Waylon is trying to figure out how we make all the noises we make. That would be a great children's book - 'The Noises We Make' by Megan Adams. (Don't steal it. I might use it one day.)When he first started his exploration, he stuck strictly to vowel sounds - a,e,i,o,u and sometimes y. We thought that was great. He has advanced to consonants and it's even greater! From what I can tell, each consonant lasts about 2 weeks, give or take. So far, he's gone through L, D (yes, he said dada first), a TH combo, G and now we are at K. He's trying so hard to make words that start with a 'k' sound, as though he has this terrible stutter that keeps him from completing the word. It helps that he makes these super serious faces the whole time - furrowed brow and all. So, Joey and I guess at what he's trying to say.
'C-c-c-cookies and milk. C-c-c-come get me. K-k-k-quit.' One thing is for sure. That boy is a talker. He'll let somebody have it. I think he's going to be the next Billy Graham. Lolly thinks he's going to be the next Jerry Seinfeld. Either way.
Good news: he's all better. Bad news: I've gotten progressively worse. It's just another sinus infection. I'll start antibiotics as soon as Joey picks them up from the pharmacy :). Have I mentioned that I hate going to the doctor and taking medicine? Come to find out, I've got a deviated septum. Whatever that means.
We are headed to our first consignment sale this weekend. I have saved Waylon's clothes budget for the last few months in preparation. Meanwhile, Grandpa said he looked like he was wearing clam-diggers the other day. Poor kid. He has definitely outgrown the clothes he has. He is in need, which will make the shopping that much sweeter. Nothing for me yet. I haven't purchased an article of clothing for myself since before Waylon was born, which is staggering at the least. No need.
I came within the grocery budget this week. It required going to both Publix and Target, though. Which was not all that terrible. I just couldn't stomach only getting 50 cents off when I knew Publix would make it a whole dollar. It was worth it.
We went to Auburn for a few hours last weekend. Joey had a meeting for half of Saturday, so we went down Friday and left Sat afternoon. Waylon, Lolly and I walked from Lolly's house, downtown and around campus Saturday morning. It was bliss. I mean that. That is the life. I asked Mom what if this was what we did every Saturday morning. Breakfast and a campus walk? She couldn't answer. We were speechless. One day.
You probably know by now that I read 'Babywise' in prep for Dub, and we followed it as closely as possible. Loved it. Agreed with everything about it. Now, I want to read 'Shepherding a Child's Heart.' If you've read this, let me know what you think. Are there other books out there worth investing in?
One more thing. I'm thinking about entering a writing contest. It's got to be a fictional short story. Deadline is September. Any ideas?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
you know joe
So, Joey, ever the optimist, pointed out to me last night that if everyone were to do what I'm doing (which is to stop purchasing cheap clothes from 'sweat shops') then those sweat shops would close down. They would go out of business, taking with them all those cotton-picking jobs. He said those people aren't working there because they like it. They are probably working there because there is no other work. It's their only opportunity to make money, however little it may be. So, according to the law of supply and demand, if the demand for their cotton goes down, their bosses will not bring in as much money. Without an income, their bosses can't pay them, requiring him to let them go. Away. Fire them. Joey said the only thing worse than living on barely anything is living on nothing. Good point.
He said the only way my sorry little project (my words, not his) would work is if enough people did it that big retailers took notice. Then, the retailers would have to take part in demanding that the conditions and wages be improved or else. What are the chances, huh?
I hate that mentality, though. I told him I can not think that's the way it is. I can't believe that I actually should be purchasing more sweat shop apparel, thus increasing the demand and subsequently the supply. The more I buy, the more work there is for the cotton pickers, the more money they make, the better off they are. Can you believe this? It's like leaving a trash trail every where you go, saying all along the way that there is someone whose job it is to pick up trash. The more trash you leave, the more work they have to do, the bigger their paycheck. It doesn't make sense (but it sort of does).
Regardless of the backwards theory of job security, I still can not bring myself to encourage and support the conditions of the shops and factories that manufacture my clothes. Just for my own clear conscience, the vow stands. There has to be a loose thread somewhere. Any ideas?
