Reflecting On Our Words, Part Quatre

Here we are at the end of the month again and it's time to reflect on my word for the year: excellence. Four of my blog friends and I selected words at the beginning of 2009 that would be representative of our goals for growth for the year and we have posted a little something at the end of each month reflecting what that word has come to mean as we progress through 2009. This month, we each undertook writing a short paragraph about what we have learned to so far. Without further ado, let's please give my blog buddies a warm welcome as we celebrate being a third of the way through the year.

MirusPeg writes about her word, BALANCE:

Leading a Balanced Life I have discovered IS in my control!

Very bold statement.....but when all is said and done it is not as difficult as we make it out to be. Let me explain how it works for me.

I begin each task with a purpose and give my attention fully to that task.
Some tasks are easier than others to focus on, so I have learnt to slow down, whether it be driving, talking, entertaining, working, exercising......
I recognise when I am off balance and this is when I stop and reflect and often ask for help.

For example my love of blogging sometimes interrupts my other interests/chores/work and when I feel it is taking over I discuss the problem with a friend who helps clarify what I want to achieve and gives me other options to ponder upon.

I would not achieve BALANCE in my life without DISCIPLINE....thankyou Annemarie for choosing that word and explaining how important your word is in all aspects of life.
Keeping the FAITH that balance is achievable and not to give up when the going get tough...and JOY that it brings when successful....bless you Roban for those words.
Of course an ABUNDANT life is then possible.....so grateful to you Coach for leading the way. And then EXCELLENCE in all aspects of a balanced life becomes possible.....Julie more than anyone I know shines through with this word.

Finally the easiest way to lose our balance is to cling to fixed beliefs or notions of how things should be. The only constant in this world is change, so the more things we cling to, the more we will be thrown off balance when they disappear. It is like trying to ride a bike while balancing an enormous weight on your shoulders. It is much easier to maintain our balance if we lighten our load.

AVT Coach writes about her word, ABUNDANCE:

The way I see it, I’ve lived a life of fortune: A college degree, a close immediate and extended family, and a quality group of close friends. These are the aspects of life that I had considered when I thought of abundance.

Still, I had the thought that I would “seek” abundance. I would “strive” for it. Since choosing the word I have intentionally lived my days with a certain assurance that my abundance was evolving. I put feet to it. I began new routines: yoga, more reading, more contact with friends and scheduling play dates with family and friends.

I can say now that I HAVE a life of abundance. I now have a habit of abundant living that carries me through even some stressed days. It is not that my life is perfect, I don’t live in perfection but I do celebrate each moment that I smile when I could frown, say a good word when I could speak ill, listen to music, read and meditate when I could fill my hours with slothful acts.

I love that no matter my financial or relational state my life of fortune continues. I will grow and evolve in many other ways on the journey but I do so abundantly.

FlyGirl writes about FAITH & JOY:

Joy seems like such a simple three-letter word, but it is really so much more than that to me. It's not about being happy. It's not about everything being right in my world. It's just an internal sense of well-being that, despite what happens throughout the day, remains a part of me. I just have to be aware of it and look above, below, and through the din of daily life to see it sometimes.

When I chose my two words for the year, "faith" and "joy," I barely thought of the connection between the two, but as the year progresses, I am more aware of how faith and joy go hand-in-hand. To have faith means I can worry less. To worry less opens a window between my soul and the joy that surrounds me. I won’t say that I am now leading a worry-free life. No. I still worry. But I do know that needless worrying is using up more of my energy and crowding out the joy of life. So choosing to walk in faith and embrace the joy that is given to me is something I am learning to do… one step at a time.

MommyVictory has this to say about DISCIPLINE:

Discipline can sound like such a harsh word. It often conjures up thoughts of detention, grounding, the principal's office when actually it should be just the opposite. A person who lives a life of discipline is living a directed and goal oriented life - setting their sites on the prize and making sure everything that she does will lead toward that end.

When I chose Discipline as my word for the year, it was because I saw my life spinning out of control. I was completely living in the moment which is not always a bad thing. However, I was letting circumstances dictate my actions instead of the other way around. It was a life full of excuses and shortcuts. For example fast food instead of cooking because I had too many things to do.

