pretty, happy, funny, real

Happy...how can you not be happy about a rainbow colored gluten free coconut birthday cake?


Funny...sometimes when you are asked to pose pretty the silly just leaks out.


Pretty... This photo, taken by my daughter and stretched canvas style, hangs on my wall.
It makes me smile.

Real...photo shoots can get so tiring.

Pretty, happy, funny, real....Happy, Funny, Pretty, Real
Yes, I know I got the pictures out of order. That is just kinda how life rolls for me right now.


There is a website I follow.
http://ourmothersdaughters.blogspot.com
It is a beautiful site filled with encouragement and light for mom-types of all ages and stages.
I am not catholic so there are some things that I just don't "get" but it is all written with such love and understanding that I feel right at home there.
If I met Auntie Leila or her daughters on the street I would want to just run up and hug them.
I just cannot say enough good about this!
Go check it out.
Like Mother, Like Daughter

Anyway...once a week she hosts a little party. It is called Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real.
If you want to join the party you post things that illustrate those four aspects of your day.
This is my first attempt.






*all photos taken by my daughter http://www.flickr.com/photos/delightfulness/
Go check out her stuff. I know I am her mother but seriously...this girly has a gift.

better later...

"Mommmeeeeeeee..." she says in her little girl voice.
"remember you said that when the boys left I could have a computer turn and now they are gone and you promised you would get me on the computer."

well, actually I didn't say that last part. But she heard it never-the-less.
I am fine with her playing computer, but why does she have to say it in such a way as to make me feel like I betrayed her?
I swear, it feels more like this...
"mommeeeeeee, you promised me you were going to come back for me but you didn't. You left me standing on the curb, in the rain, with no shoes, and no money for milk; while you went off with your gambling buddies and spent all our rent money."

sigh.
I didn't make any grandiose promises. I just said she could play computer when the boys left.
I am big enough to admit here that I may or may not have actually been listening to what she asked. (sometimes it happens)
I probably said something to make her happy while she was in the depths of despair because she was not going to get to go with them.
I used my words to put off (if even for a little while) having to take care of ...whatever... right this minute.

I do that a lot you know. Say stuff. To delay. Or stall.
I say "yes, later." and "sure, sometime." and "not today."
And then I almost always regret saying such things when it "later, sometime, and tomorrow" actually show up.

Give me some credit here...I try to be as ambiguous as possible. I try not to lay out some fantastical scenario that will cause hopes to be dashed and dreams to be crushed on the savage rocks of reality.
Mostly, I try to put off the painful no. In fact, I try not to bring the no at all if I can help it.
My reasoning?
Well, kids are funny ya see.
I once read a bit about how a baby might think. The baby wakes up and it is dark and lonely. So he starts whimpering for his mama. He cries softly but she does not hear. He cries louder but she still does not respond. So He starts kicking. As he is kicking and crying she walks in and flips on the light.
Now the baby...in all his worldly wisdom...might actually associate the kicking and the light. Especially if his mommy has been trained to not respond until baby is all worked up.
Baby thinks that if he kicks his legs the room lights up.
No, I have never tested this.
I just think it is funny.

So back to my not liking to say no.
If my kid asks for ice cream and I say "no", I may mean "not right now" but the kids hears "no ice cream for you ever" and the kid starts to wail and the mommy cannot give in to the wails so the "not right now" becomes "never".
And that is terrible.
Or, the "not right now" is taken in stride but then later the kid kicks her brother but the mommy doesn't see and then the kid innocently brings up the fact that she did, in fact, finish all her dinner and could she now have ice cream...so mommy says "yes!"
And the kid associates her rotten brother bashing behavior with ice cream reward.
See...bad.

So, I prefer the "later" scenario. Which I almost always pair with addendum and parameters to beat the band because that is my way.
And all that legal jargon comes out in the language of the adults on the Snoopy cartoons..
"wah, wah, wahhhwa wa...later"

Later is all the kid hears.
And then she reminds the mommy.
And she knows, this kid, that this mommy hates un-kept promises.
(although technically there were no promises made...just to be clear on that)

On a bad day her wheedles might tick this mommy off and she might hear this,
"I made no promises missy. This is later, but so is later...uh...later, so you have to wait til I am good and ready."

But on a good day the mommy will see the rightness and feel the guilt and come through for the kid.
And the kid will feel all warm and gooey inside.
And the mommy will feel accomplished and hopefully not like she caved.
(be extra careful of the timing with this one...one whine and then you are rewarding the whine...keep the power mama...you decide.)

Later has done what it was designed to do. It delayed.
And that is sometimes all that is needed for a mommy to get a grip.

I ain't sayin that this is the best course of action. I am just sayin that this is how it goes around here.
This mommy likes to milk the later. (and if you ain't had later milk lately you are missin out)
Later can be a very useful tool.

Still, this mommy wishes "later" weren't so stinkin punctual.

learning the hard way

I thought my kids didn't want to learn today but then I figured out their learning agenda was just different from mine.

Some things they learned (re-learned)...

-don't make that face at mama,

-say "ok mom" and make your physical action match your verbal action,

-do not do things JUST to annoy your brother because that is not nice...however, if you are doing something just for your fun and it is harmless but it does annoy your brother you can consider that a bonus to your fun,

-deep breathing helps almost any situation and especially ones where you are freaking out and forgetting to take in oxygen,

-remember to bring your water bottle cuz siblings backwash,

and

-naps are fun-for everyone.

See?!

Learning!

Score!!

I love my job.

I remember a time in my life when I was crying daily because I was not dedicated enough in my Christian walk. I cried tears of self-loathing and guilt and shame over my obvious lack of desire to "go into all the world". I was having a regularly hard time keeping up with my little chicks at home and would repeatedly turn down offers to let me teach Sunday school, plan a senior party, or even sign up for dedicated hours of prayer.
I was just a big loser.

One day, I was particularly distraught about how I was unwilling to be like Heidi Baker.
She is this awesome missionary that loves on kids and does fabulous things abroad in dangerous countries and she seems to be really happy and fulfilled.
I moaned to God about how I was just a big wienie and how could He possibly love me when I couldn't even pretend to answer His call like Heidi Baker and go "seek and save".

Well, in the midst of my tears my Papa God whispered something to me. I am sure He had to repeat Himself because I was quite in a dither and not listening very well. When He finally got my attention I was shocked by what He said.
"I never asked you to be like Heidi Baker."
Well, that stopped me in my tear-stained tracks. I got really quiet and began to listen.

God began to lay out this picture for me about how He had called Heidi and how she was able to serve Him in joy because she was following Him. He talked about the trouble that starts when we get sucked into looking at other people's missions and taking them on as our own.
That'll suck the life right outta ya.
Then, He started pointing me back to my life. I started seeing my little family and how we go about our days loving Jesus and learning to be in relationship with Him. I smile when I think about this because raising my children is honestly the love of my life. I am good at it.
I am full of joy in it.
To use the words of Eric Liddell: I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.
I could feel the pleasure of Papa on me. Really feel it.

I listened for a while, and then I started getting all verklempt again about how I wasn't doing enough.
(I am a stubborn one. )
To which He kindly told me to just knock it off.
Once again He said something to me that changed my life.
"When you get really tired and feel like you need to do more just think about this...you are discipling 5 people 24/7. This is what I have asked you to do. For now, I think that this is enough to keep you busy."
He is really smart like that.

