My hypocrisy

Several weeks ago we had a pretty passionate debate with some friends of ours about appropriate responses to injustice in the world. In this case it involved the mega loads destined for the tar sands of Canada that will soon take place on a scenic byway connecting Idaho with Montana. But really...this conversation could have been about anything. I know that throughout history there have been injustices and tragedies that the typical person had no control over. Living in the information age tends to amplify these feelings of impotency...and leads to general frustration and angst. Within my own state's borders there seems to be serious corruption at top levels of Idaho state government. How else to explain the fact that the mega loads permits were essentially approved with no public input? That politicians admit stealing timber from land dedicated to funding schools and then refusing to pay the amount back? Or that some politicians feel that they don't have to pay taxes? Just the rest of us that pay their salary? That gubernatorial candidates feels free to poach at will? What an odd state. But realistically...what an odd country...what an odd world.

So what is the appropriate response? Ultimately the mega loads are a symptom of a much larger problem in our country. In many ways we are a democracy in name only...because I don't have the money huge corporations like Conoco Phillips have...or Exxon Mobile. My voice isn't as loud. Recent Supreme Court decisions on a national level make this even more of an issue. I feel as if the average citizen is like the tiny community in Horton Hears a Who. How can we be heard if there are no Hortons?

We didn't go protest the mega loads. Not because I don't think it is worthwhile...but because I wasn't sure driving my SUV down was the point I wanted to make. The fact is that our country is built on oil...Idaho receives 9% of its oil from those dastardly tar sands in Canada. What does that make me? How do I inform future development in such a way that I won't need to rely on my vehicle so heavily? Would it be better for me to park my vehicle as a form of protest? What about 0 degree weather and five young children? These questions are never easy and it is something I struggle to work out in my own life.

Neurosis 101: The Heather Files

Today started off pretty slow...Jon let me sleep in. Again. Dylan had spent the night with the boys so after a breakfast of sugary cereal they had fun doing god knows what in the family room...wrestling probably, watching movies and playing on the Wii. I had coerced another couple to come for dinner...haha. I say coerced just because I have made it my mission to be more outwardly friendly this year...as in spending time with new people and putting myself out there.

After finding out for sure they were coming to dinner I spent most of the afternoon wondering how dull of a hostess I would be, whether my children would let us visit and whether they would like dinner. I kept reminding myself that Jon is a really likable guy. Sometimes I am just too weird...too neurotic...and too self absorbed. :P Another friend of ours told me the other day when I apologized for possibly offending her that I was always worried about offending someone. Very astute! I do worry about offending people. I worry about people not liking me and I want to be liked. I hate that about myself. I hate that I want people to like me. I hate that I think I am unlikable and obnoxious...this of course going back to previous blogs where I hated myself for being loud and opinionated. Even though I am. And even though I blogged about accepting those things about myself.

Right now. I don't. Unfortunately, you can't take a vacation from your own neurosis.

Abbreviated

One evening last fall I randomly typed in my birth father's name, Tyson Harman, into the Facebook search box...and poof! There he was. I knew it was him the second I saw him. And I had never seen him before. My first thought was not, "Great!" my first thought was, "Now look what you've done Heather". I had to decide what should be done or what I needed to be done or what I could live with being done. After swearing profusely I remembered my birth mom had told me I had two sisters. I found several women...and wrote them all. I introduced myself as the possible daughter of this man and gave them relevant facts I knew about him.

I was not going to give him a chance to reject me.

Then I waited.

And then I had one. My sister, yes I had a sister! Gayle writing to tell me that if what I wrote her was true then she was my sister! And in fact I had two! And an aunt and new cousins...and still there was him...who I hadn't written yet. I was angry at this man I had never met.

Angry and indifferent.

This particular blog is abbreviated. And in many ways that is the way I feel about him...abbreviated. I have spoken to him once on the phone and he seems very nice. On an intellectual level I would like to meet him. To learn something about him so that I can learn something about myself. To have something more to pass on to my children about their grandfather.

Emotionally I feel nothing.

I think I should meet him. I want to meet my sisters. I want to meet my aunt and cousins. I want to form a connection.

I'll think about these things.

