no rhythm

When I was in junior high, I played the flute.
I went to band class every afternoon and the high point
of my band experience was learning how to play "What a feeling" -
The Irene Cara song from the movie Flashdance.
We girls loved it and I think our Olivia Newton John
headbands aided us in the playing of the song.
Some of our more hideous band moments took place
when we were off kilter, all going at our own pace,
losing sight of the other instruments and playing out of rhythm.
This often happened when we played the theme to Hogan's Heroes.
The flute section lived for Hogan's Heroes
because we carried the melody and we could rock this song.
We loved to pierce the ears of our listeners with
the high painful notes of the very punctual army-like rhythm.
We would take off with the chorus, feet tappy-tapping, and
the rest of the band would be chasing us down, trying to catch up.
Mr. Jantzen, our band teacher, would go nuts, eyes bulging, yelling,
"Slow it down! For heaven's sake, slow it down."
Because, believe me, there is nothing more painful than listening
to a junior high band with no rhythm.
And that is just how I feel about this season of my life.
The school year has flung me into a Hogan's Heroes moment and
I can't seem to find the rhythm.
Life is out there like the flutes, marching, running,
beating out this crazy pace and I am the rest of band trying to keep up.
It feels more like a cacophony than a symphony.
While I would like my rhythm to be seamless and light hearted,
it feels more helter skelter and shifty.
I need Mr. Jantzen to yell at someone to slow it down.
So at the moment I'm out of breath and secretly, in my heart of hearts,
hoping for a change of season, a change of rhythm, a change of song,
somewhere in the near future.
Something with a nice steady tempo, breaks for deep breathing,
and an easy melody....like the theme song to Taxi.
Now that was the jam.

baby boundaries

There is something to be said for little people.
They know their comfort zone
and will let you know if you are included in that.
Addison just turned 17 months and is going throug a new phase.
If he sees someone, anyone, getting too close,
he will immediately burst into tears.
This includes people he has seen on a somewhat regular basis.
He is currently re-defining his boundaries
and his inner circle is quite tiny.
He is not worried if you will be offended
or if you will like him anymore or if you feel the same way he does.
This is one of those awkward phases of parenting.
It feels a little uncomfortable when your child sees someone they know
and begins sobbing uncontrollably when they smile or try to say "hello".
One of our old youth kids came to visit.
While eating breakfast,
he had to keep his neck cocked at a 45 degree angle.
Addison was staring him down with the eagle eye and if Josh happened
to make eye contact, he would shriek with fear and begin sobbing.
I'm not sure Josh will be visiting again anytime soon.
On our vacation, Addison knew exactly who he felt comfortable with.
Me.
Confronted by unfamiliar people and strange surroundings,
he retreated to a place of high safety.
Mommy's knees.
There was a lot of weeping and diving for my legs.
And on my part, there was a lot of shuffling, since walking with
a toddler stuck your thighs is a bit inhibiting.
I believe he inherited this from me, since I remember
hearing similar stories about myself when I was on
vacation as a little one in Cape Hatteras.
Mom was the only one I would allow to hold me.
I think somewhere in my DNA there is a
when-you-aren't-sure-where-you-are-
or-who-you're-with-cling-to-mommy gene.
It is a bit wearying, all the clinging and high pitched wailing.
But I know like all other things, it is a season.
If Addie hits 15 and is still cluthching at my legs, that will be a problem.
But on the upside, I am on the receiving end of a lot of unforseen cuddles.
And as far as that goes, I'll take what I can get.