So, I came up with a couple other reasons that second-hand shopping is better. First, it is, obviously, more economical. Second-hand clothes are always cheaper than first-hand clothes (from what I've seen). They're called thrift stores for a reason. Second, it's environmentally friendly. I think. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. I'm sure there are other reasons. I'll think of them and let you know.
I do have to take this opportunity to make a little disclaimer. I will be purchasing new, never-been-used under garments. Just so we're clear.
On another note, I should update you on the grocery store saga. Last week, I sat down with the Publix circular and my stack of coupons and made my menu and grocery list. Last week was to be the week that I would beat the system. I left Publix more than $30 over budget. I was devastated. I was ready to take back $30 worth of groceries. Instead, I decided that I would come in $30 under budget this week, and that I would do it at Target. And I did. It can be done. Not to say that I didn't have to go back through the store putting unnecessary items back on the shelf in order to get my total down to $24. Victory is sweeter than dark chocolate.
He said the only way my sorry little project (my words, not his) would work is if enough people did it that big retailers took notice. Then, the retailers would have to take part in demanding that the conditions and wages be improved or else. What are the chances, huh?
I hate that mentality, though. I told him I can not think that's the way it is. I can't believe that I actually should be purchasing more sweat shop apparel, thus increasing the demand and subsequently the supply. The more I buy, the more work there is for the cotton pickers, the more money they make, the better off they are. Can you believe this? It's like leaving a trash trail every where you go, saying all along the way that there is someone whose job it is to pick up trash. The more trash you leave, the more work they have to do, the bigger their paycheck. It doesn't make sense (but it sort of does).
Regardless of the backwards theory of job security, I still can not bring myself to encourage and support the conditions of the shops and factories that manufacture my clothes. Just for my own clear conscience, the vow stands. There has to be a loose thread somewhere. Any ideas?
So, I came up with a couple other reasons that second-hand shopping is better. First, it is, obviously, more economical. Second-hand clothes are always cheaper than first-hand clothes (from what I've seen). They're called thrift stores for a reason. Second, it's environmentally friendly. I think. Reduce. Reuse. Recycle. I'm sure there are other reasons. I'll think of them and let you know.
I do have to take this opportunity to make a little disclaimer. I will be purchasing new, never-been-used under garments. Just so we're clear.
On another note, I should update you on the grocery store saga. Last week, I sat down with the Publix circular and my stack of coupons and made my menu and grocery list. Last week was to be the week that I would beat the system. I left Publix more than $30 over budget. I was devastated. I was ready to take back $30 worth of groceries. Instead, I decided that I would come in $30 under budget this week, and that I would do it at Target. And I did. It can be done. Not to say that I didn't have to go back through the store putting unnecessary items back on the shelf in order to get my total down to $24. Victory is sweeter than dark chocolate.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
a vow
Have you seen the TV show 'Blood, Sweat and T-Shirts'? It's a great new show on the eco-channel, whatever that is. The green channel. You know what I'm talking about? It chronicles these 6 or so young British men and women as they explore the backside of the fashion world. And by backside, I mean back side. Each one of them is tied to the fashion industry in some way - a design student, a daughter of a designer, fashion obsession, shopaholic, etc. They are all upper-middle class goodies who work little and play much (that's my own impression). So, they spend each episode deep in the bowels of some link in the fashion-industry chain that leads to their own over-indulged closets. For example, last episode they were in India, living and working as cotton pickers. They were paid, worked and lived just like Indian cotton pickers. And, to say the least, they were slightly out of their comfort zones.
The only housing they could afford was a dingy, decrepit slum with broken windows, holes in walls, and way-less-than-sufficient plumbing. They picked cotton by hand, one little puff at a time for hours on end, taking small brakes for snacks, working well into the night. In other episodes, they have worked through the night, taking brief naps on the floor of the workroom amidst rat-poop mud. And they were paid next-to-nothing. Just like all the other workers.