Identity

Growing up I knew exactly what I wanted to be. I wanted to be Cyndi Lauper. I wanted pink hair. I wanted to sing...LOUDLY and I wanted to dance and I wanted to wear Rainbow Brite's clothes and I wanted to be loved...for all of it. I remember living in Southern California...summer days were endless and hot. White heat. The air smelled like oil and dirt and humidity. I played with ants. I played with cockroaches. I spit on people from our second floor apartment. I made prank calls to the operator at the public pay phone...late into the night as my mom spoke with my aunt on the adjacent phone. I was convinced that I was convincing the operator that I was a 50 year old man asking for the time. I was that good. I was going to be an actress. I was going to be loved. I remember running barefoot up the fake green turf carpeting that lined our apartment stairs. The dirt. The grime. The smell of burning carpet when I laid the hair iron on it. The time I washed the cat...in the toilet. The time I followed a little girl home from school and missed the bus...the bus that would take me back down to the poor neighborhood I lived in. The abandoned gas station across the street...with the homeless camped behind it...between the walls of buildings...their drunken caterwauling at night. The lights. The sirens. Riding in the back window of our vehicles...orange street lights flashing by...the night life of Los Angeles. Sucking on butterscotch candies my grandpa gave me. Hiding under my uncle's bed while playing solo GI Joe...discovering nudie mags. What IS this? Watching Annie...I remember feeling sorry for her...sorry that she had no family...sorry that she had to be adopted.

And then I was. Aren't our lives like this? Don't we all have stories like this. Stories that are probably all a little dirtier then we would like to remember. Not quite so airbrushed they exist in the back corners of our mind. Most of the time we can ignore them...but they have made us. We are a product of these experiences. My experiences are gritty. I am gritty. I am emotional. I am compassionate. I am disgusted. I am sad. Who I am lurks beneath the surface and is insecure. I am that 7, 8, 9 year old girl...I am the girl that slept in a car.

I have noticed when I blog that I want to appear a certain way. I take many pictures of happy events. I don't take pictures of myself pinched and silent during dinner. I don't take pictures of my house and the mess. Because I want to appear at least remotely put together. I don't want to show it at all if it can't look better then it normally does. I don't take pictures of myself wasting time online. I don't take pictures of myself feeling smug and self satisfied. I don't take pictures of myself judging.

So I will rectify this. I can be distracted and lazy. I can be a procrastinator. I am not organized. I like bright colors. I like music. I like to dance. I like to walk. I like to laugh. I am that little whirling dervish girl.

Being a mother now lends itself to all sorts of expectations. It is a battle for me to overcome my desire to socialize with the need to keep house. I thought I would dispel any myths that may exist for those that don't know me well on any supermomness. We are our harshest critics and I know so many moms that think the worst of themselves. We don't love ourselves...we want to be like THAT mom...the one that is beautiful, the one that makes time to exercise or knit or do any assortment of things we don't do and frankly don't want to! I want my house to be organized and beautiful! But it isn't.

What is this blog about? Being myself. Allowing myself to be strong in some areas and not others. And appreciating the things I have to offer that are unique to me. The grit.

Isla is our standby paper shredder...very energy efficient.

Breakfast. Check. Coats. Check. Library movies. Check.

Shoe rack that Jon made...not currently being used.

New bike kept out of the rain...glider rocker as stool, probably not the best idea.

Note tiara on dresser and guns in corner...unmade bed, box of things to dispose of.

5000 minutes

Today I recieved a text from my birth mom Marilyn that said this:

Mom went to att to increase minutes five thousand minutes for the weekends good news for us
love mom

We had just discussed her new phone plan and I am happy that she was able to increase her minutes in order to control costs...she has had a problem with going over her minutes in the past. I did laugh...really hard...and so did Jon when I read the part about good news for us. I guess I should set some time aside?

January weekend

I always wait to title my posts until after I have written. Mostly because I never know what will pop out.

This weekend was a three day weekend with the kids...it was pretty tiring after a rainy Friday but we were fortunate to have Katie, Dylan, Eva and Sylvia stop by for an afternoon visit. Jon was pretty busy on Friday meeting with clients and working on a proposal with Harmony Engineering and Design from Driggs, ID. I am pretty proud of him, he has never waited for something to fall in his lap and instead goes for it. Hopefully, they will win the project...fingers crossed.

