Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Mother loves Daughter
I am sort of fascinated by my precious daughter right now. I feel like I could just sit back and watch her for hours on end.
It is an interesting thing, this mother-daughter relationship, isn't it? From the minute we found out that she was a girl, we have had a steady stream of warnings about "girls."
"Ah, they're different," they'd all say. "She'll give you a run for your money, that's for sure!" And guess what? They were right. But not in the ways that I might have anticipated.
You see, I come from a long line of wonderful mother-daughter relationships. My mom is my constant support, my ultimate cheerleader, my biggest fan. And I am hers and it has always been that way, without fail. And so it was with her mother, and my great-grandmother before her. We have a long line of exceptional relationships from which I draw my strength. And it is at once fascinating and daunting to know that I am in charge of nurturing this new relationship with my own daughter. The daughter that I wasn't sure I would ever have.
So, this evening I sat down for my nightly brain-drain. The boys were playing outside and Annie was with me. We fluffed our pillows, I turned on Noggin for her, and I turned on my laptop. Ahhhh, precious quiet. About 1 minute after settling down, I was about 1/3 of the way down the latest post on CJane (if you haven't read this blog - do it. Google CJane and read) and Annie started in with her monkey business. Pressing buttons on the keyboard. I gave her a stern look. Then she pulled the power cord out of the outlet. I looked at her and said, "If you don't stop it you're going to get a spankin'." 2 seconds later, she tried to push down the screen. I took her chunky little thigh in my hand and swatted it. "Knock it off!" She smirked at me and fake focused on Noggin for a moment. I just wanted a moment in peace. I could feel the wheels turning next to me and I braced myself for the next attack. Sure enough, her sneaky little finger reached over and pressed the power button on the computer. Immediately, it shut down. I looked at Annie and in my calmest voice said, "Annie, you were naughty." And what do you think happened? Her little mouth started to turn at the corners, her lip started to shake, and the tears started flowing.
"Waaaaaaaah! I'm so sorry Mommy!" What? Holy Moly! Where did this come from?!
It was all fun and games until I insulted her. Nothing hits quite so deep as being labeled. I remember. My mom could have grounded me, punished me, done anything.... but tell me that she was disappointed with me? Forget it. That was crushing.
So I left the computer off and spent my brain-drain holding my daughter and watching Noggin. No sweeter a moment.
Little stinker.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
True Story
The following is a true story. I didn't believe it at first - but I have come to believe it to be true. I will try to change any information that might give away who this story is about, as to protect the "innocent" - and seeing as how it is an ongoing police investigation - I wouldn't want to disrupt justice. But the following is for your enjoyment:
My friend, let's call her Jamey, works for a bank in Chicago that specializes in high profile account relationships. She sees a lot of people who have very high needs: international clients, corporate relationships, sports figures... you get the picture. Jamey never really knows who is going to walk through the door when she goes to work each morning.
On this particular day, Jamey was working with a particularly complicated client. In the middle of processing all of his transactions, the client informs Jamey that he needs to excuse himself to go pray. She happily obliges and showed him to a conference room so that he could pray in quiet. She continued on with her paperwork and before long her client was back.
A bit more time went on and it became clear that a disturbance was erupting in the quiet lobby. They looked over to see an apparent bank robber running out of the office with a bag full of money and the teller crying behind the desk. Frightened, Jamey's client looked up at her and asked "What is going on?"
Jamey.... without skipping a beat looked at her client in the face and said...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"We've just been robbed. I guess you didn't pray hard enough."
True story.
My friend, let's call her Jamey, works for a bank in Chicago that specializes in high profile account relationships. She sees a lot of people who have very high needs: international clients, corporate relationships, sports figures... you get the picture. Jamey never really knows who is going to walk through the door when she goes to work each morning.
On this particular day, Jamey was working with a particularly complicated client. In the middle of processing all of his transactions, the client informs Jamey that he needs to excuse himself to go pray. She happily obliges and showed him to a conference room so that he could pray in quiet. She continued on with her paperwork and before long her client was back.
