Sunday School Rebel

The return of Thomas Tuesdays: running through the leaves edition

We attempted a photo shoot in the autumn leaves the other day, and most of my shots look like this: 

Just in case you ever wondered: 16 month olds are very, very fast. Fast like lightning. 

balance of my heart

I know it's been quiet here on the blog lately.  Right now, I am feeling in a bit of a funk, and yet I am fine, really, I'm fine.  There's just a lot swimming in my head. The theological discussion that's been zinging its way back and forth through my inbox, two pieces of heavy news from friends, the fact that I was hoping to go home this weekend for another family getaway, but we stayed here instead. Beaux's job is like a schizophrenic relative - one minute, we think everything is okay, another raise, we're going to make it after all - and then his hours are drastically reduced and I imagine us standing in line at the soup kitchen. 

I tell myself we are so much better off than so many people: we don't have a house to lose, or cars. But it's disheartening - we moved here to get ahead, to change our fortune, our future - not take steps backwards.  I would like to state for the record: the economy is not so much fun, in case you haven't noticed.  And if you haven't noticed, then perhaps put on your helmet, because it's coming, just wait. Most of the time I am okay and philosophical about it all, learning life lessons, all that, and then sometimes it just really does suck. 

Aren't THOSE uplifting words? 

But as always, there are good things to temper the worries.  New friendships growing deeper. Reconnecting with college acquaintances - I really did go to college with very kind people, after all. Reading good books and finding the words I need to find, just at the right time (will share soon). And it helps to have a funny kid, really it does. Today, I saw a single file line of men in karate uniforms walking down the road. I have no idea why they were walking along the road, but it made me smile. It's the little things that tip the balance of my heart. 

dance party in the kitchen

Last week, on our way Home, Thomas refused to sleep in his car seat.  He slept while we ran our preliminary errands around town and then woke up before we even got out of the city limits. GO US. At some point on the drive home, James Brown came on the radio, and I started being silly because first of all, it's a natural state for me, and second of all, because I was entertaining a child who would not go to sleep? Why go to sleep when you could poke a straw approximately four thousand times into a fountain drink, being held for you by your long-suffering mother? 

I can't find the exact song on YouTube, and I know I don't have my interpretation of the Mashed Potato correct.  I beat my hands like I was mashing a potato, literally, and Thomas thought this was hilarious.  Now he does his own little version, along with some dance moves he picked up from watching ten minutes of Happy Feet (he said, DUCKS! when it came on) with his daddy.  Please excuse my very loud singing.  

happy feet and the mashed potato from Samantha Rebel on Vimeo.

o say can you see OUR FABULOUS NEW PRESIDENT?

I really can't express how happy, excited, thrilled, and yes, hopeful, I am over last night's outcome. Today, I would remember the good news, and it gave my heart a little jolt of joy.  It reminds me of the same feeling I had when I was pregnant, but very few people knew, just the act of remembering my personal happiness in the midst of normalcy always gave me a thrill. The whole world is athrill with us, and my deepest hope is that once again the world can look to America for basic goodness and decency, not because of what we believe or how rich we are, not because we carry the biggest stick, but simply because of who we are.  We are so very blessed, to live in this wild free land.  Doesn't it always seem so irrational, that we have the right to go and press a button or mark a piece of paper and change our government, that we can speak our minds and argue with nearly everyone, it may seem, that we are so free as to have these glorious, frustrating, maddening conversations and differences of opinion, without tanks rolling down the streets or people knocking on our doors, taking whoever is wrong away? 

I know some people are very upset today, and I feel for them. I really hope that soon they will be able to see that what they were told to fear was a bunch of empty words. I hope they can find it in their hearts to be just a little excited that our country has made a historic choice for President. 

Yesterday, Beaux and Thomas and I headed across the street to our voting precinct.  It's a first for us - for some reason, Beaux and I have never voted together, and while Beaux has taken Thomas with him to vote, it was a first for me.  We had a very short wait (in a church gym, with those crazy embroidered banners along the walls, the banners that I snarkily make fun of because I am such a sarcastic Christian) and thankfully Thomas didn't get too wiggly.  We watched the people ahead of us at the voting booth, and my heart goes out to all those senior citizens dealing with touch screen ballots.  There was no way to get confused, though, because there was an official there who talked you through the whole thing, instructing us to "use your index finger" to make our choice.  Beaux reported that he used his pinky finger, once, and I'm sure it's because he broke the rules that my candidate won.  

