31 December 2014

pregnant thoughts

Ellie is upstairs, playing with her favorite Christmas presents: an IKEA kitchen, plus "the works" to accompany it (food! pots! tea set!), and a huge collection of matchbox vehicles. I bet you didn't know that you can make Sportscar and Watermelon Stew. Well, you can if you're Ellie, especially when you're wearing an enormous purple tutu. So here I am downstairs, sitting on my giant exercise ball in an attempt to get Jellybean to swivel in the right direction-- no sunny-side-up deliveries, please. She has a new movement pattern these days. Turn a few perfunctory somersaults around lunchtime, and then wiggle gleefully all night long. This does not bode well for my sleep after she's born.

Christmas is always good but I especially enjoy it while I'm pregnant. The physicality of the Incarnation hit me hard the year I was pregnant with Ellie, and once again this year, when I am even further along. I look down at my enormous belly and wonder how Mary ever made it to Bethlehem. I feel Jellybean's tiny body shove against my diaphragm and wonder how Jesus ever fit His divine glory into such a small package.

During our Christmas Eve service, I was overcome with emotion as I thought about what that holy child's arrival means for my own children: that because He became a baby, my babies have an eternal hope.

30 December 2014

no frigate like a book #5


Linked up with Call Her Happy.

1)

A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller

Hard to describe, but I would call this a post-apocalyptic retelling of Western history. After a nuclear holocaust in the 20th century, the survivors include a hardy group of American monks. They preserve the few spared fragments of learning in much the same way that European religious orders protected ancient manuscripts through the medieval era.

Once the nuclear fallout subsides, humanity progresses through recognizable historical stages-- from a rampaging Dark Ages to a politically conniving Enlightenment to a futuristic space age. It's fascinating to see these familiar elements of history recast in new places and with new names, and to wonder if the march of human events really is so inevitable.
They shook hands gingerly, but Dom Paulo knew that it was no token of any truce but only of mutual respect between foes. Perhaps it would never be more.

But why must it all be acted again? The answer was near at hand; there was still the serpent whispering: For God doth know that in what day soever you shall eat thereof, your eyes shall be opened: and you shall be as Gods. The old father of lies was very clever at telling half-truths: How shall you "know" good and evil, until you shall have sampled a little? Taste and be as Gods.
But neither infinite power nor infinite wisdom could bestow godhood upon men. For that there would have to be infinite love as well.
2)

Still Alice by Lisa Genova

A brilliant Harvard psychology professor is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. The most unique aspect of this book is the narrative style. While it is told in third-person, we still view things from Alice's perspective, because Genova does not furnish us with any details that Alice herself wouldn't know. For example, as Alice loses her memory, the other characters are referred to with increasingly vague names: we go from reading about "Lydia" to "her youngest daughter" to simply "the actress." If Alice misses something, we do too, and just like her, we have to figure it out later. I thought this was very well done.

At first I did not like Alice. She seemed to personify everything I hate about modern feminism: looking down on young mothers, finding all her worth in her career, believing that she must be self-sufficient at all costs, clinging to a very narrow definition of success. So I thought that I would struggle to sympathize with her as the book went on. However, I got over my initial dislike and enjoyed the story. I was also pleasantly surprised at how her disease shifts her perspective. Alice realizes that in a time of crisis, all she cares about is her family, about their love and loyalty, not accolades from an academic association. (Sadly, her husband-- equally career-driven-- does not seem to share her new perspective and continues to prioritize his work.)

I fear mental disease more than physical, because I worry about losing control and somehow losing my own identity. If my self-awareness and memory melt away, what do I have left? Have I disappeared too? Is my life worth anything anymore? So I liked what Alice had to say:
My yesterdays are disappearing, and my tomorrows are uncertain, so what do I live for? I live for each day. I live in the moment. Some tomorrow soon, I'll forget that I stood before you and gave this speech. But just because I'll forget it some tomorrow doesn't mean that I didn't live every second of it today. I will forget today, but that doesn't mean that today didn't matter.
3)

In the Province of Saints by Thomas O'Malley

I am glad I read this one. (I brought it home from the library and said "I picked this off the shelf because it looked good." Jared peered at the cover and said "No, you picked it because it looked Celtic." Fair point, my love.)

It's got some salty language and it is neither uplifting nor inspirational, but then I don't usually go for inspirational. It's real, and its darkness is the kind worth reading about: presented well, even quite beautifully. Sometimes you need to read about the hardness of life. I think it's best to read about it in a way that makes your life better-- because it makes you reflect on sober truths or gives you a better eye for hope-- not in a way that makes you throw the book across the room and say "well fine, why don't we all kill ourselves then." (This novel is an example of the former way. For an example of the latter way, see #5.)

Summary: this story follows a young Irish boy through adolescence as he deals with a severely ill mother, an absent father, and the various political/social pressures of poor village life in 1970s-80s Ireland. It has strong themes of betrayal and loyalty, especially concerning the conflicting loyalties we may find ourselves sorting through: demands from our family, from our beliefs, from from our history. The protagonist must choose at several points to whom (or to what cause) he will be faithful. He also has the opportunity to compare himself to the older men in his life, many of whom fail to fulfill responsibilities to their families or communities. I thought the ending was very strong, not at all happy-go-lucky, but full of gritty resolve. And I like grit.
I stopped at a grotto to the Virgin that lay nestled in the side of a hill, and I said a prayer for my mother and my father although I knew it would do no good. My words frosted the air. The Goddess's weather-beaten face, worn smooth and soft, shone beatific in the moon glow. Hers was an altar of rowan branches, wildflowers and moss heather, lichen, and pools of bog water, the type of old-contry shrine that once dotted the lanes and hillsides.

Wrapped in thorns yet serene and calm, the Goddess assured me that everything would be all right, if only I believed. But the thing was, though I wanted to believe, I didn't.
4)

Ellis Island and Other Stories by Mark Helprin

Clearly I have no problem repeating authors. If I enjoy one of his books, why stop there? This one is different because it's a slim collection of short stories, not an enormous novel. Overall, I prefer the novels, because his characters are so great that I want them to go on almost-forever. (Actually, I like novels more than short stories, period. It's so nice to slip into a story and sustain that narrative for a week, two weeks, rather than be done with it in thirty minutes.) It might be especially good for a car trip, when-- if you are like me-- there are snacks and rest stops and whiny toddlers to interrupt your reading flow.

5)

And now for something completely different, I will mention The Valley of Amazement by Amy Tan. This one is horrible, so it does not technically belong on a "five favorites" list. Yet here it is! Simply so I can tell you how horrible it is. It is meandering and depressing and full of terrible sex, as one might expect from a novel about Chinese prostitutes. I read half of it and should have stopped much sooner. Please don't bother.

19 December 2014

Weekend linkage


Here's an interesting article on the Christmas tree industry, specifically in the Pacific Northwest.
In Hal Schudel’s 96 years on earth, he served as a B-24 bomber pilot in World War II, earned a doctorate in agricultural philosophy, raised three sons, bred champion quarter horses and Black Angus cattle. He also fundamentally changed our idea of what a Christmas tree should look like. Hal's innovation took us from the hunter-gatherer age of Christmas trees into today's massive Christmas tree agricultural complex.
Well, this is cool: "Spectacular Ice Formations Atop a Windswept Mountain in Slovenia."

