Mockingjay, Part 1

This post contains spoilers about the movie Mockingjay. However, if you've read the book... very little will be a surprise.

Whoa. I went to see Mockingjay with two friends last night. We had an amazing moms night out. One of our local theaters has a "fork and screen" option where you can order food and watch the movie. My friends had gone to Fork and Screen before but I hadn't. I was totally cravings red meat and fried stuff, so I had a hamburger and fries. It was a little better than Applebee's quality but totally fun for a MNO and a movie the three of us wanted to see.

And. Whoa. Some amazing stuff:

1. Haymitch and Effie. They deviated from cannon here and had Effie take the part of Katniss' prep team. She was awesome and the banter between her and Haymitch was a much needed reprise from the very serious nature of the film. One of Effie's best lines? "You know what needs a revolution? That hair."
2. The Hanging Tree. Why this isn't in the official soundtrack that you can purchase, I don't know. Jennifer Lawerence says she can't sing and, true, she's not Taylor Swift or Lorde but she does have a pretty voice. In the books, Katniss' singing voice is a Big Deal but not so much in the movies. Still, the took The Hanging Tree and ran with it and the effect was so powerful. It's a motif that carries through the entire movie. Listen closely to the background music when Katniss and Finnick are talking during the bombing of D13. It's The Hanging Tree! (Random note: I've had this song stuck in my head for two days and I've been humming it around the house. My four year old likes the song!)
3. Gale. I feel like the movie rounded out Gale's character well. In the books, he comes across as a possessive jerk. I wanted to reach through the pages and smack him, telling him to leave Katniss the heck alone, the poor dear had been through enough and didn't need to pick a lover! In the movie, Gale is always in the background, seemingly protecting her. There's a brief scene when they return to D12 where they kiss but it seems like Gale knows her heart isn't into it. In fact, in the movie, it is Gale, not Boggs, who tells Katniss to be with Peeta when he wakes up. He seems to know Katniss loves Peeta in a romantic way and while it doesn't thrill him, he's resigned to it.
4. Peeta. Someone needs to give Josh Hutcherson an award for the last fifteen minutes of the film alone. We know he's a good actor but he blew me away with hijacked!Peeta. 
5. The rescue scene and stuff with Snow. Snow is completely revealed as someone who likes to eff with Katniss' mind. I mean, we knew that but to see the evil of this man...I also loved the rescue scene, which was different from the book. In the book, Katniss is out for most of it or hiding with Finnick. In the movie... well, watch it. It's good. Moving. Imposing. Powerful.
6. The ending. Again, give J-Hutch an award for this acting. I was basically correct as to where they cut it but they cut from Peeta in the hospital to a speech to Peeta and... THE FEELS, people. THE FEELS.

What I wish we had seen more of:

1. Coin as the evil mastermind she is. Okay, maybe evil is too strong... naw, evil. We learn more about her back story, which makes me wonder if she wants/hopes/is using Katniss to be a replacement for her family. And when that ends.... In the book, Katniss tolerates Coin for the sake of saving her friends and family but in the movie, it seems like Coin really likes Katniss and tries to help her. They're going to have to do some major stuff in movie 2 to make her killing Coin justifiable. 
2. Finnick. There is no "Finnick Odair in his underwear" scene, which is so funny in the book! That makes me sad! We don't learn much more about his character and his involvment in the Capitol. I guess we don't need to but new info would have been interesting. Annie is in the movie for about five seconds, total, and we mostly see her hair. Because of where they cut it, this is to be expected but I still wish we had seem more of them together. Maybe in movie 2?

I want to go see the movie a second time to pick up some stuff I missed (follow the link above. Dandelions!) I don't know if I will have time so I guess I just have to sit on pins and needles until the DVD comes out!

Overheard: The Weaslys and manliness

I have a swimmer who says the most random and hilarious stuff. The most recent: I'm somewhere between manliness and bar mitzvah.

I just laughed. The kid in question is about six!

***

There's a girl who I refer to as my Honorary Fifth Child because I used to watch her in the AM before school. We carpool to CCD together and like to chat about Harry Potter and Doctor Who. Last night, the little boys were running down hallways at the school and she said, "You know, you're family reminds me of the Weaslys, minus three kids and the ginger."

