Leftovers

Note to self: Not everything the market renters leave behind is worthy to keep.

Our market guests decided to do more cooking this time around. At least that is what they intended with all the food they purchased. And, it wasn't the cheap stuff either. Lots of fresh fruits, nuts, olives, crackers, organic, etc. A lot of items I would never purchase. Lucky us, they bagged the whole idea of eating in about halfway through market. They left a ton of unopened food in our fridge. (I am not talking leftovers, people, I do have some standards).

I decided to try out a new recipe combining several items, including the all gourmet sounding polenta. After a little investigating, I found that polenta is a very finely ground cornmeal. In this case it was presented like a sausage. I thought it was some sort of pasta/rice something so at least I was close with a starch. I made the very uppity sounding Italian eggs with Spinach and Polenta. Let me tell ya, we are a polenta eating family now. The kids loved it - particularly the Italian eggs. Sadie, "This stuff is awesome." I think it really had to do with what was on top of the polenta because the polenta itself was marginal, at best. After all, it is cornmeal.

Tonight, Jay said, those Thai peanuts are terrible. This statement coming from a man who could eat Thai food for breakfast, lunch and dinner was suspect at best. Thai peanuts? I hadn't seen them in the pantry. I doubted him (at least his assessment of them) and asked him to bring them to me. His desire to see me gag obviously got the best of him and he literally ran to get them. Heinous. I couldn't get a glass of water fast enough. The official name of the product: Traditional Thai Lime & Chili Peanuts - found at your local Trader Joe's. BLAH!

So what have you had lately - good, bad or ugly that you can give a shout about?

Comments

I have opened up my blog with some fear and well, excitement. If you read this post, I hope that you will take the time to make a comment. After each post there is a place to click that says Comments (duh.). My good friend, Robin, aka Hillbilly Robin is really good at this, (note her various comments) . I like to know who is here and I want to get some feedback.

Can you relate about what I am writing? Does what I have written seem true or contrived, etc.

My blog is about my family. Occasionally, I will write about past experiences, particularly regarding my sister, Ansley, who passed away over a year ago from breast cancer. So, enjoy, but let me know you are here - even if you do it anonymously!

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Sadie declared she was going to love on our dog, Bobo. He is an outside dog with one eye who really deserves his own post. Old, faithful, slightly nasty, Bobo.

Anyway, she came inside and asked for a snack. I said - sure, but make sure you wash your hands. She came back to ask if she could have the "bad mommy snack du jour" Yogos. I saw that her hands were wet, but I had a feeling no soap had been applied. She was standing in the door frame and put one hand on the white painted frame. Here is the conversation:

"Sadie, did you wash your hands?"
"Yes."
"Did you use soap?"
"No, but I am the only one who will touch my Yogos."

I love her qualifier. At least she doesn't want to get anyone else sick, but is ok with making herself sick. At this point she moved away from the door frame. There was this nasty little muddy imprint left on my white painted door frame.

See, Sadie, that is why you need to use soap!

On another note...if you have never purchased Yogos for your kids...DON'T! I only bought them because they were at Aldi's and appeared to be a good price. They taste disgusting, but my kids would lie, cheat and steal to get them. I don't want to think about the nutritional value...or lack thereof.

God's flashlight

I read this today in another blog I frequent. It was about his children:


I'm stunned and humbled seeing the pure goodness that radiates from these small things that sprang from my wife's body and introduced me to the person that I'm supposed to be. It's like someone pressure washed all of the dreck from a few pieces of my personality, put them together with many more pieces of my wife's personality and then repackaged it into a living reminder of that there are good things in the world.


What struck me was the writer's statement that his children introduced him to the person that he is supposed to be. How true I have found this to be. To that end I would say that they have introduced me to the person I really am. In general, it is not a pretty sight.


I have long said that my children have brought all of my sin to the forefront - the proverbial 'slammed by a mack truck,' if you will. Acted-out anger, impatience, selfishness are showcased like a very bad junior high talent show that keeps repeating itself - ad nauseum. When I look at the bigger picture, I find I can add anxiety and worry as they go about their day with out me in their physical presence. Don't even get me started about my control issues! That was the specific purpose of one of my children.


How many times have I become extremely irritable because I have not gotten MY way - what I feel like I (key word) DESERVE. Hmmmm - sound familiar?!?! Sounds like a statement that my own children could make and I am supposed to be the adult, the parent, the one who instructs. At least I can say that I no longer stomp my feet in a fit of anger...well, actually, that would be a lie. I last stomped my feet and threw myself on my bed when I realized Jay had picked out and was already painting Ethan's nursery mint green instead of celadon green. Chalk that one up to hormones, plain and simple.


