(abundant) Life with kids

To Make a Bad Day Better

2012-02-17T23:48:00.000-05:00

Because I have awesome friends, I have decided to share this epic Facebook thread with you. I keep going back because it makes me really happy. Because I'm changing names, I can't just do a screen shot. But here's the gist.

Veronica's status update:
Steve, are we still on for the prenatal belly dancing at your house tonight? I know you said you were interested.

Keona: I must have missed an inside joke? Steve is pregnant? :p

Steve: Umm… That was when I was … elsewhere…, right?

Grace: Steve says you're a nut. :)

Steve: Keona, yes I do appear to be pregnant to some. However, it doesn't seem to have resulted in a baby yet. Perhaps I'm doing something wrong?

Veronica: Perhaps it's Grace that's doing something wrong. We'll brainstorm when we next get together and see if we can figure it out.

Veronica: No, you didn't miss anything Keona. I just decided to bug Steve :).

Keona: My husband might be interested in male prenatal belly dancing too. We'll see if we can get enough guys to teach a class. :)

Veronica: Okay, I'll check with my hubbie :).

Veronica: ‎Bianca, see if your husband is interested ;).

Veronica: My hubbie says to sign him up.

Steve: What, do all of us guys have beer bellies?

Veronica: So I'm putting you down as a 'yes' then Steve?

Steve: Umm, I believe I have an appointment with my hairdresser that day.

Veronica: Ask her if she know where you can get some good bellydancing gear.

Steve: troublemaker.

Lucy: I should get my husband to join. Although that man doesn't have much belly to work with.

Keona: No "beer belly" required! Just need to be male. Lucy's husband would love it! :)

Keona: No worries Steve, we have flexible class times.

Veronica: Yeah and don't worry about buying Steve. I'm sure Grace has something cute and jingly you could tie around your waist.

Steve: ‎Veronica, eww. Keona, It's a really long appointment. I'm quite sure it will conflict.

Mama Bear: Chicken!

Veronica: Steve this hairdresser of yours...they, uh - you DO know that you have no hair right? I mean I'm not judging or anything. Bald people should be able to go to the hairdresser if they choose to do so. I'm just saying yo might want to consider the possibility that you're being scammed.

Steve: Am Not Bald! Or Scammed. Now that I think about it, it wasn't the hairdresser keeping me busy at all. It was the society of hunters in hummers (very manly!) that's been trying to recruit me. Apparently they think I'd make a good poster man (not boy!) or something.

Veronica: Well, okay Steve. However I urge you to consider all of the men that are weeping inside because they would like to take belly dancing classes but are afraid that society would look down on them. Thisis your opportunity to take a stand and pave the way towards a more flexible waistline for men everywhere. *Holds out hand* Won't you join us, Steve? You know you want to ;).

Steve: Give me a list of names, and I'll get the Hunters in Hummers to give them a call. There is hope...

Veronica: Haha! LOL.

Bianca: was this a joke thing or did it really happen?

Veronica: It's mostly a joke that came from a small bit of reality. Mainly, I'm just teasing Steve, although I would be hugely entertained at the sight of a group of belly dancing husbands :).

Grace: I need to read this comment thread whenever I have a bad day. This cracks me up! :)

Five Minute Friday: Tender

2012-01-27T11:29:00.000-05:00

Every Friday, Lisa-Jo invites us to write for just five minutes, no editing. Occasionally I remember in time to play along.

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I hurt today; my head, my stomach and a sore spot on my foot. My aches leave me tender, vulnerable, open to stronger reactions than normal. Because like a dog with a sore paw, when provoked I responded harsher than typical. My children are also sick, all three of them home today. They don't seem to understand how miserable their Mama feels, so they whine and bicker until I respond. Too harshly.

But their little hearts are tender too. And a mama's angry words, no matter why they come, can lodge deeply in a small soul and fester. I feel torn, guilt-pain adding to physical misery. Why can't my kids be kind to me? Why can't I respond better to them? Finishing my rant, I apologize, confessing my sin of anger to them, asking for their forgiveness. They extend undeserved grace to me, offering hugs and kind words.

And I am left tender, the good kind now, my heart moved by the compassion and grace extended to me, a sinner.

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Fear, Dignity and Coldest Night of the Year

2012-01-14T22:59:00.000-05:00

We had exited off the interstate to take the bridge to Canada when I saw two official looking cars blocking the road ahead. Instantly my body filled with fear. I had no legitimate reason to be afraid, no illicit goods in my car and yet my heart started pounding. Border Patrol Officers were searching vehicles leaving the States which seemed bizarre to me. I'd never seen this before although I've crossed the border well over a hundred times. Perhaps they were searching for stolen property or someone being trafficked, but for whatever reason traffic was blocked and cars were being pulled over for questioning. As we were driving a rental car, the officer doing the questioning waived us over to be searched. As we waited, I became increasingly agitated. Finally they let us go, after searching through everything in the trunk, even our dirty underwear.

It took me awhile to understand my agitation. It wasn't just that I was frustrated over the delay because I wanted to see my kids, but I was also completely panicked. As I sorted through my emotions, I realized it was because I no longer believe being innocent is enough. I knew that although I wasn't carrying any contraband and am not a threat to the United States Government, if the security officer wanted to, he could have torn apart our car, physically searched us or even detained us. And there wasn't anything we could do about it.

It's been like that in my life these last couple of years. Things happened that I couldn't do anything about. My innocence didn't matter, only my supposed guilt. This led to deeper wariness of authority than I already had. Through this I've learned empathy for the plight of refugees. I've started to identify more with them, to understand what it is like to leave a home not by choice. These past few years have also given me more compassion towards the homeless. I know what it is like to be treated with suspicion and wariness by those around me, and how it feels to live with the resulting fear of people. It's a rough place.

On February 25th, I'll be walking 5k with my daughter and some great people from my church. We're raising money for Ray of Hope, a local organization that serves the homeless. Before the walk last year, I had an interesting conversation with another walker. She was in her late teens, having recently gotten off the streets. She had participated in a program that employs homeless teens, teaching them life skills, providing them with an income, and returning their dignity. I want to be a part of that, to not just feed and clothe the homeless but to provide better choices for them. There have been so many this past year who have reached out to me, restoring my dignity and sense of self. I am so thankful and so I'd like to pass on the gift of dignity, of hope to the marginalized in my community.