I jokingly said, "Do I look like Molly Weasly?" and did a, "NOT MY DAUGHTER!" imitation.

And that, dear readers, is why our parish thinks we are nuts.

The Rain in Spain...

Okay, there's actually no rain and five of the six of us are not in Spain. But... I ache and am bone tired so the fact that I can come up with a title is... a miracle.

Let me back the rain-train up. When I said "five of the six of us are not in Spain" what I mean is "Adam got sent on a business trip to Spain and none of us fit in his suitcases and I think his pictures are mocking us." Pictures like this:

This is the view from his hotel room. I love the man deeply but I currently hate him.

Backing way up to two weeks ago, Adam called me from work at nine in the morning. I answered the phone with, "Uh-oh."

"Why uh-oh?" he asked.

"Because a phone call from you in the morning means you either left something at home or you have bad news!"

I won't say it was bad news, because someone ill or dying is bad news. But the co-worker who was supposed to head to Spain en-route home from his job in Asia has... a toothache.

You bet I cursed like a sailor when I heard that. I mean, a dang TOOTHACHE. People. I gave birth and WALKED OUT OF THE HOSPITAL ten hours later. And he has to come home for a toothache?!

Adam clarified that it is more than a toothache; it's a "fly straight home, do not pass go, head straight to the oral surgeon and here's some antibiotics until then" type toothache. I had a little more sympathy for the guy but not much.

Thankfully, Adam called my mother to make sure she could come to visit while he was gone. She can AND his parents helped out! The last time Adam had to go away for over a week, it was an epic mess around here. Coupled with summer break, no camps, Therapy Week and so on, I was sure this would be worse but it shouldn't be, not with help.

Adam left early Saturday morning and I did the whole pick up and drop off from cello club and AG "camp." Then Grandma and Grandpa took the older ones. It was supposed to be from 2 Saturday until 2 Sunday but they got in at five! They had a great time with their grandparents.

I had the little boys and we went to Mass, where the only Commandment I didn't break was "thou shalt not murder." We left alive but barely. I was ready to strangle the boys. They KNOW how to behave at Mass and normally sit in the pew with their penguins and read the missal. Yesterday they ran around the cry room and were so loud. I did the "Receive and leave" thing before bolting. I took them home where we watched the cartoons the older kids don't like and had snacks for dinner. They went to bed late but that was the whole point of going to Saturday Mass- we could sleep in the next morning!

I was glad we could sleep in because I stayed up late watching The Book Thief. It was really good and followed the book pretty closely. I'm always amazed when a movie is nearly as good as the book. I think I can count on one hand when that happens!

Today I was super busy: mopped the kitchen floor, deep cleaned Camille's bedroom for when Mom comes, dusted my room, trimmed the bushes, watered the trees, swept the garage, cleaned off the back deck, trimmed back the mint plant that was about to overtake the deck, put on the sprinkler and painted the play set. Oh, and Higgins escaped two times because he is too small for his collar but I refused to go after him. If he's dumb enough to run away...

Tonight a friend I hadn't seen in ages stopped by. We ended up chatting for hours and the end result is a very crabby five year old who has been up two late nights in a row. Tomorrow will bring house cleaning and a much needed pool day!

It's the end of an era (as we know it)

During Mass last week, Cole was being a twerp and I ended up taking him to the cry room. It was filled with toddlers in diapers, digging through snack traps and binkies hitting the floor. In short, it was a cry room... and I realized we didn't belong there anymore. We are at a different phase in our life.

I think many parents go through this and various points in their parenting journey. You wake up one day and realize that you are done with a certain phase in your life- breastfeeding, toddlers, preschool, elementary school. The most noticeable is probably when children go off to college and parents struggle with the empty nest but there are phases before that... and we are in one now.

George is entering his last week of preschool. I am not a "graduations for every little mildstone!" person but this is kinda big for him. I sent a non-verbal, anxious 2 year old to them in the fall of 2010 and received a confident chatterbox in return. The school has worked hard with my little boy. Thankfully, the special needs preschool is attached to the elementary school, so they will see him next year too. But I'm loosing a preschooler and getting an elementary boy in return.

