I've been Tagged

My dear friend Jess over at Sassy Pants "tagged" me on her blog. It has taken me a while to get around to this, but the deal is that I'm supposed to answer a couple of questions to help my readers get to know me better, then pass it on.

The rules:
1. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
2. Share 5 random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog.
3. Share 5 places you want to see or see again.
4. Tag 5 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs. Let each person know that you tagged them by leaving a comment on their blog.

So let me give this a try...

Five Random Facts about myself:
1. I've never liked shoes. I wear them out of necessity. As a kid I walked around barefoot as often as I could get away with it. But many times it backfired as I have vivid memories of stepping on glass and rusty nails and having my brother ride me home on his bike to spend the rest of the weekend with my foot propped up and wrapped in gauze.
2. My first car was a baby blue 1980 Volkswagon Rabbit with a hot pink steering wheel and red pinstripes.
3. I have a faint birthmark on my inner thigh, and when I was little I thought it was a drop of pee that dried on, but I was never able to scrub it off. My son has a birthmark on his inner thigh, too, on the opposite leg from where mine is.
4. I played Varsity Tennis my Freshman year in high school. Impressed? Usually I leave it at that, but the truth is it was a tiny school, and anyone who could lift a racket was on the varsity team. Still, I think I was pretty good. :)
5. I've been to Africa 13 times and have visited ten different nations. The place which holds the most stamps in my passport is Kenya, which I consider to be my second home, and where once I stayed for three months to work with the street boys who stole my heart on my very first visit. They taught me contentment, real joy, and Swahili. The first four or five trips were on a volunteer basis, and the rest became a part of my job with Youth for Christ.

Five places I'd like to visit or visit again:
1. The Great Wall of China, just to stand on the only man-made structure visible from space!
2. Australia -- my aunt, uncle, and two cousins have lived in Perth since the early 80's and have given us a standing invitation to stay with them.
3. The ancient Inca ruins at Machu Picchu, Peru.
4. Hawaii. Particularly Kaui.
5. Mt. Kilimanjaro -- as much as we said we were glad we made it to the summit in 2003 so we would never have to return to try it again, we find ourselves talking about "the next time" and what other routes we would like to try.

Tag! You're it!
Instead of tagging anyone specific, I'm just going to leave this invitation on the table, and if you want to pick it up and run with it, leave me a comment and let me know so I can read your entry, too!

Six-month Surprise

My husband told me tonight about a very special anniversary surprise he has for me. To understand what it means to me you have to know that we spent our 5th anniversary climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. On our last night he remembers me telling him, "For our next vacation, I want to go to the beach!" Really, I was just desperate after spending six nights sleeping on hard frozen ground and seven days of the toughest hiking in my life to feel warm and be lazy. Lucy arrived shortly after that adventure, and though we have taken other trips to fun and adventurous places, we just haven't made our way to the coast yet.

Tonight he told me that he has made arrangements for us to take a little trip to celebrate our 10th anniversary! Through someone he knows from work he has arranged a very nice place for us to stay in Southern California--near the BEACH! He has already called my mom to see if she would come out here to take care of the kids while we are there. He even showed it to me on Google Earth, and together we scoped out the closest shopping area and where he was told a nice coffee shop is, and how to get to the best place on the BEACH. Have I mentioned yet that there's a BEACH???

So, we're going for our anniversary. In July.

Yes, he surprised me by telling me in January so that I have six months to not only look forward to it, but also to prepare myself mentally for spending several days away from my children.

I am most definitely looking forward to it! I can already envision myself lying for hours on the hot sand and listening to the waves, perhaps holding some fruity drink with an umbrella or an iced mocha in my hand. And doing nothing. And maybe a couple of times we'll get to go to a restaurant and I can order whatever I want and take my time to eat it all myself. With both hands. Maybe we will venture inside some interesting shop with tons of breakable things. And take our time admiring it all. And sleep. And nap. And do nothing. And carry with me nothing more than my chapstick and sunglasses. Oh, and have I mentioned the BEACH?

He has left it up to me to decide, of two options, how long we will go. Fortunately I have plenty of time to figure out how long I think my kids will survive without me, or how long I will survive without them. I'm not so worried about Lucy. We spent two nights away from her when Josiah was born, but we still saw her each day. She had so much fun she barely missed us, but that was the first time we'd spent a night apart. (We just didn't have a reason to until then.) But this trip will be just before Joey's first birthday, and we won't be able to explain it to him like we will to Lucy. Will he miss me? Will I miss any major milestones, like his first steps? Will he know that I'll be back soon?

So I have six months to think about how my baby will do without me and wonder how long is too long to be gone from him. For the nursing moms out there, you know of course I'll have to consider the issue of pumping enough milk to last the amount of time we are away, and to know that I'll be spending time pumping while I'm in California, too, to keep up my supply. And then comes the burning question: will he nurse again after I return? (Good thing my mom is a lactation consultant so I can ask her professional opinion on these things, though I know her knowledge isn't a crystal ball and she probably can't give me the definite answer I'm looking for.)