If you'd like to be sponsor Aris or me, give our names a little click. And if you'd like to walk yourself, click here.

Cake Party

2012-01-12T22:13:00.001-05:00

What do you do when you end up with too much cake?

Yesterday my children returned home from AWANA with two fancy homemade cakes. My husband wondered what on earth were we going to do with that much cake. Thankfully we only have two children in the program, unlike our friends who lucked out with four cakes. One of them was a Candy Land cake complete with lollipops, candy canes and a Starburst walkway. My husband was really glad we didn't get that cake. :)

So while he was moaning about the surfeit of cake, I came up with a plan. Why not invite our neighbours over for a Cake Eating Party? So we invited our friends and neighbours over for a last minute party. It ended up being great. Not too many people came, but just enough that our house wasn't empty. The kids played really well, we had some great conversations and best of all, we have almost no cake left! Oh, and my house is much cleaner. Nothing incites cleaning quite like having company over.

I think we need more cake. :)

It's Been Two Years...

2012-01-09T22:27:00.001-05:00

since I first opened this space and started writing. Pretty crazy!

I haven't been writing as much recently, mostly because I'm attempting to finish up my doula certification. It's been a long time since I've had to write essays and I have to say I'm not enjoying the process. I will be ever so glad when I'm finally finished and certified! :) Perhaps I will throw myself a party. :)

I started writing this blog as a way to force myself to find joy. Life felt rather dark then, and although I knew there were glimmers, they quickly swam away from me. Writing was a way to remember, to find those shards of light and capture them. I find joy much more easily these days, although it's still darker than I would like. My husband keeps telling me that healing is coming when I get too frustrated.

As we were away over the holidays and only returned yesterday, I did the groceries after getting the kids from school. Kian decided that he didn't like that particular grocery store and decided to vent his frustration by screaming. I should mention that Kian has a particularly high-pitched and piercing scream. But he wasn't content with this. No, he needed to hit anyone who came near him. It was not a pleasant scene.

I was thinking about the days when smacking a misbehaving child was common place and fighting down my urges to do just that when I remembered I had my phone. I quickly sent Steve a text, asking him to pray. I guess he knew it was urgent since there was no punctuation and I actually used numerals instead of words. After dropping my phone back in my pocket, I headed to the dairy aisle to grab milk before leaving. At this point, one of my arms was wrapped around Kian to keep him from hitting his brother, while the other one tried to steer the cart. I'm really not sure what the other shoppers thought. I'm sure it wasn't all pleasant. But then in the dairy aisle, peace came.

Over the weekend, Kian had visited his aunt and uncle, where he was given yogurt drinks. Money is tight so we don't buy yogurt drinks typically. These are Kian's new favourite and he had asked me to buy him some earlier. Lo and behold, I found some on sale. Kian stopped misbehaving when he saw them. After getting him to apologize, I extracted a promise that he would behave if we bought them. Not content with that, I informed him that if he misbehaved at all, the yogurt drink would be returned. We outlined inappropriate behaviour and went on. Immediately his behaviour changed. By the time we reached the cashier, he was in a much better mood. Things were going so well that the cashier actually praised my parenting. Laughing, I informed him that my now-adorable looking little boy was the same one who had been screaming earlier. The teenager had a hard time believing that such an innocent looking child make that much noise. Personally, I think God made him extra-cute so he would survive to adulthood. :)

Anyhoo, it's late, I should go to bed. Happy blogaversy to me! :)

The Sun Still Shines

2011-12-22T10:07:00.000-05:00

Several years ago, I boarded a plane to Halifax. It was miserable weather in Toronto; grey, cold and drizzly. Halifax was much the same. But in between, the plane was filled with the most glorious sunshine. Having a window seat, I basked in the sunshine. My heart sank as we dipped below the clouds again, waving goodbye to the sun.

I learned a simple, somewhat obvious truth that day. Above the clouds, the sun is always shining. (Except at night, of course!)

Recently, my heart has felt clouded over, grey and miserable. There have been too many days where I stand in my kitchen crying, overwhelmed by everything. Being the calm, logical person that I am (HA!), I then start to freak out about being overwhelmed. It's a downward spiral from there.

And in this overcast place, I have begun to remind myself that the sun is still shining though I cannot see it. This simple truth brings me great comfort. I know that someday the clouds will lift. Joy will return. So for now I look for the little rays of sunlight: a good book, tea with friends, lighting the Menorah candles with my Jewish friends and daughter, good chocolate, an escape after a crazy day and a carol sing on the way to school. When the sunshine is covered by the clouds, hope is left behind. I will be okay, I know it, for the sun still shines.

The Horrors of Cookie Baking*

2011-12-08T12:45:00.001-05:00

Yup, it's that time of year again. Not only is it time for mistletoe, candy cane lattes, and incessant presence of Christmas tunes, the cookie exchange is making its annual appearance. (Why do we only do cookie exchanges in the most chaotic month of the year? Can we have a spring cookie exchange? I like cookies all year round, how 'bout you? ) Lulled into a state of nostalgia, I look forward to my annual cookie baking extravaganza. Tantalizing cookie recipes pop up on magazine covers and in my google reader feed, leaving me longing to make those tasty little treats. After all, cookies are easy, right?

Ha! Although I'm a reasonably talented cook and baker, cookies seem to have it in for me. Each year, I agree to an exchange(or two, or maybe even three), choose a yummy sounding recipe, read it over, and think "huh. Sounds straightforward. I can do that." Then I wonder why my husband is looking at me with a wary mixture of concern, dread and support. Me being me, I brush away his concerns with a breezy "It'll be fine. I read the recipe, should be a cinch. Hey, you can help me! It'll be a great date night". Strangely instead of reassuring him, my words trigger a nervous twitch which completely confuses me.

Then I start baking. Suddenly his twitch makes perfect sense. All of a sudden, I'm covered in flour and something's gone wrong and my level of stress has reached the breaking point because THESE ARE FOR A COOKIE EXCHANGE AND THEY MUST BE PERFECT!!!! At this point, my eye has started to twitch, I may or may not be crying and I really really want a glass of something strong, but I'm on call, so I need to be sober just in case I have to drive. Also, then my cookies really might be ruined.