Saturday Jon worked from 9-1 at the wood shop up on campus...and had enough time to read through and edit most of the proposal since not many students came in. I had the kids help clean up and Josiah watched Isla while I tackled our mountain of dishes. I swear they reproduce. I was listening to NPR while washing dishes and heard a short story by a woman who considered bread making meditative. I agree. And decided that we would be making honey challah for cinnamon rolls for Sunday morning breakfast and for a treat to take to church. But first we walked to the Winters Market and back where this funny exchange occurred:
On the way home we came across a group of 7th or 8th grade boys...a pack of them...riding their bikes towards us. One kid stayed on the sidewalk and jumped off the curb right before he got to us. Ethan said, "He must be showing off", I said, "Maybe" and then he said, "He must not know you are married."

Because we were tired Friday we had told the kids we would do family night on Saturday night. Jon made soup, we mixed up the challah and had a pretty fun afternoon overall.

        Iris mixing it up.

      Sevrin holding the bowl while Josiah tries to mix in the flour.

                               

Ethan's idea of kneading the dough.

Ready for the movie to start.

       Putting the filling in.

                                                     

This morning the kids were very excited for the cinnamon rolls...as can be seen below. We ate cinnamon rolls, made a mess of the house again seemingly dirtying every dish overnight and went to church at 11 am. We took some cinnamon rolls with us...which made the people very happy. After church I took some cinnamon rolls over to the neighbor across the street to pay her back for lending me powder sugar last week! I remember how much my Grandma Negaard baked and how she always had some sort of treat, stale or not, to offer to guests as well as to take places. I think I would like to do that as well...as long as I can avoid weighing 300 pounds.

This afternoon Jon had the boys help  him stack more fire wood and clean up the yard. It was pretty balmy out there...over 45 degrees and blue skies! I took Lemon to the dog park where she enjoyed playing with the other dogs and getting filthy. Not as filthy though as the long haired, pure white dog that came and promptly laid in the mud. Later Jon put Ethan's Christmas present together, his bike, and he took it for it's virgin voyage. I love our flat street and sidewalks...I love that the kids have a safe place to roller skate, skateboard and bike ride right outside our front door. Now I am off to eat the pizza we bought from Safeway...we are tired and tomorrow is the beginning of another week full of play co-op, preschool, school, vaccinations and doctor's appointments.

Waiting for the cinnamon rolls to be done this morning.

                                     

         Lemon waiting for the cinnamon rolls to be done this morning.

                                  
       

I can't imagine a better smell then fresh cinnamon rolls.

The weather was finally nice enough for Ethan to ride his bike.

                            

Iris

Josiah

Isla Jane

Student Loans

What an ominous title. Jon and I are really conservative with purchases...always pay our credit cards off, paid both of our "new" used vehicles off the same year we got them, etc. But taking a look at these student loans equals feeling overwhelmed. When we decided to go back to school for landscape architecture the world was a different place economically. I planned on letting Jon bring home the bacon and myself getting a part time job to pay our student loans off quickly.

Instead, we have gone from deferment to a payment plan that is essentially $0 a month but with the knowledge that our interest is building and building and building. Our business has been supporting us...and maybe would or will support student loan payments...but I have no idea how to budget as a self employed family when I don't know what we will make this year. This is a post that is really about venting, about feeling frustrated that our plans to be responsible have hit yet another roadblock. Unlike many people think, student loans can be an impediment to buying a home...I hear plenty of people poo poo paying them off or stressing over it...because they haven't had to look at the bill or take into consideration they may spend the rest of their life renting.

Bah...enough complaining.

Toilets, Jesus and chores

One of the most disgusting jobs you will have as a parent involves clogged toilets. For the love of God I can't figure out how the toilets get clogged so easily around here. Oh and other observation? Small children rarely flush...you don't want to find that several hours later.

Iris said tonight after we read the Creation Story and Noah's Ark, "If Jesus turned around and wouldn't help a poor person, then Spiderman could."

Josiah is in finishing his half of the dishes that he and Sevrin split...approximately 2.5 hours ago. So for those that always feel they need to tell me that my children are old enough to clean the kitchen. Note the time is 9:06 pm...the boys started "cleaning" the kitchen around 6:30 pm.

