Twinkie Me, Twinkie You

My twins aren't exactly...'twin-ie'.
They look nothing alike.

They are boy/girl fraternal.

She outweighed him by two pounds, sporting a full head of dark hair and rolls of fat on her. He was slick bald, wiry and fair .

They kept looking at each other when they were infants as if to say, "And you are.....?"

No apparent special connection, no similar look, no similar coloring. They slept on different schedules, screamed on different schedules.



Nothing that would mark them as womb mates other than the same birthday and tandem nursing.

Their relationship has grown over the last few months. He calls her "Shishy", she calls him "Bubbie". We hear them in the nursery, passing books back and forth through the slats of their cribs, chatting about 'puppies'.



And then there's this:

They were sitting on my bed the other day, me with laptop in lap, them amusing themselves by jumping on their knees across my matilisse coverlet. She lets out one of her curdling squeals and strikes a pincer grasp in his general direction. He looks up and responds in kind. She grabs back at him, taking back whatever it is they are tussling over. He snags her arm and grabs her hands, wrestling something from her grasp. At this point, I make a grab for both of them, trying to figure out what it is they are grappling over.

They continue to take swipes at each other, alternating cries of victory and defeat.

And that's when I realize what the competition is about.

An imaginary sticker.

Um-hm.

They are fighting over air.

So I suppose I can add that to their twin experience...they both can hallucinate plastic paper with a gummy back.

And they will fight for the right to hold its air space.

Twins.

Sunday Selah

Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.

 I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.

John 15:4&5

Terroir.
Pronounced 'te-wa'.

It's a French term, which can be interpreted as 'sense of place'.

Vintners use the word to explain the variety of flavors that can be contained in the wine they produce.

It turns out that the flavor of grapes can be strongly influenced  by several factors,  the vineyard in which they are planted comprised of more than simple dirt. Say, for example, there is a type of tree growing just adjacent to the vineyard. Aspects of that tree, its fragrance, the flavor of its nuts and leaves, will be imparted to the grapes and ultimately to the wine. Local vegetation, wind direction, length of exposure to sunshine, lower temperatures at night, all of this becomes part of what the root brings to the vine and what the vine brings to the fruit. The result is the flavor and fragrance of terroir, the embodiment in the wine of the place from which it was brought to fruition.

By our fruit, we reveal what we have been rooted in. We give off the flavor of where we are finding our growth, what kind of soil in which we have been planted. If we have tapped into a terroir of selfishness, wrong ambition, self-serving philosophies and the like, the very fruit of our lives will expose it. But if we are rooted in love, with Christ as the vine, our very terroir is God Himself, the beauty and fragrance of all that He is.

I want to be rooted in Him.

I want the light of His glory to ripen the fruit. I want the mountains of faith to be the terrain. I want the rich soil of His love as nourishment. I want His rain of grace to be my very water.

His terroir.

The very fragrance of the Father infused into my veins.  The aroma of His peace my perfume.


The fruit of my life bearing the signature piquancy of  His careful gardening.


By our fruit, we are known.  Others can taste what we have been grounded in.


Selah.

JPEG of the Week

~My Niece~

~keeper of the most fabulous freckles~

*and don't forget to enter the Your Family Constitution Giveaway*

*it's your patriotic duty!*

Happy Birthday, America

We The People...Should Have a Giveaway!

It's just the patriotic thing to do.

Developing a Family Constitution.

I was contacted a couple weeks ago about a new book of family relationships by Scott Gale entitled Your Family Constitution. The cover expands on the title, adding the phrase 'A Modern Approach to Family Values and Household Structure.' And I have to admit, being an at-home mom, I thought, "Hmmmm, what might Mister Gale have to share with me, seeing as how he's at the office while I'm in the diaper trenches?"

Apparently, a lot.

He had me at the first chapter.

Mr. Gale recounts what he calls Black Sunday, a literal day at the beach that exposed the frayed edges of his parenting with some classic fit throwing on the part of his kids and himself. His narrative is humble and transparent; he doesn't attempt to to sugarcoat his anger and frustration with his own behavior or his kids. And he recognizes Black Sunday as a watershed, a chance to identify the weaknesses in his family communication and to correct it.