My job...my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to introduce my family to the Lord God of the Universe. I have a limited time. I will not do it perfectly. But if I am able to show them what relationship means I am hoping that they will leave me well equipped to do whatever it is that the Lord would have them do. All while really enjoying His company in the journey.
I believe that all other missions are peripheral.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul and all your strength.
There might be a reason He listed this first.

I love my job.

saute for elephants...

Today I was offered some breakfast.
My darling princess was cooking up something yummy.
My darling princess who loves to pretend and loves her stuffed animals to the point of insanity.
The point of insanity being total flip-out if someone touches, throws, ignores, or otherwise looks scant-ways at her precious balls of fluff.
This princess asked me if I would like some yummy breakfast.
I sat myself down and obediently closed my eyes and held out my hands.
I felt a bowl.
I looked down and saw...an elephant. A tiny little stuffed animal that is the single most cutest little thing you ever saw. Makes a grownup stop in their tracks and saw "awwww" cute.
My mouth dropped open as she said these words...

"I cooked a baby elephant today...but don't worry, it will be nice and tender....I skinned it first."

pretending...

Have you ever tried to play pretend with a diva?
( A diva in the sense that she is the tippity top talent in the pretend world.)
I mean, you might think you are cool and down with all that...lets face it you can pretend suck a milkshake with oscar nominating sucks...but you cannot match pretend wits with this little diva.

Not by a longshot.

This is how it goes.
She comes to you and asks if you would like some fried eggs. Of course you would.
She knows this.
Bringing out the egg cartons you are suitably pleased to see that there are colored eggs inside. Colored of the easter egg variety. Pretty.
She asks which ones you would like. It has been determined that you would like two. So, you choose pink and blue.
But wait. She brings something from behind her back. You didn't see the other dozen. Wow! Swirly ones. Ok, you deliberate and pick pink and yellow swirly.
It is suggested that you might like the purple instead of pink. It is white chocolate mint ice-cream flavor.
Well, duh.
Off to cook, she hums a happy tune and presently brings back an empty plate. Now you might think that strange, especially if you know for certain that there are like five hundred some odd types of plastic food lurking in the bowels of that kitchen.
Still, you say nothing cuz, hello, this is pretend.
You know the rules. You pick up the knife and cut the eggs then proceed to eat them with a spoon.
mmmmmm....so yummy. She smiles.
Would you like a drink?
Why yes, yes I would.
Would you like lemonade? It comes in lotsa flavors like cherry, and raspberry, and lime. Lime- lemonade is very good.
Hmmmm...you know, I would like to try lime lemonade. That sounds delicious.
But wait...she says...you didn't choose blueberry. It is the very best.
Oh. I didn't know blueberry was an option because you didn't say it.
(Well, obviously I wasn't listening cuz it was listed. Blueberry is always an option.)
Evidently.

She was right, blueberry is delicious.
She suggests that I might cut my eggs with the provided knife. I point out that I did, in fact, cut my eggs already. whatever.
mmmming along, I hold my plate just so as to not get food on my laptop. I even remember my mmming and find chewing motions continue long after she returns to the other room.

Finished with my blueberry lemonade I am now offered another choice of beverage.
I choose water. It is what I drink usually.
Eyes roll. She smiles.
Mommy, this is pretend, you don't do usual in pretend.
Well, in that case, I choose a double chocolate milkshake.
sluuuuuuuuuuurp. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Out of the blue

on Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Today my Mercy says to me, "mommy what happened to Grandma....Grandpa's grandma" (I knew what she meant)
I said, 'she went to heaven to live with Jesus".
"Why did she do that mommy?"
"Well, her body got tired and broken and she died here and got to go and be with Jesus in heaven" I said...stumbling over a few words here and there.
She thought a minute.
"oh yeah" she said. Now she has a new body and she's all alive in Heaven with Jesus forever."
"Yes baby! That is exactly how it is" said her mommy...through her tears.

I think it is stunning how much they know. We have told her this stuff here and there. But seriously, she is three years old. I don't guess I really really thought she got it. Maybe she doesn't...but I think she does. She used her own words and her own understanding and she has it.
I truly am stunned.

I just thought you would like to share that with me.

pain

bit my lip
and now I'm cryin'

paper cut
I could be dyin'

stubbed my toe
the wails come flyin'

pain
it hurts
a lot

splinter in my pinkie digit
get the needle out to dig it
hurry up you filthy pig it
really hurts a lot

little pinch is what they say
you can look the other way
giving blood is not okay

the pain
it hurts
a lot

burn your tongue on hot cocoa
mouth aflame and full of woe
taste all gone for hours or so

pain
it hurts
a lot

bandaids on the boo boos please
dab the bloody scraped up knees
kisses bring a little ease

pain
it hurts
a lot

do not mock as cries shrill higher
acting like this is not dire
say you never care require
and I'll call you "liar, liar"

pain
it hurts
a lot

come a little closer dear
let me grab that precious ear
say it again so we all can hear

that's right

pain

it hurts

a lot

the friendly toot...

Have you ever been sitting at a light and look down for one second and look up to see the light green and before you can get your foot from the brake to the gas you hear some ummmmm...person...honk from behind you? grumblesassafrassasnarkenbumblegrumper....

yeah I hate it when that happens.

Waiting in line is hard. It is hard to sit and wait at a light when it is red and you wish it green. It is harder still when you are second in line. The wait is just that much more insidious.
That car in front of you is trying to bug you. You just know it. You saw them change lanes. You had an open turn lane right up until the last 50 feet and then that car up there just turned right in front of you. Just to make you mad. Obviously they are not paying attention.
They are probably on the phone.

In your opinion they should have their left foot on the brake and their right foot hovering over the gas just waiting for that light to turn green.
Yes, they should.

Do you honk?
Are you a honker?
Do you wish there was some way to say "Hey dorkwad...pay attention!" But in a completely friendly and Christianly sweet (if insincere) way???

Announcing "The Friendly Toot".
For a low, low, notsolow one time only installation fee you can be the proud owner of technology's version of a kick in the pants.
This little baby presents itself as small button mounted on your dashboard that, when pressed, gives a quick loving sound when you want to get that certain someone's attention without exciting their ire.
It says "WAKE UP" in all lower case letters.
It harnesses your cool and lets you keep your pinky up as you drive your land rover down the freeway of success.
Move people without breaking a sweat.
Get your way without the guilt.
Clear your path and remain the lady you were meant to be.
Make yer mama proud.
The Friendly Toot.
Instead of hitting the horn...tap the toot.
The Friendly Toot.

In stores nowhere.
(other tooting applications may apply)

the secret life of quilters....

So we go into a little itty bitty quilters supply store and JerryJoeJimBob asks us what he can help us find.
We need some black fabric.
He can hook us up.
How much do we need?
30 yards.
Well, no, he can't help us with that much on such short notice but if we have cash in hand we can
"go down 30 to Harry Hines and exit Perth and drive into the warehouse district and blah blah blah and under the bridge and turn left and they can help us.
Now you gotta be sure to have cash in hand because money talks and these little oriental ladies have everything you could possibly need. If ya know what I mean.
Watch out tho,cuz they got the good stuff... and they got the other stuff...if ya know what I mean"

We nod. Never intending to make the trip downtown but entranced by the story.

"Remember, cash in hand. Just take 30 down to blah blah.....turn left. There's a jiggle joint on the corner there ladies, if ya know what I mean."

As we leave we discuss the true definition of jiggle joint and wonder if we should be concerned that somehow we just made a drug deal.

Still laughing.

a rose by any other name...

Baby girl has a teddy bear named "Jesus".