Next year will make the last year I have all four children in one school. Joseph will be in the fifth grade and moving to junior high. It blows my mind. First, how is he old enough? Second, how am I old enough? I'm a bit in awe that he will have been in the same school since kindergarten. As a military brat, I never had that. I wouldn't change my up bringing for the world but there's something to be said for having the same close group of friends for the first 10-11 years of your life.

Diapers are gone. Sippy cups are a thing of the past. Instead we have clets and TKD belt littering the floor, and children who leave cups around the computer. Laundry is filled with towels and stinky gear from baseball, not clothes with spit up. Instead of watching Mickey Mouse, I talk about poltical systems, compare the Greek underworld to Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. They drink coffee (or, er, coffee flavored milk) and the whole boy/girl thing is slowly creeping on their radar.

When Joseph and Camille were four (four and two and four and six), Star Wars, Doctor Who and tweeny stuff weren't on their radar. They are the oldest and they set the tone for alot of things including, to a degree, what their siblings are interested in. That's not to say that Cole and George are "too mature" for their ages. It's just that they have older siblings who chat about stuff other four year olds might not know about. (I doubt many of them go into preschool grumping that they "had" to watch Percy Jackson...)

Instead of dealing with nap time and nursing, I have mood swings, hormones, preschool phases, friendship up and downs and summer camp. I also have epic conversations, jokes that aren't about poop, deep thoughts, and homework beyond colors and shapes. Like many things in life, parenting is fluid and ever-changing and the way our family looks is changing too. Yep, there are things I miss about our baby days but I also wouldn't change this parenting phase for anything.

Love Won.

Joseph wasn't very old when people began asking where we would send him to school. At the time, I was more concerned with learning to parent than thinking about preschool or kindergarten but they persisted. Since I hung out with the conservative Catholics (as I am one) and the hippies (as I am one) two options were presented to me:

Catholic school
Homeschool

Now, both options are good and decent and right for some families. However, I was told over and over and over that the ONLY way to raise faithful Catholic children is to put them in Catholic school or homeschool them. Never mind that our public schools are award winning. Never mind that faith formation begins in the home and no matter how nice the Catholic school is, if you aren't living it at home... well...

In the end, we moved from that parish to a new one that is tithing based. If you tithe your ten percent, your kids can attend the school. In spite of the nice, small public school two blocks away, we looked into the Catholic school. There was a wait list for kindergarten and a down payment to be placed on the list. If he didn't get it, we wouldn't get our money back. Our priest and the office staff were very encouraging that we would make the best choice for our family, reassuring us that our children would receive a great faith formation either in the school or the RE program. Because we couldn't afford to lose the down payment money, we enrolled Joseph in the public school. 

I still hear about this choice, not from the priests so much but that other parents. They ignore the fact that my two boys need an SLP, PT and OT full time, on staff. They ignore the fact that my oldest would have been kicked out of a private school. They ignore the hundreds of dollars in therapy bills we have each month. They ignore the tight food budget, the menu planning, the things we do without to afford the therapy my kids so desperately need. No, if we gave up more, we could tithe and send our kids to the school. If we REALLY REALLY REALLY cared about their immortal souls, we would do anything to send them to the Catholic schools because how else would they grow up to be faithful Catholics if they aren't surrounded by them 24/7? There's no way those "government" schools can nurture these precocious gems.

And you know what? No, my kids aren't studying the canonizations of four popes in school. No one will lead them in a Rosary over lunch and they won't study the lives of saints. They don't go to Mass multiple times a week unless I pull them from school to attend and winter parties aren't Christmas parties. So, no, they aren't getting a Catholic education in the public schools. At least, it's not direct.

Recently, the community was hit with two tragedies. A young man was critical hurt in a swimming accident. This high school senior was pulled under by the waves and damaged his spinal cord. His mother was my sons para and they attend our parish. Both mother and son are in another state as the son undergoes rehab and the mom helps him.

On Palm Sunday, there was a shooting at our Jewish Community Center. Three people were killed, including a high school freshmen and his grandfather. It was a horrible, senseless act, a hate crime.