I held Thomas on my hip and let him press the button for Obama.  It felt like a big moment. I could imagine being part of this massive wave of people, with hope burning in our hearts, having faith that this vote wasn't a risk but a shout for desperately needed change. Last night, for me, it was Jon Stewart, of all people, who announced that Barack Obama was our new President.  I didn't quite believe it until I turned the channel to CNN, where at least they had put the holograms away for a few minutes, and my heart opened wide to receive the truth, the beautiful truth shining like the sun in my eyes. It's true.  It's good.  It's here. Thank God. 

ready for all the spooky fun we can possibly have

Here's a preview of the ROBOT costume I've been working on for the past couple of days (and enjoying every second of it).  Is there anything that make you feel like a true, for-real mom other than creating a Halloween costume? Last night, there was a big Halloween festival in a local park, so I took Thomas for a trial run as a ROBOT. It was a really great event, from what I could tell, with age-appropriate activities for each kid set, and I know Thomas will adore it when he's a little older. We were supposed to hang out with our new friends but Thomas wasn't exactly cooperative on that front. I'm so glad we had a trial run, because I discovered that the costume was a little too long for him to walk properly.  Twice he fell down (because he refused to hold my hand) and couldn't get up, he just laid on the ground, flailing. How can I not laugh? and think COSTUME FAIL! 

All the Halloween bustle really overwhelmed the little dude, and he just stood there, wide eyed, so I finally toted him to the pavillion where he could stand very still and not be in the way.  We watched a costume parade, which was very cute, and then later I convinced him that he needed a balloon.  Then we made a swing by the petting zoo, and major first - a jumpy castle.  Of course, I held the costume, had the balloon tied to my wrist, but I was glad he got to jump with his friends.  Mostly he sat and let the bigger kids bounce him. On our way out, a goat jumped out of its pen at the petting zoo, right in front our eyes. Talk about EXCITING, right? 

This afternoon we're heading HOME SWEET HOME to celebrate Halloween properly with some of our favorite people.  I'm too happy, because we'll be ensconsced with my dearest Other Parents for a couple of days, and then we'll go down to stay with my parents for a few more days.  Beaux has an inordinate amount of days off from work and so we'll be all together, one happy family on a small road trip.  Tonight we'll be at Trunk or Treat at our church, something I just couldn't fathom missing, and then we'll take the boy to see the paternal side of the family in his costume.  Hopefully. I can't guarantee anything, with this boy. 

In other news, I realized that I hadn't shared with you some exciting developments.  (Not a baby. NOT A BABY!) Back in September, I signed up for NaNoWriMo.  That means all next month, I'll be attempting to write a novel.  Truly, I have no idea how I'm going to do it, but I figured that doesn't matter so much.  I'm going to show up and write and see if I can patch a story together.  I've got a plot that is personal but with enough wiggle room that it can totally take a U turn and go somewhere crazy.  When I'm not totally flummoxed as to how to do this novel writing stuff, I am really excited.  I know myself and I know that I need to completely submerge myself into this, to write with abandon and it not matter that it's perfect or good. I'm giving myself permission to go wherever this story wants to go.  I'm jumping in the deep end, people, off what feels like a very high diving board.  Of course, the few few days I'll be on the road and immersed with family, but I plan to write hard as soon as I'm home.  Don't let me lose my nerve, okay? Because I really want to be able to say that I wrote a novel by my 30th birthday in December.  Nothing would make me more proud of myself. 

Have a spooky-fun Halloween! And I'll be back home in time to wait in breathless hope with you on Tuesday. I can't WAIT to stay up all night, watching the pundits 'til I'm crossed-eyed.  OBAMA 08! 

Thomas Tuesdays: with a very special guest star...

Lately, the boy is all about the apples. It all started when he swiped a bite from a friend on a playdate, and couldn't stop eating his pilfered booty. I'm happy because apples are much cheaper than strawberries or grapes, his previously preferred-only fruit choices. Usually, I cut up bite sized pieces for him, but the other day he pointed to the glorious green sphere on the counter, and I thought, why not? Chomping on a whole apple keeps him occupied for a good while, which is the point, of course. 