A Disciplined life does not come over night. It is long journey, but it is one I am glad to make with my supportive bloggy friends.

And I wrote about my word, EXCELLENCE:

When I chose 'Excellence' as my word for 2009, I had a broad sense of how that directive could be applied in the upcoming year. I knew I wanted to bring a bit more care and finesse to some smaller areas of my life, such as housekeeping and chores. I knew I wanted to instill in the kids a deeper level of respect for working on their lessons with better attention paid to their penmanship, smaller assignments and the like.


I hoped to apply seeds of excellence to those more hidden areas of our lives. And I believe those seeds sown will bring a fuller harvest.


So often in pursuing excellence I have found myself focused on the big items, committing time and effort and high standard to those things that are most obvious, most seen, most noticed. But I've come to see that excellence requires a pervasive attitude that must wash though all aspects all of life, that the excellence I want to find in the grander projects must first be practiced on the smaller stage—a smaller stage in which I act for the benefit of the One who created me.


Because, really, that's what true excellence is, the commitment to doing one's best, even when no one is watching. When excellence is practiced at the smallest level, it becomes a true aspect of character. Anyone can act, on occasion, with great skill and adeptness, but true excellence should be found consistently, a thread of character binding all the pieces and patchwork of one's life.

Have you found your word for the year yet?  How is it guiding you, shaping your experience?  We'd love to hear from you!

ShutterBug

While on one of our recent trips for 2 of 8's dance competitions, 7 of 8 discovered a passion for photography...

...or maybe just cameras...



She never did quite figure out which direction she was supposed to hold the camera or if it was right side up or if the lens should face to her or away from her...



But she did love demanding that her sissies shout, "Cheese!" many, many times in a row.

Now if we can just show her where the button is that would actually take the picture...

Now I'll completely change subjects from Wordful Wednesday and jump over to my amazing friend Thea. She's throwing a little Mother's Day giveaway at her jewelry site, Designs on Heaven. Head on over, say howdy and check out her amazing new designs. If you're in her area, click on the link that says Spring Show. She'll be hosting an Open House this Friday, showcasing her latest concepts. Be sure and enter to win an amazing piece for Mother's Day!

Kinesiotape, Baby!

One of the interesting side benefits of parenting two kiddos with special needs is all the fascinating little hints, tips and helps along the way. I had no idea there was even such an animal as a hearing aid drying chamber until 4 of 8 began sporting those little hearing devices. I have a little tool that almost looks like a stethoscope for Polly Dolls but is actually used for checking the sound output and quality of 4's hearing aids.

7 of 8's recovery from a neonatal stroke has also proven a treasure trove of fascinating insights into neurology, brain rewiring, strength exercises and the like. One item I have fallen in love with as we have worked with both 7 of 8 in her therapy sessions and 4 of 8 in her time post-surgery from tarsal coalition is something called kinesiotape. Rather than use traditional ace bandages to give the girls extra support in weakened muscle areas, the kinesiotape gives a sense of support and strength without inhibiting range of motion and flexibility. 7 of 8 is usually taped every week, with a variety of designs, sometimes on her left hand and forearm, sometimes helping hold her scapula in a better position, and most lately on her left foot and calf as we facilitate a better position for that limb as she continues her quest to walk.

Turns out that 4 of 8 and 7 of 8 are in good company. Lance Armstrong has used this type of tape in his training and riding. Kerri Walsh wore it during the Olympics during her volleyball matches. And my little physical therapy athletes have certainly seen the benefits.

The girls' therapist has now attended several training seminars on using the kinesiotape and has developed some great applications. I'm starting to play with it some as I always seem to be nursing some running injury.

So the next time you see a major athlete or just a little kid at the park with bright pink or black or red tape applied to one of their limbs or joints, you can thank me. You'll be in the know, seeing the latest, greatest innovations in helping the body move and recuperate.

It's a beautiful thing.

Monday Musings...Go Greyhound!

A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.

John Steinbeck

Looking back, she does question her sanity.


But at the time, it seemed like it could be a fun adventure.

Going back home to Mississippi every couple of summers was very important to my mother. As we traversed the country chasing my father's career dreams, she made it a priority to take us back to the places and faces that were the mosaic of her childhood.