I feel for our community, especially the young people of our high school. In the past six weeks, they've had to deal with media attention and ask questions that no one wants to ask. But instead of wallowing, you know what they've done? They've surrounded these families with love. The students put on a carnival for the young man who was hurt and raised $22,000. That's dollars, people, dollars! Our school, where the mom worked, is raising money at our own carnival for him, and a teacher and I are working on organizing a garage sale to benefit the family. The parish RE program and the school have card drives going so that this young man will receive cards every day.

The freshman and his grandfather? My kids told me that alot of their teachers took time off to attend his funeral. Staff members helped provide food for the funeral. Because our elementary school is close to the high school, the young children saw the media trucks. The staff went above and beyond to make sure the kids were safe, questions were answered in an age appropriate manner. The principal and superintendent sent out e-mails, telling the parents what was going on and how it was being handled. Everything was done in a gentle, loving manner.

Shortly before the funeral. word came around that Westboro Baptist was going to protest the funeral. What did our community do? Students- not just the students from our high school but schools all over the district- lined the streets surrounding the church with signs that said "Love wins." Motorcycle riders were there, holding similar signs. Westboro was regulated to a small corner, out of the way, and I don't think the family saw them.

Love wins.

What a powerful message, held up by the young people of my community. I don't know if they are Catholic, Protestant, Jewish or atheist. All I know is that they held the powerful, loving message in their hands that day: Love wins. In their actions, they showed the message- Love wins. In raising money, donating to causes, hosting the carnival, they are living, acting out Christ's greatest commandment, "Love one another as I have loved you."

Love wins. 

No, no my children don't attend Catholic school.Instead, they are shown the example of Christ's love for us and how to carry it out on earth. They are surrounded by adults who will do anything to help them succeed. They are surrounded by people of all ages who, without a second thought, give and give and give some more to those in need. They do all this out of the goodness of their hearts, without calling attention to themselves. Even in these "soulless government schools" my children are surrounded by Christ-like people, living the way Christ calls us to live. There isn't a better example of "love and faith in action" than what these public school teachers and students have shown us over the past six weeks. They are, indeed, surrounded by people who will continue to help them grow into loving, faithful (dare I say it?) Catholic young adults.

Love wins . . . indeed.

Why

I haven't thought about it in years but I don't think the memory will ever leave me. It's not as present and up front as the NICU or my niece, but it's there. It always will be there. And I think I will always wonder.

It was my junior year of high school and the only year I swam for the high school swim team. I normally swam for our base's age group team but I really, really wanted to swim in college. I thought I would need to swim with the high school team for this to happen.

Instead of the closeness and friendship of the age group team, I found people who used drugs. Bullies. An abusive coach. It wasn't what I wanted or hoped for. It was so hard. But I wanted to swim so bad that I stayed.

One day, the pool was being used to train saliors so we trooped to the beach. It was an overcast day, the clouds low and grey and angry. The waves were crashing into the shore and it was a red-flag warning; it was dangerous enough that if we went out swimming and got in trouble, the lifeguards did not have to save us.

I didn't want to go in.

I don't like open water swimming. I was a strong swimmer, able to do the 400 IM and I loved swimming the mile. Still, the waves were high and strong and... fish and seaweed. Ew.

Inspite of my protests, my coach got in my face and ordered me in, that our practice was going to be in the ocean today. I needed to get over myself and get in. I can't remember the exact words but I remember his face in front of me, yelling. I remember the waves hitting the sand, the flat sky and the spray coming up through the cracks in the rocks.

I was a goody-two-shoes in high school. I toed the line, obeyed the rules. I had good judgment but I went against it and I went in.

I don't remember exactly how it happened, but the waves crashed over me. My feet left the sand and I was pulled, somersaulting, out to the ocean. I managed to plant my feet on the ground and staggered up for air, trying to reach the beach but it happened again. And again. And again.

I was going to die. I was going to die right there, in that ocean. I was going to die. I thought of my boyfriend, my best friend, my parents and siblings. I thought of God. I hoped it would be painless but I was terrified.

And then I was up on the beach, staggering forward and no wave hit me. I saw our team captain crawling forward before laying prostrate on the beach, her face buried in her arms. One of the other girls asked if she was okay and she nodded but didn't lift her head. I don't know if she was crying or breathing or praying- but I remember her still form in her black team suit, her red brown ringlets coming down around her shoulders.