welcome home

After a luxurious week of vacation,
a week of laughing with sisters, chatting over cups of tea,
and reading lots of good fiction,
a week of the kids disappearing for hours on end with cousins,
scrumptious breakfasts a la Erica, adventures with Mom and Dad,
and hours of absolutely beautiful unplanned Oregon sunshine,
we came home.
And boy, did we come home.
After a lot of internet searching for the perfectly priced hotel
with a free continental breakfast,
Scott and I came to the conclusion that we stayed on location
at the motel where they film My Name is Earl.
We were awakened frequently in the night
since the beds and Addison's pack'n'play were in such close proximity
that we could feel each other's heartbeats.
The promised free continental breakfast ended up
being a paltry offering of donuts and oranges so we opted for Starbucks.
Our lunch at McDonald's ended with Will, sliding down the slide,
and slammming his cheek into an elfin girl with an unbelievably hard skull.
As he sobbed hysterically, his under eye area began to swell dramatically,
taking on the color and shape of a ripe plum.
In the car ride to the hospital, Will began hyperventilating.
I tried to get him to blow into a plastic bag I found on the floor,
but as he was unwilling and I was nigh unto hysteria myself,
I used it myself, in between cuddles and calling out to Jesus.
Fearing a concussion, we waited in the emergency room for two hours,
and then paid $100 for a 4 minute consultation, a dose of motrin
and the announcement that Will had a really bad black eye.
By the time we got to the house, we were all exhausted.
I plopped Will and Addie in the tub and turned for the shampoo,
only to hear Will say,
"Oh no, Mom, Addie pooped!"
I flipped around to find out this was terribly true.
I grabbed Addison. As the offending party headed Will's way,
I reached for him, dropped him, and he goes under, fully submerged.
I barely snatched Will out in the nick of time.
Scott took the boys to the other bath to re-bathe them and
accidentally slammed Addison's fingers in the sliding glass door.
While I am ajaxing the defiled tub,I hear Addie's cries,
go to turn off the faucet and wrench my wrist...
And the evening is capped off nicely when my friend, Paula,
stops by to pick up a car seat.
As I am telling her of the disastrous happenings of the day,
a neighbor, whom I have never seen before,
happens by and motions to me holding Addie.
She has a bit of an accent
and I think she is asking me how many children I have.
"Yes, I have three little ones," I call out as she saunters by.
But no, she is not asking me how many children I have,
she is asking me if I am expecting again!
Right now at this very moment!
As this horrific realization dawns on me I ask Paula,
"Do I look pregnant?"
Which she very nicely reassures me I do not.
Because, for goodness sakes,
if after all the unkind and ungodly things that have happened
in the last 24 hours are to be topped off by my looking pregnant,
when I am so very not pregnant,
(and I often weep at the mere thought of being pregant again)
than I say,
"Jesus, take me now" and let's be done with it.
And so, in short....
Vacation?
Too good to be true!
Coming home?
Not so much.

v-a-c-a-t-i-o-n in the summer sun

Sometimes I am just plain tired.
The dailiness of life grinds on me and wears me down, paper thin.
There are no tragedies, no crises to be faced, no impossible hurdles,
just the day to day that saps my strength and leaves me wanting more.
That is how I know it is time for vacation.
In Europe, they take off the month of August, to recharge.
An entire month.
I think I am European.
If you saw my eyebrows unplucked, you would agree.
In fact, I know I am European because,
my great-grandmother, Louise Shiebelhut,
immigrated with her family down the Volga River.
They were a German family living in Russia when they made
their way to the United States and settled in Dinuba, California.
So somewhere deep inside me, my latent german-ness is crying out,
"You need the an entire month of vacation.
You may have been born in the United States
but you were made for four weeks of leisure right around August."
And I know it to be true in the very marrow of my bones.
I would be an entirely different woman if I had a month of vacation.
But I live in California, so I am settling for a good long week in Oregon.
I am looking forward to it
like a small child looks forward to a Saturday afternoon ice cream.
A rare treat. Something different. A thing to be enjoyed.
Pastor Mark always used to say,
"A change of pace + a change of place = a change of perspective."
I am ready for a change of perspective.
I am ready for some rest and some laughing
and the letting down of my hair.
I am ready for a cup of tea and a good summer read.
I am ready for an end of summer chat with God
so he can get me back on track before I launch into the school year.
So this tired supergirl is signing off for the next week,
with great anticipation and delight.
I have a road trip, family, good books
and unfettered free time lying before me.
And it just doesn't get any better than that.

what I learned

I have learned a few things this week.
First, I learned that I need at least 8 hours of sleep each night
or I will feel like I am going to throw up...
and along with that, I learned I should not eat mexican food
the third consecutive night of non-sleep.
It only adds to the drama.
Secondly, I learned that if I go to Target to meet someone
without my cell phone, I will not be able to find them.
I learned I will have to buy a mocha in order to get change back,
so I can find a pay phone to call the person I cannot find.
Inadvertantly, I learned something about the world at large.
There are no pay phones.
Anywhere.
Then I learned, that if desperate enough, I will
ask a perfect stranger (nice mommy with a stroller) if I can
use her cell phone to call the person I cannot find.
God bless her.
Thirdly, I learned that I am not as handy as I hoped.
A screw excavator is out of my depth. Therefore, if you have
a screw or bolt with a stripped head anywhere in your vicinity,
do not call me, because despite giving it a good college try for
say, maybe, two hours, and sweating through a perfectly good shirt,
the screw will still be firmly lodged where it began.
And I will probably cry, which will just make it all the more awkward.
This week I was forced to recognize my limits.
And it wasn't pretty.
It is always a bit shattering when I disappoint myself.
So as I set my bed time for 10:00 and make sure I have my
cell phone in my purse, I am thinking two things....
One - I am thankful God is limitless.
That his abilities have no end.
And two - thank God this week is over.
There's only so much learning a girl can take.