It is really strange to hear her talk to him.
"wait right there Jesus I will be right back. Don't get into anything while I am gone."

I wonder why she named him Jesus. It is kind of an angel teddy. Gauzy wings and what looks to be a beauty pageant ribbon thing across the chest. Maybe that is her vision of Jesus.
Do you think Jesus would be a shoe in for Miss Congeniality?

Mr. Congeniality I guess makes more sense.

Anyway, baby girl is pretty practical when it comes to naming her babies. Sometimes.

She has a bear named Pinkety. He is pink.
She also has a bear named Softly. He is my favorite. He is really really soft.
There is a stable of ponies...
Sunset...is orange.
Sunshine...yellow.
ClipClop...grey with one white foot. A clipclop is a foot. In case you wondered.
Alec Jr...she really loves him. (she has a friend named Alec)
Happy bear...is actually a dog...sometimes we call him Funny Dog
Pink Bow
Giraffeee
Lamby
Sally the frog

The tiny little squinkys in no particular order...
Mustache Louie,
Pengou,
Mr Purple Bulldog
Mooie
Elle the Elephant
Big Warthog
Big Baby
Cotton Candy Lion
Tiger Tiger
Ar, Ar, Ar (a seal)
The Tooth Fairy
Floppy Ears

Polly pockets have names that may or may not be influenced by Disney...
Cinderella, Snow White, Ariel, Jasmine, she has others.

Her brothers may have helped her name some of the dollhouse people...
Anya the mother
Judy the babysitter
Judy is also the grandma...they are two different dolls
Montino the neighbor
Bobby is the teenager guy...he farts a lot.
John...just because

Last but not least we have the baby dolls.
One is named Delilah. She just likes that name. It is a good name.
Her little sister is named Felicia. Felicia is glad to have a name. She has an unfortunate name history. Someone got to her with a sharpie. She ended up with a beauty mark on her cheek.
Her name...up until recently....
Blackspot.

I know.

I am not a bitter homeschooler...still, I laugh at this...

The Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List

by Deborah Markus, from Secular Homeschooling, Issue #1, Fall 2007

1 Please stop asking us if it's legal. If it is — and it is — it's insulting to imply that we're criminals. And if we were criminals, would we admit it?

2 Learn what the words "socialize" and "socialization" mean, and use the one you really mean instead of mixing them up the way you do now. Socializing means hanging out with other people for fun. Socialization means having acquired the skills necessary to do so successfully and pleasantly. If you're talking to me and my kids, that means that we do in fact go outside now and then to visit the other human beings on the planet, and you can safely assume that we've got a decent grasp of both concepts.

3 Quit interrupting my kid at her dance lesson, scout meeting, choir practice, baseball game, art class, field trip, park day, music class, 4H club, or soccer lesson to ask her if as a homeschooler she ever gets to socialize.

4 Don't assume that every homeschooler you meet is homeschooling for the same reasons and in the same way as that one homeschooler you know.

5 If that homeschooler you know is actually someone you saw on TV, either on the news or on a "reality" show, the above goes double.

6 Please stop telling us horror stories about the homeschoolers you know, know of, or think you might know who ruined their lives by homeschooling. You're probably the same little bluebird of happiness whose hobby is running up to pregnant women and inducing premature labor by telling them every ghastly birth story you've ever heard. We all hate you, so please go away.

7 We don't look horrified and start quizzing your kids when we hear they're in public school. Please stop drilling our children like potential oil fields to see if we're doing what you consider an adequate job of homeschooling.

8 Stop assuming all homeschoolers are religious.

9 Stop assuming that if we're religious, we must be homeschooling for religious reasons.

10 We didn't go through all the reading, learning, thinking, weighing of options, experimenting, and worrying that goes into homeschooling just to annoy you. Really. This was a deeply personal decision, tailored to the specifics of our family. Stop taking the bare fact of our being homeschoolers as either an affront or a judgment about your own educational decisions.

11 Please stop questioning my competency and demanding to see my credentials. I didn't have to complete a course in catering to successfully cook dinner for my family; I don't need a degree in teaching to educate my children. If spending at least twelve years in the kind of chew-it-up-and-spit-it-out educational facility we call public school left me with so little information in my memory banks that I can't teach the basics of an elementary education to my nearest and dearest, maybe there's a reason I'm so reluctant to send my child to school.

12 If my kid's only six and you ask me with a straight face how I can possibly teach him what he'd learn in school, please understand that you're calling me an idiot. Don't act shocked if I decide to respond in kind.

13 Stop assuming that because the word "home" is right there in "homeschool," we never leave the house. We're the ones who go to the amusement parks, museums, and zoos in the middle of the week and in the off-season and laugh at you because you have to go on weekends and holidays when it's crowded and icky.

14 Stop assuming that because the word "school" is right there in homeschool, we must sit around at a desk for six or eight hours every day, just like your kid does. Even if we're into the "school" side of education — and many of us prefer a more organic approach — we can burn through a lot of material a lot more efficiently, because we don't have to gear our lessons to the lowest common denominator.

15 Stop asking, "But what about the Prom?" Even if the idea that my kid might not be able to indulge in a night of over-hyped, over-priced revelry was enough to break my heart, plenty of kids who do go to school don't get to go to the Prom. For all you know, I'm one of them. I might still be bitter about it. So go be shallow somewhere else.

16 Don't ask my kid if she wouldn't rather go to school unless you don't mind if I ask your kid if he wouldn't rather stay home and get some sleep now and then.

17 Stop saying, "Oh, I could never homeschool!" Even if you think it's some kind of compliment, it sounds more like you're horrified. One of these days, I won't bother disagreeing with you any more.

18 If you can remember anything from chemistry or calculus class, you're allowed to ask how we'll teach these subjects to our kids. If you can't, thank you for the reassurance that we couldn't possibly do a worse job than your teachers did, and might even do a better one.

19 Stop asking about how hard it must be to be my child's teacher as well as her parent. I don't see much difference between bossing my kid around academically and bossing him around the way I do about everything else.

20 Stop saying that my kid is shy, outgoing, aggressive, anxious, quiet, boisterous, argumentative, pouty, fidgety, chatty, whiny, or loud because he's homeschooled. It's not fair that all the kids who go to school can be as annoying as they want to without being branded as representative of anything but childhood.

21 Quit assuming that my kid must be some kind of prodigy because she's homeschooled.

22 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of prodigy because I homeschool my kids.

23 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of saint because I homeschool my kids.

24 Stop talking about all the great childhood memories my kids won't get because they don't go to school, unless you want me to start asking about all the not-so-great childhood memories you have because you went to school.

25 Here's a thought: If you can't say something nice about homeschooling, shut up!

More about Issue #1

Home

Secular Homeschooling magazine
Current Issue | Issue List
Purchase
Calls for materials | Advertise | E-mail me
Homeschooler Resources

Secular Homeschooling Press
Bitter/Sweet | Don't worry!

The Editor's Blog
Diary of a Mad Editor

Contents © 2007–2010 Deborah Markus

ode to family...

do you have an outie or an innie?
do your pinkie toes point out
or curl in?
do you snore like uncle roger on thanksgiving?
do you have some grandma whiskers on your chin?
are your fingers short and squatty?
does your hair stick up and out?
can you twist your lips up sideways?
do your teeth all jut about?
is your laughter like a donkey?
do you snort when you're amused?
does your tongue come out to help you
if you're stumped or get confused?
would your nostrils threat to drown you
if you're ever caught in rain?
does your bottom-half distress you
when it spreads with every gain?
would your tummy kinda jiggle
if you jogged around the block?
do your ankles look like cankles?
are you solid as a rock?
will a stiff wind knock you over?
are your legs too long for pants?
do your feet have foul odor?
do you stumble when you dance?
do your hands get cold and clammy
when you feel the need to speak?
are your earlobes soft and floppy?
do you mumble in your sleep?
are you wondering about these things
that really make you you?
the answer really isn't hard to see...
when you start to feel like maybe you're a weirdo
just blame it all upon your family tree.

explaining baby Jesus....