The team staggered up to the open air showers on the beach, complaining of sand in places the girls didn't want sand, spitting out the ocean water that we swallowed. As we crowded under the spray, the others chatted about how the beach is called "Breakneck Beach." We laughed and joked and knew we were damn lucky.

At home, I took a proper shower, threw on a sweatshirt with a cartoon cat on it and lay on my bed, shaking. I had been close. I had seen my 17 years flash before my eyes. There was no reason why I was alive and I had been very, very stupid.

***

A few days ago, an e-mail went out saying that the teenage son of one of the teacher's at my sons' school had been injured in a swimming accident. Like I was, he was a strong swimmer but got caught in the waves. Unlike me, he did not walk away unscathed. He's in the hospital and will be in rehab for awhile. I don't think he was stupid to go swimming in the ocean- it just happened. Sheer stupid bad chance.

I know how it happened, I've been in the same situation and, frankly, I probably should have ended up like him. I didn't- by the grace of God? Sheer dumb luck? I don't know.

I've wondered- always wondered- why two people can be in similar situations and one has a "good" outcome and one has a "bad" one. Two babies born at the same gestational age, in similar health.... why does one go home and one doesn't? Two car accidents- one person goes home, one doesn't. I don't have the answers. I wish I did but then I suppose I would be God and I'm not sure I want that job either.

I have asked "Why?" more times in the past five years than I ever have before. With this news, it's on my mind even more so, so much that I woke up in the middle of the night, my mind racing. I took my medicine to calm myself down, which has given me a pretty chill morning. Be anyone thinks I am completely nuts (I am nuts- not fully though!) or overreacting- it's April. Any time other than April, I would have been sad but not needed the meds.

I wonder, someday, if we will all know why. Why, why, why. Why one person, one teenager, one baby and not the other. Why.

Please keep this family in your prayers- I know they are thankful for them.

When Mommy is Away....

... the mice just miss her.

Or so says Daddy. I think he just missed me and used the kids as an excuse. After all, Cole ignored me the moment I got back and didn't have anything to do with me until I pulled out some donuts (Round Rock Donuts!) I brought home.

I digress....

Back in July, a friend and I met up when we were both in WI. We were mom friends nine years ago when we were in playgroup together. Our playgroup was pretty awesome and most of us have kept in touch thanks to the wonders of Facebook and blogging. My friend and I had been trying to get together for several years and it finally worked out. One of us made the comment that all of us that were still friends should get together for a moms weekend away.

Our mutual friend, B, said, "Let's not put this off. Let's do it!" We quickly agreed on a weekend and a place (Austin). B and I drove down together, another friend flew in and the fourth lived close enough that she just drove.

We.had.a.BLAST.

B and I made fantastic time going down and got it not fifteen minutes after A and K. We had dinner at a great restaurant within walking distance from the hotel. I was craving chips and salsa and they had... chips and salsa. I think the chips were homemade. Yummmm....

We spent the next two days wandering around town, in and out of little shops and just missing getting caught in the rain. We ate at NON-CHAIN restaurants (woot!) and had the best blueberry-pomegranate margaritas. We caught up on the past year(s), bought fun stuff for our kids and generally had a blast. I went to Ikea for the first time ever and did a little Christmas shopping... a little wishing... and a little picture taking. An Ikea opens up in my town in about 18 months so I have over a year to justify a few things I need/want/think are really cool. I did buy some of those "pet towers," a couple things to put on the boys' wall to hold books or toys, and a paper-roll holder so the kids can pull out large rolls of paper. I also got something to hold all those plastic bags we have and a Christmas decoration. Not bad for my first time and when my idea was to BUY ALL THE THINGS!

I can  home happy, refreshed, to new counters and my mom, who helped take care of the kids that Sunday. I vote we make this an annual trip but I am not sure our husband's agree.

(Tough cookies, dear!)

Closer

Most of the time, I love my life in the Midwest.

We have a wonderful school district that works hard to meet the needs of all my children. We are close to therapists and we have a wonderful pro-life, NFP only doctor who takes great care of all of us. We have good friends and 2 of the four sets of godparents are in town.

Most of the time, I know that it is good that we live here, have our own lives and are making it on our own.