Instead of temper tantrums, I have become the MASTER of justification. OR should I say I can excuse any of my sinful behaviors with a wave of my hand. I am the parent, they are the children - end of story. Hmpf. But lately, God has brought me back under the examination light. The last three months have been a particularly tough time of evaluation. Pain, but good pain, I often say.

To evaluate each and every response with "die to self," has been an extremely difficult exercise and one that at times I feel is completely futile. To put aside the exhaustion, the emotional waste, the frazzled-ness, the lack of ME that my life holds on a continuous and consistent basis is well...painful. And let me be very, very clear - I fail more often than I succeed.

However, I do see some fruits of my labor. Slow changes, improvements, a better relationship with my kids. And although I can't say that their behavior has reached perfection, I see a change in my reaction to them. And, really, isn't that why God's light shines - to change me and draw me closer to Him?

6 word memoir update

J and I had a conversation regarding my cell phone or mobile phone (pick your terminology). It was a conversation that always begins with the same statement..."You would have known if you had your phone...insert sentence ending from the following:
1. on
2. with you
3. charged up.

I am adult, on most accounts. However, the mobile phone has reduced me to a child. I can't keep up with it, I can't keep it charged and I certainly can't be expected to have it with me AT ALL TIMES.

Jay just clips it to him daily- actually, I think he is now a part of that subculture that alters their body (i.e. Lizard Man). He could become Cell Phone Man. If it weren't for upgrades I think he would have it surgically attached. He feels naked if he doesn't have it with him which I can only liken to jewelry for us. Seriously, which one is more important? Ladies?

So this twice weekly conversation ensues with the never-ending threat of having my phone turned off. I have actually begged for this to happen at one point because I just don't like the pressure of the mobile phone rules. Always on. Always charged. Always with you.

Long ago, I discovered my limits regarding responsibility. Ask my mom. I lost countless library books as a child, left lunches on the counter, forgot tennis rackets on game days, etc. And as an adult, it is not uncommon for me to completely miss scheduled dental appointments, double book events, etc. The pinnacle of this, which most of you know, is when I ACCIDENT LY left one of my kids at home (post to come - DON'T CALL DSS). Knowing this, J still thinks I am capable of owning a mobile phone. So, who just who is the irresponsible one here?

Therefore, my response to the mobile phone conversation we have been through a million times is to hang my head and say that I will try better next time -like a child.

Not knowing of the 6-word challenge, Jay responded by saying, "This should be your life statement, Kelsey:"

"I will, when my phone's charged."

Ha!

Focused Talent

Today, my mom took Gray, Sadie and me to see the local community theater's production of "High School Musical." On the way to meet my mom and Gray, Sadie began singing. It was the sweetest sound. I didn't know this song was part of her limited repertoire. A soft and very in-tune voice sang, "Here comes the sun...ado-do-do-do. Here comes the sun - ado-do-do-do. It's all right." She sang straight to my prideful heart.

Onto the show...I must be one of the few parents who is not well versed in the High School Musical saga or songs. I have not seen the movie. I can only liken its popularity to the movie of my generation...GREASE. Surprisingly, HSM is quite innocent in compared to the pregnancy scare and the innocent-turned-prostitute story line of GREASE. What were our parents thinking????

All in all, this performance of HSM was a great show with an incredible amount of talent. We all enjoyed it a lot. During the show, I looked over at Sadie who was absolutely glued to the performers (except for one incident referenced below). I thought - wow - she could be on that stage one day. She has such a pretty, velvety voice - prideful heart growing. What talent - she could be a star. And then...she made her best effort to clap to the songs along with the rest of the audience. I had no idea that some one could not hear the beat to a song as obviously as she didn't. Amazing. How can someone sing, in-tune, and then be completely void of rhythm, slapping hands together in such a spasmoid fashion? Isn't it supposed to be like Ebony and Ivory - side by side in perfect harmony? Prideful heart deflated and back to reality.

