I walked in while Justin and Asa were watching Monday Night Football...
Me: Hey guys.
Asa: Hey
Me: Who's playing?
Justin: Pittsburgh Steelers and Baltimore Ravens. There aren't any kids shows on.
Asa: Daddy, are they called the Steelers because they steal a lot of stuff?
Justin: Uh, no. (Insert long explanation of "Steelers")
Me: Who are we going for? Steelers or Ravens?
Asa: Ummmm.....the yellow team.
Justin and Me: Pittsburgh
Asa: Nevermind. I like the white team.
Justin: No. I don't like Baltimore.
Asa: Ok then, we'll go for the Pittsburgers.
Long pause to watch a few plays...
Me: So, Asa, who's your favorite football team of all?
Asa: The Pittsburgers.
A few more plays go by...
Me: Who's the best team in the NFL?
Asa: The Pittsburgers.
Me: Yeah? What makes them the best?
Asa: Mommy, I don't know. I don't really think they're the best team, I just keep saying the Pittsburgers because they're the only football team I know.
Clearly, football is really high priority in our house...
Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Seeing You
Every day after lunchtime, with full tummies and droopy eyelids, I send my 4 younger children off to their beds for an afternoon nap. And every day, they complain until their complainers get sore then they succumb to an hour and a half of sleepy refreshment. Yesterday, Astrid was having an especially difficult time coming to terms with the reality of naptime. She cried, she moaned, she yelled, "Hoe me peas Momma", over and over again. In an effort to fast forward to the actual sleeping part of naptime, I gave in and Ezra and I snuggled up beside her. Astrid loves to snuggle, and for her it's not enough to just lay down together, or even to be held. She wants to be wrapped up in your arms, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, breathing the same air, inhaling and exhaling in unison. We lay there that way together until her tears were dry and her cries turned into intermittent sniffles. After a few minutes she relaxed, reassured that I would not leave until I had seen her safely off to dreamland. Ezra was restless, though, and I decided to nurse him on the opposite side, which meant releasing my hold on Astrid and turning my back to her. Immediately, she became frantic, sitting upright, and pulling my shoulder in an effort to turn me back to face her. "Momma, Momma! I can't see you! Turn ober Momma, I can't see you! I needa see you, Momma!"
"It's ok, baby", I reassured her, "You can still see me, just a different side of me."
She sat there for a few seconds, whimpering, then took my arm, pulled it behind me, and wrapped it around herself the best that she could.
"Ok, Momma", she said softly, "Just hoe me peas....."
As she drifted off to sleep, I thought about the things my baby girl needs. To be held, breathed on, to see me and, when she can't, to be reassured that I am still there, with my arms around her. And I do all of those things for her, because I love her. How much more does our Father love us and do these for us? My love for her, though enormous, is finite and imperfect. His is infinite, flawless, unconditional. There are times when we feel so alone. We can't see Him and we cry out in desperation, fear, anger, or panic. But He's there...holding, breathing on us and into us, and wrapping His arms around us. Do you feel it? Have you felt it? I have. I have known what it's like, in recent years, to frantically search for that security. And I've found it. When I calm my screaming to a whimper long enough to say..."Hold me...please."
Every day after lunchtime, with full tummies and droopy eyelids, I send my 4 younger children off to their beds for an afternoon nap. And every day, they complain until their complainers get sore then they succumb to an hour and a half of sleepy refreshment. Yesterday, Astrid was having an especially difficult time coming to terms with the reality of naptime. She cried, she moaned, she yelled, "Hoe me peas Momma", over and over again. In an effort to fast forward to the actual sleeping part of naptime, I gave in and Ezra and I snuggled up beside her. Astrid loves to snuggle, and for her it's not enough to just lay down together, or even to be held. She wants to be wrapped up in your arms, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, breathing the same air, inhaling and exhaling in unison. We lay there that way together until her tears were dry and her cries turned into intermittent sniffles. After a few minutes she relaxed, reassured that I would not leave until I had seen her safely off to dreamland. Ezra was restless, though, and I decided to nurse him on the opposite side, which meant releasing my hold on Astrid and turning my back to her. Immediately, she became frantic, sitting upright, and pulling my shoulder in an effort to turn me back to face her. "Momma, Momma! I can't see you! Turn ober Momma, I can't see you! I needa see you, Momma!"
"It's ok, baby", I reassured her, "You can still see me, just a different side of me."
She sat there for a few seconds, whimpering, then took my arm, pulled it behind me, and wrapped it around herself the best that she could.
"Ok, Momma", she said softly, "Just hoe me peas....."
As she drifted off to sleep, I thought about the things my baby girl needs. To be held, breathed on, to see me and, when she can't, to be reassured that I am still there, with my arms around her. And I do all of those things for her, because I love her. How much more does our Father love us and do these for us? My love for her, though enormous, is finite and imperfect. His is infinite, flawless, unconditional. There are times when we feel so alone. We can't see Him and we cry out in desperation, fear, anger, or panic. But He's there...holding, breathing on us and into us, and wrapping His arms around us. Do you feel it? Have you felt it? I have. I have known what it's like, in recent years, to frantically search for that security. And I've found it. When I calm my screaming to a whimper long enough to say..."Hold me...please."
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Like squirrels to a suburb kid, street rats to a city kid, and crabs to a coast kid, so are COWS to my kids. They don't even notice the herd of black angus as their barrel shaped bodies dawdle across the pasture directly behind our house.
As we passed by yet another field of big eyed bovines while we were out today I heard a deep sigh escape from Asa, followed by...
"Mommy, can we go to the city tomorrow?"
"What city?" I asked, knowing exactly what city he was missing.
"New York City!" he responded emphatically.
"Oh, Buddy, we can't go to New York City anytime soon, it's too far away."
"But I want to meet new people...see new places!" he exclaimed with typical Asa conviction.
"You can meet new people and see new places here," I offered weakly, knowing that "here" was not the kind of new place he had in mind.
My suggestion was followed by an icy silence as we passed yet another pasture littered with cow pies and their owners.
"Hey, look at all those cows!" I said in an effort to make a cheery transition.
"Yeah, yeah, more cows, blah, blah, blah....." he mumbled, with what I'm sure was an eye roll to rival any teenager.
I guess now is as good a time as any to teach the old adage "Bloom Where You're Planted".
Cow manure, after all, does make great fertilizer.
As we passed by yet another field of big eyed bovines while we were out today I heard a deep sigh escape from Asa, followed by...
"Mommy, can we go to the city tomorrow?"
"What city?" I asked, knowing exactly what city he was missing.
"New York City!" he responded emphatically.
"Oh, Buddy, we can't go to New York City anytime soon, it's too far away."
"But I want to meet new people...see new places!" he exclaimed with typical Asa conviction.
"You can meet new people and see new places here," I offered weakly, knowing that "here" was not the kind of new place he had in mind.
My suggestion was followed by an icy silence as we passed yet another pasture littered with cow pies and their owners.
"Hey, look at all those cows!" I said in an effort to make a cheery transition.
"Yeah, yeah, more cows, blah, blah, blah....." he mumbled, with what I'm sure was an eye roll to rival any teenager.
I guess now is as good a time as any to teach the old adage "Bloom Where You're Planted".
Cow manure, after all, does make great fertilizer.
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