The tree is trimmed.
We don't do santa.

We do modest gift giving but I gotta tell ya...we don't really center everything around Jesus at this time of year. At least not any more than compared to the rest of the year.
We do Jesus all the time.

Lets face it...this mama has a hard enough time explaining the Spirit of God, much less the spirit of christmas and it's evil twin the spirit of consumerism. (that is another post)

Still, I felt compelled to have a sit down with baby girl and make sure she was up on the lingo for the whole holiday rigmarole.
I have told her all this before but I just fell like she may need a little refresher.
I mean, seriously, you gotta get your shepherds straight from your wisemen before Grampa asks any embarrassing questions.

So, we are sitting at the breakfast table. (that girl looves her crispies!)
I am playing with the miniature nativity. (I think we got it at the dollar store. )

I ask..."baby, do you know who God is?"
She nods yes.

"you do?! good!"
She shakes her head no.

deep breath..."ok. God. You know, up in heaven? He made you? He made the world? Where Grandma lives...up in heaven...with God??? You know...God?"
She nods. Ok. We are good there.

"Ok. so once upon a time....there was this lady named Mary."
"Like Aunt Mary?" she says.
"Yes. Like Aunt Mary. Only it wasn't aunt Mary. It was just Mary. A different Mary."
crunch...crunch...crunch...still with the crispies...

"so God was going to do something amazing. He was going to send his son...Jesus...to live on the earth. And Mary was going to take care of Him while He was here. So God sent an angel to Mary to tell her that she was going to have a baby. But Mary didn't have a husband to help her so God sent an angel to Joseph to tell him to get married with Mary so they could take care of His son while he lived on earth."
I hold up the tiny little figures as I talk. Visual illustrations ya know.

She's nodding. And crunching.

"So Mary has the baby in her tummy and she and Joseph have to take a looong trip and Mary gets to ride on a donkey. They get to the town named Bethlehem. (we both think that is a funny name) And they look for a hotel. Well...everyone is in town that night so there is no hotel anywhere. Not anywhere."

The little figures make the trip around and around to imaginary hotels with big mean scowling innkeepers telling them to go away.

"Well, one guy tells them that they can stay out in the barn with the animals."
baby girl looks interested in this.
"So they go out to the barn and Joseph makes a nice soft place in the hay for Mary to go to sleep. And there is the donkey. And there is the camel. And there are some little sheep. "
(that is all that is included in the dollar store nativity set)

"Then it comes time for Mary to have her baby. She is very excited. Her tummy starts squeezing and the baby is coming and Mary is working really hard and it is beautiful. "
(we are really into natural birth around here)

"Well, Joseph makes a little bed for the baby in a little crib called a manger. (I am thinking they were probably into co sleeping but the manger is in the set and the baby Jesus is glued to it so I am not going to quibble about semantics. Not this time anyway.)
I show her the manger.

While she is looking I take the sheep from the barn (we made it out of twigs and hot glue)
and put them over in the field with the tiny little shepherd.
"So then, after the baby is born, these shepherds are out in the field with their sheep. And all of a sudden...(dramatic pause)....this light fills the sky and there is this star that comes over the manger where the baby Jesus is and angels come down from heaven and sing the beautiful songs and tell the shepherds that a king has been born and He is the son of God and they should go see him." (I sing a little Gloria for her just to illustrate)

"Well of course they go right away and they bow down and then later the these other guys come. These guys are kings, or wise men, from far far away. And they see the star and they start coming. But it takes them a long long time. So Jesus is in a house now."

I take the Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus (who is still glued in the manger but that can't be helped) and put them over in another place.

Baby girl kinda clouds up. she stops crunching.
"mommy, who. is. taking. care. of. the. animals.??!"

"Oh that is ok honey...the shepherds take care of them."

"mommy, the baby Jesus needs a puppy."

"ummm...ok, maybe the baby Jesus had a cute little puppy. Oh! and look...Mary has her donkey, see?!"

"mommy, Joseph really likes camels. He needs to have a camel."

"Great! We have a camel right here. Here ya go Joseph."
she starts crunching again.

The sheep can stay in the barn with the shepherds.

So the wise men come with their gold and perfumes. blah...blah...blah...I finish the story.
She is impressed. I can tell. She finishes her cereal and gets down to play.

The end.

Seems kinda anti climactic but it can't be helped.

Baby Jesus got His puppy. All is right in the world.

relief...

My mind gets sore from thinking thoughts
you may or may not understand.

Thoughts birthed while sailing oceans
filled with blue emotions
rolling out from tired swells
of tears
or soaring though the starry skies of wonder-filled delight .

My mind gets weary sometimes when I cannot speak
the thoughts that might on some clear day
reveal what's really on my heart.

Clear days are overrated.

Swirling fog will ally and protect the tender sweetness of a wandering spirit.
Launch out amidst the gloom and find a friend
within the distance of one reach.

Sight's benefit is lost in pearl gray mist
yet imagination's touch can paint a picture
eyes alone would never see.

Think beyond the realm of clarity
worlds of truth too complicated to truly understand.

Dwell there and find relief
from mundane wishes that defeat the deeper longings of your thirsty soul.
Rest there and feel
the tides rush in and woo you to the distant shore.

Forget the path of crystal sight
revealing too much certainty amidst reality's harsh light.

Embrace the fuzzy sleep of bed warmed dreams.

Caress the gentle mercies of thoughts too big to grasp.
Breathe in the smoke and fragrance of memory's
painful sweetness.

Believe,
without explaining
and experience the freedom
of a secret flight of fancy yours alone.

the price you pay for laziness...

In response to my friend MQ over at "it's a process..." Who was laughing about trying to get her girls to locate something visually...I would like to talk about trying to get kids to pick up.

Not just any picking up.

The picking up of that specific object that you (meaning I) are too lazy to get up and get yourself.

Let's just say that object is the remote control.
You need that remote control. You must have it. There is a kid sitting right there on the floor that could easily reach over and pick up the remote control and hand it to you.

Ok, OK he is in the other room and you would have to call him in here...but that is beside the point.

It would be far easier for him...with his young strong body to (stop whatever it is he is doing and come in here and) pick up that remote control and hand it to you...than it would be for you to haul your tired old body off the couch to walk the four feet over there to pick up that remote and then return alllll the way over here and sit your lazy butt...I mean, tired old bones back down on the couch.

Far easier.

So you do. You call him. In that sweet lilting mother voice that you have.
"Oh Billllly".....or Tommy, or Freddie, or Beaver...whatever...

"Could you please come in here and help mommy for a minute sweetie?"

"Sure mommy." he says.
He's much too young to roll his eyes. If he were old enough to roll his eyes you would have just said to him..."HEY Bill why did you leave the remote way over by the tv? Get in here and get it for me kid."
That would be much easier. Eye rolling would ensue but you could handle that...because you would have the remote. It would be done. Totally worth the hassle.

But no...you do not have a kid old enough to eye roll. You have a small child. A young child. An ignorant...I mean innocent child. (I stole that line from MQ.)

