At what point?

I don't know when it happen.

The shift.

I used to take care of these things on my own.

But now, I put a candle over the bug and wait for my husband to come home.

Serious Drama in Mrs. Hilary's Neighborhood

I live in a townhome complex on a hill. It is pictured to the left, and that should give you a pretty good grasp of how our homes are laid out. In rows, facing each other. So, let's just say it is pretty easy to be the nosy neighbor, without even really trying, to those who live across the street (or more like the parking lot) from you. This information will come in handy later on in the story. Our complex is mostly made up of young white professionals, some with babies, most without.

This past week, as I was unloading my car from an all-day golf tournament for my job, I heard my neighbor from across the street ask me if I was interested in a new puppy. Now, these neighbors, without sounding super un-PC, are a little different than the rest of our happy little WASP-y and DINK-y family units in the complex. They are a gay couple. I have actually noticed this (you may ask how I noticed it- but just please trust my judgment on this one- I am no novice), and wanted to chat it up and get to know them. But let's just say things have been a little quiet on that front. I simply thought that they were too busy and didn't feel like trying to be friends with any new neighborhood people.

But yesterday was different. I came over, sat on his porch, and we chatted it up like we'd known each other for years. It was really nice. But then we began discussing why we hadn't talked before now. That is when things got interesting. I must preface this by saying that Matt and I are very close friends with our next door neighbors on our left- we have dinner together at least twice a week, usually spontaneously. We grill out on their grill regularly. We go over in our pajamas on Saturday mornings for pancakes and lattes. We chat on the porch, and have keys to each other's homes. Our husbands hang out on their days off and play Zelda. It's pretty serious community. Not to mention, that my neighbor (the guy) grew up on the beach and basically refuses to wear a shirt the majority of the time. So, here is how our conversation went.

Me: "So why haven't you talked to us before? We a pretty friendly bunch."
Neighbor: "Well, my boyfriend is convinced that you guys are swingers."

MMKAY.
TAKING A MINUTE.

SWINGERS!!! I don't think I have laughed so hard in a very long time. Mainly because, looking at it from their perspective, I honestly could see how it may be interpreted that way. But I am talking about some serious reverse discrimination here people. Anyway, we ended up concluding our conversation with a tour of his lovely home, and promises to hang out again and have dinner. I will definitely keep you updated.

Also in the Spirit of the Olympics

Beginner platform diving. Miles jumps for Team USA.

In the spirit of the olympics

I'm sure Hilary's going to disown me as a friend. But don't worry, we'll blog about that later (ha ha just kidding). I just had to share it. (Forgive me dear Hilary)

Lessons Learned

Hello friends,
This excerpt is from a previous post that I did on my personal blog. It is simply a musing on relationships, and some of the ways that we can make things harder on ourselves than necessary. Also, as an update to my previous post here, I would like to announce that my cynicism has truly improved, and I am beginning to feel much more positive in my passions than negative. I think this will be an ongoing process, but thank you to those who helped me see that it's all about how you channel your passions. I must give some props to the Lord as well, for softening my heart and helping me see more clearly through eyes of love.

So here goes:
If you have a problem with someone, specifically a loved one or friend, talk to them about it. I know, this sounds simple, but when is the last time you actually got your gander up and just said what you were feeling? I had a very good conversation with a very close friend this weekend, and we basically laid it all out on the table. As hard and uncomfortable as it was, we both extended some serious grace to each other, and at the end it felt so much better. To think I had been holding things in and torturing myself for so long, just for the sake of "keeping peace" is ridiculous. That is not a true intimate relationship. And in the end, we both learned important things about our character that we can improve on. I'm also thinking about how often I do that with God, because I think that he isn't concerned with my oh-so-human feelings and petty frustrations. But I'm starting to realize that just as with friends and family, you HAVE to let God know how you're feeling too. He would rather you be screaming at Him than ignoring Him altogether. He can work with screaming.

A Bipolar Musing On Beauty

A couple of weeks ago, Hilary wrote a post entitled "The Sins of the Nation" on her (insightful, well-written, informed) blog, Alt Christian. I recommend reading Hilary's post in its entirety. However, the short version is that Hilary was in a conversation about the various sins of the nation that are screaming for God's judgment. Some people believe that things like the number of people who are pro-choice or pro-gay marriage in our country cause God to inflict us with something like the terrorist attacks on 9/11 or Hurricane Katrina. While I would like to ask why it is that similarly devastating things don't befall other nations with similar views on such sins, I will instead say that Hilary's blog wondered whether we weren't guilty, as a nation, of some other sins that ought to be addressed. One of these was, in Hilary's words, "Our obsession with image, and denial of what is truly important- our character." This is a particular sin that grieves me and that I'd like to explore.