selling lemonade

Last Saturday, we had a garage sale.
Jack had a little lemonade stand set up.
He is a true salesman. It is in him.
He has no fear. He scoffs at rejection.
As soon as someone would arrive, he would begin his pitch.
"Lemonade! 25 cents! Free refills! Lemonade! 25 cents! Free refills!"
This, he would continue the entire time the person was browsing,
sometimes walking behind them as they were looking around.
And while I was proud of his tenacity, a few times I reeled him in with,
"Jack, they heard you, love," or "Okay, Jack, that's good."
But I've been pondering Jack....and myself as a child.
When we are brand new to this world, testing the waters,
we are fearless and mostly we think, people love us and accept us.
It takes a few years of hard living and the horror of jr. high
to convince us that almost no one loves us and accepts us.
Then we spend our adult years, with lots of therapy and tissue,
peeling back the layers of hurt and misunderstanding,
trying to find that kid again,
the one who loved life and looked forward to each day's adventures.
I have recently had the thought, that when we are little,
we are most like the person God created us to be.
Without affectation. Telling the truth. Being adventurous.
I used to spend my summers catching bugs. Shocking but true.
I made best friends in minutes.
I was always moving and could rarely sit still.
I woke up early, ready to play.
I cried, sobbed really, when my feelings got hurt.
I was affectionate and wanted to be cuddled all the time.
I told boys I liked them.
I loved anything that was funny and was curious about everything.
I am thinking that was the real Susanna.
Before life covered her up and toned her down.
And as I watched Jack, with his skills,
hawking lemonade like a used car salesman,
I decided I don't want to be the one who
tones Jack down and covers him up.
I would like to be the one
who lets Jack be the Jack God created him to be.
So from here on out...if he's selling...I'm buying.

a walk with Will

So I am walking or trying to walk on a somewhat semi-regular basis.
Okay. I've walked 3 times. But it's a start, right?
I'm doing it purely for the exercise benefits.
There is no enjoyment involved here.
I just don't love to exercise.
But I do like how I feel afterwards.
Like I have done something good for myself.
The other morning, Will told me he wanted to go with me.
I was a little tempted to just say no only because
I thought he might slow me down when I'm trying to
burn off some of this baby fat but I thought better of it.
When do I ever have 30 minutes alone with Will? Never.
So we started out, me in my sweat shorts,
which I think I purchased in 1994,
and Will, on his bike, decked out with training wheels and helmet.
We made it to the corner before we turned back.
"I can't make it go fast enough, Mom."
"Should we take it back?" "Ya."
On the way back to the house, Will stops, to pick a
tiny flower peeping out of a sidewalk crevice...for me.
Because whenever Will sees a flower he picks it for me.
Even the neighbors flowers. He's just that kind of boy.
We leave the bike at the house, tuck the flower in his helmet,
for safe keeping and we are off....again.
We are walking...or I should say, I am walking.
Will is skipping, running, looking around, hopping
sidewalk cracks, racing, asking questions....
Will is doing everything but walking.
He is having some fun, for goodness sake,
as I am beginning to sweat and pant a little.
We make it about 15 minutes into the walk
before we have to go piggy back.
Now toting a four year old on your back adds a new
dimension to the regular walk.
We had a chat. We passed by our favorite park.
My knees began to buckle. I put Will down.
Will was ecstatic because we were almost home.
He recognized our street and began to run.
He ran with a easy gait that stopped abruptly by a huge tree.
"Hold on, Mom, we've got to get this big leaf." So we did.
I learned a thing or two about walking from Will.
It's more exciting if you skip.
Piggyback adds to the intensity of the walk.
And you should always stop for the big leaf.
Plus,it's great to have a chat while you're walking,
especially if it's with Will.

baby fat

I was examining my post baby body the other day.
I have never been bone thin nor do I strive to be,
but the full body cushioning that appeared with each pregnancy,
was disheartening to say the least.
And even though I breast fed each baby, I was never met by
the weight loss miracle claimed by some nursing moms.
Some friends would say,
"I just ate an entire 7 course buffet, polished off a cake,
nursed Bobby and dropped 5 lbs within the last 24 hours."
My body always likes to hold on to a good 15 lbs.
to aid in the high quality production of milk.
I had enough to feed a small nation.
It always takes me a good six months to drop the rest of the baby weight
when I have finished nursing.
And that is where I am now, amidst the drudgery of trying to lose
those last for-heavens-sake-would-you-just-go-already 10 lbs.
I can squeeze into my pre-pregnancy clothes
but I appear a bit sausage like.
If I sit down in my jeans, I feel faint because my airflow is cut off.
In the mail, I received a coupon for a free sample of
Sculptz Multi Shaper Shortz which claim I will instantly look slimmer
as it flattens my tummy, slims my thighs, shapes and lifts my rear,
and smooths my hips.
I once tried on a full body shaper and got my head and right arm
caught in the opening of its vise like grip.
I began to panic in the dressing room and
could not see my way clear through the lycra.
I almost had a cardiac arrest in Ross.
When I finally managed to get free, I hurled it to the floor,
symbol of oppression that it was.
I will be sticking to my weight loss regimen of eating lots of salads
and the occasional morning walk.
Not a quick method, I know, but it's doable and CPR is not required.
And as for sending away for the "super girdle",
I just want to know who put my name on their mailing list.