So your sweet baby comes in the room and you say...
"Hi honey! Could you please pick up that thing for mommy?"(you don't bother to say remote control because he will not know what that is)

He nods his head. Big eyes all precious.

"Ok, pick it up and bring it to mommy!"

He looks around. Left...right...up...down...makes a complete circle. He does not see the thing.

"Honey...get the thing. The thing on the floor."

He looks down.

"Yes, baby...now get the thingy."
He picks up a sock.

"No, darling...not the sock. The black thing. The remote. The thing right there by your foot."
He lifts his foot and looks puzzled.

"Ok honey, now put your foot down on the floor and pick up the thing that is right there."
He steps on the remote.

"YES! that thing!! The one you just stepped on! Bring it to mommy!!!"
You are shouting now and he starts to tear up cuz you scared him a little bit with your enthusiasm.

"Honey it's ok. Don't cry. Just reach down and pick up the thing."
He backs up and turns around looking for the thing.

"WAIT! (shouting again...try to keep calm) Wait. Sweetie. Ok. Stop right there and put your hands down on the floor. Now turn around. "
He turns a 360 and ends up facing the same direction he was facing.

"Now, turn just a little bit more. Stop. Turn the other way baby."

"ok love...(you are whispering now) just put your hand right next to your foot. No the other foot. Ok now move your hand just a little bit up. Now look at your hand. "
He looks at the other hand.

Sigh.
"Baby, darlin'...please, please, please listen. Stretch out your hand just a teensy tinsey bit and bring me that black thing that you put your hand on."
He brings you a lego.

Ok...you give up. You are ready to just get up and get the bleepity remote yourself.

"Mommy, can I watch Barney now?" Says your precious one as he walks over... picks up the remote... and brings it to you.

Big sigh.
.......................................................................................................

Ok see, you think I am done.
No.
After the children are done with the cute precious wonderful world of Barney you end up with teenagers that also tend to be a little "challenged" in the ways of communication and instruction.

Here is a real life example.

As we are leaving the house I say to the boy,
"Quick go upstairs and bring me my reading glasses and my phone which is plugged in by the computer over by the baby's dollhouse."

The main word here being..."quick". We were in a major hurry.

I am in the car. Waiting. Still waiting.
Wondering if he slipped and fell down the stairs in his haste to be "quick".
Still waiting. Just about ready to turn off the car and go check on him.

Here he comes. Walking...out of the house.

"What took you so long?" "Do you have my glasses?" Good. "Do you have my phone?"

"No mom, couldn't find it."

"Did you look by the computer?"

"Which computer? The one downstairs?"

"No son, the one upstairs. Where I told you to go. The one where you found my reading glasses."

"I didn't see your cell phone."

"It is plugged in right by the dollhouse. By the computer."

"In your room?"

"No son. By the computer. Next to the dollhouse."

"The dollhouse is in the hallway."

"No son, the dollhouse...the big dollhouse sitting right beside the computer upstairs where I told you to go."

"Oh! Upstairs?! "

Mom hangs her head.

"Ok, I didn't need that phone. Let's go."

Boy just shrugs. (probably thinking..."wow! Moms are weird.")

Sigh. Deep breath. Sigh again.

just put me in the crazy box...

The crazy box. My friend used that term today and it really held a certain zing for me.

Crazy.
I love it. I am it.

My children use that word very cautiously. They know that if they say "that word" I will almost instantaneously break out in song.

"Crazy....I'm crazy for feeling so lonely....I'm crazy...I'm crazy for feeling so bluuuuuuu...."
I kinda do a Patsy Klein/Barbara Streisand/Bette Midler meld voice. It's pretty.

It makes me feel better about myself.
(It also annoys the begeebers out of my children. Secretly I think they kinda like it tho. They just can't say so or they will get their kid card revoked. )

I like to annoy my children. Every mother has to have an outlet. Right? Is that wrong?
Stop it. You know you do the same thing.

OK that was a little off topic.
The topic for today is crazy. What is crazy?

Crazy is that thing that when you do it other people look at you like you are not normal.

Normal being that thing that they are and everyone else is really not.

Normal is a superiority complex. Normal is a navel (as in belly button...not anchors aweigh) gazing exercise designed to make one feel better about oneself.
Normal is a tag that we put on our own idiosyncrasies to help us rise above the rabble. To help us cope. To help us identify with our group.
We are normal. They are like me. I am like them. Together we shall rule the world...mwahahahahahah!!

Sick.
Normal is sick.

Normal is a recipe for inadequacy. It is the enemy in full on battle with your very soul. He calls you out, taunts you, then grabs you by your Achilles heel. "you're not normal".
Don't underestimate this. (yes I am getting on my soapbox)
If he can't make you feel superior by being normal then he will go all out to make you feel either sub-normal...or super-normal.
He will say to you..."you are not normal. Something must be wrong with you. You aren't like the other children."
If you don't buy that one he will go for this one..."you are not like the other children. You are better. You are strong and powerful."

Both of these could be true at the same time. Be assured that both will be played upon. Here is this little gem...

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

by Marianne Williamson from A Return To Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles

I have no problem with Marianne's statement. It is beautiful. In context it is empowering.
It makes you stand tall and say "Heck Yeah!"
(I never say "heck" by the way. I just had to put it in there for emphasis. )

But then, when the wind machine and soft lighting is turned off you are left with a feeling. Deep in your gut. A feeling that somehow you are not that. That you do not really possess a light that anyone can use. That your light is not right... somehow different....not for use to the everyday consumer. You are not normal.

What the stink are you supposed to do with that?
How can you touch that? If you are not afraid of your inadequacy you are afraid of your genius. You have been given a call to be all that you can be. All that you are. But what you are is buried. Or wounded. Or just plain tired. You don't have the energy to be one more thing. Even if it is for the betterment of both yourself and the entire stinkin world.
Seriously.
How, in the normal light of everyday existence, do you put yourself out there in such a way that you change the state of affairs for everyone within your light path.

How? How? HOW!

It is too much pressure.

In trying to rise above we can create a ladder so steep that we become fearful. We grab and grasp at each rung, trying desperately to climb and not fall, and we forget to sing. (what does singing have to do with this?)
I am glad you asked.
"Crazy...I'm crazy for feeling so lonely....I'm crazy....I'm crazy for feeling so bluuuuue"

Let it out honey!

Ok she has really flipped it this time. What is she talking about? (I am right here, I can hear you whispering)

Listen.

Normal is passe. It really doesn't even exist. There is no tangible level of acceptable. We can stop trying to climb above it. We can also stop being afraid of slipping below it.
Normal is word like supercalifragilisticexpealidocious. It is a made up thing. It has no real definition.
If you look it up it says earth shattering things like "not abnormal".
Or you can go for " conforming to the average".

Why. would. you. want. to .strive. for .this??
And, even if you could define average, how would you get there?
Holy cow, I am getting so confused.

If normal is not abnormal and abnormal is that thing that is not normal...I think you see where I am going with this. It cancels itself out. It is not a goal.
If it is not a goal then why do we spend so much time trying to be it?
And why do we hear the enemy constantly trying to tell us how terrible we are for not being it.
And...why, if it doesn't exist, and it is just used to describe the median line of acceptability...why are we so susceptible to the call to rise above yet fear that we are surely irretrievably mired below???

Why do we want to be normal?
I think it is because it feels safe. It feels like home base. A checkpoint.
Lies.
You can't trust this.
If we constantly compare ourselves to the standards of others we are liars and cheats.
There can be no comparison between us.
There is no normal, people.