Jon should be home soon...good night world!

Rhubarb wine is good...

I learned this last night. Randy brought over amazing homemade rhubarb wine that his late stepfather made. Delicious! In general I don't really enjoy alcohol...but probably could have finished the whole bottle myself...but didn't. We had fun having Randy over...our conversations usually run the gambit and I enjoy evenings spent with good food, friends and now, rhubarb wine.

This morning I woke, checked the calendar and was happy to see the kids activity was going on at Moscow Food Co-op. I looked at the clock, realized that if I wanted to walk there (I did) and didn't want to have greasy hair in public I was going to have to move quickly. Jon was still here so that helped. He wrangled Isla into her fleece, made sure Iris had her shoes and coat on while I ran around like a crazy woman getting dressed, hhmmming and hawwwing about whether I had time to walk. I left at 8:50 and got there at 9:15...not too shabby. Three-quarters of the way there I looked at Iris' face in the stroller and realized she had egg yolk all over the lower half of her face...took note to immediately wash it when we arrived and powered on with Isla in the backpack, Iris in the stroller and Lemon on leash. It was so wonderful to walk. Those that have known us any length of time know that we love to walk. Walking is a form of mediation to me and this warmer, albeit gray weather is welcome relief from the frozen tundra that has encased the Palouse the last two months.

While walking I was again reminded of why I love Moscow so much. I see people walking everywhere! I see people riding their bikes, I wave to the bus driver going by...then we get to the Moscow Food Co-op and see hoards of young children taking over 2/3 of the seating area coloring and making parfaits. For free. I am handed a free drink coupon and a raffle ticket. Which I win! I never win...so I was happy to receive my $10 gift card. My Americano with coconut syrup (recommended by the barista) was delicious. Meanwhile 42 second graders, I think is what the cashier told me, were roaming the aisles for a school field trip learning how to count change and purchase items from the bins among other things.

Before heading home I stopped to see Jon at Hodge and Associates and handed him the gift card so he could get some coffee. I saw the students, who I believe were from Lena Whitmore Elementary School, walking back about a half mile through town...back to school. I cut through beautiful East City Park and ran into Netia and her little puppy Molly, a little ball of fluff, yipping and yapping. What a happy little pup! It is hard not to smile when you see the energy and excitement Molly was exhibiting to be out. A good reminder to us as humans to enjoy the little things. I think Lemon may have thought Molly was a toy for her to play with. I officially entered Netia's number into my phone to make a future puppy and kid date at Mountain View Park.

All of this taking place before 10:30 am...what a wonderful town to live in.

"Everyone at the Post Office knows everyone else's business".

I have forgotten to share this story with many people...but it is worth sharing. Lorie laughed so hard she cried when I told her.

My birth mom as many know has a lot of issues...mental and physical. I am constantly amazed by the stamina she shows...the fact that she is almost 60?? Amazing. I used to think my genes were pretty crappy...but hot damn...she is still alive after living the life she has. I figure I will make it to 100 if I just keep eating broccoli.

First let me recount a story that a friend of mine, the Post Master's wife told about the time she accidentally made it on a list for a company mailing out formula for expectant mothers. She said everyone at the Post Office asked if she was pregnant because as she put it, "Everyone at the Post Office knows everyone else's business".

Lets go back a few weeks...my mom sent the kid's Christmas gifts. In a big box. Not covered in brown paper. That says, "Adult Diapers." With quantities...size: LARGE.

This is the second time she has sent such a package to us.

Threads

My thoughts don't exactly follow a linear path. I feel like writing but don't know what to say...maybe I have nothing to say. Wouldn't that be shocking? haha. The boys are playing Wii with a friend of Josiah's from Russel Elementary. I love that we have a home to invite other children into play. When I was a little girl in California I could never have friends over. Our cockroach invested studio apartment wasn't exactly the kind of place you host a play date. Wow. Little tidbits of darkness inserted into an otherwise lighthearted blog. Then again, these are the things I remember and think of throughout my daily life...this life that I find my self surprisingly blessed to be in.

Jon and Iris are shopping for cream cheese and lemon extract for lemon frosting for the gingerbread cupcakes I made from my Moosewood Dessert Cookbook.