And how long has it been since we mentioned a certain Green Bean Kid around here? I'm ashamed to admit or check my archives for proof, but we had a visit on Thursday night from the Green Bean Kid herself, plus her fabulous mama.  I've missed my girls and I think they've missed us a little, too.  They arrived right in the middle of supper-prep time, and I was trying to pull off Mandajuice's mushroom orzo dish. I'd been dying to try it, and when I knew that the GBK's mama was coming, I thought, perfect excuse! (She is mushroom-crazy, like myself.) The dish was yummy, but not the most company-friendly dish.  I was chained to the stove, stirring the dang orzo, when I wanted to be gabbing with my full attention.  The orzo ended up getting a tad bit blackened, but I ate the leftovers for days.  

Thomas was in hog heaven, having a friend! in his house! and the Green Bean Kid was terribly patient with him, as much as a four-year-old can be.  She wasn't too thrilled when he started giving her kisses on the couch (oh, the cuteness!) or when he chased her around the apartment incessantly (bellowing with laughter the whole time) but later on we found her reading him a story. It's so hard to believe sometimes that our 'practice baby' is so awfully grown-up. 

What she was 'reading' - "Five little monkeys, jumping on the bed, one fell off and bumped his head..." 

heard it in a love song

This is a placeholder for you, a thank you placeholder - all your sweet comments and good things really did help me shake off my mully-grubs.  Somewhere along the way I found my mojo - felt my zest for life resurface, like a whale leaping for the sun, crashing through the edge of the sea to the sky. I have lots of good things to share but they deserve a post of their own, and not to mention I owe my son his 14 month letter. But you, all of you out there, who love me from afar and boost my spirits when I come clean and admit that I'm having a hard time - you are my community, you are truly friends of my heart.  Thanks so much for helping a girl out of her funk.

fill me up, I'm a long way from home

I'm having a bit of a hard time of it, these days, and all that will help, I fear, will be writing it out. I'm struggling here, but I am unable to remain in a bleak state. That's a good thing, I suppose. I can't simply sit in my fear and doubt and second guessing state. I swing between feeling on the brink of desolation and then am restored with a good cup of coffee and chat with a friend, then another friend making a very kind offer to lighten my load from thousands of miles away. I'm really okay - maybe using the word desolation is a bit much - it's just a little bit of everything being off. I'm suddenly tired of trying to make the best of being the new person, I despair that Beaux will never get hired on as a full time employee, you know, WITH BENEFITS, and why in the crap won't my child just sleep for longer than an hour at a time? Do you know how frustrating it is to feel like you're maybe, hopefully KID FREE for a few hours and yet again find yourself rocking that darling butthead of a kid back to sleep...again? And then again, an hour later?

Even in the midst of all this frustration and near-hopelessness, here are the things that are making me smile and giving me hope:

The return of Michelle to the blogging world. I love this woman.

Boho's baby news - this is just the best news ever.

Marilyn's a grandmama - the funkiest grandma of the West Coast, for sure!

A classic Eddie sermon, which I listened to while making supper tonight, and maybe cried, just a little. My soul is so thirsty and I can't find a good drink of water here in this place, not yet, and that's another post for another day. The good thing about Eddie's sermons is that they're so anti-sermon, so hope-full, and I might listen to it again, just to let it all sink into my bones. I need to hear again and again that God is a God of abundance, not scarcity.

This morning, not long after waking up, I was drinking my coffee, and Thomas was playing happily in his room. After awhile I thought to myself, "He's awfully quiet in there." I walked in to find that he was in the middle of a very important deconstructionist art project:

And then, the other night, he decided that my bra was a good look for him. Of course we must have a consultation with Tim Gunn about this particular look, and I feel certain that Tim does not approve of bras and men outside of drag queen revues.

What's giving you hope, now? I need to hear it, every single good thing.

and so the world turns

Boy howdy - I don't really say things like that in real life, but it seems a good way to start a post, somehow. Beaux has worked his magic and our computer is, dare I say, back in working order. I know we have until tomorrow for Mercury to fully wreak her havoc upon us, but since I got a speeding ticket today, I say we call it good, don't you?

A SPEEDING TICKET! Do you know how long it's been since I got a damn speeding ticket? I was a sophomore in college, I think. Wait. Maybe my last year of college. I have a dim memory of my dad calling me because a letter came to their house threatening to revoke my license if I didn't pay up. You know those new college graduates, the ones who can't be bothered to have their mail forwarded. Obviously, it's been six years, and I suppose that's pretty good, as far as tickets go. I must admit that I often speed, not on the highway or interstate but in the places that suggest you go 35 and I say, that's just crazy talk.

Hence the speeding ticket I now possess.