And so begins his constitutional journey.

Mr. Gale realized that too many areas of communication and expectation were unclear when it came to family dynamics. He identifies the top three areas of breakdown as Lack of Time, Lack of Clarity and Lack of Consistency. He pored through a variety of books on discipline and parenting but often found their solutions too mired in negative commentary on the state of today's youth or too permissive. And so through trial and error, the concept for a family constitution was born.

Just like the Constitution (as in The Constitution), the Family Constitution is predicated on creating a system of mutual, peaceful co-existence with agreed upon expectations and consequences. Mr. Gale leads his reader through his family's process of developing their constitution and gives numerous steps and hints for guiding other families to developing their own. In his characteristic guileless style, he recounts his first attempt at the constitution and his second. He lists the things that initially worked well and the things that didn't. And through his journey, Mr. Gale has collected enough experience to pack the final chapters of his book with helpful lists, worksheets and tips. His concept could be easily molded to families of every stripe and polka dot, blended, Grandma living in, all the other iterations of our modern families. It is a concept built on communication, respect and concrete expectations, where every member has a voice and a document that provides a compass.

Bravo, Mr. Gale.

You can also visit his website at http://www.yourfamilyconstitution.com/ .


And he has graciously offered a fortunate Octamom reader the opportunity to win his book in a giveaway. So let's come up with an Octamom Giveaway Constitution, shall we?

Leave a comment for a chance to win. Tweet about it, let me know, and get another chance to win. And if you want to really go for it, mention this giveaway over at your blog and get yet another chance. I'll announce the winner next Friday, July 10th.

So come on and enter. It's your patriotic duty...

A Model of Deceit...

It's all a big deceit.
Smoke.

Mirrors.

Artifice.

And I know it.

But I just can't help myself. I just have to participate.

I just have to enter its magic, just every now and then.

I try to drive on by.

I tell myself I'm not going to stop this time, that I won't even cross the threshold.

But then I do.

Model homes.

Ah, model homes.

How they beckon me.

Their perfectly manicured lawns, zoysia carpeting the vista surrounding the sweeping walks and immaculate porches.

I open the heavy, glass front door and a wave of icy air conditioning washes over me.

And then I'm in.

The baseboards are immaculate, gleaming. The colors on the wall are perfectly hued. The furnishings are perfectly arranged, plumped and posh. I wander the rooms, sliding my hand along beautifully hung draperies, slick counters, shining spigots. The children's bedrooms are artful and whimsical, tailored duvets spreading the beds, a vintage collection of books gracing the corner of an immaculate desk. The media room is ready for movie night, a popcorn machine primed in the corner, heavy brown velvet drapes ready to create perfect dampened lighting for best cinema viewing. The master bedroom closet features pyramids of beautiful hat boxes, a tower of class and chic. Five pairs of stiletto heels wait in artful repose, ready to be donned for an emergency cocktail party.

Ah.

Model homes.

And I let myself believe, just for a little bit, that if I moved in here, this is what it would look like. I could keep it looking like this. I could wear heels every day. And I would have manicured nails. It could all happen if I lived here.

Then I see it. It's there, in the beautiful front study, an ornate desk of mahogany resting in front of the windows overlooking a small courtyard. Right there. That's the moment. The moment the illusion shimmers back from mirage to desert.

Because on that beautiful desk rests a mock computer and antique phone.

And there are no cords.

No cords. No cords anywhere. Not in the butler's pantry linking the espresso machine to its needed electrical source. No cords string the computer like an umbilicus to the printer and the external hard drive and the camera and the video camera. No cords linking the pretend DVD player to the pretend plasma flat screen. No cords from the video game console wrapped like a spider web across the media room.

And when I see the lack of cords, then my vision clears. And I see the lack of wet towels on the bathroom floor. And then I see the lack of Legos in the boy's room. And I see the lack of naked Barbies in the girl's room. And I see the lack of crumbs along the kick plates of the custom kitchen cabinets.

And the halogram of projected perfect house-ness hits a glitch and freezes and falls.

Okay. I see it now. It's a stage. An immaculate stage for mortgage surgeries. I get it.

And I'll be cured for a bit. For a bit.