Isla is sleeping.

I spoke on the phone with one of my dearest, oldest friends Jenn. She is like coming home to me. We can go months without speaking and then we catch up...laughing at the absurdity of our lives...or rather the lives of our more dysfunctional family members. Because if you didn't laugh-you would cry. I love her. I am thankful for her and she is a blessing to me.

Later, I caught up with my cousin Steven, a man that I have only recently gotten to know, despite clear memories of him throwing a temper tantrum at his fourth birthday. ;) What a wonderful person he is and is becoming. I am elated, yes elated...to see that he is dating a beautiful, strong fiery haired woman. YES!

Our friend Randy is coming over for dinner tonight, I am looking forward to our conversations...and the homemade bread he said he would bring to go along with our Split Pea Soup, straight out of our Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone cookbook my cousin Toni gave Jon and I years ago for a wedding gift. Of course she gave me a cookbook. I am reminded of how much I miss my cousin...my almost sister. It feels that we are a million miles apart...and that makes me sad. I love her.

So maybe it is possible to thread a blog together with the little moments I am living. The little inconsequential things...that remind me...moment by moment of the ones I love and miss.

We gave you a whisper that we might not be accused

Call to Worship
One: You asked for our hands that you could use them for your purposes.
All: We gave them for a moment and then withdrew for the work was hard.
One: You asked for our mouths to speak against injustice.
All: We gave you a whisper that we might not be accused.
One: You asked for our eyes to see the pain of poverty.
All: We closed them for we did not want to know.
One: You asked for our lives that you might work through us.
All: We gave you a fractional part that we might not get involved.
One: Creator God: forgive us, renew us, empower us.
All: Make us healing instruments of your justice and peace.

Today we visited the United Church of Moscow and I was so encouraged to hear the sermon and these words in particular. So often I "whisper"...my spirit shrinks...is unwilling to hear or know what others think of me because of my stands and opinions on poverty, violence and mainstream Christianity. My voice is shaky at best...my spirit is NOT willing...but would you be surprised to know that I wake up at night with the thoughts of debate on the poor and the use of violence and intimidation that we see in our country? To know that my spirit feels these pains acutely...if nothing else this is proof to me of God's sorrow. If we indeed believe that God is in us...this is Him. Dammit. I want a good nights sleep. I don't want to care! I attempted to sooth this pain with food this weekend...it seems to work for some. It didn't help. I have stayed away from the news...stayed away from anything remotely confrontational. Then I hear the pastor speak about this very thing. My "whispers"...my timidity.

She also spoke about Isaiah...Israel's exile...and I couldn't help thinking about mainstream Christianity. I refer to it that way because it is what most American's would consider the cultural representation of the religion in our country. The loudest. The rudest. The most arrogant. Then people turn around and wonder why young people are leaving the faith in droves? Christians in America are in exile...and the few from their faith that are trying to call them out of the wilderness are called socialists, are mocked and ridiculed, their faith is questioned and sometimes their very sanity. Glen Beck went so far as to do an entire show on churches that push social justice and urged viewers to leave those churches. I say what the hell? A recent on-line conversation pointed out this same disconnect between cultural Christianity and the real thing. Christian politicians can't live by the very book they claim is the literal, inerrant word of God. They believe this so strongly that when I say I don' t believe the world was created in six days I am not a true Christian. Bearing no fruits they mock and discredit anyone that questions the status quo...they claim to uphold the institute of marriage...claim to know what is best for anyone...yet can't even follow the simplest and yet hardest of the commands they claim to believe. Apparently winning elections and gaining power is the point. Last time I checked this has nothing to do with Christ. This has nothing to do with love. This has nothing to do with anything. Policies put forth that would leave the poor uncared for, the elderly and sick in destitution, the mentally ill homeless, war and weapons manufacturing on a massive level, that rape the very land we say speaks of God's wonder, do not say Christ to me. Yet apparently these are the things that are worth spitting on Christ for.

Money.
Power.
Arrogance.
Violence.

I wish nothing to do with these things.

Christians that actually believe in the teachings of Christ...that believe that Jesus was actually showing us the way to live...the way to react to others...the way to treat others...not only should speak up. We must speak up.