LOOK SOME OF MY FAVORITE THINGS RANDOMLY SMASHED INTO ONE VIDEO! (Specifically Oxford architecture, men singing and being really silly, and Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas.")

"Bored Coworkers Recreate Classic Paintings Using Office Supplies." They're good.

05 December 2014

Family snippets

Jellybean is trying to decide if she wants to go head down or not. Mostly she does, but she also likes to switch it up and lie diagonally. I've been doing a lot of yoga poses to encourage her towards the correct position. Ellie gets annoyed by this, because most involve me being head-down, and she wants to see my face at all times. So she runs up to me, grabs my head and pushes, yelling "Off! Off!" (That is her all-purpose preposition and in this case it means get up.) I have to explain to her that no, she may not push Mommy, and Mommy is going to stand like this for as long as I want, whether she approves or not. Sorry.

I had a midwife appointment this morning. I go every two weeks at the end of my pregnancy; I can't believe that we might only have a month left before Jellybean comes, only one or two more appointments before the actual birth. I hope she does come early. It won't be the end of the world if she is late, and I don't put much stock in due dates, but even when I am freaking out about how I'm going to juggle two small children, I do want her to arrive soon. We can't wait to see what she looks like.

This week Ellie proudly formed her first sentence: "This is a toe!" (while pointing at my bare feet, festively adorned with Water Street Blue). Followed by "This is our car!' and "This is a jacket!" She loves to demonstrate her naming knowledge.

I am finding that as Ellie's mobility grows, so does her mischief. It's not necessarily intentional. This week she has fallen into the bathtub, dumped salt and pepper on the floor, upended a candleholder filled with Indian corn kernels, shut herself into the coat closet, and split open her lip, all out of innocent curiosity. Other times it's clearly premeditated: pulling out all the books on the shelf, pushing a dining room chair over to the whiteboard and drawing on it, splashing in the toilet, putting her sippy cup into the trash can, decorating her face with (washable) markers.

I think she goes on troublemaking streaks. She'll be a little angel all morning and then cram her craziness into the half hour before lunch.

17 November 2014

things I have told Ellie not to eat


Unpeeled tangerines
Candy wrappers
Magnets
Dirt
Coffee grounds
Pine needles
Other people's toothbrushes
Toilet paper
Diaper cream
Price tags
Sharpie markers
Hairspray
Leaves
Mulch
Zinnias
Rotten tomatoes
Grocery lists
My keys
Battery-operated candles
Tissues
Semi-raw chicken from the trash can
Napkins
Spent matches
A piece of cement

And crayons. So many crayons-- I don't know what Crayola puts in those things but they are toddler crack.

07 November 2014

Weekend linkage



"Adventures with George Washington." I giggle easily, but only a few things can actually elicit rip-roaring laughter, and this was one of them.

What kids all around the world eat for breakfast. I'm a sucker for this kind of thing. The pictures of the girls from Istanbul made me miss Turkish breakfasts desperately. Perhaps I should start buying cucumbers and feta to accompany our usual morning fare (which is a panful of eggs, either fried or scrambled, and sourdough bread with lots of butter).

"Undisguised Blessings."
I can look at my life and say I am blessed because I have this hardworking husband. Because I have a house – with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a fenced-in yard, and a refrigerator so full of food that I lose track of things and end up throwing some of it away. Because I have this daughter – who came to life where babies before her did not, who is healthy and robust and vibrant and sleeps almost all night . . . 
[But] I was blessed –that is, receiving undeserved gifts from God– before this, when I did not have a baby. And there is blessing in challenging babies, awkward-looking babies, non-sleeping babies, or babies who won’t latch on to nurse… and there is profound blessing in babies who develop differently. So we misuse the word blessing when we think it only references things we want to call “good.”

"Literary Starbucks." Cute. Haven't you always wondered what your favorite authors and fictional characters would order?

I try to avoid indulging in schadenfreude. But the past week's frantic kerfuffle over that street harassment video has been too good to pass up. From National Review, "How The Far Left Hijacked A Cat-Calling Debate and Started to Eat Itself."

21 October 2014

running from time

Every advertisement in America assumes that we want to look younger, and since advertisers are pretty good at sussing out the mood of the populace, I guess we do. Apparently we are all trying to return to the best days of our lives (defined as "the days when we were unwrinkled, skinny, and burdened by as few responsibilities as possible").

This passion for youthfulness bears ugly fruit: orange spray tans and reconstructed noses always ring false. It's also a phenomenal waste. People shell out extravagant sums for plastic surgery, spend hours sculpting their muscles at Crossfit, and fret endlessly over one too many appetizers eaten at the party last night. Imagine what all that money, time, and energy could achieve! Exercise is great. I love cosmetics and clothes. But how sad to see them demand more of us than our love for God and all He has called us to. (Even worse is when we think that we need to have our appearance nailed down before we can attend to those other things.)

Mrs Adrian Iselin by J.S. Sargent
Anyway, we all lose life eventually. No one defeats age, and I think that embracing truth is typically more attractive than painting on a lie. As we care for ourselves, do we endeavor to  honor what God has created, or do we try to turn ourselves into someone else entirely, a mythical ideal concocted of magazine clippings and hairspray? There's such a difference.

I see wise older women acknowledging who they are, enjoying the beauty that is reserved for their own age, and looking so amazing because of that. Then I see women forcing themselves into a cheap imitation of who they were decades ago, running from time, only to find themselves exhausted, unhappy, and decidedly plasticized.

I am still young myself, but I already notice age altering my hands. They work hard: plunged into hot dishwater, sorting through dirty vegetables, scrubbing mold from shower tiles. The work shows. They're starting to wrinkle and lose their elasticity. I know that one day the rest of my body will follow suit. My veins will stand out and my skin will droop. Some of the damage will be due to the march of time, some to nourishing children, and some to the unforseen mishaps of life. That's okay. I am not interested in fighting reality. I am interested in embracing the beauty God gives me every day.

29 September 2014

a fruit in season


It is a little funny, America's annual affair with pumpkin. That chunky orange sphere is one of the few foods that actually holds up really well over time, and that tastes perfectly fine after being preserved. You can make an equally delicious pumpkin cake in March as in October. But somehow we've got it into our heads that we must make all of our pumpkin rolls and lattes and pies in the autumn, or bust.

(Now asparagus? Blueberries, tomatoes? Those seasonal obsessions I understand. They are truly wretched out of season.)

Perhaps the autumn pumpkin fling is a way for us to pretend that we're still close to nature, that we care about the seasons God created, when really, we have separated ourselves as much as possible. Ironically, I think the people who are most into pumpkin lattes tend to live furthest away from the natural way of things: the big city hipsters who have probably never seen a cornfield or petted a pig.