Now I was much smarter this time as I didn't leave these to the night before like I typically do. My husband helped me come up with an easy way to quadruple the recipe. I made cardamom orange and chocolate ribbon cookies, which meant I needed two different flavours of dough. Working in advance, I made up each flavour separately and stored it in the fridge. This was my first mistake. The chocolate dough should not have been chilled before using. Trying to soften it up was a nightmare. I ended up pulling out my hairdryer to soften it up. This was after placing the bowl inside another bowl filled with hot water. Even then it was a crumbly mess. (Also, my dough then was a weird mixture of too hot to handle and too cold to squeeze). *sigh* My second mistake was putting the orange layer on the bottom instead of the chocolate as the recipe recommends. Yeah, turns out that step was important! *sigh* Having the chocolate layer on the bottom means that it's smooth. Because it's the hardest layer, it needs to be on the bottom because otherwise the orange layer buckles when trying to cut it. Then there was the fiasco where I didn't read the directions properly on how to cut the cookies...But I managed to mostly salvage that mistake and slice the other three loaves properly. But my fourth and final mistake was to turn my back on the youngest member of my family. I came back to find half of a broken cookie where previously there had been a whole one and a satisfied look on a little boy's face. Those were some dark times, let me tell you!

But now my cookies are all made and safely tucked away. I feel a deep sense of accomplishment and can't wait for all the yummy goodies coming my way. Already nostalgia is transforming my memories of cookie baking into something beautiful instead of the horrible tangle with Murphy's law it really was.

*This rant should not be interpreted as a complaint or taken as a reason not to invite me to participate in a cookie exchange next year. I would be devastated if that happened. Then what would I have to blog about? :)

MM 166-206

2011-11-29T10:14:00.001-05:00

It's never good being woken up at 5am by a sick child.

It's even worse on the dawning of a weekend away.

After comforting and tucking my child back into bed, I climbed back into my warm nest and cried. This trip had been anticipated for months, dreamed of for years. But now, on the eve of dream's realization, I was going to be denied. And what can you do, when kids get sick?

I prayed, asking God to heal my child. Two hours later, at official morning time in our house, she was up and sick again. This time she seemed feverish. Again I prayed and began to resign myself to a weekend at home.

But my husband didn't agree. Knowing how much I wanted to go, he volunteered to stay home. Surprisingly our daughter was okay with this. But her two younger brothers were not. They weren't going to easily give up their Daddy time. We talked and prayed some more. Then my husband came to a startling decision: We were all going to go. The sickie would be drugged on the way down and then stay in the hotel room with the adults taking turns staying with her. Quickly I scrambled to get ready, gathering up extra reading materials for the time spent in the hotel room.

My sickie drifted in and out of consciousness on the drive down. But she scrambled out of the car completely alert and healthy. We watched her carefully, but she was fine. Other than a brief bit of feeling off at dinner, she was completely back to normal. As for me, I rejoiced in God's healing and in my husband's faith and wisdom. We had an amazing time with our friends and our little family.

Continuing to count along with Ann:
166. Biking on a major street for the very first time.
167. Safety while biking.
168. Increased confidence.
169. A good date with my sister.
170. Hearing her university stories for the very first time.
171. Finding wings to match my fairy costume.
172. Batman half-face masks.
173. My sister coming over for dinner before she headed home.
174. Gluten-free leftovers with which to feed her.
175. Working with the Sr. Youth for the very first time.
176. Mean mommy skills coming in handy.
177. A patient youth pastor.
178. The sillies fading away, revealing listening hearts and a thirst for God.
179. Beautiful November sky.
180. A new system for storing winter hats, scarves and mittens that greatly decreased my stress in getting out winter stuff.
181. Gel pens.
182. Listening to my children recite Scripture.
183. Memorizing alongside them.
184. Kian knowing the books of the New Testament from Matthew to Corinthians just from listening to his siblings.
185. The beaming look of accomplishment my children get after memorizing a particularly challenging passage.
186. Family night at church.
187. Rebuilding and continuing the friendship we have with a family from our former church.
188. The lessening of pain attached to leaving our former church.
189. A fabulous weekend of prayer training.
190. Working(praying) my way free of the lies that have entangled me for so long.
191. Resting in the sweet healing presence of God.
192. Attending said prayer conference with my husband.
193. Delighting that we are on the same page in so many areas of our life.
194. A wise minister who is so very gentle.
195. Learning to walk free.
196. Really good food at the conference. My sandwich had prosciutto, roasted red peppers and brie. And then I had coconut macaroons for dessert. *happy sigh*
197. A good weekend away.
198. Aris being healed!
199. A wise husband.
200. Friends to travel with.
201. The wisdom and understanding of my children God is giving me.
202. Happy, contented children.
203. Putting the boys to bed an hour before their bedtime without them noticing.
204. A couch date with my husband: Good conversation, Vietnamese food, and then the Big Bang Theory.
205. The beautiful young lady Aris is becoming.
206. Footed pajamas.

Five Minute Friday: Grateful

2011-11-25T22:04:00.001-05:00

On Fridays, we write for five minutes. No editing, no re-writing, just five minutes of pouring out our hearts. Today's topic: Grateful

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The pain comes in waves, washing over me and I cry out thanks. I'm grateful for a pain-free yesterday, for all the moments lived free from the shadow of pain. My stomach churns and heaves, nudged into nausea by the ache of my head. And I praise God then too. I'm grateful for my bucket, for the last eight years in which the nausea and my headaches stopped dating, and for the hot sweet tea that will soothe my tummy and my heart in a moment.

It's new, this practice of praise in moments of pain. Instead of bemoaning my fate, questioning God or just whining, I offer up instead an offering. There is always much to be thankful for, even in moments of weakness, fear or misery. And as I praise, the pain in my head doesn't lessen, but the ache in my heart does. And when I have a week free of pain, oh the rejoicing that goes on! When the next week brings two bad days, well...I remember last week's blessing, and the good days in between and praise God for those. It isn't much, just whispered words in dark moments. I still want to curse, to whine, to enjoy being miserable. But little by little, uncontrollable joy is creeping into my heart, splashing out at random moments. So I give thanks, grateful for all that is in my life.