The point of the show is to uncover the nastiness of mainstream fashion, especially cheap fashion at stores like Target, Old Navy, H&M, etc. (I named those stores, not the show.) So, it works. I am seriously appalled at what it takes to put a shirt on my back. I am disgusted with myself that with every purchase I make, I help keep those practices active. I support them and encourage them. Like I might as well walk right up to the front door in my designer jeans and Merona blouse and yell, 'Get to work, you mongrels! I want a new jacket!'
SO... I am making a vow. To myself, to you, to them. I will NOT BUY anything that I, or my son for that matter, intend to wear that is brand new. I promise to always shop second hand from here on out - thrift stores, consignment stores, yard sales, whatever. And, when I can afford it, I will only purchase fair-trade items brand new. I'm serious. I wish I could do more. I wish I could knock down the door, pull the plug and give all those cotton pickers a back rub. But, I can't. I can do very little. So, because it makes me nauseous to know that my vanity has cause someone else's poverty or illness or even death, I will do what I can.
You should watch the show.
The only housing they could afford was a dingy, decrepit slum with broken windows, holes in walls, and way-less-than-sufficient plumbing. They picked cotton by hand, one little puff at a time for hours on end, taking small brakes for snacks, working well into the night. In other episodes, they have worked through the night, taking brief naps on the floor of the workroom amidst rat-poop mud. And they were paid next-to-nothing. Just like all the other workers.
The point of the show is to uncover the nastiness of mainstream fashion, especially cheap fashion at stores like Target, Old Navy, H&M, etc. (I named those stores, not the show.) So, it works. I am seriously appalled at what it takes to put a shirt on my back. I am disgusted with myself that with every purchase I make, I help keep those practices active. I support them and encourage them. Like I might as well walk right up to the front door in my designer jeans and Merona blouse and yell, 'Get to work, you mongrels! I want a new jacket!'
SO... I am making a vow. To myself, to you, to them. I will NOT BUY anything that I, or my son for that matter, intend to wear that is brand new. I promise to always shop second hand from here on out - thrift stores, consignment stores, yard sales, whatever. And, when I can afford it, I will only purchase fair-trade items brand new. I'm serious. I wish I could do more. I wish I could knock down the door, pull the plug and give all those cotton pickers a back rub. But, I can't. I can do very little. So, because it makes me nauseous to know that my vanity has cause someone else's poverty or illness or even death, I will do what I can.
You should watch the show.
Friday, February 12, 2010
shoo bug
Waylon's got a bug. He's sick for the first time in his whole little life. It breaks my heart. Doesn't bother him a bit, but it tears me up. I'm pretty sure it's just a cold - runny, crusty nose, congestion, rattly cough. But, seriously he doesn't even know. At the first sign of a sniffle, I thought about calling the pediatrician, then realized I have an even better sick source at my disposal. My friend Angie has a 3 year old and a 6 month old who, for some reason, have been perpetually sick all winter. Bless her and them...and Adam. She told me not to worry, to use saline drops, a humidifier, lots of extra hugs, and keep an eye on things. So, per Dr.Angie's suggestion, that's what we're doing. (She's a smart girl and a super mom. She knows.;)
In the meantime, we're supposed to get snow today and maybe Sunday, which goes great with a cold. So, Lolly's on her way up from Auburn to get snowed in with us. And I can't wait. It has been a MONTH since we've seen her. That's probably the longest in my life that I've gone without seeing my mom. It's time.
I went back to Publix on Wednesday. I bought a paper on Sunday. I spent Tuesday afternoon clipping coupons, comparing sale ads and making a very strategic grocery list. I was going to beat the system this week. Double coupons right and left. Buy one get one's all over the place. At the last minute, I decided to edit my grocery list, unknowingly eliminating the double-couponed items and all but two of the BOGO's. Needless to say, I spent the week's grocery budget plus 30 bucks. I'm done with Publix. Sure, if you happen upon the perfect storm of an item you use, a doubled coupon and a BOGO, you win. But, the rest of the time, you lose lose lose. Their non-sale items are too expensive. I already have to go to Target to buy diapers and it's no fun going to 2 grocery stores a week. So, I'm done. And the winner is...Target.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
what's enough?