One year, she figured out a coupon deal that allowed her to save incredible money on plane tickets by saving every Cheerios box top known to man. She was able to fly herself, my two brothers and me across the country to the Memphis airport, where my grandmother picked us up and drove us across the Mississippi state line straight to nostalgia.

But this particular year, no Cheerios box top-air line deal was in the making. So we left the high deserts of Southern California in that most inefficient mode of modern travel...the Greyhound bus.

I can't remember exactly how old my brothers and I were, but it seems like I was about 9, my next youngest brother about 7 and my baby brother 3. We left close to dusk on a dry, hot day.

I never knew that Greyhound buses trafficked in time warps.

But they do.

Because the next 48 hours may have been 48 hours on a clock, but in perceived time, it was eternity and a half par sec.

Somewhere between the deserts of California and the deserts of Arizona, my brother R and I contracted some kind of bizarre motion-sick/virus combo that had us heaving into empty beef jerky tins. We would have straggled back to the chemical toilet at the back of the bus, but it was experiencing technical difficulties...and there was a very scary person smoking interesting substances in the back row adjacent to the non-functioning facilities. As my mother struggled to keep my energetic baby brother from running up and down the aisles, my other brother and I feverishly slept, drooled and urped across state lines.

I remember coming to somewhere in Texas and having to change buses. We sat in a busy, filthy terminal, inhaling bus exhaust fumes. Baby brother still showed no signs of slowing down, but brother R and I were still down for the count. We weakly sipped apple juice. Our new bus finally arrived and my mother dragged kids and luggage to our gate.

We ultimately made it to our Mississippi destination, thinner and wiser. My mother's commitment to extended family was firmly established, her martyr Girl Scout badge honorable earned. Brother R and I finally began to recover on a steady diet of saltines and ginger ale. Baby brother continued his quest for world dominance.

But that particular trip has always remained the pinnacle (or should I say 'deepest valley') of the family vacation annals. I still can't smell exhaust fumes without experiencing a deep shudder. Slim Jim Beef Jerky cans still look like emesis basins to me. And chemical toilets? That's best left unexplored.

But I also carry with me the memory of the sacrifice my mother was willing to make to instill in us a sense of place, a sense of history, a sense of roots. Those Mississippi summers were the one constant in a changing venue of real estate locations. The symphony of the early evening cicadas, the first blink of the fire flies, the sweat of condensation on drinking glasses filled with Coca Cola (from glass bottles!), these little memories are the touchstones of my childhood, the familiar texture of memory under the fingertips of my mind. They are roots that run deep, roots that anchor me still.

Even if I had to earn them riding on a Greyhound bus.

So what are the trips, holidays, vacations of your childhood memories? Where did you go, how did you get there, why were those experiences important? Write your own post on this topic and post the url of that post and your name in the Mister Linky's box below or leave your memoir in the comment box. Share the highways and byways of your memory!

Sunday Selah

May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

John 17:23

It's spectacular when it happens.


It is transcendent.

And it only happens in moments of perfect unity.

You see it sometimes in dance.

You sometimes hear it in music.

It is that moment when the collection of dancers becomes so in sync with one another that the unified choreography of the individuals becomes a moving organism of its own.

It is that harmony of four singers that becomes so tight, so entwined in its frequency of pitch, that a 'fifth' voice is created, a voice created from the unity of the individual vocalists.

It is a phenomenon hard to describe, but you know it when you see it. You know it when you hear it.

To see a group of dancers move as one stirs our very hearts in its beauty and grace. To hear that fifth voice ring above the blend makes our souls soar.

It seems to touch a deep longing in each of us.

The ability to bring our individuality, our own gift, our own passion to the dance of life, to the song of the soul, and to be able to combine it with like people.

And then to experience something completely ethereal and inexplicable out of that unity of heart.

When we see that movement, when we hear that voice, could it be then that we have tapped into the very design God has for His church? Is that what touches us so deeply when we experience it in art?

For God creates us all as individuals. He knows and delights in the variety of knitting designs He stitches and purls. A drop of this, a dash of that. And a new take on His original human blueprint enters the world stage.

And yet, He asks us, in our quest to become the unblemished Bride, He asks us to be unified.

A unity of the unique.

A collective of the uncommon.