But one day I'll be driving by again. And I'll just have to go in.

Because my alter ego haunts the place. Her nails are manicured. And she's always wearing heels.

In that alternate reality known as The Model Home Zone.

A Portrait of Patriots

On Saturday we will celebrate the birth of this country, our birth certificate signed by the founding fathers in an act of wild courage in declaration of autonomy from Britain and the intention to go forward in home rule.

233 years. That's how many candles are on the Independence Day cake this year.

Our history is not as clean and neat as we would like. It's not Jedis versus the Empire. It's a messy human history of bravery and slavery, autonomy for transplanted colonists and oppression for Native peoples. Wars have been waged on this soil. Democracy has been the grand experiment. And in spite of set-backs, embarassments, challenges and attacks, this country has stood firm and continues to stand as an a lodestar of dream and vision.

We all have our own stories as to how we arrived to this nation. My and Mike's families arrived here two centuries ago from Scotch-Irish roots. On my mother's side, the second born son of an Irishman realized that he would not inherent family fortune and land according to the laws of primogeniture and so he sailed for America in the late 1700's. My father's family arrived in the Carolinas before the turn of the 18th century. While we don't have records quite as far back on Michael's side, we can track his ancestors' paths through the South and into Texas.

One of 2 of 8's dear friends, AN, came to this country in the arms of her adoptive parents from China. She has a sister adopted from Russia. She has a brother adopted from Thailand. She has another sister born to her parents in the U.S.

Our neighbors are first generation Americans. Both of their families of origin escaped Iran during the overthrow of the Shah, the wife's family going to Germany, the husband's family going to England. When both of them were in their teens, their families made their way here.

Another precious friend came to the U.S. in the 1970's after escaping Vietnam and spending time in a camp in Cambodia. She was twelve. Through the years, she sponsored each of her eight brothers and sisters and ultimately her parents, reuniting all her family here on American soil. She married a man who is German by heritage.

My sister-in-law T has her own American story. Her mother was born in Poland during World War II. Her birth parents died and she was adopted by the wife of a deceased SS officer. While in her twenties, she met a young American GI. They fell in love, got married, and returned to the good ol' U.S.A, giving birth to my sis-in-law a few years later.

1 of 8 has a fascinating friend from Guinea in West Africa. He was born there, then moved to Morocco, then went to work in Paris. He came to the U.S. a year ago, speaking beautiful French, sent here by the Starbucks corporation. His mother, still back in Guinea, has been very concerned about her son living in Texas, where she is convinced people still live like the Wild Wild West.

And when I look around at the precious faces of friends around me, when I reflect that we have all arrived at this time and place from such scattered histories and geographies, I am renewed. I am renewed by the vision of a nation that builds the culture of its people from the histories and traditions of the world. I am renewed by the vision of a nation in which Lady Liberty not only holds up a torch, but opens her arms to the citizens of the globe. We don't do it perfectly. We haven't figured out all our immigration issues. We trip and stumble. We fuss and fight. But we are a family of siblings created from the mutual desire of our parents and our grandparents and our great-grandparents to give us the chance for something more.

And we come together as a kaleidescope of kinsmen, all bearing the same surname: American.

God Bless America.

Reflecting on Our Words~Midway '09

Is it seriously almost July?

As we hit the completion of half of the year, I find myself amazed that July is right around the corner. Four blog friends and I started the year by each choosing a word that would be our guiding beacon for 2009 and at the end of each month, we have each posted something about how that word is shaping our year. (You can see our collective progression through the year here, here, here, here and here.)

My word for the year has been excellence. When I selected this word, I thought it to be the element that would wind its way through many of the areas in my life in which I seek to grow and improve, in my relationships, homemaking, schooling, writing, photography and walk with the Lord. To pursue excellence has become a lesson in degrees. How does one know when they have achieved 'excellence'? It's not really a destination or accomplishment, but rather an approach and attitude toward the duties and desires in life. And one thing that has emerged as I have pursued excellence this year is that it can be practiced in the smallest things. In my world right now, with so much of my time joyfully captured by the needs of small children, big goals could be frustrating. But to know that I can exercise excellence in making a bed, wiping a nose and reading a book to a child allows me to honor my New Year's goals without creating frustration and overwhelm, which is a very excellent thing indeed.