As much as you think that a "surprise" that doesn't materialize for six months is kind of weird, it gives me great comfort to know that my husband knows me and understands the way I think and that I need time to consider all of these things. A month or two would have been plenty, really, but the best part is that he just didn't think he could keep it to himself any longer. Isn't that sweet?

California, here we come! Well, soon. Sort of.

Authentic vs Sheltering

I've been reading another mother's blog lately, tracking a woman whose preschool son has been fighting cancer. Yesterday little Julian breathed his last and was taken to be with Jesus at 4 1/2 years old. Knowing just the smallest pieces of this journey, I see how this woman's faith in God is extremely strong and has carried her through this hardest of times. She and her family have been on my mind more than usual today, for obvious reasons, and the grief I've felt for the loss of my dear friends' children felt fresh again. I've gotten teary a few times just watching my own kids throughout the day and hoping that I'm doing my best in making the most of days like this where we just spend so much time together and I can just soak in their laughter and smiles and linger in their snuggles and watch them fall asleep.

I let Lucy choose what song she wanted me to sing to her tonight before bed, and she picked the worst possible one. No, really, it couldn't have been a more perfect choice, but in my heightened emotional state, I wasn't sure I was going to make it through. The second verse says this:

Sleep, my child, and may the grace of God surround you, hold you,
Through the night, through the years,
Until the day you find rest within the arms of Jesus,
Safely in the Father's care...

As beautiful as that promise is, no parent ever wants to imagine their own child resting in the arms of Jesus. Somehow I squeaked it out without her noticing my closing throat.

I want to be genuine with my children. I want to be authentic and let them see me for who I am and know that I can be silly or sad or anything in between. But I just wasn't sure how to explain to Lucy that I was sad today about a little boy almost her age that neither of us know who was very sick and died. As important as it is for us to teach her about reality and the brevity of our lives, I feel we've had more than ample opportunity in her young life to put our friends' names and faces to this kind of tragedy, let alone someone she doesn't know. I so much more on days like this want to shelter her, to hide her from the world and its harshness, to keep her under my wing just a little bit longer.

So I tucked her in, turned down the light, and left the room before drying my eyes, praying she will sleep in peace and that tomorrow will bring many more chances to cherish my children while the Lord leaves them in my care.

Short hair

I actually did it. There's no going back. What's done is done. I have short hair!

Last night I had about 11 inches taken off the length of my hair--10 to donate to Locks of Love and another inch to trim and even things out. I knew it would be a drastic change, and this is probably the shortest my hair has ever been. I'm amazed at how thick it feels again, and how my natural wave has taken over now that the weight of it is gone.

I was a little nervous, but also very ready to not have the long tresses to dry, style, and get yanked on incessantly by Joey. I also am very ready to not be constantly picking super long hairs off my clothing, my children's clothing, the furniture, the floor, our bedding, out of my baby's fists,... you get the idea.

I was also nervous about my kids' reactions. Lucy was in bed when we returned (John watched it happen then took me to dinner), but she was still awake. I walked into her room and her face lit up in a smile as she said "Woooowww! Mommy, your hair is short!" I was also able to prepare her by having her watch the online video of another Locks of Love donor getting a cut. She likes it. Josiah, however, didn't greet me with his usual grin upon waking up this morning. He just looked at me. It took him about an hour to warm up to me, though at least he didn't cry. He didn't take his eyes off of me all through nursing, but at least he ate and didn't refuse. Several hours later, he's back to grinning when he sees me and I think he's adjusted to the idea. Phew!

I hear that when a person loses a limb they have 'phantom' sensations of that limb where their mind tricks them into believing it is still there. I imagine that I will have 'phantom hair' for a while as I adjust to the things I don't need to do anymore: flipping it over my shoulder after I've leaned over, taking a comb all the way down my back, using an inordinate amount of shampoo, and so forth.

But so far (granted, it's been less than 24 hours since the cut) I love it!

Gray

I accidentally left my sunglasses at home today, and while I was driving I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror--an angle that I don't normally see because of my sunglasses, I suppose.

I saw something white just above my ear that looked like it was one of my own hairs.

That's funny, I thought. It must be a reflection of the sun, or just a really blond hair.

At a second glance, I saw several more somethings, all DEFINITELY white.

This can't be possible, I panicked to myself. I'm only 33! And I've always said I will never color my hair when it starts to turn gray! I tried to calm down and decided I'd just have to look a little closer when I got home.

The mirror at home had the same story to tell.

I've been toying with the idea of a major hair cut, and in doing so I'd like to donate the length of it to Locks of Love again, like I did a few years ago. I mean, if I'm going to do it, I might as well make it drastic and for a good cause! So after my initial woe-is-me wore off, I realized that I need to do it soon, because they can't use gray hair to make wigs for little girls!