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Dressing Creatively

2011-11-23T21:43:00.001-05:00

He wanted to wear his shorts. The weather app on my phone said 0C with a windchill of -4C and this beautiful spirited child of mine wanted to wear his shorts.

Many years ago, at the beginning of my parenting journey, we would have fought. I would have insisted that no, he couldn't wear shorts on such a cold day. There would have been much screaming on both our parts and eventually we would have emerged exhausted, overwhelmed, me looking desperately for chocolate, but with him dressed properly. But that was then.

Now when Kian hands me his favourite bright orange bermuda shorts with a loud "I wear dis, Mommy!", I smile, digging through his jammy drawer. We head happily into the day, him wearing brown jammy bottoms underneath his shorts, a brown jammy top underneath a blue and orange dinosaur t-shirt. He is warm and happy and I'm amused by my little boy's clothing choices.

I can be right and miserable. Or I can think outside the box and we can both have fun.

Linking with the lovely Em today;

Sometimes it's the little things..

2011-11-19T23:02:00.001-05:00

So cliche really and yet so very true as I was reminded again this evening. While Steve and I attended a conference this weekend, his lovely parents watched two of our children. As our former lifegroup was packing boxes for Operation Christmas Child this evening, they invited us to come for dinner while reclaiming our children. After a full day of learning, we arrived earlier than expected at our friend's farm. Walking in, I discovered that a friend of mine from the school had also been invited.(I should add that I did know she was coming, I just forgot.)

I met Moira last fall, shortly after she arrived in Canada. After many years spent in a refugee camp, she had finally been resettled. I've been getting better at guessing ethnicities, so struck up a conversation with her to see if I guessed correctly. I had. She's a beautiful woman, about my age and as I learned more of her story from others at the school, my heart broke. I'm not sure when the resettlement process for her family started, but by the time it was processed, she had given birth to another child. Because of the inane bureaucracy, Moira had to leave her baby behind until the proper papers could be obtained. Thankfully, her lovely little girl has been reunited with her family now.

During Moira's first months in Canada, I made an effort to befriend her. At dismissal time, I would chat briefly with her. One very cold day, I taught her to pull her fingers into a fist to keep them warmer. We bonded over our misery in the cold, blustery weather. Then I fell, breaking my arm, and became housebound for several weeks. By the time I was able to pick my children up from school, my new friend had disappeared. Life became too busy, and we lost track of each other. I felt baldly, but just never managed to connect with her. It seemed as if I had failed her as a friend.

But as I walked into the room tonight, Moira lit up. Both then and throughout the evening, she kept pointing at me and exclaiming " I know her! I know her! She's my friend!" (I'm tearing up a wee bit as I write). It seems that my simple acts of friendship, even with my disappearance, meant a lot. Tonight we sat together on the couch, exchanging recipes and stories. She introduced me to her baby and in turn I pushed her to try hot apple cider (which she loved). As we reconnected, I was reminded that a kind face can mean the world to someone feeling lost and displaced.

Building friendships across cultural and linguistic barriers is hard. It is easier to ignore the new faces around me and stay safe in my familiar relationships. But I'm drawn to those on the outside. It can be hard and frustrating going, but the impact of my simple overtures of friendship may be much bigger than I ever could have imagined. I have to say, I'm glad I chased Moira down to ask her where she was from. :)

Five Minute Friday-Grow

2011-11-18T09:25:00.001-05:00

It's been awhile since I've joined up with Lisa-Jo on Fridays, mostly because I was so far behind on my blog-reading. But I'm caught up for the moment and eager to write so here goes...If you're new to the FMF, the plan is to write for five minutes without editing. Today's topic: Grow.

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After the lights go out, we lay together, my head on his shoulder, just talking. Our conversation dips and wanders and I marvel at our growth. We talk of parallel universes and the possibilites that might have been. I laugh, enjoying being a geek with him. And I look back at when we married, at all the change that has come since then. How we hid our geekiness, or let it out in socially acceptable little bites, careful to cloak it with a brief mocking. And now, we live as geeks, openly gloriously because this is who we have become as our lives have intertwined. Our love for each other has created an environment where we are able to be fully who we were created to be. It isn't always easy or pretty, and we're definitely not cool. But the freedom to be fully me is delicious. My husband's unconditional love and support has allowed me to flourish in so many ways.

And those conversations where we throw out crazy concepts like multiple universe theory or discuss how old Senator/Chancellor/Emperor Palpatine really is? They're pretty awesome.

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Impromptu Pie/Tart/Delicious Thing

2011-11-11T12:11:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I did not want to cook. I had the beginnings of a headache and just felt lazy. Yesterday morning I had seriously contemplated staying in bed and taking the kids to school late. Alas, I am a compulsive rule-follower(although not a recipe follower) and just couldn't do it. Instead I dragged my sorry bottom out of my nice warm bed and hustled my little monkeys off to school. Then I spent the rest of the day longing to go back to bed. This did not make for good cooking inspiration.

But we're trying to be extra-careful with our finances this month and it didn't seem right to make my poor hubby cook. So instead I made him a great big mess to clean up. I'm sweet like that. A couple of days ago, I stumbled across this recipe for wiener rolls. Zane really likes hot dogs wrapped in Pilsbury Dough so I decided to give this a try. Since it was a recipe for Zane, I made him help. Of course, if one sibling is helping, the others have to be involved too. Kian helped add ingredients to the food processor, including the flour I had set aside for flouring the table. Aris helped roll out the dough. ( I am loving having children that are old enough to help and bake. Aris can make cookies mostly by herself). Zane proudly wrapped up the wiener pieces in dough as well as measuring out the flour and pushing buttons on the food processor.

We had leftover dough that I was going to let Aris play with later. She likes to make tarts with the dough scraps. But then I remembered our drawer full of apples. After asking permission to use her dough, I rerolled it out, sliced up some apples, shook out what turned out to be frozen sour cherries(I thought they were cranberries) and sprinkled with brown sugar and cardamom. Although I would use different dough, I am definitely making this again. The flavours blended well, with little chunks of brown sugar on top since I was in too much pain to stir it. Some of the apple juices cooked down into apple butter on the pan. It was perfect! So perfect in fact that Steve and I polished off most of the apple tart/open-faced pie all by ourselves. Our kids were engrossed in a computer game and didn't even notice that we had pie until this morning. We were enjoying it so much that we didn't want to share.