Ok - so when I try to describe my children to other people, it is tough to describe Sadie and her idiosyncrasies. Seriously, the child truly marches to the beat of her own drummer. This is where she became completely side-tracked at the show. We had popcorn in a typical red and white box - who knew they served this during the musical? Anyway, somewhere during middle of the second act, she finished up the box. She was frustrated by the end of the box because it was the foldable kind and she kept losing popcorn out of the bottom because she stuck her fingers through it. So, here is this empty popcorn box, normally placed on the floor of the theater and taken to the trash at the end of the show. Instead, Sadie begins to reconfigure the box into something useful. What could you possibly need at a community theater production? Why some sort of viewing device/binoculars! She pushed open the bottom of the box and started tearing off the perforated top. At this point I realized what she was doing. She wanted to use the box to view the performance - holding the empty box up to her eyes and peering through the bottom to the stage. It would block other peoples' views and when she turned to the left, she would hit unsuspecting Gray. So, I took it away and told her that she could have it at the end of the show. After each song (about 4 songs left) she would ask, in that voice that tried to be a whisper, but came out nearly a yell, if that was the last song. She was a complete ball of frustration, irritation with a smidgen of anger. At one point I told her that we would have to go outside and miss the rest of the show if she didn't stop asking about the end of the show or her box. Her response was..."Can I have my box if we leave?" UGH! And this, my friends, is Sadie. Where is that box, you might ask? Sitting on my desk (in the basement - see post 4/11, No Room in the Inn), untouched since we left the theater. I brought it in after seeing it had been discarded and forgotten in the car. Sigh.

Ah - my little perplexing and challenging and tenacious Sadie. I completely love you... wonderful, perfectly-made you!

Love infinity

Stillness, silence, a dark night that was suffocating. I was completely lost, but knew where I was. I drove home, alone, from saying goodbye to her for the last time. The road was lonely, I was empty. I don't know how I drove. My snapshot of that time in the early morning hours is like a tunnel, only able to remember what was right in front of me, the 5-lane road sending me home and nothing on the periphery. I made one phone call. A friend's voice on the other end. The same voice at the other end that was there for the first call I made when cancer invaded my life some 3 years prior. Just as she did three years ago, she wept with me. I had to fight down the sobs to even get breath to speak the news. I whimpered the words. The whimper ended with a new noise for me - a small moan that involuntarily slipped out whenever I exhaled in attempt to gather my composure. A moan that made its appearance with regularity over the next month. I knew I had to get off the phone or I would no longer be able to drive. I began to drive with force. I wanted my family. I wanted my husband. I wanted my home. I wanted the familiar because nothing about me was that any more.

I arrived with a heaviness that continued to sink me to deepest depths of sorrow and grief. I walked in the door. J met me and held me while I let out the deepest of cries and nearly collapsed on the floor of our kitchen.

We had a guest in our house that night. A college friend had spent the night with the expectation of going with me to visit her in the hospital. She had traveled from NY to be here. My walk up the stairs to guest room where she was getting ready was long. She had no idea I had left in the night and she didn't know that her initial purpose in coming was gone. I knocked on the door. She opened it, apologetic because she was not ready and it was our decided time to leave. She took one look at me and said, "What's wrong." I knew she had already figured it out by my pained expression and already swollen eyes. We held each other and cried. It was surreal that she was gone, but more surreal to tell someone who was not a part of my every day norm. No where in all of my imaginings, planning or preparations for this inevitable day was my friend a part of this initial stage. It was God's timing.

She stayed with me while J went to work to wrap up a couple of loose ends for what would be nearly a week off from work. I was exhausted, I was overcome but most interestingly, I was sick. So very sick that all I could do was throw up. I would make it to the toilet to wretch my digestive track up to my throat and back down again. Then, I would collapse on the bathroom floor mat out of weakness. I would wait until I gained enough strength to crawl back to my bed. I believe that out of all of God's blessings during this time, this was His greatest.

I know that has to be a very incredulous and unfathomable statement. I had just lost my only sibling, my best friend. Most people would say that God added insult to injury with this attack on my body. But here is a different perspective on the God I love. I had not experienced this level of vomiting since I was a child. My body screamed with aches that could only be equated with being bludgeoned. My eyes were so miserably sore that it felt like someone had kneaded them like dough. I was in a complete fog. I could not think. I could not process. I could not focus. Therefore, I could not begin to comprehend reality. God spared me the entire fullness of the loss. He gave it to me in small doses, in the smallest increments. He allowed me not to feel the enormity for hours, but only for minutes - the minutes when I stumbled back into reality between phases of my coma-like sleep. For innumerable phases during the past three years, I had exhausted much of my mental capacity on figuring out how I was going to exist those first 2-3 days after her death - to no avail.

He had. He knew. He spared me. He loved me to the point of my greatest need.

Trust the Lord with all your heart. Lean NOT on your own understanding, but in all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.

Amen.