'Content. That's the word. A state of the heart in which you would be at peace if God gave you nothing more than he already has. Test yourself with this question. What if God's only gift to you were his grace to save you? Would you be content? You beg him to save the life of your child. You plead with him to keep your business afloat. You implore him to remove the cancer from your body. What if his answer is 'My grace is enough'? Would you be content?' (From 'In the Grip of Grace' by Lucado)
Does this feel like a slap in the face to you like it does to me? I've always wondered how people can go from professing believer to hatred of the God they once loved in one fell swoop. But when it seems like everything is taken from you (in a spouse, a child, a job, a health bill, or whatever) it may not be so hard to take that plunge into the endless midnight of hopelessness. Scary. The only stipulation, the only requirement for such digression is that you have to completely miss the point to begin with. That's all there is to it.
God's grace IS enough. It seems too simple, yet too complicated to actually be true, but it is. It's a truth that's echoed from Genesis 1:1 to Revelation 22:21. It's what all this is all about. God's grace. See, the thing that bothers me about a lot of Christian teaching (whether in books, song or sanctuary) is that God's grace is minimized. There are so many people harping on an emotional high of abundant blessings when the right life is lived. Five steps to forgiveness. Four blanks to financial freedom. Three points to thrive. Six ways to sinlessness. I think this has got people confused. God does not promise these things to us. He promises his grace. No more.
I believe God does delight in giving things to his children, but it's not about granting us cozy lives. It's about his glory. Consider Job. If I'm not mistaken, God allowed Job's entire world to be stripped from him, sparing only his own life. Job was a man of God. And in the end, God was glorified. Still is - by the retelling of Job's story.
I am the furthest thing from a theologian or scholar, but when I read this little bit from Max Lucado, I was punched in the stomach. It was almost audible. I could almost hear his voice. 'Is my grace enough for you, Megan? What if something unbearable happens to you tomorrow? Will my grace be enough? What if I bring Waylon back to me? Will my grace be enough? What if you're faced with an incurable illness? Will my grace be enough?'
I think so. I hope so.
'If God did nothing more than save us from hell, could anyone complain? If God saved our souls and left us to live our lives leprosy-struck on a deserted island, would he be unjust? Having been given eternal life, dare we grumble about an aching body? Having been given heavenly riches, dare we bemoan earthly poverty? The vast majority of us have been saved and then blessed even more! But there are those times when God, having given us his grace, hears our appeals and says, 'My grace is sufficient for you.''
Does this feel like a slap in the face to you like it does to me? I've always wondered how people can go from professing believer to hatred of the God they once loved in one fell swoop. But when it seems like everything is taken from you (in a spouse, a child, a job, a health bill, or whatever) it may not be so hard to take that plunge into the endless midnight of hopelessness. Scary. The only stipulation, the only requirement for such digression is that you have to completely miss the point to begin with. That's all there is to it.
God's grace IS enough. It seems too simple, yet too complicated to actually be true, but it is. It's a truth that's echoed from Genesis 1:1 to Revelation 22:21. It's what all this is all about. God's grace. See, the thing that bothers me about a lot of Christian teaching (whether in books, song or sanctuary) is that God's grace is minimized. There are so many people harping on an emotional high of abundant blessings when the right life is lived. Five steps to forgiveness. Four blanks to financial freedom. Three points to thrive. Six ways to sinlessness. I think this has got people confused. God does not promise these things to us. He promises his grace. No more.
I believe God does delight in giving things to his children, but it's not about granting us cozy lives. It's about his glory. Consider Job. If I'm not mistaken, God allowed Job's entire world to be stripped from him, sparing only his own life. Job was a man of God. And in the end, God was glorified. Still is - by the retelling of Job's story.
I am the furthest thing from a theologian or scholar, but when I read this little bit from Max Lucado, I was punched in the stomach. It was almost audible. I could almost hear his voice. 'Is my grace enough for you, Megan? What if something unbearable happens to you tomorrow? Will my grace be enough? What if I bring Waylon back to me? Will my grace be enough? What if you're faced with an incurable illness? Will my grace be enough?'
I think so. I hope so.