Sometimes it pays to make myself cook. :)

Caramelizing Onions

2011-11-07T23:01:00.000-05:00

Onions are slowly caramelizing on my stovetop, simmering away in a mixture of bacon grease and olive oil. We often eat meatless on Mondays, but bacon was the guest of honour on our table tonight. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Bacon is easy to cook and loved by everyone in our house. Well, everyone except maybe Steve. I think he likes the taste but laments the grease. His share of the bacon disappeared quite quickly just the same.

I had planned on making turkey soup(I know, not meatless) or something vegetarian but an emotionally tumultuous morning left me drained. In a daze, I caught up on blog reading, finished the latest Stephanie Plum novel(a guilty pleasure) and played some video games with my son. Not much was accomplished as my inner stability slowly reset. By evening time I was calm, but supper was not made. Thankfully bacon lurked in my freezer. I combined the bacon with brussel sprouts and some garlic for a yummy, if not exactly balanced meal. My sweetlings ate their dinner with very little complaint. Zane whined a wee bit, but cheered up when he was served three wee tiny sprouts, which disappeared very quickly. Me thinks he complains from force of habit some days.

The upside of all that blog reading today was gaining inspiration to cook. I stumbled across a caramelized onion dip recipe(as well as some interesting cookie recipes for the upcoming Christmas cookie exchange-can I make caramels? How about cardamon orange fig newtons? Or pine nut and rosemary brittle?) Feeling rather snacky I decided to invest the time in slowly cooking down the onions. After trading some prize items from my Hallowe'en bag*, I now have potato chips to eat with said dip. As I cook, happiness begins to seep back in. Clearly I need to cook for fun more often. :)

*Several years ago, I purchased a handmade fairy dress on sale at a local costume shop. To keep my children happy(and for my own pleasure), I dress up at Hallowe'en. I would prefer to be a superhero, but haven't found a costume that is a)in my price range and b)not skanky. Until I find such an item, I will be a green and lavender fairy with matching wings. Interestingly enough, while accompanying my daughter to the door, some people thought that I was also a child. Given that I got candy, I wasn't complaining. :)

More Food...

2011-09-28T12:03:00.003-04:00

Seriously, I'm writing this post just so I can close all the links I have open in my browser. I've been cooking a lot from recipes found online recently. They've been yummy and I've wanted to share the deliciousness, but I haven't been in a writing mood. Until today, the multiple open tabs haven't bothered me. All of a sudden, I have this urgent need to close some tabs. Without further ado, here's what I've been cooking.

I've had a surfeit of produce, specifically peppers, tomatoes and eggplant. (I just remembered that I have zucchini too. Clearly I need to make fritters again. Sooo good!) We've been eating vegetarian most meals, but I like my peppers stuffed with meat. Out of beef, I defrosted some ground turkey instead. I'm not sure the flavours stood out as well as I might have liked, but my guests enjoyed them as did my children. Alongside the peppers, I served eggplant bruschetta. Although some of the slices were too thin, everyone who ate it asked for seconds. I think I will try this again.

Personally, I enjoy tomatoes. Sliced tomatoes, salted and peppered, on toasted bread with mayonnaise are amazing. I like my tomatoes roasted, sauteed, sliced, sundried or just popped in my mouth. Unfortunately not everyone in my family shares this enthusiasm for the fruit. But I try not to let this deter me from my enjoyment. Last week I roasted a pan full of tomatoes and then pureed them into soup. (I scraped the juices off the pan with my spoon. Just the memory of that flavourful explosion makes me sigh in sheer delight). Oh soo good! And my picky little eaters will cheerfully eat tomato soup when you let them dip garlic croutons in it. I almost didn't want to share it was that good.

There were still piles of tomatoes left on my counter after making the soup. Then I stumbled on a recipe for tomato pie. What on earth is tomato pie, I wondered? Intrigued, I read on to discover it is a Southern dish. Well, my grandfather being born in Georgia and all, that sold it for me. My kidlets were enthusiastic about the fresh corn(a little too enthusiastic if you ask me as my pile of kernels started diminishing before even making it into the dish) while rather dismal towards the tomatoes. Thankfully, they did eat the pie, although one child made a nice little pile of tomatoes on her plate while my husband devoured his slice and had seconds. That was some good pie. He even requested that I make this again.

Now, lest you think I continually ~~torture~~ stretch my children's culinary palette, I did make them something they enjoyed. Having leftover pork, I decided to make pork fried rice. Oh, the happiness! Aris told me that I was the best mom ever, Zane complimented the meal in French(tres tres bien), and Kian dug in.

In addition to the savoury dishes, I made some sweet things as well. Veronica's husband had given me peaches. As they were rather bruised, I made peach muffins. If you like peach cobbler, these are the muffins for you. Easy and yummy. I also made two rhubarb crisps, one for a family dinner and one for multicultural night at school. There weren't any leftovers. For youth group, I tried out English Toffee Bars. Once again, these were a hit. Very sweet, but that's perfect for teenagers. :)

Wow...my browser looks so much nicer now! I wonder what I'll cook this week. If someone slips me some pears, I have a coffee cake I want to try.

What did you cook last week?

Ride for Refuge 2011

2011-09-25T13:28:00.000-04:00

Friday night, my daughter and I went for our longest bike ride yet. It was sprinkling and approaching dusk but we headed out anyway. It would have been nicer to stay at home, curled up with a good book. We looked longingly at the couch, took a deep breath, adjusted out helmets and headed out. The bike ride was mostly fun, except for the wet gravel. Training wheels and wet gravel do not mix well as Aris soon discovered. Aris was very frustrated as her bike kept getting stuck, but she pushed on. She liked the pavement much better, although her one complaint was that she couldn't go fast enough. "Mommy" she said" I like to go fast, but as hard as try I can't go faster than the cars". I hadn't previously pegged my daughter as a speed demon. Thankfully she still has many years before she can get her driver's license. I was a bit nervous as she flew down hills, but she had no such compunctions. Biking with my daughter is good for my spiritual life as I prayed A LOT during our journey. Thankfully there were no accidents or major falls for either of us. We did have many close calls though.