Not that I dislike big cities. I also like my air conditioning, which allows me to escape seasonal heat, and my car, which allows me to drive south to the beach when it's freezing at home. But I sometimes think that living seasonally is good for us. It reminds us that we can't have everything we want, when we want it. That the world moves in a rhythm larger than our own whims.

I wish I could find a luscious peach in darkest February, though. Though I could find a peach, "luscious" would not describe it.

22 August 2014

Weekend linkage

"You gotta start them from seedlings."
-Jared explains how babies are made


NYT obit for Tom Tierney, who revolutionized paper dolls and "made them into an art form." (What, you don't think paper dolls are interesting? Sorry.)

A British soldier's military kit through the centuries.

Funnies: "I'm Getting Really Tired of Living In This Quaint English Village."
The shipwrecked foreign soldiers I understand. They had no choice to wash up here, and Lord knows we need something for our suspiciously young horde of rich widows with mysterious pasts to do with their time. I suppose all those babies that turn up on the church’s doorstep help with the numbers. It would be nice if they left some identifying papers or medical histories along with the child, rather than broken lockets, faded portraits, or scuffed ancient rings set with moonstone.
"Hello, Stranger On the Street, Could You Please Tell Me How to Take Care of My Baby?"
Oh nice lady, you are probably right! I should definitely cover his face always so he doesn’t get sun on it. If he is exposed to the sun for even one moment, even as I am simply walking from the mechanic to a coffee shop where I have to unexpectedly stop to feed him because my car broke down, he will probably immediately get sun disease or burst into flames.
Kids Rate Fall Fashion Campaigns. ("She’s wearing feathers because she’s a bird werewolf howling at the moon.")

"Give Me Gratitude or Give Me Debt."
In terms of parenting, marriage, home, clothes – I will not be a slave to the Tyranny of Trend any longer. I am almost 40 years old and no catalog is the Boss of Me anymore. I am free. I am not bound to spend my precious days on Earth trying to keep up with the Joneses- because the Joneses are really just a bunch of folks in conference rooms changing “trends” rapidly to create fake monthly emergencies for us.

13 August 2014

no frigate like a book #4


Linked up with Five Favorites.

1)

Loving the Little Years by Rachel Jankovic

This is a pithy book written by a Christian mother to five young ones, offering short bites of encouragement and gentle prodding specifically for moms during "the little years." I enjoyed it very much and will return to it in the future. It would be a great gift for a new mama: that is how it came to me, in fact.
"You may have known families who seemed to have it all together. Everyone to his own military bunk. Dinner from the crockpot at 6:00 pm on the dot. Family worship in the living room. Children quietly doing the dishes afterwards. Then, as the children hit their teen years, you start to see that alongside all that organization was some serious neglect and hurt. It is possible to organize your children right out of the church. So while your children are little, cultivate an attitude of sacrifice. Sacrifice your peace fro their fun, your clean kitchen floor for their help cracking eggs, your quiet moment for their long retelling of a dream that a friend of theirs allegedly had. Prioritize your children far and away above the other work you need to get done. They are the only part of your work that really matters."
2)

Freddy and Fredericka by Mark Helprin

I have quoted from this before but I never actually wrote a review. I read it again this month, and it was just as great as the first time around. To sum up, this hilarious book is about the insane Prince of Wales (Freddy), his vapid wife (Fredericka), and their quest to reconquer the United States of America, during which they discover that they are neither insane nor vapid, but instead marvelous human beings who love each other-- and America-- beyond all reason. It's always hard to sum up Helprin but that's the best I can do.

A representative passage:
". . . automobiles are the river of life in this country. When you get one, even this one, you're back in the game, but as soon as you lose one, you're in trouble. Haven't you noticed that? In America, the car is the second chance. They lift you from your troubles and set you into the heartbeat of the country."
"And what is the heartbeat of the country?" Fredericka asked sceptically.

"Being nowhere, on the way to somewhere, with music, on the open road," Freddy told her. "All the rest is the baggage of Europe, sometimes well developed and extended, sometimes not. But this motion, this ongoingness, this rolling, these hypnotic wheels, this particular glory, is exclusively American-- their transcendence."

"Freddy, shut up!"
And one more:
He dreamt of her and she of him. She became his world, and he hers. He found in her, in her body, in her laugh, in the way she moved, in what she said, more than he ever had thought he could find. And she found in him the same.

They had a forbidding lake and supernatural winds. They had night, cold, and the exhaustion of work. And they had the stainless steel vat and their warm bed. One evening, as they stared into the kerosene fire, he said, "We're like poor people, who have nothing but each other, and are happy. What is it called when two people have such a passion only for one another?"
(I actually think Helprin should have shortened Freddy and Fredericka by twenty-five percent. At one point far too much time is spent on a set of secondary characters, causing the Prince and Princess to fall by the wayside, and the story drags. Once we get back to the main storyline, everything vastly improves.)

3)

In the Shadow of the Banyan by Vaddey Ratner

This was a book club selection, one I never would have picked up otherwise. It's semi-autobiographical. We agreed, in our discussion, that its defining characteristic was beauty: though her novel covers the horrendous events of the Khmer Rouge regime during the late 1970s, Ratner manages to leave a lasting impression of lovely things and people. The protagonist, Rami, is supposed to be seven years old but has a deeper, more philosophical understanding of the world than any seven-year-old I know.

4)

Kristin Lavransdatter by Sigrid Undset, translated by Tiina Nunally

Oh man. This is good. After having this Norwegian trilogy ceaselessly recommended to me for about a year, I finally read it, and found it immensely satisfying.

The characters: Kristin and her strong, sad parents, Erlend with his dangerous charm, Gunnulf and Brynhild and the many others who populate this vivid world. The setting: I knew nothing about medieval Norway beforehand, but thanks to Undset's careful research (and some helpful forewords) I fell straight into it. The fullness: I tend to like long books because they actually finish telling the story, rather than squashing a truncated version into a slim-spined paperback. With the ten-pound doorstops beloved of my heart-- The Lord of the Rings, A Soldier of the Great War, The Count of Monte Cristo-- I can stay in a fictional world long enough to get to know it.

One thing I found especially interesting was the portrayal of women in Kristin's society. On one hand, they were subject to some of the classic prejudices you might think of: many were excluded from political affairs on grounds of a weak intellect, they usually received a second-rate education, and their sexual indiscretions were far more harshly judged than those of a man. On the other hand, a married woman exerted a great deal of authority over her husband's household-- in practice even if not officially-- including land management, servants, finances, and so forth. One of Erlend's first actions as a husband is to fasten a large ring of keys to Kristin's belt, signifying her high place on his estate. It was also illegal to marry girls off against their will, and for those who entered a convent (not always their choice) there awaited a life quite independent of "male control," apart from the spiritual authority of bishops and popes.

One thing I found especially annoying was the names. Kristin is the daughter of Lavrans Bjorgulfsson, hence Lavransdatter as her surname. Erlend is the son of Nikulaus Munanson, and so his surname is Nikulaussøn. Meanwhile, Kristin and Erlend's sons bear the surname Erlendsson, and any daughters would have been Erlendsdatter. Basically, families don't share consistent surnames and it drove me crazy trying to figure out who was related to whom!