'If God did nothing more than save us from hell, could anyone complain? If God saved our souls and left us to live our lives leprosy-struck on a deserted island, would he be unjust? Having been given eternal life, dare we grumble about an aching body? Having been given heavenly riches, dare we bemoan earthly poverty? The vast majority of us have been saved and then blessed even more! But there are those times when God, having given us his grace, hears our appeals and says, 'My grace is sufficient for you.''
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
sink-oh
Five. Waylon is now five months old, and he...
can get his toes in his mouth despite our chubby belly doubts
talks almost non-stop, especially to the TV
squeals and screams
laughs hysterically (mostly at Daddy)
loves being outside
rolls over (only to his left)
started and stopped cereal
went backwards from bottle feeding to breast feeding
goes 3.5 to 4 hours between feedings
gurgles and gasps
flirts
will lie in his crib and talk to himself for up to an hour
loves to cover his face up and just listen
is getting control of his arms (flapping and hitting or just holding one up)
gnaws and drools constantly
wears 6-9 mo and some 12 mo clothes
I can not believe he has almost been here for half a year. That blows my mind. It seems like more of his personality comes out every day. He's starting to show his will a little. The days of lying in one place for an hour are over. Now that he has figured out how to move a little, he's ready to run laps around the house. He is still a very chill baby. People comment on that every where we go. He's just a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Joey and I comment almost daily on the fact the he gets cuter by the minute. He gets that from his Mama.
I still haven't left him for longer than an hour yet. I just don't want to. Mom always tells me that I should, that I'm spoiling him. But, if I don't have to, why should I, right? He's my little sidekick. We go together. My favorite part of the day used to be going to bed. Now, I can't wait to get up in the morning. He makes my life good.
can get his toes in his mouth despite our chubby belly doubts
talks almost non-stop, especially to the TV
squeals and screams
laughs hysterically (mostly at Daddy)
loves being outside
rolls over (only to his left)
started and stopped cereal
went backwards from bottle feeding to breast feeding
goes 3.5 to 4 hours between feedings
gurgles and gasps
flirts
will lie in his crib and talk to himself for up to an hour
loves to cover his face up and just listen
is getting control of his arms (flapping and hitting or just holding one up)
gnaws and drools constantly
wears 6-9 mo and some 12 mo clothes
I can not believe he has almost been here for half a year. That blows my mind. It seems like more of his personality comes out every day. He's starting to show his will a little. The days of lying in one place for an hour are over. Now that he has figured out how to move a little, he's ready to run laps around the house. He is still a very chill baby. People comment on that every where we go. He's just a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. Joey and I comment almost daily on the fact the he gets cuter by the minute. He gets that from his Mama.
I still haven't left him for longer than an hour yet. I just don't want to. Mom always tells me that I should, that I'm spoiling him. But, if I don't have to, why should I, right? He's my little sidekick. We go together. My favorite part of the day used to be going to bed. Now, I can't wait to get up in the morning. He makes my life good.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
what weekend?
What does a stay-at-home-mom do on the weekend? I used to hit the shops every Saturday. I was working for my own money and had pleanty to blow on a couple new outfits every weekend. And that was how Mom and I defined 'quality time.' We had perfected the art of browse, vent, try-on, sympathize, purchase, laugh...lather, rinse, repeat. It was good, clean fun. A Ramsey budget, a 5-month-old, a post-baby body and one less salary later, and my shopping days have gone the way of Britney Spears' career - still there somewhere, making speratic, sorry-excuses for comebacks that will never compare to the original glory days. Funny thing is, when I do stumble on some extra cash that I can't think of anything better to do with, I'd rather buy the kid some new duds. I'll stick to my gray sweats, as long as he looks good. Says a lot about a mom, don't you think? (Don't really say what you think. I'm kidding.)