The further away I get from last week, the better I understand it all - I feel awful because it's now clear how badly our sweet boy was feeling. I was beginning to think my child had been replaced by some hellish being, and I was going to have call in some priestly person and maybe Chip Coffey for good measure, in order to restore the darling precious child to his true self. This round of teething really walloped him - I still can't accurately tell you how many new teeth he has, because he refuses to let me look in his mouth for any time span longer than 2.5 seconds, but we definitely have new molars and the upper canines are coming in, NOT TO MENTION two lower teeth, too. In the past, teething has been shall we say, inconvenient, but not so horrible that we couldn't deal with the situation. There would be drooling and incessant gnawing on inappropriate objects, because God forbid my son actually use a teether like all the other children in America, right? Last week, there was a lot of melting into puddles of screaming tears, just a lot of SCREAMING. I am fairly sure it doesn't help that he is easily frustrated by the things he can't do, but he could go from perfectly happy to perfectly unhappy so fast that I never saw it coming until we were at full ORANGE alert. I faithfully dosed him with motrin or ibuprofen at the appointed times, and one day broke down and bought another bottle of teething tablets. He ran fever at one point, and you just feel oh so helpless, because having a fever is one of the worst feelings in the known universe, right there with having to touch a Kleenex with wet fingers. (Seriously, I get full body shivers, AND NOT THE GOOD KIND, just thinking about touching Kleenex with wet fingers.)

His fever didn't last longer than a day, and at one point, I was lying in bed with him, trying to soothe him to sleep. I had a homemade teether, the only thing Thomas ever halfway considers - an ice cube wrapped in an old burp cloth, secured with a ponytail holder, it looks like a mini ghost. Beaux came in to see how we were, and climbed into bed, too. He took the teether from me and gently began to bathe Thomas's forehead with the cold ice cube end. Slowly, slowly, and Thomas's little eyelids drooped closed. It was a moment where as a mother, you stand back and wonder, why didn't I think of that? And yet it was so beautiful, to see how connected they are, and all the love in the gentle gesture of barely touching his son with a cool cloth. As I sit here and ponder that scene, it makes me realize how very few tender moments we see between a father and son - not throwing a ball, not making it all about the testosterone. Just a simple loving act of comfort. It affirms, again, the fact that three years ago tomorrow, I married the right guy, oh boy howdy, and how. We may or may not succeed in the eyes of the world, but we love our child, and we love each other. For me, these days, that's all the romance I could ask for.

sidelined

Surely Mercury is in retrograde, people? (Elizabeth, you always know when Mercury is taking its toll on this world.) This week I'm dealing with:

1) my keys being locked in my car, after searching through the whole entire house, including the toy box, for said keys - I should have known, this was foreshadowing for the rest of week -

2) our Internet out at home because the computer got walloped by spyware - Beaux has been running scans for DAYS now, but will probably have to reinstall everything (when he gets time, this weekend)

3) cable went out due to stupid Comcast not sending the right bill to our landlord, who pays our cable, because we give them lots of money to do so

4) not to mention, I've been feeling ultra icky with hay fever, and Thomas is cutting THREE teeth, therefore succombing to fever and a terribly cranky disposition (we're actually better, but the weekend was NOT SO FUN)

5) oh and ALSO, when Beaux and I tried to go to the movies on Saturday we got lost because we got some backwards-ass directions off stupid Maps.com - this is 2nd time we've tried to go to the movies and FAILED

Oh, and there's this tiny ECONOMY issue, right? Talk about everything going to hell in a handbasket.

The one bright shining redemption thing about all the annoying stuff is that my parents came for a visit this past weekend, and were so kind and just everything you want your parents to be, reassuring and loving and encouraging.  So thank all the heavens for that. They really provided a respite and once again, I ponder how people do this life thing, without good parents who walk along the road with you, and bring groceries.  And then baby sit your fretful child and tell you to run away for awhile.

Beaux figured out how to jimmy-rig (don't you love that phrase?) the cable last night so that we could at least watch the debate - and I am happy to report that we didn't fuss with each other ONCE over anything that was said, but exercised our right to poke fun at both Obama and McCain. I love that we always find a way to laugh together about pretty much anything and everything.

Also, I've had my head in a book as much as possible (we spent our date money at the bookstore, not a bad tradeoff) and actually have enjoyed the quiet. It's probably a good thing, to break my dependence on all time access to the Internet wonderland, but talk about feeling isolated. I can always check in at our apartment complex's computer lab, which is where I'm writing this - so I think I am going to stop fretting that I am so very disconnected and try to enjoy the laid back vibe this week is so obviously trying to hand to me.