Date Archives → September 2007

my little buddy

Can I just say again how thankful I am for my little guy’s company? He’s such a delight.

Take this morning:

I laid him down for his nap, and then hurried to get through my chores, having promised myself that I could get out some autumn decor after the day’s cleaning was completed. I don’t have that many autumn things, so it didn’t take me to long to set out the few wreaths, dishes, and knick-knacks, and switch the candlesticks to seasonal colors. I have such fun celebrating seasons, and I stepped back pretty happy with how things looked — but wishing someone could enjoy it with me.

Enter Jameson.

He woke from his nap, and I could hear him playing and laughing in his crib. When I went into the bedroom to get him, I was greeted with an exuberant smile. (How wonderful!) We went back out to the living area, and he proceeded to notice every little thing I had changed while he was gone — his eyes went from the rust candlesticks to the berry wreaths to the flower arrangement and even the little flower picks I’d tucked here and there. He didn’t miss a thing! And his eyes just glowed the whole time, loving every new sight!

And maybe it seems silly, but that was all I needed. Someone else to think all of that orange was fun, too.

What a good little buddy.

worth.

Sigh.

Somehow, today sort of ran me over. Broadsided me. Mowed me down. It was a hit and run that left me here, stunned, trying to understand how it could already be dinner time.

Where did it go? How did it slip through my fingers so quickly? How did it hit so hard, take such a toll, and leave me with nothing to show for it?

The baby fell into peaceful naptime slumber, nursing contentedly. It was then that I heard the whisper, clear as day,

“What a waste this day was.”

I smiled ruefully. Wow. I can’t believe I just let that thought pass through my mind. But I did. It was there. Dark and shadowy and real.

I’ve been around the block a few too many times to let it linger. Those sorts of thoughts need nothing more than to be immediately evicted.

Evict I do, determined to replace fable with truth.

Let’s see, I begin. Today was not a waste, because today I, umm, well, I made coffee. Right. Let’s see, then I well, took a shower. Yes, that’s good. K, theennnn, oh! Laundry! I did some laundry!…

Obviously this is not the right approach for winning this battle, as today’s accomplishments of a little cleaning, a little cooking, and a few diapers don’t amount to much more than that whispered suggestion of a waste.

I try another tack.

I look down at sleeping babe, the one who jabbered and played all the while I made dinner; who, when I paused to notice him happily entertaining himself, smiled peacefully at me and caused a prayer of thanksgiving to bubble up in me. This babe whose smile widened when I put on the ergo, who made me laugh when I realized how much he truly enjoys being on my back while I water gardens, pull garbage cans from the road’s edge, chop onions and garlic, switch the loads from washer to dryer. He gave me a bit of a run for my money today, somehow getting out of the starting gate with a bit more speed than I could match, but we managed to fall into our rhythm of mama and child. Sleeping now, I caress his chubby arm, touch his fat fingers clasped around a fistful of my shirt. His shortened curls shine like copper pennies. I breathe deeply, and know that I love him even deeper.

And I know that I can’t compute today’s worth, for I’ve lost track of the smiles we shared, the I love yous that were spoken, the little songs and scriptures recited. I think of the man who has been gone since morning, working hard when he likes it and when he doesn’t, because we need him to be our provider. And I realize again that the sum is greater than the parts: that dinner made, laundry clean, gardens tended, house tidied equals a home for him.

Greatest of all, there is One ever watching, calculating, adding, causing our sowing to bring later reaping — and there has never been a day in history that has slipped through His fingers. He knows each moment, each smile, each word and thought and gesture of kindness — and He says that they count.

And He’s always right.

links

:: The last couple of months, my menu planning has been a bit of a broken record. I just can’t seem to stop making my new favorite things.

(That reminds me, Sheri; you asked about a recipe. Well, I used the above butternut squash tart recipe, but I added garlic and basil to the ricotta mixture, used about 5 heirloom tomatoes [that had been salted and squeezed of all the juice I could extract], and brushed the top with olive oil and garlic, fresh basil and parmesan… and yum! And yum again!)

I assume that at some point soon I’ll move on, but for now, I just can’t get enough of the tomatoes at our farmer’s market.

If I were a betting man, I’d wager that the next round of recipes will be heavy on the butternut-and-pumpkin side. But I don’t bet.