So, all along I've thought I was a pretty well-rounded, intelligent woman. I mean, in highschool I played every sport a girl could play (trying out counts, right?). Growing up, I danced, I played softball, I played piano, acted, sang, drew things, painted things, built things. I was a busy kid with a big imagination. Thing is, I never stuck with anything. Until highschool, the only thing I tried that I ever stuck with was school. And that was because I had to. In highschool, I played volleyball. Gave it three very committed, hard-working years. But that's it. It's like I'm decent at lots of things, but not great at anything. I don't have a single hobby. I thought this blog would help sling me back into writing, but I don't want to write. I just want to blog. Thought Waylon would push me back into photography, but I don't take enough pictures of him as it is. I thought staying at home would allow me to explore my muffled creative side, maybe even make a buck in the process. But, here I sit. Saturday morning. Might as well be a Wednesday. Joey's in the garage endulging one of his many hobbies - wood-working. Waylon's in his room perfecting one of his favorite past-times - napping. And I? Sitting at the computer, still in my pajamas, debating a shower and the value of my free time.
I guess what I'm saying is, I am beyond-words grateful that I am able to be at home every day with my son. I know that I will never really know how blessed I am. I am grateful to Joey for his hard work that allows me to do this. This is what I have always wanted to do/be when I grew up. I am doing it. It is heaven. But, does every day have to be the same? Seems like Waylon and I should get a weekend, too, doesn't it? The only difference between Saturday and Wednesday for us is that I only allow myself to do laundry on the weekends. No other chores. So, there is that. But, I want some adventure, some company, some adult interaction. Or maybe I should just embrace my pajamas and make the weekend the least productive part of my week - watch movies, play games, blog, things that require little thought and effort.
What I really want is an 'outlet.' I need a hobby or three. I need to pick up my camera, paintbrush, scrapbook, whatever, and make it happen for myself. That's exactly what I'm going to do. I think I work hard enough all seven days of the week that I can devote a little of my free time to...gasp...myself.
So, all along I've thought I was a pretty well-rounded, intelligent woman. I mean, in highschool I played every sport a girl could play (trying out counts, right?). Growing up, I danced, I played softball, I played piano, acted, sang, drew things, painted things, built things. I was a busy kid with a big imagination. Thing is, I never stuck with anything. Until highschool, the only thing I tried that I ever stuck with was school. And that was because I had to. In highschool, I played volleyball. Gave it three very committed, hard-working years. But that's it. It's like I'm decent at lots of things, but not great at anything. I don't have a single hobby. I thought this blog would help sling me back into writing, but I don't want to write. I just want to blog. Thought Waylon would push me back into photography, but I don't take enough pictures of him as it is. I thought staying at home would allow me to explore my muffled creative side, maybe even make a buck in the process. But, here I sit. Saturday morning. Might as well be a Wednesday. Joey's in the garage endulging one of his many hobbies - wood-working. Waylon's in his room perfecting one of his favorite past-times - napping. And I? Sitting at the computer, still in my pajamas, debating a shower and the value of my free time.
I guess what I'm saying is, I am beyond-words grateful that I am able to be at home every day with my son. I know that I will never really know how blessed I am. I am grateful to Joey for his hard work that allows me to do this. This is what I have always wanted to do/be when I grew up. I am doing it. It is heaven. But, does every day have to be the same? Seems like Waylon and I should get a weekend, too, doesn't it? The only difference between Saturday and Wednesday for us is that I only allow myself to do laundry on the weekends. No other chores. So, there is that. But, I want some adventure, some company, some adult interaction. Or maybe I should just embrace my pajamas and make the weekend the least productive part of my week - watch movies, play games, blog, things that require little thought and effort.
What I really want is an 'outlet.' I need a hobby or three. I need to pick up my camera, paintbrush, scrapbook, whatever, and make it happen for myself. That's exactly what I'm going to do. I think I work hard enough all seven days of the week that I can devote a little of my free time to...gasp...myself.
Monday, February 1, 2010
fast finish
The fast is over. Today didn't feel very very different from the last 21. I watched the Today Show for about an hour this morning, then turned the tube off until about 2:30. I felt guilty when I was watching and was bored/easily distracted. I feel like every second that Waylon is awake I should be engaging him, talking, playing, singing. So, for both of us to just watch TV feels like a cop out. I know I can't fill all of his waking moments with excitement and education, and that I am in fact setting myself up for exhaustion and disappointment, and that I need to let that go. I'm sure I will in time. I used to feel the same way when I babysat, which I guess is what made me a favorite. I was like a non-stop party shop from the moment I walked in until I left. Shew. Poor little guy. He probably just wants a few minutes of peace and quiet to himself. I'll give it to him tomorrow. Guilt-free.