A bit more time went on and it became clear that a disturbance was erupting in the quiet lobby. They looked over to see an apparent bank robber running out of the office with a bag full of money and the teller crying behind the desk. Frightened, Jamey's client looked up at her and asked "What is going on?"
Jamey.... without skipping a beat looked at her client in the face and said...
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"We've just been robbed. I guess you didn't pray hard enough."
True story.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
So much to say,
Where to begin?
It is 8:30 pm, the kids are asleep, Grant is out on the town, (no really, he is at church, but it is a lot more fun to say he is "out on the town") I have on my favorite jammies, (the ones my mom bought me this weekend) my feet are up and my tv is on. Oh happy night. The only thing that would make this night better would be a Jamba Juice (impossible) and/or an enormous Toblerone.
Before I move along, all I am saying is that Scrubs sucks now. It used to be so funny. So. Funny. I digress.
Where to start. Ben received his first Communion this weekend. I haven't quite wrapped words around my feelings yet so bear with me while I attempt to unwrap this experience for you. It was surreal. This was the first "First Communion" in our family, besides our own and it made me feel at once thrilled for him and also keenly aware that time is passing right before our eyes. Our child, the person who made us parents, is now able to more fully participate in this faith that we proclaim. It was beautiful and emotional and mysterious.
My mom flew in to participate in the festivities. My mom. My best friend. She showed an amazing amount of stamina. I don't know anyone else who could fly in on a red-eye, go directly to a program at the school, come home to play with the kids, sleep for an hour, and then go fresh as a daisy to a baseball game. I was exhausted. I don't know how she does it, but she does and we are grateful. It is amazing to watch the kids with her. It is as if no time goes by at all. They eat her up like a lollypop.
And finally, our Josh, along with his class sang the National Anthem at a Nationals Game. (The Potomac Nationals, but still... it was big time for him.) To watch him out on that field, without us, singing... well, once again I became acutely aware just how independent these children are getting. It is a strange and wonderful experience to witness your children make progress that is all their own.
Grant and I spent a lot of time this weekend with our heads on eachothers shoulders and our hands clasped together. What an awesome tribute to this love that we share, to be surrounded by our dear family, watching our children as they progress down this road of life. We are building a legacy. That became quite clear this weekend.
Where to begin?
It is 8:30 pm, the kids are asleep, Grant is out on the town, (no really, he is at church, but it is a lot more fun to say he is "out on the town") I have on my favorite jammies, (the ones my mom bought me this weekend) my feet are up and my tv is on. Oh happy night. The only thing that would make this night better would be a Jamba Juice (impossible) and/or an enormous Toblerone.
Before I move along, all I am saying is that Scrubs sucks now. It used to be so funny. So. Funny. I digress.
Where to start. Ben received his first Communion this weekend. I haven't quite wrapped words around my feelings yet so bear with me while I attempt to unwrap this experience for you. It was surreal. This was the first "First Communion" in our family, besides our own and it made me feel at once thrilled for him and also keenly aware that time is passing right before our eyes. Our child, the person who made us parents, is now able to more fully participate in this faith that we proclaim. It was beautiful and emotional and mysterious.
My mom flew in to participate in the festivities. My mom. My best friend. She showed an amazing amount of stamina. I don't know anyone else who could fly in on a red-eye, go directly to a program at the school, come home to play with the kids, sleep for an hour, and then go fresh as a daisy to a baseball game. I was exhausted. I don't know how she does it, but she does and we are grateful. It is amazing to watch the kids with her. It is as if no time goes by at all. They eat her up like a lollypop.
And finally, our Josh, along with his class sang the National Anthem at a Nationals Game. (The Potomac Nationals, but still... it was big time for him.) To watch him out on that field, without us, singing... well, once again I became acutely aware just how independent these children are getting. It is a strange and wonderful experience to witness your children make progress that is all their own.
Grant and I spent a lot of time this weekend with our heads on eachothers shoulders and our hands clasped together. What an awesome tribute to this love that we share, to be surrounded by our dear family, watching our children as they progress down this road of life. We are building a legacy. That became quite clear this weekend.
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