I miss my cousins and extended family but I am happy here.

Most of the time.

It is times like now, with Hurricane Sandy raining on my family, that I wish I was closer. I wish it was easy to pop in and see how they were doing. I wish I didn't have to rely on e-mail and Facebook to know what is going on. Yes, I know we would be in the hurricane too... but I still wish I was closer.

It's times like now I wish I could up root everything I love about our life here and plunk it down closer to my extended family.

To all you in the middle of Sandy, stay safe!

I knew it was coming

I spent the last 18 or so months hiding. It was not a conscience choice, though. It began simply through necessity and as the result of our routine. When Cole was born, he had a Type Four Tongue Tie and was, quite frankly, a pain in the butt to feed. At home, I would strip us down if needed and was close to the pump, a freezer stash of milk and formula if I needed it. When we left, I had to take a bottle of milk with me because I could not wrangle three children and try to breastfeed. If I didn't want to take expressed milk (which could go bad, leak all over the place or not get eaten and need to be tossed) I had to pack formula and water. Oh, and if I was gone too long, I personally would leak all over the place or die from the pain of milk needing OUT but having no place to GO. Yeah, I was (literally, in some ways) strapped to the pump.

When we got all that figured out, Georgie began having Total Nuclear Meltdowns in public. Places Joseph, Camille and I had enjoyed, like the mall play areas, library and pools, were too much for him. He would cling to me and whine and cry. I had no clue what was going on, so we started to stay home more and stuck to safe places- the houses of certain friends.

Over time, what we know understand is apraxia and SPD, got worse and we stayed home more. It helped (or didn't) that we couldn't really go anywhere because we were hemmed in by the school routine and nap times. We stayed home- alot- and didn't see many other kids.

At the beginning of the 2011-12 school year, I knew we had to get out more. Once Georgie began preschool, Cole and I started to do all the things we love- shopping trips where we just wander around, bookstores to play with trains, grocery store trips, walks, short play dates. We still have to be back in time to get Georgie and Camille from school but I have a touch more time to get out and do things. (Of course, we spend alot of time on the couch watching Little Einsteins and cooking. Bear is my sous chef!) But as the year progressed, Georgie's confidence bloomed and we learned how to help his SPD, I began saying yes to more play dates and time out with friends, even friends who are not on Georgie's "safe people" list.

In Dec., I went to an open house an old friend hosted. I know Joseph and her older son would get along; they are very much alike and they were in a our first playgroup. I was right- Joseph played happily, Camille found a friend, Cole fought over the baby dolls with their daughter and even Georgie was happy. He didn't cling to Adam but went straight for the trains and toys in the playroom.

I think Georgie was pestering the older boys (he's a really good younger brother! lol) and was jabbering away when one of the older kids asked me, "What's wrong with him?

I didn't get it at first. "Huh? He's three and just wants to play with you. If he's bothering you, I can take him to find something else to do."

"No." The other kid shook his head. "What's wrong with him?"

It hit me. His younger sibling is around Georgie's age and speaks clearly. George doesn't.

"He has a condition that makes it hard for him to talk. He can understand everything you say but he can't talk. I'll get him out of your hair." I scooped him up and carried him off to find something else to do.

I wasn't mad. That feeling surprised me. I expect to be unreasonably mad at the kid but I wasn't. He knew something was amiss with Georgie and asked about it. I didn't remove George because to save him from the other children; I moved him because the older boys wanted to play by themselves.

Not a few weeks later, Camille had a friend over. The girls played really well with Georgie and Cole and included them in everything. It was really sweet but when we were painting, the question came up again- "Why doesn't he talk?"

I knew this time was coming. I knew at some point, friends and strangers would ask hard questions. When Georgie was younger, people seemed to understand that he wouldn't talk to them because he was "a baby." Now that he's clearly older, they expect him to answer back when they speak to him- to say "thank you" for a sticker, to answer when they ask how old he is or his name. They notice the medical ID bracelet he wears, a large silver beacon that keeps him safe, yes, but also indicates something is medically wrong with my child. And, naturally, they ask why.