So why did we go out on a drizzly night? Well, Aris and I(and Steve and Zane and Kian) will be biking in the Ride for Refuge on Saturday, October 1st. Originally known as the Ride for Refugees, this cycling event is dedicated to raising funds for those in need of shelter and care, wherever they may be found. We are biking specifically in support of Welcome Home, a refugee housing community. As Aris has become aware of the world around her, she has realized that not everyone is blessed with a safe home with lots of food, clothing and friends. In kindergarten she became friends with a little boy whose family sought refuge here in Canada. Moved by his story, she wanted to do something to help. She chose to ride in support of other refugees in our community and continues to do so, making this her third year riding.

This is my very first time riding. I volunteered for four years, doing sweep riding, welcoming and cheerleading. Last year, I chose to walk alongside Aris. Somewhat foolishly, I had assumed that she would only do a couple of kilometres on her bike. Instead she did the full 10k with me walking alongside(and sometimes behind) her. Although I have not ridden a bike in over 10 years, I decided that biking would be much easier than walking. So I asked for a bicycle for my birthday and started training. It's been a sacrifice. Cycling is hard on my body. But I realize how blessed I am, merely because of the accident of being born here. My heart hurts for those who have endured injustice, famine, war and displacement. I want to give something back, to make a difference, even if it's just something little. So here I am, sore and nervous, preparing to ride 10k in less than a week. (Dear Lord, have mercy!)

Would you, could you join with me? If you could sponsor us, even $2 would be great. But if not, could you pray or think good thoughts? I'd appreciate the encouragement! Go here to sponsor Aris and here to sponsor me. Thank you!

Persevering In Family Time

2011-09-19T22:26:00.000-04:00

It's rare to have a perfect day with my family. Perhaps this is common in most families, I can only speak for mine. My children, while being beautiful, energetic little blessings, are not easy children. I have only to mention my children's names to get wide-eyed looks and whispered "How do you manage?" They are not bad children, just spirited. Very very spirited.

Yesterday being Sunday we opted to have a family day. After getting very good burgers for take-out, our family went for a bike ride. It was a beautiful day, not too hot, not too cold. It should have been perfect. Instead, Steve and I exercised great patience and restraint in not ordering our children back to the house immediately after starting. Kian was perfectly happy with his bike attached to Daddy's. It was the other two who were too scared, or frustrated or tired of trying that tried our patience. There was much wailing and stopping of bikes directly in front of adults. Thankfully, none of us wiped out(although Zane did fall off the monkey bars while playing at Steve's old school). After much perseverance, we made it to our destination and back, without using our mean words. This was indeed a victory!

After accomplishing two family favourites(bike ride and special lunch), we decided to try for a third. It was then that we almost struck out. It took much negotiation, patience and some tears before we managed to get everyone out the door. Even as we headed to the local games store for board game night, there were some very sullen expressions on little faces. The children each picked out a special treat and then we snagged a corner to set up our game. Much of the drama stemmed from the recognition that we did not have enough time to play Star Wars Monopoly. Instead we cruelly forced our children to play one of their favourite games, Kids of Carcassonne. They love this game and ask to play it often. But on the one night we only have enough time to play it, they seem to have relegated it to the list of "Things Parents Use to Torture Children". *sigh* Once we started playing, they had a great time, even though one of them was still a little touchy. I may have "helped" certain children win around the same time so as to avoid meltdowns. Again, perseverance and patience were needed, but eventually we had a great family outing.

I had to leave for youth group immediately after returning home. I was a bit anxious after all the shouting that had been happening. Oddly enough, the rest of the evening went quite well according to my husband. Either they got it all out of their systems earlier, or we just need to be persistant more.

Following An Urge

2011-09-17T22:19:00.001-04:00

Have you ever had a nagging urge to do something a wee bit crazy?

My dear friend Kate lives about three hours away. Typically she comes here to visit as her house hasn't been the most practical for small people. But as her birthday is coming up I felt a deep desire to surprise her with a visit. I had lost her phone number(this happens when I scribble things on scrap pieces of paper as is my wont) so had to resort to a rather vague listing in the yellow pages. Bravely I dialed the number after assuring myself the world would not end if I got the wrong person. (Have I mentioned that I have issues?) Thankfully Kate's mother answered right away and was delighted with my idea.

The plan was to leave bright and early this morning. But you know the old saying about the best laid plans...Instead I woke up around the time I had wanted to leave, tired and grumpy. It was an uphill battle to get everyone and all their stuff into the van. Then off we headed for a long and beautiful drive. My children kept complaining, somewhat uncharacteristically for them, that they were bored. Tiredness does not extend my patience, so instead I gained invaluable practice in restraint, although I made crazy eyes a number of times. Eventually, we arrived at our destination.

Kate was out at the lake when we arrived. She was thrilled to see us, especially Aris as they missed each other on her last visit. After lunch we climbed rocks, went canoeing, ate chocolate mint(the plant), made tissue paper flowers, went swimming(children only), had snack on the deck(my children loved it so I made sure to get the recipe), and hiked to Kate's fort where we enjoyed second snack. We also stayed for dinner. It was a lovely day for all of us. My kids were thrilled to see where Kate lives and I was so blessed to spend time with her. We have been missing each other a lot since our road trip in July.

After dinner we headed home with an abundance of produce. Shortly after turning onto the main road, we spotted a bevy of wild turkeys on the road. Steve crept up slowly, attempting not to scare them. I was more excited than the kids. :) We didn't see much in the way of wildlife, certainly no deer, bear or moose, but we did see a gorgeous sunset. Kian fell asleep in the car and then we were home after a wonderful day away.

What We've Been Eating

2011-09-14T22:15:00.000-04:00

Several years ago, we started eating local food. Even though we live in the warmest part of Canada, eating local limits our food choices, especially during the winter. For this reason(and many others) I look forward to the warmer months with great anticipation. I can put away my savoury soups featuring many ways of serving squash, carrots, sweet potatoes and other root vegetables, and instead focus on the spring and summer bounty.