5)

1491 by Charles C. Mann

Jared is probably glad that I finished this book, because I talked his ear off while I was making my way through it. As Mann says, it is about "the Western Hemisphere before 1492," which was
. . . a thriving, stunningly diverse place, a tumult of languages, trade, and culture, a region where tens of millions of people loved and hated and worshipped as people do everywhere. Much of this world vanished after Columbus, swept away by disease and subjugation. So thorough was the erasure that within a few generations neither conquerer nor conquered knew that this world had existed. Now, though, it is returning to view. It seems incumbent on us to take a look.
Two main points stick in my memory: first, the fickleness of "settled science." I've thought about this in relation to other topics, mainly medicine and diet, but it was confirmed clearly here. Mann repeatedly shows how scientists allow their reputations, ideologies, and even political agendas to interfere with objective research or reporting. History is supposedly settled by a particular archeological dig, and textbooks for decades afterwards teach, say, that mankind came to America via a shortlived land bridge-- had a relatively small population-- and led a nomadic, hunter-gatherer type of life. When evidence turns up flatly contradicting that original narrative, the original archeologists throw a fit instead of revising their ideas. As a result, students keep learning an outdated model of history instead of being able to appreciate a more full (and interesting) story.

Second, the enormous scope of humanity. One of Mann's main points is that the Indians were not a passive people, floating in a state of suspended animation and childlike "union with Mother Earth" for millennia. That is the popular image today, one that purports to be respectful but is in reality rather degrading. After all, it is absurd to think that people would live generation after generation in the same manner, failing to grow in any appreciable way. Everywhere else in the world, people philosophized, built civilizations, and shaped their environments. How silly to assume that the Indians did not do the same thing.

As Mann points out, there is abundant evidence to show that-- just like everybody else on planet Earth-- Indians in both North and South America were incredibly numerous before Columbus arrived, that they wrote poetry and engineered sophisticated cities, and that they shaped Nature to fit their own ends. We are rediscovering what they must have achieved, from terracing mile-high slopes of the Andes to turning the Amazon basin into an artificial orchard, and it's pretty fantastic.

I love this, because instead of asking us to "respect the poor Indians" out of guilt, or trying to make us admire their primitive "simplicity," Mann demonstrates that they were normal humans, with just as much dignity and creativity as the rest of us. Too many portrayals of Native Americans paint them as a separate race, either as the noble savage or the uncivilized terror. What about seeing them as people?

11 July 2014

Weekend linkage

1)

Why You Are Wrong. This applies to just about every internet debate out there.
I shall now appeal to authority by quoting a philosopher who agrees with my premise, thereby wrapping my argument in the wisdom of the ages. Yes, I said a philosopher—a guy who gets paid to sit around all day and think about stuff like this. Are you a philosopher? No? You don’t spend all day thinking about stuff? What’s that? This topic isn’t in your area of expertise at all? Just checking. Because my guy was thinking hard with his brain his whole life about stuff like this, and he agrees with me.
2)

"The seven deadliest fashion trends of all time." You know you want to read that.

3)

"Why Icelanders are wary of elves living beneath rocks." You want to read that too.

4)

Two from The Toast: "The Hobbit, Improved" (Chapter Ten: Absolutely Zero Goblins But Plenty Of Sandwiches And A Good Steady Fire) and "Every English Novel Ever" (make sure to read the suggestions in the comments, which had me laughing till tears came).

5)

Funny post on childhood obsessions (again, the comments are gold).

6)

"Snacks of the Great Scribblers." Whitman's did not surprise me at all.

7)

"The Pathetic Provincialism of American Feminists." Amen to this.
One of the few insights from Karl Marx still relevant is the need for international solidarity among oppressed people. If American women truly believed they were oppressed, they would have all the more reason to zealously advocate for the liberation of their African and Asian sisters . . . In an irony invisible to the Left, American feminism has become an elitist expression of upper-class concerns. Highly educated and paid women endlessly describe their own inconveniences, while ignoring the legitimate suffering of the poor, in foreign countries and their own cities.

27 June 2014

Weekend linkage

1)

Five hundred years of female portraits in Western art. Guess what happens once we hit Picasso? All the women get really ugly, and it's considered avant-garde. I weep for humanity.

2)

If Upworthy reported on church history.  ("The Council Of Nicea met to discuss the identity of Christ. They had no idea what they were in for!")

3)

Ice cream flavors inspired by six favorite books. Too bad these aren't real.

But you know what are? Candles scented like your favorite books!

4)

Jump jump jump!

5)

Regrettable facts about life in infographic form.

6)

Five reasons why this is the greatest World Cup ever . . . from England's perspective.
If ever we wish to win again at the game we invented, [Rooney] suggested, then we will have to learn to cheat like all the filthy foreigners with their effeminate hairstyles, their casual fouling and their extravagant diving. But obviously we can't do that sort of thing because then we'd look like the kind of people who still live with their mothers and eat garlic on toast and ride around piazzas on mopeds. Which is why we prefer to lose because it shows our national superiority.
7)

Here, something serious for a change. "Is Mocking Women Really the Best Way to Sell Shampoo?" by Mollie Hemingway, who is awesome. (In my opinion, modern-day feminists are unbelievably confused and hypocritical. The mind boggles.)
I’m actually not of the mind that men and women need to act exactly the same in their vocations and relationships. I think that men and women being distinct is a feature, not a bug, of humanity. But if someone is going to change, why do feminists — and the capitalists who adopt their messaging — always seem to think women need to be more like men? Whether it’s about leaning in or not being pregnant or not letting children interfere too much with career or, now, not being polite — why is it always women who have to be more like men and not men who need to be more like women?

20 June 2014

Weekend linkage

1)

No news on the jellybean front; it is growing, I assume, and I am still sick. This week I have looked in the mirror a few times and thought "Hey, I look pregnant!" which is nice. I dislike the in-between stage where you just look bloated and thick. Now I'm moving towards a legit bump.

We have moved Ellie to a one-nap schedule in an attempt to get her to sleep longer in the morning. It seems to have done the trick! Now she sleeps until 7 or even 7:30, rather than crowing us all awake at 6. And she seems much happier, too; she had been acting uncharacteristically cranky, and I chalk it up to insufficient sleep at night.

I think she comes close to eating her body weight some days. She's constantly snooping in the kitchen and making her signs for "food" or "water" . . . I don't know where she puts it all, because she is so tiny. She looks a little taller to me lately, but still, not chubby (apart from her bulbous baby belly).

2)

The funnies: "What the British Say and What They Really Mean." You can apply this to most of the World Cup commentators: "he's taken a bit of a tumble" means "he's gone sprawling head over heels across the pitch and is now writhing in agony."

The agony and ecstasy of life with a toddler. Reading books to Ellie is EXACTLY as they describe.

Prince George is not amused. The last one really makes me giggle.

"Client Feedback on the Creation of the Earth." Ha ha.

3)

This is the weirdest: "Sabbath Elevators." It makes me think of living alongside the Amish here in Lancaster. You can respect them for their stubbornness, but-- if you're me-- you mostly shake your head at their ingenious workarounds and wish they would just get cars so you don't get stuck behind a buggy for ten minutes on a winding road.

