who had 12 children all living in a house that would fit in our living and dining room with no Wal-Mart or Pamida to buy diapers because they used cloth ones or to buy groceries because they raised everything and stored in in the smoke house or the cellar, did it is completely beyond my comprehension. Plus they sewed all their clothes and blankets.

Even considering butchering a chicken for a meal would take me weeks to muster up the courage to want to eat fowl. Washing clothes with an all-automatic washer and dryer takes me all week - back then they washed each piece by hand. Did they just scrap the excess food off their kids after meals and scrub them up and let them dry in front of the wood stove all afternoon? I'm rather convinced that the only thing that went by itself in those days was the fire for a while after fresh wood was put in. Everything else required man or woman power.

The making hay thing originally came to mind as I was thinking yesterday about how many times we've missed getting outside when the sun was shining and the wind was down because I took for granted that the climate would be homogeous throughout the day. Tuesday night we made it just past our grove in taking a walk before I realized Priya desperately had to go to the bathroom. She had gotten off her bike and was gyrating around. Last night we made it just past the neighbors (just a few feet farther than our grove except in the opposite direction) before we made an about face on Anneka's terms: she had another agenda other than wearing a snowsuit and riding in a stroller and admiring the neighbors cats and dogs.

I guess it's kind of like life. If only we knew what opportunities to take advantage of right then because we might miss them. If only we knew what people we should definitely call when we thought of them because they needed the encouragement right then or that they might not be around to call tomorrow or next week.

Priya-isms from today:

I asked her to get some pajamas to wear. She came down with a nightgown that I thought we had retired a while ago. When I told her that one was too small, she said, "Can't I just wear it one more night then I'll burn it."

Earlier, I sat down to feed Anneka. Priya grabbed three or four books and brought them over, "Since you're feeding Anneka anyway, you can just read these to me."

up and down

I wish I would have had the camera with me this morning. The park, Sam's outfit....

The Trosky park has monkey bars, an ancient merry-go-round that has been painted at least a half dozen times, the tall swings with rubber tire seats and one teeter-totter and one modern plastic "safe" slide. It's an old-school park for the most part with all the old fun park toys that have been removed from most parks because a few kids fell off . I realized I needed to get the the post office there (hours on weekdays 7:30 - 10:30 a.m) quick before it closed. Usually unless a major snowfall or rain prevents us, we have to stop at the park before we make the 1-2/3 mile trip home. Then sometime between several runs on the slide and turns on the merry-go-round, we have to check what's in the fence at the place that borders the park. I think whoever lives there must be in the foster care program for farm animals. There is something different every time. Today there were two donkeys. Anyway, then it's back to the park.

Sam and Priya are close in weight so the teeter-totter worked perfect. My memories of the teeter-totter are that I was always at least 15 or 20 pounds too heavy for whoever was on the other side, so hopefully this fixture of the park will be a good memory for my children. Sam with his red stocking hat (like the kind the bad guys on movies wear), overalls that are too narrow at the bottom to go over his blue rubber chore boots so one leg is unsnapped half-way up his leg and the other is stuffed inside the boot, is sitting on one side of the teeter-totter saying, "Up". Before I can coach him with "down", he says it: "down" clear as a bell. I did a double take to make sure some neighbor kid hadn't hopped up there when my back was turned.

But not being one to be real daring, within a few seconds, the next word out of his mouth was "off".

Really the only different between the state of the house four years ago and the state of the house now is the speed at which things move.

I used to get out a project and work on it, leave it a few days or weeks and it would still be there to remind me that I needed to finish it. Now if I get out a project and leave, it is still there to remind me but the pieces of the project are scattered anyway from under the chair and couches to a different floor of the house to stashed away in some passel of various items Priya or Sam has packed up. The really important projects I don't want fingerprints, spilled milk and scissors marks on, I put up in. Then I forget about them.

I do give Priya and Sam them credit for creativity, however. Since their toys have been in seclusion for the past two weeks, they really don't seem to miss them. They weren't important enough for them to pick up and put away and the point is further proven by the fact that I've heard almost no complaints about them being missing.They get out the pans and Tupperware containers regardless of where their toys are. Unfortunately the items stored in the kitchen don't stay in the kitchen when they play with them. For instance, one day all the potatoes and onions were filed neatly in some sort of pan in the toy room the other day. Today, all the picnic utensils from the camping container in the porch are laid out on a tablecloth from the kitchen on a plant stand that usually sits by the window in the toy room.

It makes cleanup interesting to say the least...

good gifts

I still say that spending any amount of time with kids gives great insight into how God must relate to us:

At dinner, Sam wasn't interested in finishing his soup so it went in the fridge to be finished at supper. He wasn't interested in it at supper either, but the rest of us were eating hot dogs off the grill and ice cream bars. I so very much wanted to give him a hot dog - he helped Mark grill them and usually loves to eat them. If I disregarded the soup though, more full of good stuff than a hotdog and certainly more than the peanut butter ice cream bar, he would be filling up on more worthless calories than nutrients his body needs.

I wonder if God ever grieves when I resist doing the thing that is good for me and miss out on the "treats" that God has waiting and would so love to hand me.

done?

Think of how many things a person could accomplish if, when a task to be done came to mind, thinking through the steps to get it finished would get it done. All the thank-yous I have ever needed to write would be done much before the paper, pen and stamp were all rounded up. Used plates would be clean in the dish drainer and chunks of food would never lie on the floor for hours (or days). Bills would always be paid on time.