Unfortunately, I had a rough spring. The stress of finishing up with our church left me drained, emotionally and physically. I lost my creativity and my drive. But after some much needed rest and vacation, my creativity and drive returned. Most of my energy seems to have been packed in the checked luggage and hasn't arrived yet though. I keep looking for it in the mail. :)

Earlier this year, I bought a Moosewood cookbook. I skimmed through it, but got distracted and put it aside. It sat mostly unread on my shelf until two weeks ago. Desperate for something to do with squash, I opened it up. Let me tell you, that was a good move! (My children may respectfully disagree with that statement.) I have had so much fun cooking. Over the last two weeks I've made Greek Vegetable Pie, Mediterranean Eggplant Casserole, Pasta with Butternut squash and sage(I used acorn), vegetarian lasagna(with TVP instead of ground beef- my own creation and Zane's favourite), Shallot Vinaigrette, Pear and Thyme Vinaigrette, Cream of Brocoli soup(from my soup cookbook) and zucchini fritters. I also made grilled and fried peaches. My friends, we have eaten well!

I have some recipes I'm excited to make this week and look forward to finding new ones to try as well. I derived great pleasure and satisfaction from cooking(also from eating). Being able to feed my family well(at least in my opinion) while being a good steward and using what is in my fridge has been quite rewarding.

What have you been cooking? Is anyone else making lifestyle changes? I forgot to mention that we're cutting even further back on meat, for ethical and monetary reasons. Another reason why I am thankful for the Moosewood cookbook. :)

Jumping: MM 135-165

2011-09-12T14:05:00.001-04:00

It's hothothot, the hottest day of the hottest week of the summer, as I stand on a cliff, 20 feet above the water. I carefully shuffle towards the edge, using my bare feet to cautiously feel out the dips in the rock as I cannot see clearly, my glasses left safely in the boat. The water beckons invitingly below, but to get there I'm going to have to jump. Fear has tight hold of my heart. Will I fall wrong, hitting the cliff on the way down? Will I land wrong? Why did I think jumping from 20 feet was a good idea? This looks awfully high up....I breathe in, like my yoga instructor taught me and then, on the exhale, screw up my courage and jump out. There is space between jumping and landing, I hang in the air for what seems like an eternity until SPLASH! I hit the water, go down deep into the delicious coolness, kicking my way up to emerge laughing, triumphant. Over to the rocks I swim, on my way to jump again. My fear is gone, only joy remains. (And some water up my nose.)

Weeks later, I cuddle in the darkness with my husband. I am stepping out into new things, and fear has gripped my heart once again. What if I fail? What if this is ripped away too? Can I survive going through that once again? We've had this conversation often over the last couple of years, but tonight the dialogue strays from it's well-worn grooves. He prays over me, stopping to talk, and then prays again. As my heart opens, he prays into that as well. I stay silent, uncharacteristic for me, meditating on his words and prayers. Something shifts, though I'm not sure what.

In the morning, I remember jumping into the lake. I see myself in the same spot, wanting to trust, wanting to jump and yet terrified. But I jumped and I can still remember the thrill of jumping and then being fully immersed in the cool refreshing water. Again, I choose to jump, metaphorically this time, to step off the cliff and fall through the air into the ocean of God's grace. And when I take that plunge, choosing to believe that God is good, no matter what befalls me, God pours out gifts on me, leaving me dripping with his goodness.

A few of God's gifts, so lovingly bestowed:
135. Smoke alarms. (Yes, there is a story there.)
136. God's protection in so many little, but important details
137. That baking soda and vinegar removed most of the black from my pot.
138. A good teacher for my little girl.
139. "Mommy, today went much better than I expected."
140. A glowing sunset as I drove.
141. A God-planned meeting with someone I've been praying for over the last several years and yet never expected to meet.
142. The reminder that God's family spreads around the globe.
143. Finding community as we strive to eat ethically.
144. A lift to the playgroup at my church.
145. Seeing Kian laugh and play delightedly with other children.
146. New dreams, new teens to love on.
147. Finding energy and motivation this week.
148. My Moosewood cookbook, lots of yummy recipes.
149. "Well, it wasn't the worst thing I've eaten"-from an eight year old
150. "It was good. I couldn't even taste the squash"-from my "I don't like squash" husband.
151. Hot 'n' ready pizza on the evening I can't find the energy to cook.
152. My husband's grace towards me on bad days.
153. His arms around me after I go postal because I am just so frustrated at how little energy I have.
154. My littlest putting away the cutlery.
155. Bright blond boy perched way up high on our neighbour's shoulders.
156. His enjoyment of my children.
157. Our small fire putting to rest my daughter's long held fears about fires.
158. My husband sharing how God is speaking to him.
159. Pink and white bouquet(with an orangey brown sunflower) on my table.
160. "Thank you for encouraging me to go, Mommy. It was good."
161. A sympathy card from my best friend.
162. A beautiful e-card from another best friend.
163. Many words of encouragement, from many different people.
164. Opportunities to conquer more fears.
165. Driving to Hamilton ALL BY MYSELF!

Belated Birthday Gelata

2011-09-01T22:36:00.002-04:00

A week ago today, I had a birthday. My friends and family did a great job of helping me celebrate, but one of them was away and decided that she need to celebrate me. I didn't turn her down. :) So this evening, we headed out for gelata and drinks.

I haven't been to the gelata place in a very long time. My gelata was fantastic even though Keisha said the nutty gelata tasted like playdough. The chai was the best chai I've ever had. It had a very strong cardamom flavour and may have even been dusted with cardamom. It was sooo good! I am still very happy. ;)

In addition to yummy food and drink, we also enjoyed quality child-free conversation. Our conversations were actually rather deep as we discussed creation and evolution, racism, segregation, multiculturalism and talking to children about race/ethnicity. I am so thankful for a group of friends that I can enjoy food, conversation and silliness with. I am blessed.

Jumbled Yarn

2011-08-30T23:37:00.001-04:00

The day begins with rock music playing softly on the radio. I fight my way free from the veil of sleep, longing to be pulled back into sleep's warm embrace but feeling the pull of my obligations. The day's events run together like strands of yarn after being played with by children. Dance camp for the older two, a visit with a friend and former client, the drive back convincing a little boy that he will have fun at lunch, a lunch out with my MIL, browsing through the thrift store afterwards, pick up from camp, laundry, supper and then a visit with my mentor.