Firebrand

We all have things about ourselves that drive us crazy. Mine? My passion or my enthusiasm. I feel things strongly...and I don't mean to imply that others don't. But I feel like I care too much...my thoughts, my feelings, they pour out of me...not in a cruel way...then the guilt would crush me...but they are a force to be reckoned with. How else to explain them except to tell the story of Sevrin receiving Christmas presents from my mom that is mentally ill and impoverished. Once two of the three presents were unwrapped he wept. He had already mentioned that he wished she hadn't spent her money on them...but seeing the gifts overwhelmed him. With what? Grief. Compassion. Empathy. The injustice of it all. And I recognized that in him. I recognize that feeling because that is how I feel things.

What do you do when you are a person that feels things strongly? When I say nothing...when I the world feels like a huge weight on me...depression sets in. I am doing nothing. I am part of the problem. My own silence condemns me.

Nothing bothers me more then the hypocrisy I see from mainstream Christianity in our country today. Having stepped back from my childhood beliefs...I feel like I see Jesus for the first time. Not the first time version. Miracles. Magic. But Jesus the man. The man who believed so strongly in what he taught...loving your enemy, caring for the poor, peace...that I don't even see the connection between him and his followers. At all. Sure I know individuals who give to others. BUT again and again I see people swallow propaganda...yes propaganda from places like Fox News...where they use Christianity to advance their own agendas. So what do you do when you see this? Should I shut up? My heart says no...it wells up at this injustice...people with power pretending to be victims. I can't help but wonder how many people like me are out there...but people that are able to muzzle themselves better. I wonder about the other times people muzzled themselves? Pre-Holocaust Germany? Before the genocide in Rwanda? What about Croatia? Where were they all when those things began...as words. Perhaps this is what Jesus meant when he said family members would divide over him. Of course mainstream Christianity would say that is the separation between those sinning (whoever that may be) and those following him. What if it isn't that? What if he meant that people wouldn't have the courage to call out the Pharisees and hypocrites? We are the hypocrites and despite the fact that this passion and even this blog drives me crazy about myself...irritates and maddens me...that I can't shut the hell up about it. I can't.

I want others to speak up. I want others to learn what the Bible says about the poor, the weak, the needy. I want people to question what they see and hear on tv. I want to hear Christians admit...just for once...that Glen Beck, Sarah Palin, Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter...don't represent Christ. That they are talk show hosts...not God.

Shopping...

I have just spent a couple of hours on line reading with sadness about the shooting of 18 in AZ and then church shopping. Yes...that is correct. And I hate the wishy washiness of church shopping. :P I am drawn to the tradition of the Episcopal Church but have absolutely no background or understanding. I looked at the United Church of Christ...which sounds good...but honestly...I just want to offer my children some sort of religious practice. Does that make sense? I believe God can be found anywhere...so Church isn't necessary...but is a nice addition to one's life. At this point in my life I am going for moderation...I crave it and I sure as hell am not going to get mired in extremism on either front. Which makes it hard doesn't it?

Jesus is Kale

There are a few things I have resolved to do in this New Year...unofficially. I never seem to follow resolutions and think I probably have good company in this habit. However, blogging has become one of my unofficial resolutions. It feels good to keep a record of today, no matter how inconsequential it may seem. My other two resolutions that have added themselves to my list: Find a way to incorporate Jesus into our lives in some way...almost like you would blend up kale in a smoothie...Jesus is good for us...and he has got to find a way into our daily life. Other goal...put myself out there. I realized the other day that I "check out" of real life...not in a dramatic way...but this is a habit I picked up many years ago when I first came to my foster mother's home. I don't know why I never recognized this...but I deal with stress through an addiction. Is it the internet? Not necessarily per say. It is reading! Yes, a perfectly wonderful past time but one that at times gets in the way of now. When I first came to Lorie's I think I was grieving the loss of...what? I don't know...since as an adult looking back on my childhood situation I can use logic and see that my life with my mother and then my aunt was anything but healthy. But to me it was my life. And so imagine yourself one day...at age 10, in a new town, a home with strangers, going to a new school...coming to grips that that was really gone. Some kids act out, some kids become promiscuous, some kids use alcohol and drugs...I read...and prayed. Thus, you see the addition of Jesus into the resolutions...because although I don't believe that Jesus' corpse rose from the dead...I don't believe that the earth was made in a six days...I do believe in the power of love and forgiveness. I want my children to know that. I tell them that while I have a hard time believing that belief made me "normal". Magic of some sort is there.