4)

Interesting if you have time for a long (and fairly graphic) read: Paul Fussell's "Thank God for the Atomic Bomb."

5)

"Inside an Amazon Warehouse." You may find this interesting if you purchase as much from Amazon as we do!

6)

I had a post published on Ricochet this week. The post itself isn't anything special-- it's a question about teaching American history, specifically, how one can honestly present our "warts" without compromising on our country's genuine greatness. The comments are the good part, as is typical of Ricochet (the only place I know on the internet where comments are reliably well-informed and civil, due in no small part to the fact that you have to pay for a membership in order to comment!).

18 June 2014

ting tang walla walla bing bang

Linked up with Five Favorites.
"The Bishop looked thoughtfully about at the white jars on the shelves. 'You are very advanced in your theories of medicine, are you not, Monsieur Auclair?'

"'On the contrary, I am very old-fashioned. I think the methods of the last century better than those of the present time.'

"'Then you do not believe in progress?'

"'Change is not always progress, Monseigneur.' Auclair spoke quietly, but there was meaning in his tone."

-from Shadows on the Rock by Willa Cather
In which, agreeing with M. Auclair in my skepticism of new-fangled drugs, I tell you about "natural medicine cabinet" items that get the job done.

1)

Arnica montana. This is a homeopathic remedy. While plenty of people have deemed homeopathy a total crock, do you know of another way to erase bruises and drastically reduce soreness without any side effects or fear of overdose, even for babies? Well?

I took it when I got my wisdom teeth out and had hardly any bleeding; I only needed two ibuprofen afterwards. I gave it to Ellie when she fell off the bed (bad mommy award), and the impending goose egg on her forehead vanished. I gave it to her again when she tumbled all the way` down the stairs, and she ended up with a bruise smaller than a kernel of corn, nothing more. I am not terribly familiar with homeopathy and couldn't provide you with a scientific defense, but arnica works.

These tablets are intended to dissolve in the mouth, not to be swallowed. If you need to give them to a child too young to know the difference, dissolve the recommended dosage in a few drops of water and administer it on a spoon.

2)

Oscillococcinum and elderberry syrup. Homeopathy once again! Oscillo kicks the flu in its nasty viral tush. I caught the flu a few times in college, and oscillo always helped me to get over it quickly, rarely even missing a class. This past winter, I woke up one morning with symptoms-- severe aches and chills, you know that lovely feeling-- and when paired with elderberry, this remedy helped me to recover within 24 hours.

Elderberry does a number on influenza. I've also heard that it is a good immune support when taken on a regular basis and can help with colds, but I have not had much luck with that-- just with flu. I know that it's much cheaper to make your own and I plan to try that when I empty my current bottle.

3)

Oregano oil. This is a very potent anti-fungal and anti-viral remedy. If you have ever had to deal with such awesome, super-attractive afflictions as ringworm or toenail fungus, you know that you want them gone quick. Dilute it with a carrier oil (I use almond or coconut): you can find safe dilution ratios here.

4)

Breathe EO Blend. This is from doTERRA and is somewhat pricey, but as you'll be diluting it, the bottle lasts longer than you may expect. For coughing and congestion, you can apply it to the bottoms of your feet, or you can diffuse it (which is safest for infants).

5)

Lympha Rub. This is a an essential oil remedy from Trilight Health. I've used it for achy-breaky flu symptoms and swollen glands. It works very well, and since it is premixed you don't need to dilute it yourself.

Have you ever heard this song? I'm not sure why we know it, but anyway, I include it here because we jokingly call our naturopath /chiropractor "the witch doctor." And because it's funny.)

13 June 2014

Weekend linkage

1)

Funny things: "English professor suddenly realizes students will believe anything she says."

Actors hanging out with their body doubles.

"A manifesto against the tyranny of luxury kitchens."

These shirts are fantastic: 1, 2, 3.

2)

Do you know why I haven't been posting much lately?

Do ya do ya do ya?

3)

We have another jellybean on the way, that's why!

4)

Relatively speaking, I feel good, not as sick as I was with Ellie. The stomach flu last week was worse than any morning sickness I have experienced thus far. Mostly I'm tired . . . and I hate coffee.

This particular bean should arrive at the beginning of January. Jared and I are so delighted that God has added another child to our family. I have no idea what Ellie will do once she realizes that she's a big sister, but it should be entertaining.

5)

Lovely and true.

6)

"Why the College Board is Revising US History."

09 June 2014

Weekend-adjacent linkage

1)

This week I worried a lot. Ellie met a stomach bug for the first time and couldn't keep anything down for over 24 hours. We eventually took her to urgent care to check on her hydration level, and were a few hours away from visiting the emergency room for an IV. Fortunately, she finally stopped throwing up and started to drink breastmilk and Pedialyte.

She is okay now. It was just scary for me: I don't worry when she coughs or sneezes or has a fever or a rash, but throwing up is another ball game. I don't know why. We got the stomach flu multiple times as kids, and it wasn't a bit deal (I mean, gross, but no cause for concern). It seems different when a pipsqueak like Ellie is vomiting up everything she puts in her mouth. She really is a pipsqueak, too. They weighed her at urgent care and she was barely 20 pounds!

By the way, any suggestions for a more "natural" version of Pedialyte? I am not thrilled about the multiple artificial ingredients.

2)

And then I got the stomach bug too. It was the worst.

3)

On to frivolity! Here are 24 hair hacks that I will actually use, from Elle.

And here are Russian illustrations of Lord of the Rings. They are thoroughly awesome. Make sure you look at all four posts!

4)

This is excellent, I thought: Who Has the Worst Kids?
When I was a new mum I absolutely loved being a mother and I was always so disheartened by the culture among mums of complaining about all the horrid things their kids did and joking about offering them up for sale . . .

It's a damaging lie to think that by disparaging my children I will make the other mother feel better about her kids, because the truth is I'm not only exposing my kids when they aren't at an age to defend themselves, I'm also giving the other mother permission to try and say something worse about her kids to make me feel better about mine. 
5)

"What Are We Teaching Our Daughters?" I so agree with this writer: advanced domestic skills are useful, delightful, well worth the time. But they are not the essence of femininity or even of homemaking.
Learning how to make croissants took half an hour with youtube; developing a worldview took years of reading, writing and discussions with Mum while she made meals and cleaned bathrooms . . .

Perhaps the greatest things a mother can teach her daughter are the greatness and beauty of Christ, self-denial, and the ability to learn through life. None of those are directly related to house work. But all of them make and shape the woman who scrubs her bathtub with thankfulness.
6)

"Why Society Needs to Trust Parents, Not Authorities."

7)

Excellent. Now you can hear the original D-Day broadcasts read by the likes of Patrick Stewart, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Toby Jones.

31 May 2014

Weekend linkage

1)

Ellie and I spent much of last week, and some of this, with my parents. Jared had gone on a missions trip so we went to mooch off Grandma and Grandpa. Ellie was beside herself with excitement when they took her to a park with a STREAM that she could SPLASH IN, or when I'd go outside with her to sit on the swing and watch my dad work on the chicken coop.