You can group yourselves up into likes and dislikes...physical attributes...body odor or toenail length for all I care but you cannot go around telling people "this is normal and that is not".

Shoot...now I have to change all my ways of thinking. I do think this way. Even in defining myself as crazy I am toeing the party line that I am outside of normal. Gahhhh!

Yet, I like the word crazy. I like the connotation. I like the quirk. Crazy is not knowing exactly what might be said or done. It is unnerving. It is unsettling. It is weird.

But in an acceptable normal kind of way, yes?
NO!
See I was trying to trick you.

You fell for it.

I want you to love me for me. Not because I am that crazy one. Not because I am outside of normal or inside of normal.
Just because I am me. And you like that about me.

So if I want to be neurotic...or self absorbed...or easily overwhelmed...or if I want to sing loudly...or go to therapy for my repressed emotional baggage...or believe that God created this banana just for the pleasure I get in eating it...
if I want to wear no makeup....or only play board games with non competitive people...or not go to organized church...or have really passionate opinions about the way cardboard smells....love me.

This is mostly about being yourself. Being myself. Not some fantasy about putting myself out there for people to love and admire and aspire to. No. Just being.
I am really big on this. Being. Not striving or attaining or failing.

How can you fail at being??

Accepting that what you are, what you have, what you can put out or keep in, is enough. Being comfortable to be honest about your stuff. Laughing...or crying... at that stuff as you juggle the dailies. Love yourself.

**I feel I must put in a disclaimer here....just for clarity....this is all about Jesus. All of it. He is the air that I breathe. I am not uber Christian. This blog is not about my daily scripture reading. It would be fine if that was the case...but it isn't. Jesus. None of this that I am talking about it possible without Him. None of it. Questions? Ask me about Him and I will tell you what I know. I really really really dig Him. **

The Creator of the universe made you stunningly marvelous. You are not normal. You are not abnormal.
You are you.

Love yourself for who you are.
Love me for what I am.
You can even hate me for that matter.
Just don't box me.

Then again...if you must box me....

I will take the crazy box. Fits like a glove.

Heaven can't wait...

My sweet lovie, mired in the depths of the stress of all things college, was saying
(on Facebook) how she was looking forward to a time when she could actually savor life instead of dread it.
Someone else responded that that situation might have to wait for heaven.

Well.

I do not believe that.
So I wrote her a little something preachy to start her day.
Here is that little something. Just because I did not want to let it disappear into the pages of FB.

You gotta be kiddin me. It is this side of heaven! You can savor even in your stress but truly there is a time (and soon) when you can relax and enjoy your seconds. This season is not forever. Jesus said "I came that you may have LIFE and have it to the full!" He is..."Jehova Rophe"- our healer, health, wholeness. Did you know that this wholeness can also be translated as "peace". That when Jesus says "My peace I give to you" He means wholeness?!!!
Honey!! I believe with all my heart that His promise is not something that has to wait for Heaven. Sure, we will not see all of it till we are with Him fully...but we can grab hold of His promises right now. Peace. Rest. You may only see moments of it in your day (look for them) for right now. You are crazy busy! But you will catch up. And you will slow down. And you will be able to savor. Truly!!
I guess I am feelin kinda preachy this morning but here goes...I encourage you to purposely encounter the Lord's presence today. It may seem silly but as you walk out your door just ask Him if He is coming with you. (I know He will say "YES!") Then believe that. Every time you think about it look for Him. Check His presence. Just stop what you are doing and give a quick "You there Lord? " I guarantee you will begin to feel His answer. I also guarantee that you may feel pretty silly. But I want you to try it. The knowledge of His constant presence will bring you a peace that truly is beyond understanding. It isn't like He will rush in more. He is already there. But your being aware of it. Acknowledging it. Will make a huge difference. Try it. I love you girlie.

cookies...

I just ate a gluten free, white chocolate, cranberry cookie. Warm from the oven. ahhhhhhh.....
Was it a good choice?

It was all a scam...

We didn't really drink juice. We didn't really lose any weight. We didn't really lose our minds and go on a freakish fad diet.

Or did we?

Ok, we did.

We did all that. (Drank juice, lost weight, lost our minds.)
Actually, K drank the juice. 40 days of it. He IS da man. I wimped out. A wimped out. We were wimpy. But we did try. That counts for something right?

Are you disappointed that you didn't get a poop report?
Sorry.
K is just not very forthcoming about these kind of things. I would have told you everything.
I know you are disappointed.

So the juice fast is over. What now?

Now we go on trying to eat as healthy as possible. As healthy as possible for us that is.

We are not superheroes. We do not have unlimited funds. We are not paragons of virtue.
We are human. We sometimes eat things that are not good for us. We like chips.

What we want is to take a measure of responsibility about what we are putting into our bodies.
(I say we meaning I here. K will have to speak for himself. Are you confused yet?)

We/I do not want to go on making food choices based solely on what tastes good or what the ADA tells me is good for me.
I gotta say it...if I continue eating in that way I will be systematically filling my body with c.r.a.p.
I am actively choosing to not do that anymore.
(ok I might eat a little crap now and then but mostly...no crap for me)

I apologize to anyone that was offended by those last statements. My parents raised me better.

I guess what I am saying is that I am choosing to choose. Choosing to make better choices. Choosing to use my right to choose to choose the best choices according to the strength and willpower I have me in any given moment.

I do not want to be old and broken down because I squandered my youth on
death- giving "food".
I want to consume life. I want my food to be full of life and full of things that create, sustain and regenerate.
I want to make good choices.

Now, enough about me. Let's talk about you.
Please do not...not for one moment...feel that you have to defend your choices to be my friend.
Think me arrogant if you must. (It will make me sad tho. )
Think me judgmental.
Think me rude.
Think me all those things. Sadly, you are probably right. I am arrogant, rude, and judgmental.

Constantly.

But I am not trying to be!
I do not know how to not judge you for your terrible choices.
I don't think you are going to hell or anything. I give you freedom...go ahead! make your bad choices. I am sad for you. I think you could do better.
If you ask me I might tell you what I think.
If you don't ask I will try really hard to not volunteer my thoughts onto your chocolate coma. I will keep my thoughts to myself. I promise that I do not think you evil.

Here is the thought that most likely will be pin-balling around in my head..."dang, I wish I could eat that. I cannot eat it because it will not only make me feel awful now, it will cause lasting repercussions in my entrails that will come back to bite me in years to come. I will just stand here and smell it. mmmmmm....and, I might fantasize about knocking you down and taking your pizza right out of your hand. Is that wrong? "

See...no judgment there.

Judgment comes if you try to tell me that I am crazy for my choices. Judgment comes when you defend your pasteurized milk and rancid wheat as God given manna. (ooo...bitter much) Judgment comes when you tell me that what I am doing is unhealthy...when you base your decisions on what the USDA, the FDA, the ADA, the AMA and sesame street say to put into your body. They are all...ALL mindless sell outs to whatever company pays the highest price for their stamp of approval. Did you know that tampax added fluoride to their product? If you chew on it you can improve your dental health by 53%. (ok see...now I am just being rude)

Big sigh.
I really do think all these things. But really, honestly, truly...I believe in my heart of hearts that you are free! Free, free, free to make your own decisions. Some of your decisions will make me sad. Some of them will make me crazy.
I still love you. I have enough to take care of in my own life. I do not spend my time trying to make decisions for you.