I am a really social person...so putting myself out there and making myself do it seems like a no-brainer. But I am often a self imposed loner...I fall into it. In high school I spent hours alone: reading, fishing, going walking and running. I can be moody and brooding. I can be sullen and depressed. I am not an unhappy person...just recognizing that to get those things I want: good friends, relationships and a support network I have to come out of myself. Those habits I formed so many years ago...reading obsessively, reading anything for distraction...have to stop. My life is good and should be fully lived.

YAWN

The weather has warmed up here just enough to rain...rain plus snow equals slush...it is just yuck outside. Jon has taken Josiah for a haircut, Isla is sleeping, Sevrin is reading in his bunk and Iris and Ethan alternate between playing some game with fairy wings and fighting. All is well on the Smith homestead.

Lessons with Iris

This morning I had a lot of fun with Iris. Sometimes I am so distracted...mostly by unimportant things...that I don't take the time to sit with her and do things that I always made time to do with the boys. I had planned on homeschooling the boys and so I had a lot more drive when it came to things like reading lessons and reasoning skills. This morning seeing her eyes light up when she read a few words...wonderful. We were both so happy! I decided to go one step further...went and got Heather's math tools...a handful of kidney beans straight from the plastic bag. We counted, we added, we subtracted...we laughed and giggled. These are the things happiness are made from. How blessed I am to have five children so that these moments can be multiplied.

Learning with Iris this morning reminded me of the reasons I loved homeschooling the boys. I genuinely like my children. Hearing their ideas and thoughts on how things work is amazing. I have at least one child that asks me weekly to home school and I find myself standing back from the possibility for a variety of reasons. My main excuse right now is that I worry about his academic possibilities. I worry that I won't do a good enough job. I worry that we don't have enough money to do and buy the things I would want to for schooling them. For Jon, he wanted to go to school...so I am mindful of the "grass is always greener on the other side" mentality. I have said to Josiah (the child mentioned above) that he can choose to be content or not...but in some ways I wonder why should he have to? If he can be homeschooled why make him withstand boredom? I have seen home schoolers well educated and I have been appalled by others. I have seen homeschooling parent's (usually the mother) completely exhausted and drained...I don't want that for myself...but I am not sure I would be? These are some of the many thoughts I have already had this morning and I think this blog can perhaps help me sort them out.

Right Now

This is one of my favorite pictures of Josiah and Sevrin...taken during our short stint in Colorado. I was thinking as I was looking through pictures of my family that I often find myself surprised by my life. I am surprised that I am where I am, I am surprised by my good fortune, surprised to have five healthy children and to not have experienced the loss of a child or spouse. Yet, I am not and have never taken for granted this moment...these moments. Of course hearing of an old friend losing her husband, another friend's cancer or reading about a mother losing her husband and four children in a fire make all of us hold our dear ones closer. To me though...and maybe it is a human experience...I always feel that shadow lurking close by. So right now, I remind myself that right now is perfect. And that is enough.

Clearly Fashion...

So I finally figured out where my blog from almost three years ago went and here it is. Realized I had to update my profile, found the questions annoying and almost wanted to quit blogging immediately.
I still feel a little temperamental about the whole thing...partially because my interests change and partially because they never do, partially because I don't have an "industry" such as fashion or engineering and what I do isn't qualified by the blogger scroll down standard.
Does blogger realize that a human is a bit more complicated then favorite movies or favorite books? I know...I am thinking about this way too hard. But then again that is what I do best. That is why I really need to blog. I don't want to blog because I have anything important to say or because I think I can say anything exceptionally better then the million plus other people doing the same thing. Writing about myself strikes me as a bit indulgent...but then I think it is a better forum for my own thoughts then Facebook where I subject the poor masses to whatever is lighting a fire in me at the moment. Sometimes I just have to get my thoughts out...they are a force to be reckoned with...but at least in this format a person has to choose to read my thoughts.