2)

Funny: the best foot-in-mouth quotations from history.

3)

This will be interesting: Netflix airing new drama about Queen Elizabeth II.

4)

From The New Atlantis, excerpts from what looks like a fascinating book: "The Population Control Holocaust" and "The Truth about DDT."

The book is Merchants of Despair: Radical Environmentalists, Criminal Pseudo-Scientists, and the Fatal Cult of Antihumanism, by Robert Zubrin.

5)

"The Rat Hunters of New York."

6)

Rating your parents' terrible grocery store coffee

7)

Members of the Washington Ballet demonstrate their hardest moves . . . in slow motion. Very cool.

21 May 2014

ahoy, discoveries! vol. 17 [not-so-homemade edition]

Linked up with Five Favorites.


1)

Kiss My Face Whenever shampoo and conditioner. They are perfectly balanced, neither drying nor oily. Since I started using these and generally stripping things back with my hair care, I have loved the result. I found out that I needed fewer products to make my hair look good; I either scrunch it with some mousse and hairspray for a wavy look, or let it air dry, add some argan oil serum, and finish it off with the hairdryer and flat iron.

The green tea and lime extracts in this pairing smell great, as does the lavender in my favorite shaving cream (also from Kiss My Face). Since showers are one of my few "me times," I like to make 'em as nice as possible. :)

2)

Earthpaste! It's good stuff. Jared doesn't think that anything made of clay and salt can properly clean one's teeth. I beg to differ. It makes my mouth feel truly sparkling-- unlike many other toothpastes-- and tastes good without being too sweet.

3)

To go along with the Earthpaste: I have very sensitive gums, so I've started to buy Preserve ultra soft toothbrushes. They have a slightly annoying "we're lean and green and make our products from recycled yogurt cups" schtick. All I care about is how incredibly soft the bristles are.

4)

Cetaphil Restoraderm. I have recurring eczema and dry skin, so this was recommended to me by a dermatologist. Cetaphil claims to use "ceramide technology" to repair damaged skin. Hmm, okay. Whether or not that's marketing mumbo-jumbo, it's thick and creamy and definitely does the job well.

5)

I saved the best for last: Tanzia Omega Skin Repair. My face is at times the bane of my existence. You may recall its many trials and tribulations during pregnancy. Even after I had Ellie, it has often flared without any apparent reason. I had been using straight organic argan oil, which was the only thing I could find that wouldn't irritate the rash. This moisturizer, however, has done far more than simply "not irritate": it actually heals. It's also extremely light, and never makes me feel greasy. I almost cried the first week I used it, because I had forgotten what a smooth, healthy face felt like.

No es cheapo, but worth the money for me.

09 May 2014

Weekend linkage

1)

This week in the Adventures of Ellie: she ate dandelion seeds, found Jared's hunting knife,  figured out how to pull tissues out of the box, hid her Crocs in my rainboots, tried to uproot my pepper seedlings, made it over halfway up the stairs before we discovered her, and dropped as many things as she could into the bathtub.

I've been sorting through a lot of pictures, deleting the blurry ones and so on. While doing that, I decided that for the first seven months of Ellie's life, I looked utterly horrible . . . flat hair, puffy face, lumpy and schlumpy. And then, sometime right before Thanksgiving, I suddenly got my hair-and-clothing mojo back.

At least that's what I think now. At the time, though, I felt beautiful and confident: I had a gorgeous little baby, I was busy, I was healthy, and I wasn't putting any pressure on myself to lose weight or anything. It's only a year later that I feel so critical. Weird, huh?

2)

Frivolity: 20 Curious Victorian Words and Sayings, Charles James' extraordinarily heavy dresses, the quest for the Holy Cookie, and what's in a chef's fridge.

4)

Here's a great obituary: Walter Walsh Dies at 106, Terrorized Gangsters and Targets.
On his 100th birthday, in 2007, his family served three cakes. One bore the F.B.I. seal, another the five rings of the Olympic Games, and the third the seal of the United States Marine Corps. He was also the guest of honor at a re-enactment of the Brady Gang shootout in Bangor and was given the key to the city.
So you can imagine the stories that guy had to tell. Read the whole thing for some real-life heroism.

5)

David McCullough's five history lessons for high school students. McCullough is so wonderful. I learned history without memorizing dates-- as he says, it's more important to know what happened and why-- and I remain convinced that this is why I still love history.

6)

"The Left's Line on School Choice Is a Joke from the 1800s."
For millennia, philosophers have agreed that people should rank their families above other duties, even important ones. To Aristotle, to Aquinas, to the Confucian sage Mencius, this principle was plain as day. Common sense accords with their teachings.

Handicapping your own kids to provide an unproven benefit to a few other children is neither honorable nor brave. Prioritizing your kin is not a sin to atone for. It is a marker of moral humanity.
7)

Provocative piece on the British Empire in Africa, written by a Nigerian: "The Glory That Was Empire." Please note that it contains some graphic descriptions of barbaric execution methods.
Surely the time has come to question openly what went so terribly wrong. And, surely, we owe it to ourselves to make our questions frank, searching and to the point. How and why, under British rule, did matters progress from mediaeval barbarity to emergent modern statehood in one 50-year timespan, only to regress so soon after independence into mediaeval barbarity again during the next?
8)

This is cool: "Humble Hero Saves Teen Fell Onto Subway Tracks."
After he helped Xue, the father of three went home and barely mentioned the incident to his family or to his colleagues the following morning. “I give all the glory to Lord Jesus,” Garcia concluded. “I was glad to help and to show her that there are good people out there.”
9)

If you'd like a thoughtful and irreverent podcast to listen to this afternoon, here you go: the latest episode of The Hinderaker-Ward Experience. All the news that you've been hearing about anyway, but with more realistic (read: conservative) commentary.

10)

What We Et:
Meatballs and pesto pasta + salad
Rosemary lemon chicken kebabs + balsamic broccoli
Thai chicken salad + oranges
Chicken marsala + brown rice + salad

02 May 2014

Weekend linkage

1)

Ellie has crossed the threshold from "walking is kind of cool" to "WALKING IS AWESOME!!!!" As a result, she can speed from room to room, and get into all sorts of new trouble.

I often say to myself, now, She won't do this forever. Sometimes that is in relation to something cute: She won't always read her books upside down. She won't always think that a bag of coffee beans is the best toy in the world. And sometimes it is in relation to something unpleasant: She won't always scream when I set her down on the floor. Either way, that phrase--she won't do this forever--helps me to treasure a small joy or carry a challenge more easily.

2)

I am (almost) ashamed of how funny I find most Buzzfeed listicles. This one is quite amusing: Socially Awkward Animals. Especially the plotting hamster.

3)

Some links on words: first up, "Bubble Vocabulary." I am ashamed of how large my bubble vocabulary is. And I seriously don't know how to pronounce things. I've said "PHO-to-gra-pher" for photographer, and "REP-tacle" for receptacle. I think this is a drawback of reading so far above my maturity level when I was younger; I got the gist of the story but skipped words I didn't really understand. #humblebrag 

"The Grammar of Clickbait." I hate, hate, hate clickbait. You say I'll never guess what happens next? Yeah? Bet I can.