The smell of Kenya

As I have been sorting and cleaning and tossing and boxing these last few weeks, I rediscovered a folder full of poetry that I've written. It's been a long time since I've written any kind of poetry. Some of the things I remember writing as I re-read them, and some surprise me ("Did I really write this?!"). Though I can't say this is one of my best, Kenya has been on my mind lately with all the turmoil that has been going on there since the elections on December 27th, and the poetry I have written about Kenya holds a special place in my heart. Because of that, I thought I would share this poem.

I remember writing this after my second trip there, and when I was back at home I caught a faint smell of something... I still smell Africa now and then. Sometimes John and I will be somewhere together, and as a scent passes us we look at each other and just know without saying it, and both of us are taken back there for a moment.

They say that our sense of smell is the most tightly linked to memory, and so whatever it was that scented the air on this day took me back to that place in my heart that I knew from my trips to that land, and I wrote this:


Senses

I smelled Kenya today
in the warm breeze
on my sweet sweaty skin,
in my hot breath;
so I closed my eyes
and felt the dust
pelt against my legs,
heard the harsh rustle of dry trees;
as I walked I took off my shoes
and let the ground
take pieces of me,
a trail of me I left behind
in my tracks,
forever,
me as the dirt;
eyes still closed
I closed my mind, too
for exclusive use
of memories:
sounds of laughter and drums,
sights of ebony skin and clouds,
smells of cooking fires and smog,
feelings of Strength and solid earth,
taste of life and joy.

(C) 1996 ~kjb

This is indeed a piece of "my original self."

My son is a genius

While Lucy and I went back to BSF this morning after a few weeks of break for the holidays, my mother-in-law watched Josiah and enjoyed spending one-on-one time with him while my father-in-law packed their pickup for their departure back to New York. She said he took a good nap and was happy playing with her and having books read to him. The best part, however, is when he decided to read the books himself... ;) I loved this picture that she took and just wanted to share it here. Reading at five months old -- he must be a genius! Tee hee!

Oh Poop!

(I wrote this a few weeks ago but held off publishing it in the midst of my Christmas contemplations. Warning: this entry includes potty talk!)

We went out this evening for dinner with some missionary friends who are in town from Africa, and we had a WONDERFUL time and ate a delicious meal and shared our desserts. But a particular trip to the bathroom with my daughter reminded me of the LAST time we went out to eat with friend, which was in Madison, WI, during Thanksgiving week.

It started out harmless. Lucy was relatively well-behaved and in a good mood. Joey had fallen asleep on me and then stayed asleep when I put him back in his car seat. Our food came quickly and was delicious. And then it all started to hit the fan. (And you know what I mean by "it.") Lucy said she had to go potty, and John took her to the bathroom to discover it was too late—she had already gone, and in the process of this discovery ended up smearing poop all down her legs. He tediously cleaned her up and brought her back to the table 'commando' style as her undies were now in the trash can of the men's room. (Fortunately I had a spare pull-up in the diaper bag and she was not allowed to sit until it was on.) Then I started to notice a different smell. This time it was Joey who had woken up and decided to download, as we say, a very full diaper—not just full, but overflowing. Naturally, I didn't discover this crucial fact until I had picked him up. He had poop smeared out the sides of his diaper and into his pants, and as I carried him to the bathroom it proceeded to leak all over my sweater sleeve as well. Once cleaned up as best as I could with water and paper towels, we returned to the table, finished our meal, and packed up to go. Just to top it all off, the wind had shifted while we were inside, so as we walked to our car it was impossible to avoid the fact that the good ol’ Wisconsin air smelled like—you guessed it—poop.

So, tonight was great fun. But as we were distracted by the plentiful plates of food and the good conversation, we missed our darling daughter's awkward stance as she stood next to the table.... And again we were reminded why it is a rare event that we go OUT to eat at this stage in our lives.

Update: Lucy is getting much better about telling us before she has to go. We are getting much better about asking more frequently when we are out. And I always keep a spare pull-up in my diaper bag!

The beginning of the end

Happy New Year! After a day of rest on the first of the year, we have begun official steps toward moving. We've been talking about it for so long (hoping to have done the deed before Joey was even born in July) that it seems a little surreal.

So, you ask, what exactly have we done? We rented a storage closet! In an effort to open up our living space and eliminate many boxes and much closet clutter, we rented a space just down the road to store some of our things that we feel we can live without for a while. John, with the help of his dad, loaded the back of our pickup truck and took the stuff over there this afternoon. We are talking about rearranging some furniture, too, and doing some paint touch-ups and such, but so far that part is just a list on paper. The storage, however, is finally a reality.

We have no idea how long it will take to sell our condo and find a new home for our family, but having started the process in this little way makes this new year already exciting... and it's only Day 2!