In reality, the steps to getting a thank-you note out are much more convoluted: find a suitable note (or put that on the list to get next time I'm in a store that sells them - add two weeks to the process) find a pen (while I'm searching I'm often distracted by something that seems more immediate); think of something intelligent and thoughtful to adequately express my gratitute (usually I just settle for remembering what I given and think of how it was useful); find a stamp and get it to the mailbox. It is possible for this to be a two or three month process.

More than likely it just boils down to the fact that I err in two areas: I procrastination and am easily distracted and absent-minded. (okay that was three)

William Law wrote this:

"The greatest saint in the world is not he who prays most or fasts most; it is not he who gives most alms, or is most eminent for temperance, chastity or justice. It is he who is most thankful to God, and who has a heart always ready to praise God. This is the perfection of all virtues. Joy in God and thankfulness to God is the highest perfection of a divine and holy life."

Hmm...I guess that it is maybe hardest to keep a thankful heart, rather than keep a well-checked off list of good qualities.

A dignified job?

Spending significant time with little children makes me realize that being dignified is not in the job description...that's maybe not the right word so I'll just go on. They take no regard of what I, their caretaker, am wearing, or doing or who I am talking to. No place or moment or phone call are sacred to toddlers.

How dignified it sounds to say: I'm a graphic designer or I'm a cosmotologist or even I'm a school principal. I'll bet nobody immediately associates incessant whining, and stuck-on food with those professions. I wonder if they ever have to excuse themselves and hang up in the middle of a good conversation because the background noise has hit a peak. I'll bet their relatives and friends don't get tired of them talking about dirty diapers and frustrating child sleeping habits. And I'm quite sure they would never have to change their shirt because human body fluids look really nasty to the average observer.

And most importantly, why aren't those who raise other people's children those 8 or 10 hours each day, while their parents make money, paid wages equal to those of a nurse? As I see it from the last 3 years of my own childcare, daycare providers, unless they just pop on Nickelodeon for the day and pop in several rounds of PopTarts, carry out a very similar job description except that a nurse generally deals in only ailing persons, which may have its advantages, prognosis-wise.

However, getting a up close and personal perspective in human nature....now you won't find a profession that offers that quite as clearly as raising kids. In fact, most of the world's woes come into focus with High-Definition clarity: crime in just about any part of the world or the mistreatent of any group. You name the problem, chances are it's rooted in childish behavior that was cute at 3 but isn't cute at 30 or 50. And honestly, human nature is just about as undignified as anything can be.

purple...not just for anyone

Tonight Priya looked at her new purple Snoopy toothbrush and noted, "Sam could use a purple toothbrush." (I read somewhere that you should open a new toothbrush after you've been sick and having recently had a cold, it seemed appropriate today.)

I told her, "Well, yes but Sam's is yellow."

She said, "But purple isn't okay for shirts for boys. Only for middle-aged men."

There you have it, IF you were looking for some fashion sense. And I can honestly say that I cannot recall discussing what shades of color are okay for what age bracket you are in.

A few weeks ago, I read this item in the news about some famous model who had recently had a baby. The article focused on how she got her gorgeous bode back. Her solution: some great cabbage soup recipe and two hours of exercise at the gym every day, five days a week.

Sometimes I just wonder if stories like this are published just for comic relief. Does anyone really ask a model how she stays in shape because they are waiting on the edge of their seat to follow in her footsteps? Maybe. Cabbage soup might be tasty on a cold day in November when one needs a good way to get rid of several cabbages or a bad cold, but as a regular diet? Maybe. I wonder how she has time to make a giant pot of cabbage soup for the week for herself and then three meals and seven snacks that her children (if she has ones old enough to eat real food) will eat. Maybe.

But the part of the story that I find most unreasonable is the two hours a day at the gym. That would be a great plan for all of us, however completely impractical. This in-shape chick must have trained her newborn to sleep through the night for one thing. Her maid or butler must take care of the laundry every day. And she must be on some powerful energy supplement to have the stamina to spend two hours sweating, squating, lifting and jogging in the gym.

I used to pity slightly or greatly overweight moms pushing their kids in carts around the grocery store or pushing their stroller down the sidewalk. That was before I had my own children. For a great number of us who do a lot of our own household chores, get up with our own children in the night and scarf down whatever is quickest at hand, that's the workout that fits best into our schedules. And as for cabbage soup, two hours of exercise a day is what it might take to get three meals of that through your system with the least amounts of odors and discomfort.

Makes you wonder

It's just slightly ironic that taking our kids to a church service gives rise to some nagging doubts about them growing up to be profitable, God-fearing citizens. And I sure hope it bothers me more than the people seated around me. I always imagine, worst-case scenario, that some soul, at the end of their rope, will chose this Sunday to attend honestly searching for meaning and purpose in life and we will plop down beside or behind them and throw them off with our squalling and flying snacks and toys. Somebody told me the other day, they started sitting near the front when their children were small so they could see better. But everytime we've ventured up farther than where the ushers stand before they take the offering up, we leave in disgrace. Sure they could see better - the rest of those wishing they'd have sat ahead of us. On the other hand, I wonder what our children behavior would be like had they not warmed a pew or chair (or cooled it as they go rushing by) almost every week of their existence. I'm interested to know if someday they will eventually quietly color the children's bulletin instead of chewing it up. In the meantime, we'll be filling one of the back spaces in the sanctuary with ourselves, our toys and snack crumbs and the air with our noise.