So far, everyone has been accepting and kind. I don't bother to label his speech delay as apraxia since few people know what it is. I simply respond that he has a neurological condition that makes it difficult to talk. Most people learn to talk by being  exposed to language but we have to teach him how to talk. And, yes, one day he will speak but it will be much later than with other children. To date, no one has said anything negative and all the responses have been polite.

I'm not mad when children ask questions. In fact, I want them to learn how to ask (kindly) about Georgie's differences. I want them to know that he may not talk like they do, but he can run, jump, and play with them all the same. I want them to know and love my son.

I've known since we first began to suspect CAS that this day was coming, the day that other children would realize something is different about my son. And now it is here. And you know? It's not as bad as I thought.

Code Name: Blessingway

This morning, I went to another city (okay, it was 45 minutes away) to help bless a friend as she awaits the arrival of her newest baby.

Dionna of Code Name: Mama is due any day now with her second child. One of her friends, Mandy, hosted a baby blessing at her house. I know both Dionna and Mandy from our local Attachment Parenting group and Mandy and I both "work" for Dionna at the Natural Parents Network.

Catch that? Okay, good, because sometimes the "six degrees of seperation" in our city (which acts like a small town, really) makes MY head spin!

I was just going to drive there myself (and rock out to my Jingle Spells Wizard Rock Christmas CDs and get an iced tea at McDonald's and enjoy peace and quiet...) but at the last moment Adam said he wanted to drive me. Okay, no biggie. I was a bit late because of this but not horribly so.

Dionna's blessingway was simple, but blessed. There was a small group of us who know each other well, but don't often to get to see each other. Dionna's mom came too, which touched me. My mother did not come to my baby shower (her choice) for Joseph and the fact that her mom was able to openly share how much her daughter means to her and see how much everyone loves Dionna shows just how awesome their relationship must be.

We made colorful candle holders out of glass jars and tissue paper so she can place them around her birthing room. Being a bunch of moms and hippies, we swapped birth stories. For once, the only thing that was uncommon about my births were the fact that they were all hospital births. All the women had had unmedicated births, many of them homebirths, so when we could say something about feeling our waters break, or the ring of fire or how birth can, indeed, be peaceful and painless, everyone knew what we ment. I love hearing positive birth stories and it was fun.

We all gathered in a circle and shared blessings for Dionna, her husband, son and soon to be Roo. The NPN staff sent gifts and local people brought food. I sent in pasta and sauce, so she has a simple and healthy meal on hand... and found a cute baby outfit too. (I lurv shopping for babies!) We are all wearing yarn bracelts and will cut the string when her labor begins, as a way to "be with her" for his birth.

Blessings be upon you, Dionna and family. May you have a healthy, bouncing baby in your arms soon!

Many Gifts Monday

13. dense fog- the fog rolled in Sunday and it reminded me of the fog that rolled over the hills when we lived in New York. I would try and chase the fog, hoping to find myself incased in it. Fog also makes me thankful for...

14. blue skies- because as neat and romantic as fog is, it makes me long for the blue skies.

15. Baby teeth cutting through and releasing my baby from teething pain... for now!

16. wild toddler hair

17. MOPS Mondays and my table of friends.

18. MOPS childcare and the chance to sit alone without my soon-to-be toddler climbing on me, yet...

19. The joy that comes with feeling weird and unnatural WITHOUT a baby snuggled in my lap. It means I've been blessed with many snuggly children over the years and am used to having a baby cuddled with me.

20. Target sales on shoes and the hope that I can score some much needed shoes for the summer at a decent price!

21. The process of cleaning out the closets and basement, throwing away items and donating them. It's soooo freeing to get rid of items we don't need or use! Ii can make way for things we REALLY need or find freedom in having less STUFF.

Overheard: Girls

Joseph: Mom, a girl at school likes me.
Me: Really? Is she nice?
Joe: Yeah but TWO girls like me! And, Mom, there's only ONE of me!

MOPping it up

One of the first friends I met when we moved in last year belongs to a local MOPS group. This year, she invited me to join. I had heard mixed things about MOPS from the interwebz. Some said that they like to convert people who are not Christians, like Catholics. Because, you know, apparently that isn't JESUS on our Cross. I also heard that they like to keep the kids in the nursery, which would not have flown with me as a Mother of One (who did not like to be away from his Mommy, kthankxbye).