Ask me what I am thinking and I might tell you. I hope I say it in love and full of grace and not necessarily how I am thinking it at the moment. :-)

To sum up...none of us gets out of here alive unless Jesus comes back right now.
Eat your twinkies. I will eat my apple. I will wish I had your twinkie. I will be glad later that I did not eat it.

HE did 40 days...

He, K, my man, DA MAN, he did 40 days of green vegetable juice. Wow.

To honor him, and because I needed some way to not feel like a total and complete loser...I ate all vegetarian for those 40 days.
Surprisingly, I was able to do it. It wasn't all raw. I had some brown rice, some quinoa, some beans...but no meat, no eggs, no dairy.

And, I know you are wondering, I didn't get surly.
I found that the joy, the utter and sublime joy of not having to drink that juice was so completely wonderful that I savored every bite of my rabbit food.

Seriously. I heard myself say, "just give me a moment." And I closed my eyes and tilted my head back as I chewed my lovely lovely salad. I had a relationship with this food. I felt, as the Creator must have felt, that it was good. (you think I am kidding)
I relished. I enjoyed. I swooned.

whew.

I did that for more than 40 days. I am proud of myself.

Now I eat a little more normally. Lots of fresh. Not much red meat these days. In fact I cannot remember the last red meat I ate. I eat chicken and turkey. I eat eggs. Brown rice. Quinoa. I eat some brown rice bread. I eat gluten free muffins or cookies if A makes them but I try not to buy any. (I have terrible willpower...if they are in the pantry they will not be there for long)

Recently we took a family trip to visit the folks in Iowa. Lots of eating out. Not good. I like french fries. I like them a lot! a lot, lot, lot, lot, lot, lot.

We are home now. I have to restrict myself in a militant way. I choose it. I am free to "cheat" if I want. But I want to choose to not.

We shall see....

He keeps going...

He, K, keeps juicing. He says he wants to shoot for a week at least...to break some not-so-good habits. I can dig it.
A, and I (that would be me) get up in the morning to make juice for K to take to work.
We have this down.
That first morning was a bear. A booger. Wow. It was long and hard.
Now we just churn it out.
That first morning we were still cleaning up four hours later.
Now...we stroll down around 6 and we are cleaned up and sending him out the door by 7.
Amazing.

Are you amazed?

Let me tell you how we do it.

First...we are now only juicing for one person. That first morning we were juicing for all 3 of us.
I think that could be important.

But....it isn't just that. We have a system. It really works. Listen.

Around 4 or 5 pm get out all the produce for the next days juicing.
Wash it, chop it, and store it in the fridge.
If you are doing apples, juice your lemons over the top of the chopped apples so they won't brown.
Celery, cucumbers, carrots, lettuce, anything else that we have used....all stay fine until the next morning.
For lettuces and greens, spread out a clean bath towel, place your freshly washed and chopped lettuce on the towel, roll it up like a burrito and put it in the fridge...nice and crisp and ready in the morning.
Now, clean off your counter, (after supper if need be).
Spread out a clean bath towel. (use an old one cuz this stuff can stain)
Put your blender, a large bowl, nut-mylk bags, clean jars, and rubber gloves (really help protect the hands if the enzymes are chapping) on top of the towel.
I also set out a lemon, MSM, and honey so I can make lemon water first thing.
Now, if you start out with a clean sink you can make the juice and be completely cleaned up before you know it!
That vitamix really is easy to clean.
As for the rest...I shake any stray leaves off the bath towels, rinse off the nut-mylk bags and put them with the towels, gather any kitchen towels I used in clean up (we tend to get water and juice drops everywhere) and head to the washer.


So simple.

My daughter called me a weirdo.

Today my daughter called me a weirdo.
If you read the last post you do not need to question her declaration.
It was the last sentence that did her in.

In other news...as of 3:30 pm...day 3...K and A are still in this juicing thing.
K is at work. We shall see if he makes it through the day. Dealing with blood sugar issues must make it so difficult for him. I have the utmost respect for his ability to stick to it. I just do not know if he wants to. Freedom is a beautiful thing.

A is trying to modify the way she is juicing. She felt sooo terrible over the weekend. Somewhere, sometime I had read about people having sensitivity to sulfur. Sulfur is in so many of the foods we eat when we are eating healthy. Greens especially. Also onions, garlic, meats, dairy, eggs, cabbage, broccoli, kale...on and on. We have known for a long time that onions give the girl a raging headache. Maybe now we know why.
So, lettuces are not high in this compound. (Thiols to be more precise) Neither are melons, avocados, carrots, citrus, or ginger. Again the list is long. We are going to try to juice her up with the safe list for a good week and see how she feels. This could really be a turning point in her overall health. I am excited to see.

Stay tuned for some juicing pictures. I know you are excited!!

92 days...

It sure felt like ninety-two days. But it was only two.

Two.

That is how long I made it on this little journey.
By the end of Sunday I was ready to throw my GVJ (green vegetable juice) right up against my pretty yellow kitchen wall. I downed my last quart for the day and stood at the sink praising God that I didn't have to look at another jug of juice for 12 whole hours. I had been feeling pretty good compared to the other feasters in the house. They both had headaches and over all chills and flu-ish feelings. I had none of that. But I was starting to feel a little panicked by the dark circles and general blech of my sweeties. I do not function well when they are sick. (It is all about me, isn't it?) I started feeling a little weepy thinking about detox and more detox. Even tho I was "feeling" pretty ok in my body...my mind and emotions were a mess.

Also, my stomach was burning like a...like a...well, it was burning. A lot.
I am used to the burn since I have an ulcer. I don't do tomatoes or pineapples because they cause my stomach to start to digest itself. Ewww....Anyway...I am used to the burn. I know how to handle it. I was not ok with the burn after every jug of juice. Not. o.k.
Then, mix in my hangups about loved ones and their health, eating habits of the general population, terrorist scare tactics of the health food community and the pressure of downing 4 quarts of liquid that looks suspiciously like stomach acid and you have one sure fire cocktail o' trouble.
(not that the Juice Feasting people are perpetrators of terrorist scare tactics...it is just really easy to read tons of scary stuff when you are researching the finer points of enemas.)

So what is a girl to do?
I chose to bail. And cry. It is my prerogative, right? (is that how you spell that? spell check says it is...hmmmm)
Anyway, crying. big sigh. I promised my girl that I would not make a final decision at 10pm. I would wait until morning. Things always look brighter in the morning.

6am. time to make the donuts. (if only) Actually, time to make the juice for my honey to take to work. Rejoicing ensued.
(Not from my honey...unfortunately. He grinned and took it like a man but I can't say that he was excited by that sweet little cooler of GVJ.)
No, the rejoicing was coming from me. I did a little snoopy dance at every single thought of not drinking any more of the green stuff. Every....single....thought....dance, dance, dance....ahhhhhhhhhhh.

Now? Now I am sipping Master Cleanse lemonaide. It is nice. I may actually do this for a bit. We shall see how the tummy takes it. I may return quickly to a raw food diet. I am going to see how long I can do the Master Cleanse. I got past the two first killer days so I may as well ride this wave a bit longer. Might be just what my body needs.
Besides...I kinda like the enemas.
Refreshing.

Some things you need to know...

Day one...a list.

1. You know when you drink a ton of water and you laugh and you can hear the water slurgling around in your insides? Well that same exact thing happens when you do an enema.