Rose Wilder giving Laura writing advice. Honestly, I think a lot of what she says is just silly. She thinks too highly of literary tropes, and not far enough outside the box. Just let your mother tell her story, Rose!

"An Eater's Eye View of Literature's Most Iconic Meals." Food and books, all the best things.

4)

Can You Hide From Big Data?

5)

Interesting article on "stay at home mom" versus "homemaker." I have strong and detailed opinions on the whole issue of, um, Women and What to Do With Them . . .  but anyway. I love "homemaker" because it is active (rather than the passive "oh, I just stay at home" image) and it allows room for the great number of activities that may comprise motherhood, wifehood, house-tending, and everything else one might be doing with oneself from day to day . . . much of which takes place outside of the home proper.

I don't agree with most of this author's underlying assumptions, because it's Slate, but the last two paragraphs are quite nice.

6)

Unexpected scenes from the past. The image of modern, Westernized Afghan women of the 50s is haunting, knowing what happened to them later under the Taliban.

7)

Been enjoying Sara Groves.



8)

What We Et:
Baked potato bar (with sausage, broccoli cheddar sauce, and mushrooms) 
Olive oil chicken thighs + creamed spinach + fried potatoes 
Macaroni and cheese from the freezer
Pizza (with chicken, spinach, mushrooms, onions, and peppers) + strawberries 
Lime chicken stirfry + basmati rice

28 April 2014

as if this were the last time

Ellie woke up at 6:20 this morning.

I nursed her, then slipped her back into the crib, hoping to have at least half an hour more to myself. No luck. We soon landed on the couch, Ellie jabbering happily as she looked out the window. I was cranky. Not only had she woken me up before my alarm, which usually goes off at 6:30, but her chirpy wiggly presence also made it impossible to have my devotions. (If I tried she'd either shriek so loud I couldn't concentrate, or try to rip the pages out of the Bible.) It was not a good start to the day.

But what if this is the last time I get to do this?

Sometimes I am trying to grade papers or do heavy-duty research, and I'm just getting into a groove when Ellie decides that now would be a good time for me to read her a book. She comes over and pulls on me, wails despairingly, drips tears everywhere. I really don't want to close the computer. This is an important project, Ellie! Why can't you read the book by yourself? I don't think it is necessary for me to get down on the floor. I could ignore her crying and soldier on with my work. She'll get over it.

But what if this is the last time I get to do this?

Psalm 16 says, "The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance." Currently, my boundary lines include a crucial responsibility to my child. Responsibility that trumps all the others. I was challenged, this morning, to believe God's word: that these are pleasant lines, and that His gift to me is beautiful, even when it seems inconvenient.

And Ellie is not an inconvenience! She is part of my inheritance today, a precious body and soul who may be the only baby we ever welcome into our family. It took a long time for me to get pregnant. I have no idea if I'll be able to conceive again, so I usually consider her, and my experiences with her (from early wake-up calls to reading The Very Busy Spider for the millionth time), as one time events. I try to treasure them accordingly. I cannot count on having more babies, and say to myself "Oh well... even if I ignore her now, I'll make it up with her younger siblings." Of course, that would be an awful thing to say even if I knew that we would have ten more kids, but still!

Remembering that I cannot take Ellie for granted helps me to push aside my own desires and happily take her up on my lap once again.

Older moms never tire of telling me that time zooms by, that she'll be graduating from high school before I know it. Well, it's true. I'm not going to spend these short years lamenting Ellie's failure to adhere to my schedule, or her propensity to interrupt my other work. She is my most important work, and I love her more than sleep or tidy research or a quiet cup of coffee.
The years of our life are seventy,
or even by reason of strength eighty;
yet their span is but toil and trouble;
they are soon gone, and we fly away . . .
So teach us to number our days
that we may get a heart of wisdom . . .
Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
(Psalm 90)

11 April 2014

Weekend linkage

1)

Yesterday morning Ellie hit two important milestones: she figured out how to climb stairs (though not how to come down) and how to walk, i.e. with more than two steps at a time (now she toddles sideways like a baby crab).


Yay?

2)

From The Atlantic: "The Culture of Shut Up."
These cycles of pearl-clutching followed by either abject sorrow or banishment are of course driven by news outlets looking to score a few hits or viewers by drumming up controversy.

But they’re also driven by us, as viewers and readers, all of us part of the culture of shut up. It plays out in the defining down of “hate speech” on liberal college campuses and in the defining down of “anti-American” at conservative conferences . . .

Yes, it’s in some ways a natural response to being more connected to one another; we’re just in each other’s faces. But it’s also dangerous. It narrows the visible spectrum of ideas. It encourages people to be safe and cautious and circumspect when we don’t want people to be safe. We don’t want people to be afraid of saying something interesting on the off chance it’s taken the wrong way.
3)

From The Economist: "The Homeschool Conundrum." This centers on the Romeikes, the German homeschooling family currently taking refuge in Lexington, Kentucky. It's not as much of a conundrum as talking heads like to think. Anyway, an interesting article contrasting Germany's fear of "different" with America's tendency (thus far) to err on the side of individual choice.
Americans assume that most parents try to do what is best for their children. That can be an uncomfortable principle (there are some daft parents, among them Lexington on a bad day). But the alternative—the presumption that the state knows best—is worse.
4)

The quickest way to peel apples. I don't think my husband would be okay with this . . .

5)

This also made me laugh: Kid Snippets does a weight loss infomercial. "Is it gwuten fwee? Ohhhh yes it is!" Honestly, I find everything that Kid Snippets does completely hilarious, from the cooking show ("Today we're going to add some crazy stuff") to the math class ("Do you get it NOW?!") to the sick baby ("So you fed her the flower cookies?") to the presidential debate ("I'm the smartest because I can make my ears talk all by themselves").

Aaaand I just spent way too long on their channel.

6)

Daily dose of squee: baby elephants learning to use their trunks.

07 April 2014

here's to listening

Last week I assigned my students a particular type of expository essay; it was meant to be a reflection on some "mundane" aspect of their lives. I wanted them to explore it a bit, and see how significant it actually is. I especially wanted to get them thinking about how everyday objects and actions are connected to deeper realities (you know how G.K. Chesterton was always turning bits of chalk or cracks in the ceiling into miniature philosophical treatises? something along those lines).

Anyway, I typically send them essay examples written by previous students. However, since this was the first year I've tried this assignment, I had to write an example myself. Here it is. :)


---

this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart with me (in my heart)

-e.e. cummings

Two individuals may eventually have such similar desires and views, even similar memories, that they seem completely unified across astronomical distances. Though this e.e. cummings poem describes the bond of romance, that bond can also spring up in fortunate families. I have had such fortune. There are six of us children, raised by two (remarkably forbearing) parents. Now our thoughts often diverge, especially as most of us have launched into adulthood. Yet the views we still share run deep, and our interlocking memories run deepest. Funnily enough, many of them come from the radio—the magical pipeline of drama, music, and news still weaving itself through our everyday.