To bring our distinct dance and our solitary song, to bend and yield, love and sacrifice, until, within the confines of our corporeal bodies, we become undivided. We sing in perfect harmony. We dance in perfect step.

And something is then created that moves as one.

A dance of divine.

A fifth voice.

Selah.

JPEG of the Week

~Partly Cloudy Skies~

Get Used To It, Buddy...

I asked 5 of 8 to tell 6 of 8 I needed her to come speak with me back in my bedroom. He complied and ambled out to the kitchen table where she was sitting.
"6," he said, standing right next to her.

No response from my little diva coloring quietly at the table.

"6," he said, a little more strongly.

No response.

"6!"

He was now starting to get very frustrated.

"6!!!!!!!!!" He was now shouting.

6 of 8 finally slid her eyes over to him, rolled those baby blues and uttered the exasperated words that proclaim she is utterly female:

"I'm saying 'What?' in my mind...."

Here's the Scoop...

I'd really like to write something pithy and witty today.

I really would.

But I've had a little household chore going for which I must purposely turn off my brain and simply execute the necessary steps to complete the chore.

I speak, of course, of the fine art of scooping.

As in, toddler poop scooping.

Bath time can be going so well. Bubbles bubbling, toys floating, two cute toddlers splashing and washing off the food stains of the day.

And then it happens.

One of the twins will emit a high sonic frequency shriek. I wouldn't call it an early warning system in that the shriek is not emitted until the crime has already been committed, but a warning system nonetheless.

I love that word, nonetheless. It's even fun to type.

But I digress.

Once the shriek happens, it is my duty to begin to push aside mounds of frothy baby bath bubbles and begin a hard target search for something I really hope not to find.

But there it is.

Bobbing amongst the bath toys.

A bio-product that would be better delivered within the confines of a diaper, but is now part of the bath tub landscape. And then all heck breaks loose.

Because whichever twin has produced this lovely item does not want to be pulled out of the tub and scrubbed down in the shower. And whichever twin did not produce the lovely product can't be pulled out of the tub fast enough to be scrubbed down.

And that's how you can always tell who committed the deed.

And then there's always the practical question of how to extricate the inappropriate tub item in a sanitary manner without, um, smearing things outside the containment field, so to speak. I'm honing in on the best method. I find that a baby or antibacterial wipe seems to be the tool of choice for removing the offending item.

Don't try the removal phase with toilet paper. It seems intuitive enough, but once the toilet paper hits the moist surface of the bath tub, you will have created a most disturbing papier mache.

And then there's the question of the bath toys. Do we throw them out? Boil them in bleach for two hours? Burn them? It's a quandary.

So I would have treated you to a pithy, witty post today, but I was scooping. With two babies in the tub, it's a fairly frequent event.

And when you're in the fox hole, you've just got to deal.

And not think too much. Especially that.

The Octamom Parental Units...

I have parents.

I do.

And they miraculously survived raising me.

They dropped in for a visit last week and we spent a lot of time outside, enjoying the beautiful weather and the grandbabies.

And yes, my dad turns into a big ol' mushy marshmallow when it comes to 7 of 8...

And I'm pretty sure I saw him handing out money on the sly to several of the kids...

...the same man who paid me ten cents per shirt for ironing his dress shirts back in the day...

So where do you think 6 of 8 gets her blue eyes? Anyone?>

And does my mom have the coolest hair ever or what? M can't wait for my hair to go this shade...

How You Know...

You can just tell a mom of boys. They have a certain look.

Now don't get all nervous on me, Boys-R-Us Mom...

I'm just saying there are certain identifying markers.

M and I were on a date recently at a local place where there is a large open area dining patio. Adjacent to that patio is a nice playground that several of the area eateries share as a place for the kiddos of patrons to play. Kids were sliding down the slide, swinging to the heights, throwing landscaping bark at each other and skinning their knees.

And then I saw her. A mom of boys.

I knew immediately.

Because clipped to her fashionable belt were matching...wait for it...light sabers.

One on each hip, held for each of her sons as they played on the playground.

And so I just had to snap a pic with my cell phone.

Because this is definitely one way to identify a mom of boys...

Monday Musings...What is Fashion, Anyway?

  Fashion can be bought. Style one must possess.