But my friend is super cool and has never tried to "convert" me and just laughed when Joseph told her son that you can and should pray to Mary. I am cool with my kids being the nursery as long as they bring them to me when they need me and, besides, TIME ALONE. YAY!

So I signed up and was put as my friend's table (huh. How did THAT happen? ;P). I LOVE it. We had a little breakfast before hand with COFFEE. The discussion table was awesome and the speaker was very neat. I liked alot of her ideas for solving discipline problems with children. The people in the 12 Months and Under room wrote that Cole nursed on the white board so they knew to bring him to me and not look for a bottle. I saw several other babies in the room with their mothers, so I know if I had to keep him with me, it would be fine.

Camille was in the 4 Year Old room and she had a blast with her friend... although she apparently can't tell me what she learned. Georgie was put in the two year old room, which really confused me. Apparently, it is because he will be two most of the year. In true Georgie fashion, he was NOT HAPPY about this and required alot of attention. We're going to try one more week and then maybe move him to the 12-24 month room. I explained that he is young, attached, a preemie and not very verbal... they got it but he still cried and clung alot.

I am so looking forward to this year. I really need an outlet to make more mom friends and have playgroups for the kids. When Joseph was a baby, I was in a MOMS Club and loved our playgroup. It was one of the happiest times and we all still keep in touch via Facebook. I hope I can have that kind of friendship here!

On a side note, we made a little craft, canvas bags. My friend is an awesome baker and made all of us cupcakes. When I got home, Adam laughed at my craft but was super excited about the cupcake. He then teased me about my craft AGAIN and about the sweater I bought him at Banana Republic. So I ate the cupcake... by MYSELF. HA!

Life and death and everything in between

When we moved to Korea, I became friends with two sisters, one a year older than me and another a year younger. Although I hung out with one at a time, at different points during our station there, I considered both to be my friend. Our fathers kinda, sorta, worked together; certainly, they knew of each other and aprroved of our friendship.

Time passed and our lives in Korea ended at the same time. They went to their next PCS and we went to ours, Hawaii. It was the good ole days and we wrote letters and sometimes called each other.

(Children, back when I WAS YOUR AGE we had this thing called LONG DISTANCE. And we had to PAY for it! The mailman brought us HAND WRITTEN letters that took days or WEEKS to get to us, not minutes! And it was UP HILL, both ways in the sand dunes!)

Our corrispondence waxed and waned over the years. I married young and had babies before most of my friends from Korea. I was at a different point in my life but I still loved and cared for these sisters.

Two years ago, the youngest sister got married.

Today, her husband passed away.

***

I had another good friend in Korea, S. S and I looked alot alike. Like the two sisters, I kept in touch with her over the years. Of all my friends, hers was the only wedding I was able to attend.

She is in labor right now with her first baby.

***

It is staggering how, in one day, one moment, there are the greatest mysteries of life and death. Any minute now, my friend will hold her new son and simply watch him breathe on his own. Hours ago, my other friend watched her life partner breathe his last.

The beginning of life and the end.

They say when a woman is in labor, she is on the edge of death, tettering at the brink. They say you die a little to bring life into this world. Certainly, it is the death of your old self and the birth of the woman in a new role, a new life, as this little person's mother. A tiny person, dependent on them for everything.

That is how we leave this world. Not tiny, but dependent. It struck me, in the NICU, how some begin the world as others end- gasping for breath, needing assitence, dependent on oxygen and feeding tubes.

Life.

And death.

The great equalizers.

***

When I heard that my friend's water broke last night (ironically, about the same time I began working on her baby gift- I should mail that, huh?), I was estatic. My exact words on Facebook were, "Squuueeee!" And squee indeed! A new little baby to coo over with big fat cheeks to kiss and snuggle. Pure joy. I wish I could visit them.

When I learned that my other friend's husband passed away, my heart broke. At 30, we are not and should not be at the point in our lives where we bury our spouses. It's a terrifying thought. I'm a do-er and I want to do something... pure grief, agony and what I feel is only a fraction of what she feels.

Tomorrow, I am going to teach in the Atruim again. We will sit, and reliflect and pray.

And contemplate life... and death... and joy... and grief... and everything in between.