I call it funny because the radio doesn't turn heads anymore. It does not strike us as particularly significant, as we have grown used to it in the background and the internet has superseded it in many ways. Among the shiny furnishings of modern life, who would choose the radio over laptops or phones? But consider the revolution incited by radio waves. Suddenly we had orchestras and baseball games in a box. People did not have to play the piano themselves in order to hear Rachmaninov; they could enjoy all sorts of entertainment that formerly required tickets and travel. They did not have to wait for the next day's paper to hear about political goings-on; with speech floating on air, they could immediately hear what was going on at the other side of the country, even the world. Think of FDR's “fireside chats” during World War II, how a worried wartime nation valued that direct communication.

What about today? What did the radio offer me and my siblings as children, and why do I still love it? Back in the nineties, the internet was nothing, and though we had television, there was something special about the radio: the imagination it demanded. Like television, it provided an immediate connection to the world at large, but it did not spoon-feed us the images. We had to think.
 
I remember hurriedly finishing our post-dinner chores so that we could listen to Adventures in Odyssey, a weeknight radio drama for children. The memorable characters with their hilarious mistakes and heartwarming apologies, not to mention their crazy voyages in the science-fiction “Imagination Station,” made for endless entertainment. Then on Saturday mornings we turned up the radio again for Ranger Bill: forest rangers facing off against everything from rattlesnakes to radioactive deer. We had fertile imaginations ourselves, and these long-running storylines only stoked our creativity. Ours is the type of family that speaks in references and quotations—unless you have shared our history you probably won't understand half of our conversation—and oh, how those tales stocked our supply.

Of course we had music. This was my mother's preferred background noise: not the admittedly silly radio dramas, but music. (Her actual preferred background noise was silence. Since her six hooligans mysteriously refused to comply, quality music sufficed, even when it involved electric guitars.) This too shaped us. Not only did we speak in story references, we also started to sing constantly. I was never much for memorizing lyrics, but my brothers were whizzes at it, and if I couldn't memorize I could hum. We harmonized as we built Lego castles and mowed the lawn and drove to church—when we are together, we still do.

The music I want to hear over my own radio now that I am a mom is almost 100 percent classical, for a variety of reasons. In the first place, I have one small child. After growing up with a passel of siblings, something has to fill the quiet. In the second place, well, I have one small child! She can cause enough chaos on her own (even if she doesn't generate much noise as she does it). The order and beauty of classical music grounds me when I am contemplating a floor covered with baby toys. In addition, as my baby grows up, I would like her to absorb that order and beauty on a regular basis. So much creativity, such fascinating history, awaits in the concertos and symphonies aired on the radio. I want her mind to be wrapped in it too. So we tune in to Tchaikovsky almost every day.

In the car I crank pop hits. Nothing like a little Top 40 to balance the heavy-hitting orchestral suites.
 
NPR is actually our usual fare on road, and often in the house too. I grew up with NPR. I remember my dad listening to Car Talk as he did projects around the house. He was listening to All Things Considered when he picked me up from ballet class in the afternoon. On weekends he did impressions of Garrison Keillor, the host of Prairie Home Companion, or we danced along to Celtic music, or we scratched our head over opera on weekend afternoons. When we heard programs together, we had something to talk about; even if we disagreed with what the program said it fueled thought and conversation.

So this last bit, the news and talk radio, I listen to partially for sentiment's sake. Apart from that, I listen because it exercises my noggin. Those radio personalities introduce me to new things every day. Though they deal in facts, not the fiction of the dramas we soaked up years ago, facts can inspire my imagination too. Especially since I cannot see the people, places, or events under discussion, I have to employ my brain to fill in the images. In that way I become a participant in the program, which I prefer to sitting passively in front of a television screen. As this noggin of mine is frequently occupied with grocery lists and diapers, I relish the chance to expand its scope. I have always believed in the importance of education. Politics, history, philosophy—four years after graduating from college, the radio lets me keep learning, even in the middle of everyday life.

In fact, that's one of the best things about the radio: it happens “in the middle” of things. I can have music in the background without taking time to play it myself. I can turn a dish-washing session into a history lecture with the push of a button. Because these things happen so easily, not only for me but for the other members of my family, we still have that fuel for discussion when we see one another. Even when we live hours apart, we can hear the same programs. The radio that drew us together after dinner almost twenty years ago continues to foster our connection.

What a person hears certainly shapes what he thinks. It shapes what he remembers, too. As that one person carries his memories and thoughts forward, consider how he might also carry the memories and thoughts of others, simply because they have heard the same things. Surprisingly often, in our family we heard those “same things” on the radio. Mundane as it is, I still see it as a bit of a magic-worker, depositing the larger world in our kitchens and living rooms and cars. Here's to listening.

29 March 2014

happy birthday, mousie.


Also known as:
Pumpkin
Little Love
Beansprout
Ellie Belly
Munchkin 
Sweet Potato
You Little Stinker

Oh, Ellie. You've taught me a lot this year.

I have learned to be grateful for my body as it carried and nourished you.

Your unrelenting obsession with mamamamama has made me so happy.

With you bouncing on my hip, clinging to my hair and squealing at the squirrels in the yard, I've learned to turn my mind away from the anxieties of the future: I can see the joy He gives me each day. I have learned to trust God by simply doing what sits in front of me.

I have learned, in fact, that I can do much more than I thought; that I am weak and needy, and yet through God's grace, I am able.

I have worked harder and thought harder because of you. (I think I have also become a lot crunchier.) In all those things I have tried to take better care of us, because I see the future in your glowing eyes.

We love you, baby girl.

21 March 2014

Weekend linkage // 7QT #30

Linked up with Conversion Diary!

1)

"You can stand there and see if you look fat. Or you can just ask me, and you are not."
-upon finding his wife critically inspecting her reflection

"It's really not that cold. No matter how much you squeak."
-as I burrowed under the covers making disapproving noises

2)

Ellie is working on clapping, which comes close to topping the list of Cutest Stuff She Has Ever Done. At first she just vaguely put her hands together (missing half the time), then she started getting better aim, and then one day she could do it with enough force to make a tiny noise. She now does it every time I put my hands together, even if it's because I am rubbing cream into my palms or adjusting my rings.

3)

A few funny things to start off the links: a man writes his own goofy obituary, a website devoted to unnecessary quotation marks, and Benedict photobombing U2.

4)

"Quit Bubble Wrapping Our Kids," a great Cato talk from Lenore Skenazy. And to follow up, an NPR piece in the same vein. See, sometimes libertarians and liberals agree? On the problem anyway. Probably not on the solution.

5)

This is a long, extremely intriguing article: "Reaching My Autistic Son Through Disney." I love how we're starting to understand what autism is, how it shapes the autistic person's mind, instead of just throwing up our hands and putting him in an institution.

6)

I have been working a lot on closing the gap in my abdominal muscles (diastasis recti) that I got from pregnancy. If you too have been pregnant recently and now have an adorable sack of potatoes to lug around, here are some good suggestions for how to carry children without ruining your posture.