Edna Woolman Chase

Given that I was cooped up in a hotel room for a great deal of the weekend with a 5 year old and a 23 month old since the city we were visiting decided this was the time to get all their needed rain for the year in a 36 hour period, I had a little time on my hands. We watched 2 of 8 compete her dances, then made a mad dash for the car, umbrellas blowing, rain soaking us to the bone. (Side note...you can dry several items of clothing with a hotel blow dryer, if necessary.)


Once back to the hotel, our soggy shoes drying out and our hair eight kinds of lovely, the little girls and I kicked back and vegged out on some television. Pickings were slim as I cruised through the channels, but I did come across the final Lord of the Rings film, The Return of the King. Now I don't know about you, but I think Orcs are a little hard to take for the under ten year old set (heck, they're a little hard for me to take), so I knew we couldn't linger long on the epic. But I did get to see the scene where Liv Tyler's elvin character, Arwen, return to the elf city and confronts her father, willing to die for the love of Aragorn by not escaping with the other elves from the coming war. As she comes riding in to the village, her beautiful periwinkle gray velvet cape billows behind her and upon dismounting her horse, she unfastens this gorgeous garment and allows it to cascade to the leaf-strewn ground behind her as she climbs the steps to her father's home.



And I thought, "I want a periwinkle gray velvet cape to billow behind me and to cascade dramatically to the leaf-strewn ground."



Of course, I would need the ability to make certain moments go in slow motion, stop frame.



And I'd need to look as ethereal as Liv Tyler.



And I don't see either of those things happening very soon.



But it did get me to thinking about those types of clothes that are iconic, romantic, sweeping, dramatic. It brought to mind all the amazing dresses Vivian Leigh wore in Gone With the Wind. It made me think of Julie Andrew's wedding gown in The Sound of Music. Fabric as wave, lace as clouds.



Living in the hot climes of this country as I do, I realize my skirted fantasy is not exactly realistic. I can't even imagine how women survived settling this part of the country with the humidity and monsoons and hurricanes and heat and humidity and heat and humidity, all while wearing multiple layers and pantaloons and the like.



But it still looks awfully wonderful.



Teenager of the 1980's that I am, I also have a little jealousy going for my mother's high school years. In every picture, she looks timeless and classic, little twin sets, plaid wool skirts, Peter Pan colors, tea length dresses. The main fashion contributions of my high school years were things straight out of a Madonna video or anything wildly neon. And when I had my colors done back in the day and was told unequivocally I was an Autumn, I didn't see any neon on that chart.



But we all still wore it.



And we all looked faintly nauseous and pale most of the time.



So I've got a little list going in my head if I ever decide to go all Crazy Cat Lady and begin to wear whatever the heck I want whenever the heck I want. First would be the periwinkle gray cape. And then the green velvet curtain dress from Gone with the Wind. And then maybe a dress or two that Grace Kelly wore in Rear Window.



And now you must play along. What item of clothing or costume just calls out to you, makes you long for an event in which to enclose yourself in its silken embrace? What fashion era do you long for, wishing to ensconce yourself in its timelessness or drama? Write a post on this topic and put the url of your post and your name in the Mister Linky's box below or leave your contribution in the comment box. Tell us What TO Wear!

Sunday Selah

Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.

Gen. 9:16

It's a phenomenon that illuminates dark skies with bands of brilliant color. It is a symbol that has long been associated with God's covenant with the earth. It is the chromatic emblem of divine promise.

It is the rainbow.

It is an amazing play of light that is only perceptible to us because of the incredibly acute design of our eyes. Light from the sun is refracted by water droplets then bounced back to us. We can see the various shades of the spectrum arching across the sky, dancing off the spray of yard sprinkles, shining over the ocean as a cloudburst hits out at sea.

To be technical, the rainbow spectacle occurs when light hits water. The light enters the water droplet and refracts, then is reflected off the back of the water droplet, bouncing back and dispersing technicolor shades. The most vivid colors of the rainbow are visible to the human eye at 42 degree angle to what is called the antisolar spot, the area between our head and its shadow. When we cross into that 42 degree zone, we can see the rainbow.

And therein lies a little bit of mystery.

We all see a different rainbow. Even when we think we are looking at the same rainbow.