Here are my bloggy word girlfriends with their thought at mid-year:

MirusPeg writes:
6 months, 26 weeks, 181 days, 4,344 hours......four Americans and one Australian united together believing by focusing and reflecting on our tools called words our journey would become clearer.

For me, without a doubt the journey so far has been very rewarding. Who would have thought that by focusing on a few simple words (Balance, Desire, Persistence) they would grant me so much power and freedom.

This month I would like to reflect on finding balance in the midst of life’s ups and downs.

In life there will always be ups and downs. When something negative happens, instead of agonizing over it or trying to oppose it, we should accept it and try to turn it into a positive. Similarly, when positive things happen in our life we need to be prepared for the fact that good things can’t last forever.

Instead of wishing for a life of complete happiness where nothing bad ever happens, these ups and downs should be embraced, because they are what gives life its colour and meaning.

In Taoism it is believed that the entire universe is a balance of opposites, symbolized by yin and yang (day and night, winter and summer, male and female, life and death, etc).

“The Tao is the One. From the One come yin and yang; From these two, creative energy (chi); From energy, ten thousand things; The forms of all creation. All life embodies yin AND yang; Through their union Achieving harmony”.
Tao Te Ching (Dreher translation)

AVT Coach reflects:
I have been blessed to be attending a Yoga class three days per week. Through this class I have also met some amazing women. One of the women, a new friend has added so much to my life in only a few months. We enjoy a nice cup of chai on Sat. morning after our yoga class.

The first weekend in June we went on an overnight trip to a retreat center about 40 miles from our town. We stayed in an old farmhouse. Here is the abundance of this 24 hour time away. A glass of wine on the front porch, talking, watching the sun go down, watching the three new young alpaca's recently adopted by our retreat center owners, sharing again a viewing of the movie Chocalat while of course eating dark chocolate and sharing another glass of wine and talking. Feeling the morning breeze flow through the windows upon awakening in the morning, and taking turns getting a massage by a massage therapist who came to our farmhouse with table in hand..and talking. Enjoy an organic salad then taking a nap just because we can..and talking. It was a gift we gave ourselves and the shared experience was truly abundant. It is not easy to take the time to break away from old habits and do something new. We did it and we are only blessed beyond measure. Thank you Cris for our girl time away.

Abundance is.. sharing new experiences with a trusted friend.

MommyVictory is seeing her word for the year in her daughter:

Discipline is remembering what you want.” David Campbell

“Discipline is the bridge between goals and accomplishment.”
Jim Rohn

“Discipline is the refining fire by which talent becomes ability.” Roy L Smith

“Endurance is one of the most difficult disciplines, but it is to the one who endures that the final victory comes.” Buddha

My daughter epitomizes the definitions of discipline described above. She has working since September towards the goal of attending the Showcase National Dance Competition. By setting an achievable and measurable goal, she was able to see that dream come to fruition this past weekend.

Caitlin spent several hours a week attending ballet, tap, jazz and technique classes without complaint. Additionally, her instructors would call weekend rehearsals.

What was the result of all this work?

Two amazing performances and two platinum awards. Which just goes to show that when you have the necssary discipline, you can achieve just about anything.

And sweet FlyGirl has these thoughts on her words:

JOY. Amazing how such a small, simple word can make such a huge impact in your life (when you let it!). Acknowledging the joy in my life has been one of my goals this year. By focusing on the word “joy,” I hoped to leave worrisome thoughts behind as I looked for those proverbial silver linings instead.

For me, finding joy is really about slowing down to enjoy the moments that make up my life. It’s about stopping the thoughts that whirl through my mind long enough to truly enJOY what life has to offer.

As I focused on this word, I began to recognize joy all around me. I saw joy in a baby’s smile at the grocery store, in the words of a student, and in my daughter’s unique way of seeing things. I found joy in a rare March snowfall and in the serenade of cicadas and frogs on a warm summer night. I found joy while cooking meals for my family and when treating myself to a few good books.

I have found that joy is not elusive but awaits me every day if I just look in the right place. Joy, I found, is a simple thing to enJOY.