I feel a little bipolar about image. I go back and forth about my opinion on my own image and on any given day I can feel dissonance about how beauty ought to be defined. Now that I'm a mother, I feel pressure to come up with a definition because I want Miles and Søren to have answers when they ask me questions. As their mother, I want to set a healthy, realistic example for them. Nat and I talk about this quite a bit. Before I explain more, I have one caveat. In terms of essential personal care, I do feel that bathing daily, maintaining basic grooming, eating healthfully and exercising regularly are important. I have decided that these mainstays of caring for oneself are foundations upon which one's image or one's beauty can be built. More on this below.

I am watching the 2008 Olympic games when I can, and I am of course amazed and humbled by the athletes--not just their dedication or their strength/talent/focus, etc.--I am amazed and humbled by their physical appearance. I am sure I am not the only woman in America to watch, say, Misty May-Traenor play beach volleyball and feel envious of her long, lean limbs, her bronzed belly, her sinewy, toned everything. It seems like every 5 minutes, the coverage of the games breaks for these many messages from our sponsors, and I am often struck by the garish ads for make-up, especially, but for all of the products that help us define our image. The athletes of the games and the buy-easy beauty of the commercials seem to be at opposite ends of the spectrum.

But what is realistic and what should I present to my boys? I am no Olympic athlete, and neither am I a make-up model. Nor do I aspire to be. Here are my current warring moods:

Mood One:
It is important to look good. It is more desirous to be in shape, even to the point of Olympian, than to be flabby or only kind of thinnish. I should lose the weight I gained while pregnant, and until I do, I'm gross. I will make remarks about myself in the mirror accordingly. Ew, I will say, look at my fat face or my stretch-marked abdomen. No more swimming in public for me. I should find something to wear that makes me look a little less paunchy, and then I should spend a good 15 minutes (this is a lot for me) on styling my hair. Then I should spend another 15 minutes on my make-up, working to conceal my flaws. I should still be dissatisfied, though, because I don't look like the celebrities in any given outlet--music, film, politics, religion. I should work harder.

Mood Two:
Screw that. I should be completely happy with my image. I don't need to focus on losing weight, I don't need to fret about my stretch marks--they are battle wounds from growing two HUMAN BEINGS in my body. I should be proud. I don't need to style my hair, I just need my hair to be healthy, trimmed, brushed and washed. I don't want to wear make-up--who knows what is in it anyway? And when I'm finished with a tube of mascara, container of blush, eyeshadow brush, lipstick, I am just going to throw them away and contribute to more trash on the already overburdened planet. I don't need to participate in such gross consumerism as to purchase the make-up that helps me buy the image I am seeking--anyway Nat reaffirms me daily in his love for me and tells me I'm beautiful without make-up or without hair products. I want to keep my body as free from toxins as possible--shouldn't this include health and beauty products? And Miles and Søren greet me with hugs, smiles, and snuggles every morning whether I am wearing make-up or not.

So What Is The Middle Ground?
I have to admit, I tend to find myself in the 2nd mood more often than the 1st. I work out or go for walks or practice yoga, but not so much for weight loss anymore. I really just want to be a healthy mom and fit enough to play with my kids for as long as I can. I want to be able to go on hikes with them when I'm 75, should I get to live so long. Weight loss is just a happy byproduct. But I do have struggles. Despite Nat's affirmations, I remember reading books like "The Power of a Praying Wife" that told me I have to be pretty to keep his eye from straying. (Does that make you mad? I think it should, and so does Nat). I am tired of advice to young women that they have to make themselves a mirror image of the most highly-revered celebrities, at least in the looks department, so that their husbands won't leave them, and for good reason. Why can't there be accountability on both sides? Should men really be given permission to look around elsewhere, or fantasize about someone else, just because his tired wife (or tired mother of his children) hasn't had time to put on a cute outfit and some lip gloss?

When Miles was born, I was given a book called 365 Things Every New Mom Should Know. The concept of the book is that you read a little page-worth of insights or tips each day after your baby is born to help you get through the often difficult first year. Some of the advice is great: the author recommends things like pumping breast milk so that someone else can give the baby one of the feedings in the middle of the night, or making time to see a friend for coffee so that you have the chance for adult conversation in the midst of your baby care. But she also recommends that new moms take time to put on make-up before their husbands get home from work. This will make them feel better about themselves, she argues. And to some extent, I guess I agree. It's like the advice to dress up before an exam--feeling like you look good makes you perform better. So I tried. I would make sure I had showered, dressed, made up my face, blow dried my hair, all before Nat would get home. And I was so exhausted by the end of it, it didn't matter. Usually it proved to be easier to wait until Nat got home so that he could hold the baby so I could shower. Sort of defeats the purpose there. Or does it?

I'm not saying that there is no merit to looking good. I do think that I feel better about myself if I think I look nice and I do think that looking nice shows a degree of self assurance that is important. But at the same time, when we measure our standard of what is beautiful against images that are not only unrealistic but usually false (as in air-brushed or cosmetic-surgeried), we are giving in to vanity in such a way that we are most unquestionably sinning.