You're going to have to dust off your high school geometry, but here's the reason. The rainbow you see depends on your height in relation to that 42 degree zone. If you are taller, you have to stand back a bit from your shorter friend in order to perceive the rainbow he sees. But in your very backing up to be able to catch this bit of refracted light, you will end up seeing a different representation of the rainbow. Because of each of your positions in relation to that 42 degree zone, some colors of the rainbow will be more intense for you than for your friend. And some will be more vivid for him than for you. No two persons see the same rainbow. Even if someone is your exact height and standing directly next to you, the very few degrees they stand to your left or right will again allow them to perceive a rainbow that is different from the one you are seeing.

Just like the promises of God.

God has given each of us a portion of faith and has equipped each of us within that portion for the life He has intended for each of us. And yet, so often, we think that we should have the same experience, the same outcome, based on what we see as the promises of God.

But what if, just if, God's promises are like His rainbows; it's all about where you're standing. He is steady and constant, always at 42 degrees. It is us and how tall we are standing or how low we are bowing in supplication that allow us to see the promise He has for this time, this season, this circumstance. Where we seem to get in to trouble is when we point out to the horizon and insist that everyone see the same thing we are seeing.

But maybe others will have to walk a bit further before they enter that 42 degree zone. And maybe we will have to drop to our knees to see the specific spectrum of His light.

What an amazing Father to paint an individual rainbow for each of His kids.

And what an amazing Father to extend to each of us the same kingdom rights, privileges, promises and grace and to customize the view for each of us.

A God who customizes, who will even customize the colors of the sky, and who can customize His promises for each of us, all while staying constant, unchanging and true.

A mystery wrapped in faith arching across the skies of our souls, His very light reflected in the cleansing water of His Word.

Selah.

JPEG of the Week

7 of 8 and Her Octa-Granddaddy
(it's a mutual admiration club...)

Things That Make Ya Go Hmmmmm....

We'll be hitting the soccer fields for five matches this weekend, along with watching 2 of 8 compete multiple dances in a big dance competition. So before I take my seat in the cheering section, I thought I'd share a few clicks with you that are making me think, helping me be more creative and things that make me laugh...

1. Remember one of my favorite outlaws I told you about? She has a new series of webinars to help you create masterpieces with your photos. Go here, click Help Zone, then Webinars, then Digital Inspirations Classes.

2. This has made me giggle and giggle this week...we've all had to watch it multiple times...

3. My sis-in-law T is pretty fancy when it comes to origami skills. I saw this site and had to pass it along to all you paper folders out there...

4. You've heard of Gimp, right, the awesome free/shareware photo editing suite that I love? No? Well, then this linky love is a double scoop. Check out Gimp and then check out this site that has several incredible tutorials...

5. I love visiting photography sites, getting a good cup of inspiration and visual delight. Check out this awesome photo-illustration...I'm still trying to figure out how they did it...

A Recipe Apart

My mom sometimes says that she thinks I may have gotten switched at the hospital following my birth.
She doesn't mean it in a mean way (I don't think...)

What she does mean is that I, her daughter, like to do things in a way that is very, very, very different than what she would do.

Take, for instance, scrapbooking.

The mere mention of the craft makes my accountant mother break out into hives.

Followed closely by anything associated with glitter or royal icing.

I know experientially she's right, but every now and then a little something happens that solidifies the nature of our differences. She and my dad have been here visiting over the last few days and yet another example of her 'Switched at Birth' theory came to light...

I offer you Exhibit A:



This is my mother's written instruction and recipe for my spanakopita. I cobbled together this little recipe following a dinner party at a neighbor's where this was served. My mother followed me around the kitchen as I sauteed and chopped and diced and butter-washed my way through this dish. I love, love, love to cook and would love, love, love to share some of my kitchen creations with you.

But therein lies the problem.

Most people, including my mother, see cooking as chemistry.

I see it as performance art.

Hence, my version of the recipe for spanakopita that I originally offered my mother, willing to try to put it to written form, a very big stretch for me...



And herein lies the irony: I think that my written 'recipe' looks more like chemistry, while my mother's step-by-step rendering of my process looks a bit more like the stage directions for an off-Broadway show...

But I do know this...

No matter our approaches, my mother and I will both manage to produce some spankin' spanakopita...