Wound through the tangled colours is a deep, thick strand of red. Not a pretty happy red, but an angry pulsing red. Red for the pain that shot through one side of my head and neck, pulling me down. It's tempting to whine when the headache strikes, to pull back. I soldiered through today, not wanting pity. I rubbed on headache soother, drank coffee and water, took tylenol-all to no avail. My husband prayed as did my son, but still the pain continued. I kept going.

Now the pain is gone, the red yarn trailing off into the rest of the ball. I am released, just in time for bed.

MM: The Funeral

2011-08-29T23:34:00.000-04:00

Mr. H's funeral was today. After wading through grief this past week, I expected today to be extremely hard. It wasn't. Although I did tear up at mostly appropriate moments, the crushing load of grief was absent. At least it was for my friends who are also followers of Christ. We mourn his absence, are shocked by how quickly and unexpectedly it happened and feel for his family left behind. Yet even through the welter of emotions, there is hope and joy. Mr. H now sees clearly what is only a dim reflection here on earth. He is face to face with the Creator and one day we will be too.

Although I have held these beliefs my entire life, it is only while walking through a tragedy in a cross-cultural situation that I am able to understand the life-changing potential they bring. My friends from another culture have been rather distraught. They have not wanted to attend the funeral or the visitation(although they have) being fearful of how dark it would be. My friend did not expect the many moments of laughter, even by the widow, at the funeral today. Even though this was one of the best funerals I've ever attended, laughter is not uncommon at a Canadian funeral. We mourn, but we also celebrate the life of our deceased friend or loved one.

I must go to bed, although there is much more rattling around in my head, much of it about death and culture. Perhaps I'll explore that later. I'm going to quickly close with my thankful list. After a week of grieving, I need the reminder.

More of the many gifts I have received:

121. A good night's sleep.
122. Sleeping in undisturbed.
123. Waking up to discover that it was just a dream(that there was a large pond outside my kitchen filled with boa constrictors, crocodiles and a velociraptor).
124. Feeling well rested.
125. Birdsong.
126. Not having to do it all by myself.
127. Living in community.
128. Specific answer to prayer-a pretty dress, that looks good on me and wasn't too expensive.
129. Communal sharing of food.
130. Beautiful uplifting cards from a dear friend.
131. Playdates.
132. A birthday phone call from Veronica's mom in the Bahamas.
133. A birthday phone call from Kate's mom.
134. So much love poured out on me.
135. The hope we have in glory.

Mr. H's Visitation and Other Stories

2011-08-28T23:33:00.001-04:00

The line snakes through the room, rounding several tables before making its way out the door and into the lobby. We join, three hushed adults with one child clinging nervously, the other three reading books in a corner. The boys are wearing the suits they wore for the wedding two weeks ago. Today their finery is worn for a much sadder occasion.

While we wait to offer our condolences, three tables in the room offer entertainment, if one can say that. A table in the middle is adorned with an engraved baseball bat, Mr. H's umpire uniform, a baseball written on by another neighbour, plaques from the association he served with, and a book on umping that he wrote. Another table is piled with yearbooks, genealogy books, his thesis, his autobiography and his various diplomas. I smile at the old family picture, admiring the dated glasses and hairstyle and my friend as a child. It's remarkable how much his son looks like him. Still another table sports art the grandchildren made in memory of their grandfather as well as his Bibles, a book he and his wife translated into English and some quizzes made up for his 70th birthday and their 40th wedding anniversary.

I managed to hold it together until the very end of the line up and lose it completely while at the casket. As a family we gather to say goodbye to Mr. H, me spontaneously offering up a prayer in thanks for his life. We move away after a few minutes, preparing to head home and then out again. I catch sight of a friend and then spy Veronica in line, alone. After checking with Steve, I offer to stay and head back through the line. I bawl again.

Then off we head to a farm. Aris and I change in the house before striding down the hill to where the rest are gathered. I sit around a pond, while corn and sausages roast over the fire. It's beautiful. The food is good. We pull out leftover cake, blueberry squares, apple squares and Neapolitan ice cream. Everyone sings happy birthday to me. I smile, feeling loved. Conversation bubbles up around me, my children choosing to go wrestle somewhere else as per my suggestion.

Coming home, I wander over to Keesha's house. Veronica and I babysit so the other adults can go the visitation. I play silly games with the babies, especially the ones I don't know as well. By evening's end, those two are my good friends. My daughter wrestles with the children when she isn't watching Backyardigans. I get them to chase her, and they run circles through the house giggling madly. To settle them down, she gets them to lie on the floor and then leads a yoga relaxation. She teaches well. I am amused, seeing my teacher's style in her imitation. The evening ends well.

It's been a full day, grief interwoven with beauty, community, good food and silliness. My tears keep coming. Tomorrow we will attend the funeral. I think I'm going to cry a lot. I'm not a cryer so this has me a wee bit concerned. My in-laws are probably a bit more concerned as they're babysitting six kids tomorrow, three three year olds, two 16 months olds and one six year old. They're pretty brave. Somehow, we'll all get through tomorrow.

Birthday Party

2011-08-27T23:01:00.001-04:00

My husband threw me a surprise birthday party today. We typically just have small family/whoever shows up parties for our birthdays, but have started a tradition of surprise parties for milestone birthdays. Today's party was amusing as I knew he was throwing me a party today and he knew that I knew but we were both pretending to be surprised/surprising. Our friends were very confused. We got a big kick out of it.

Steve and Veronica pretended that we were having a community barbeque today instead of a surprise party. This way they roped me into making food for my own party. :) Steve was in charge of food while Veronica planned out games. She had us play a breastfeeding bingo game. The first person to get five in a row was declared weaned. The guys in the group had a great time coming up with alternative definitions. Apparently hind milk is what is in a sippy cup discovered behind the couch. :)

Next she had us play a potty-training game. There were three dolls(okay one doll and two teddy bears-one for each of my children) that were dressed in a diaper and a onesie. The object of the relay-style game was to change the doll from a disposable diaper to a cloth diaper to a pull-up to underwear. The first team to complete all three stages won. My team won with room to spare. :)

I had a great time. It was nice to be loved on, eat good food and hang out with friends. Thank you, Steve and Veronica! :)

P.S If you didn't get invited and probably should have, I apologize. Next time, I will be writing up a list of people Steve should invite to my surprise party. :)