:: Last night, we watched [most of] this. Very interesting, although terribly UNinformative (as most agenda-driven documentaries tend to be, I’m sorry to say.) I managed to sit through the hours of victim-stories, and the cheap shots at government (I have a hard time with media that criticizes politicians while offering no solution of their own), and tried not to laugh at the conclusion they came to: The government needs to make the credit cards stop. It’s not the people’s fault that they made BAD decisions, lived WAY beyond their means, and signed up for every offer that came in the mail. Ugh.

Usury is absolutely wrong. But so is abdicating responsibility for your own actions.

As sad as some stories are (and we are talking very, very sad), for the most part, it was just sin leading to sin — greed leading to debt leading to depression leading to double lives leading to ending your life for fear of being exposed. Really bad stuff, all stemming from a bit of greed and the inability to say no to a shiny new card.

If anything, the movie made me appreciate Dave Ramsey’s work in a whole new way. I suddenly realized what an amazing door of opportunity he has for reaching people who are absolutely on the edge. I told Ryan, at the end of that documentary, that I was ready to send my first check to Dave Ramsey’s ministry!

:: And on a light note, I would love to own these. *sigh*

:: But the post can’t end quite yet. No, first I must say,

SHE’S HOME!!!

and

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

stuff’n’nonsense.

:: Does anyone else get a sudden feeling of Martha-move-over when you finally get around to something like vacuuming your lampshades? And maybe it’s silly and not quite deserved, but I confess to savoring those few moments when I fancy myself the consummate housewife.

:: Despite the fact that I live no more than ten minutes from every store under the sun, I find myself not wanting to go shopping any more than when a long trek to Massena was involved. In fact, most of the time, I find myself not wanting to go anywhere. Period. I’d much rather do some chores, tackle a project, make dinner, and wait for Ryan to come home — over and over and over. And should I get itchy, I throw Jameson in the stroller or ergo and take a walk. Am I lazy? Just a home-body? Enjoying the fact that I can stay home because I haven’t entered the music lessons and dance recitals stage of parenting? Whatever it is, I’d rather be home.

:: That said, I think this afternoon holds errands for baby and mama. He took a nice long nap, which allowed for, you know, my Martha activities, and now it’s time to gather my goods from afar — or whatever it is that she does.

:: Ants. They invaded our kitchen last week. Lore and I noticed a few here and there, and I thought they were annoying, but the next day there was a solid black line leading to a solid black squirming pile, devouring some crumb left on the counter. Gross, gross, and gross. I don’t like creeping and crawling. Ants on my picnic blanket are okay; I understand that I’ve invaded their territory. But ants in my kitchen crawling into my dishwasher are something totally different. In this situation, they must die. And, of course, my husband must be the one to kill them. Not me.

:: Spiders. Ryan came home and said, “By the way, at work they told me there are black widows here, so be careful.” Uh, great. So not only do I scream because I hate spiders in general, now I can scream because I might die with that thing near me.

:: Jameson loves to read his books. Usually he just turns page after page, touching his favorite pictures, but sometimes I catch him reading to himself — and it’s so amazingly cute. He also says, “hi,” while holding his hand to his ear. I feel like the phone doesn’t really ring that often, and so it’s funny that of all the things he sees us do, that’s one of the first he’s picked up on. And on Sunday, while sitting on Ryan’s shoulders, he reached around and planted a kiss on Ryan’s cheek. Yes, Ryan almost melted.

:: My baby is becoming a little boy, and I’m absolutely enthralled by the process. When he’s playing with his toys all by himself, or playing chase with Ryan, or standing up (still with help) and being so, so tall, I find it hard to grasp that my baby is this old. But then when he wakes up from his nap, he’ll want to nurse, just to be cuddled near me, and I relish a few moments of babyness. It’s all special, and it all makes my heart swell with such love. What a blessing.

:: Ryan’s been tweaking this site a bit, and I’m going to do my best to keep up with his aspirations for it. That means keeping track of things I like and adding them to the links in the sidebar. It also means writing an “about me” that’s for real and not just the filler he’s got in there now. I just know, deep inside, that this is going to hang over my head for weeks before getting done. One, I’ll never remember. Two, when I do remember and have a minute to write it, I’ll decide I’d rather write a post. Three, I hate, hate, hate writing “about me” stuff. Hate it like I hate spiders.