Things I've Learned...

I'm super helpful.

I just love to give nuggets of my wisdom to the world.

For example...

See the above picture?

That was taken just as we were finding out that we were going to be moving...right at the end of my pregnancy with the twins.

And here I am four weeks after the move and one week before the twins were born...



So here's my wisdom...

It's really, really hard to move when you're pregnant with twins, literally and location-wise.






(Did you notice the unpacked moving box behind me?)
Betcha didn't know that, did ya?

Aren't you glad to now know that?

Told ya I'm full of helpful tips...

Easter Portraits v1.0

I've always been pretty good about taking some cute Easter pictures of the kids each year, faces scrubbed, outfits ironed, shoes matching. (1 of 8 was in California on Easter of '08, visiting the Amazing Nick, hence her absence in this portrait. 2 of 8 must have had grit in her contacts, hence the squint...except she doesn't wear contacts...)
I even have evidence.

See this montage from last Easter Sunday '08?

Awwwww...


Precious.



Adorable.

This year? Ah, not so much.

I seemed to have fallen off my photog mojo. I didn't get many 'before-church' pictures...except of this lovely job of buttoning by 5 of 8...

I didn't even manage to get the button photos in focus...

Most of the pics were after lunch, faces and clothes smeared with chocolate, butter and viscous fluids from allergenic noses...

This shirt did start out crisp and white...until 8 of 8 had been wearing it for three and half minutes.



All time estimates are approximate...

And where are the pictures of the egg hunts and the meal and the candy and the baskets?



Ah, um...I got nothin'...



But I'm going to make good. You'll see. I'm going to hold some mock Easter photos. I'll get all the outfits clean again. Heck, I may even throw a fake egg hunt. I'll make it up to you. I will.

Maybe even before next Easter...

Stay tuned...

Monday Musings...Balance? What Balance?

"Balance is the new form of self-torture. If you grew up with a picture of Twiggy on the wall, I think balance is the same sort of thing: You can try to attain it, but it's just not happening."
Candice Carpenter, iVillage (2001)

We strive for it around here.

We often fail.

If I'm keeping the house together and the laundry completely caught up, our schoolwork seems to lag. If our schooling is going extremely well, our bathrooms are, um, lacking.

If M is completely on top of every bit of minutiae at the office, it usually means that we haven't seen much of him at home. And if our home life seems to be running on full nutrition, M is usually fretting about the work load at the office.

Faith, groceries, soccer, work, Bible study, cleaning, laundry, lawn mowing, youth group, dance, therapy, family time, game night, recreation, socialization, business. The list seems to continue to grow and expand.

And I keep searching for balance.

Balance.

That elusive fulcrum between the duties and responsibilities of life in tandem with the relationships and experiences that make our lives worth living. That attempt to keep all the little boxes of life stuff in perfect sequence and harmony, creating an equilibrium between the obligations and amusements in life.

M and I have never been too good at balance. We often teeter out on the high wire, knees shaking, arms akimbo as we not only try to navigate the balance beam but juggle at the same time. And yet our pursuit of 'balance', whatever that mystical land may be, still remains a vision for us. Somehow, somewhere, we will figure out how to cover all the bases and still have time for recreational pursuits. Someday, someway, we will determine how to make all the pieces fit.

But thinking on the above quote from Candice Carpenter, is that ideal of 'balance' just a 21st century dream, just the by-product of post-industrial, post-agrarian life? Did our ancestors even ponder on such things, or was it just simply a matter of folding all the bits of life, the work, the chores, the kids, the books, the learning, the cooking, the very stuffing that makes it all full, was it just a matter of living it all out simultaneously? And is that perhaps why we as a culture are now striving to find balance again? Have we allowed our lives to become too compartmentalized, where work is a separate place and experience from our children's schools which is a different place and experience from the home front, etc.? Is it even reasonable to try to meld all those entities together?

I clearly have no answers. I'm just trying to get my laundry caught up while occasionally exercising my brain. But I would love to hear your thoughts on the balanced life, where you struggle, where you succeed, what you've learned along the way. Write a post on this topic and put the url of that post and your name in the Mister Linky's box below and leave your gems of wisdom in the comment line. I want to know how you manage the trapeze!