2. Note to self...don't laugh too hard when you do an enema. No matter how silly you feel.

3. Hot water bottles/enema bags look like whoopie cushions to a 10 year old.

4. Making 3 gallons of juice takes a lot longer to make than you would think. Figure on 1 hr per gallon.

5. Old bath towels spread out all over the counters saves a ton of clean up later.

6. Popeye forearms are in. Aren't they?

7. It takes a lot of strength to milk a spinach.

8. Spinach, kale, cucumber, celery, apple, lemon, ginger juice is not so bad.

9. Ninety-one more days of spinach, kale, cucumber, celery, apple, lemon, ginger juice is really not a pleasant prospect...no matter how Pollyanna you try to be.

10. Prep work done the night before could save your life.

11. Prep includes all washing and chopping that can possibly be done ahead of time.

12. Prep is ninety percent of the work.

13. Green Vegetable juice really stains around the edges of your fingernails.

14. If you drop some kale, or apple, or cucumber on the floor and you pick it up and put it in your blender...no one will ever know the difference.

15. If you have a 9 yr. old in the kitchen, chances are he will rat you out if you pick something up off the floor and stick it in the blender.

Remember, this is for your good, for your benefit, for your health. You are worth it. This won't last forever and there is joy to be found in the journey. Remind me of this later.

Disclaimer

A Disclaimer:

I am not a doctor...I do not play one on TV.
Got that?
Anything you read here is about me and my journey. Not you. Not your journey. Seriously. Sounds selfish, I know.
Mostly I just want you to know that I have done TONS of research into this. I am doing this because it is what seems best for me at this time. I don't want anyone to look at what I do and ever ever think that I am recommending that you do the same. You have to make that decision for yourself. I read a beautiful paragraph and disclaimer over on Angela Stokes-Monarch's site...rawreform.blogspot.com. I post it here now as a ditto to what she said. (I hope I have not breached any blog protocol in copying this section. If I have please let me know and I will come up with my own disclaimer. It just won't be as good as this one. )

So...what she said...

"...I am sharing my own experiences in this blog, not giving guidelines for others." Angela Stokes-Monarch

Disclaimer:
This blog is not designed to, and does not, provide medical advice. All content, including text, graphics, images and information available on or through this blog are for general informational purposes only. The Content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. You take full legal responsibility for whatever decisions you make regarding your own health care. This material is offered solely for educational purposes. The suggestion is that you think clearly for yourself and make your own decisions, with the input of a licensed health professional should you choose to consult one.

A New Beginning...

Wow! It has been a looooong time. How have you been? Anyone? Anyone? *crickets*

Ah well. So think of this as a new beginning.

If you stumble across this blog and look backwards you will find an archive of house renovation and a few tidbits of family life. If you look forward you will find our journey into the world of juicing. Juice Feasting to be exact.







http://juicefeasting.com (go here to see more)





Three of us...from this point on known as K, A, and B... will be entering a 92 day Juice Feast.






This is different from a fast. This is fruits and vegetable (greens) juices to the tune of a gallon or more a day. Just typing that makes me burp.


This "feast" is designed to cleanse and rebuild your body, not shut it down into fasting mode. Cleansing and re-building. I need that.

If you are here looking for Juice Feasting it could be that you are wanting some support, some camaraderie, or maybe some laughs as you chew your tasty morsels and laugh at the crazies and their straws.

Eh...whatever.

I am here, typing, as a way to journal. If you want to follow along you are welcome.
I am going to be point blank in a lot of posts as we journey. No holds barred. I am writing for myself first. (that alone will be a challenge) Again, you are welcome to come along for the ride!

You might find measurements, raw emotional spillage, poop reports, and/or everything in between.

Might be embarrassing.

Could be fun.

Certainly, it will be an adventure!

Hang on!!

So what happened?...

This is an attempt to fill in the blogging holes I left on this food journey. I am not a very good diary maker. Still...I want a record. So I am going to try and remember and write. Here goes....
......................................................................................................

That raw food thing. Yeah. I didn't do very well with that.
Let's just say I got surly.


Surly is a good word.
Raw food can be icky. It can be tasteless. It can make your jaw cramp from chewing so much roughage. It can make your poop green...constantly. It can make you think bad thoughts about the food ..... the lovely lovely cooked food, and the people, the despicable carnivores that love to rub their warm lovely cooked sustenance into your face....eating the food at your lovely dinner table. Evil thoughts. (yeah I know that didn't make sense...deal with it)

I couldn't hack it ok? Hush.

I tried it. It was hard. Also...ulcer. I got one.

I think I have had an ulcer for years. A gnawing little pain up under my left ribcage. It hasn't bothered me much. Just a little pinch now and then.

Then...I started eating lots and lots and lots of enzymes. Raw tomato sauce, raw pineapple, raw everything. One pineapple too many and I woke with lots of burning in my stomach. Then it progressed to pain. Agony. Childbirth type agony.

I went to the doctor. I praised God for that acid suppressing pill. Praised God I tell ya.
Ok dear reader...if you do not know me well you will not think much of that last statement. You do not have the benefit of knowing that, for the most part, I think medical doctors are a waste of time and money. Personally I know some very fine doctors. I believe that they do their very best to do no harm. But doctors in general...nope. Not for me.

Then I met my ulcer. He doesn't play nice.

Ok, so I took the evil pharmaceuticals. And I felt sooo much better. And I started researching about how taking these kinds of meds can lead to severe malnutrition (because you are suppressing your stomach acid...thus not digesting your food properly) and how your skin gets brittle and your hair starts falling out. EEEEK!!
Also...the dr. wanted me to take two different kinds of antibiotics to heal this little bug that had caused the ulcer. no. no. NO.

So I did even more research into how to heal an ulcer naturally.
I found out that there are two different schools of thought on ulcers. Either you make too much acid...or you don't make enough. If you make too much you start to digest yourself. If you dont make enough you set yourself up for invaders like H. pilori...the little bug that causes ulcers. See your stomach acid kills these little buggers. But if you don't make enough acid...they can bury into your stomach lining and cause a sore place. (think canker sore) and then when you do have acid in your stomach it eats away at the sore place making it bigger and meaner. Then if you blast yourself...like I did...(eating all so healthy and all I was consuming enormous amounts of live digestive enzymes. My stomach was not used to it. My ulcer was ill prepared. It said HEY! cut that out!!)
So what do I do now?? Well...it seemed logical to protect the wound, heal it, and continue to find a healthier way to eat so that I could digest properly.

I began by finding out how to protect and heal.
Here is what I found.
Licorice and cabbage.
More specifically...LDG licorice. Where they take out the part that raises your blood pressure. What is left is stuff that increases your stomach mucus so that you don't continue to digest yourself.
Cabbage...high in glutamine. Glutamine is something that helps in wound healing. An ulcer is a wound. Athletes take glutamine to help their muscles regenerate after a work out.
Glutamine tablets are concentrated. They also don't taste bad like cabbage does. (Later I would get back to cabbage juice but for now I did the tablets)

Cutting out pineapples and tomatoes. High in acid. High in digestive enzymes. I will try them again someday but not soon. I miss salsa. Sigh.

I amended my raw ways by adding in brown rice and turkey. Oh my goodness. Cooked food. Warm food. Lovely.
I still ate lots of raw but tried to stay away from acidic foods.
Bland.
I like bland.

I did this for awhile. I let my stomach rest. I did good. Smile.

This is April. This is where I am. Eating bland. Lots of fresh food. No tomato sauces. No salsa. Makes me sad to remember it.
Rice, turkey, chicken, salad....fruits and veges. It is a good diet.

Next we are going to jump to middle of summer and a mad mad attempt at yet another...deeper...level of health.

Stay tuned.