The bottom line, I suppose, is that I still don't know what I want to present to my kids. I don't like that Miles watches me put on make-up and either reacts by wanting me to stop so that I can play with him or reacts by staring a bit too intently. What am I already teaching him about image at this young age? That it is more important for Mommy to wear eye shadow than it is for her to read a book or sing a song? Is this what I hope for him to find in a future mate--someone whose priority is her looks over her children? Drastic, yes, but I wonder whether this is the implicit message I send. Nat and I want our sons to learn to love their girlfriends/wives for who they are, not the outside presentation, because of course that changes from day to day and from year to year. How can we teach them the balance between image and character, and how can we find the balance in our own lives?

RR

Short post to promise a longer post. Plus pictures.

I am working on a post. It's about beauty and image, and it's a response to Hilary's post about the sins of the nation on her other blog, AltChristian. Considering that I usually only have about 10 minutes here and there right now to really type things, it is taking a while. This is my "fluff blog" for the time in between. It's coming! I promise!

So this morning Miles is into strawberries a little more than normal. They are his third favorite food, after blueberries and hummus. So I had sliced him a bunch of fresh strawberries and put them in a bowl in the living room where I was temporarily encamped to nurse Søren. Miles wandered into the next room, ostensibly to get some more cars to drive on the coffee table. However, it got quiet. Any mom or nanny knows that getting quiet means getting into something--the quiet is caused by concentration. Then I heard, from the kitchen, "One wah-nieu." (Wah-nieu = strawberry). "One wah-nieu." Hmm. So Søren and I wander into the kitchen to find Miles standing on the step stool, pulling strawberries out of the carton and eating one bite out of each and then putting the once-bitten strawberries on the counter. Adorable. Photos:

Kicked in the A** by Life

It's no secret I'm not a huge fan of blogging. Really though, it's not the blogging I take issue with, rather it's the part of me that knows if I start to read one or write one even, I'll be addicted. So I've steered clear. Until now. So bear with me as this is my first blog post, ever!

The trouble is that I'm frustrated with my job, and by extension my boss. The trouble is I have virtually no life outside of work. The trouble is I am starting to feel the pangs of loneliness. The trouble is that life, as I know it, has recently decided to open a rather large can of 'whoop ass' on me...and it's winning.

Some may say I seem unhappy. Others might tell me that I need to get my ducks in a row and CHANGE IT, so I won't be unhappy. I say, "Where do I begin?" It's not that I'm entirely unhappy, but I know that it's there and I've become afraid of the person I see myself becoming. A pessimist who has become un-trusting and wallowing in self-pity. That's not me and anyone who has known me for any time prior to these past 3 months, knows that. It's not that I don't want to change it. I do. But how? I've only been at my job for 6 months and it's not even the work that's frustrating. It is one factor and one factor only...the dreaded boss. We got along fine at first, but somewhere along the lines things have changed and it's been a bitter pill to swallow. There are other things I won't go into, but they're there. They might not add up to anything much, but it's always just enough to get me riled up.

The thing is during my fits of rage and feelings of loneliness and frustration, I also know that it could be worse. I have perspective. It might not always seem that way but I do. I know things could turn on a dime in one direction or another. So why do I still get so mired down in the day-to-day things that I know everyone goes through at one time or another? Why can I not grapple with something that seems so trivial and simply make lemonade with the lemons I feel I've been handed? How can I effectively invoke change on my own?

Words of wisdom are appreciated. :)

Reality TV Has Stolen My LIFE...

This summer has been very restful, without an overwhelming amount of commitments eating away at my spare time. The problem is, I've used this hiatus to indulge in my two favorite things: Bravo and A&E. You could turn on any show on these two stations, and I could sit there for hours without moving. I become hypnotized by the real life docu-dramas that basically follow shallow, self-absorbed people around as they talk about themselves. I'm addicted. I can't help it.

So, lately I've been finding myself having a hard time concentrating during the day. I can't stay focused on a project for a very long, and I believe this can be attributed to a serious lack of stimulation. My brain, for lack of a better term, is mush. So, for the next 30 days, I've decided to turn my TV off, and spend time participating in more enriching activities such as reading, learning how to play the guitar and/or violin I recently inherited from some friends, knitting, etc. The point is, I see the value in being a lifetime student. I love being challenged, and yet, for whatever reason, I've resigned myself instead to hitting auto-pilot and zoning out until it's time for bed. This madness needs to stop. TV's great, but in moderation, and I've officially gone over the deep end into the bottomless pit of high-definition hades.

That being said, I'd gladly welcome suggestions for some new books. I'm in the middle of "The Shack" by William P. Young, which, by the way, if you haven't read, I highly suggest you do. But, I'll be done with this soon, and am looking forward to a little brain exertion.