There are some things I started over the last 21 days that I definitely don't want to give up. Each morning and periodically throughout the day, I have read out loud to Waylon from Max Lucado's devotion Bible and from a John Piper book. I have read Piper to Waylon since before he was born. I don't want to stop that. I also have been playing praise/worship music (Sara Groves on Pandora. Beautiful.). The songs get stuck in my head and I'm humming hymns whilst scrubbing the toilet. Priceless. I have completed longer to-do lists and felt more accomplished at day's end. In conclusion, I never did search for God with all my heart. With more of my heart, yes. But all? Nor did I take on any new acts of service outside my home. I did, however, spend more meaningful time inside my home with both Joey and Waylon. I hope I ministered to both of them in new ways. I hope the people I come in contact with on a daily basis can see a little more of Christ in me simply because I saw a little more of him. TV is definitely not all I cracked it up to be. Most of what's on is trash and most of what I watch is pointless. Some of that is trash as well. Even Oprah is running out of things to talk about.
On a Dub note, nursing is still wonderful. (I use the old-fashioned term 'nursing' to make the distinction between what I was doing before and what I'm doing now. Pumping is breast feeding, but not nursing.) As a matter of fact, I actually fed him at the Galleria this weekend! In the Belk restroom! It was great! I feel so much more liberated without the pump. I don't see myself whipping it out in public, but at the right time, in the right place, with the right people, I am completely comfortable.
I failed to mention that the biggest reason I am able to do this now as opposed to before is that I am a different person now. You see, I am a tad OCD, and having a baby just made that tad into a full-blown toad. Problem is, no matter how hard I tried, I could not be in complete control of Waylon and situations that involved him and his care. Thing about nursing is that you literally have to trust that Baby is getting adequate nutrition. You can't see it. You can't measure it. You can't control it. Period. That's why I could not do it before. It wasn't Waylon. He did everything right, bless his little heart. It was me. I think this last bout with mastitis came at the perfect time, if there is one - at the end of the second week of the fast. I have grown over the last 5 months into an increasingly more laid-back mom. No choice. And, I have discovered the importance, no necessity, of trusting God in ALL things, not just the things that I can't control. It takes a lot of trust for OCD-me to nurse Waylon. But it's good. It's great. God knew.... Duh.
There are some things I started over the last 21 days that I definitely don't want to give up. Each morning and periodically throughout the day, I have read out loud to Waylon from Max Lucado's devotion Bible and from a John Piper book. I have read Piper to Waylon since before he was born. I don't want to stop that. I also have been playing praise/worship music (Sara Groves on Pandora. Beautiful.). The songs get stuck in my head and I'm humming hymns whilst scrubbing the toilet. Priceless. I have completed longer to-do lists and felt more accomplished at day's end. In conclusion, I never did search for God with all my heart. With more of my heart, yes. But all? Nor did I take on any new acts of service outside my home. I did, however, spend more meaningful time inside my home with both Joey and Waylon. I hope I ministered to both of them in new ways. I hope the people I come in contact with on a daily basis can see a little more of Christ in me simply because I saw a little more of him. TV is definitely not all I cracked it up to be. Most of what's on is trash and most of what I watch is pointless. Some of that is trash as well. Even Oprah is running out of things to talk about.
On a Dub note, nursing is still wonderful. (I use the old-fashioned term 'nursing' to make the distinction between what I was doing before and what I'm doing now. Pumping is breast feeding, but not nursing.) As a matter of fact, I actually fed him at the Galleria this weekend! In the Belk restroom! It was great! I feel so much more liberated without the pump. I don't see myself whipping it out in public, but at the right time, in the right place, with the right people, I am completely comfortable.
I failed to mention that the biggest reason I am able to do this now as opposed to before is that I am a different person now. You see, I am a tad OCD, and having a baby just made that tad into a full-blown toad. Problem is, no matter how hard I tried, I could not be in complete control of Waylon and situations that involved him and his care. Thing about nursing is that you literally have to trust that Baby is getting adequate nutrition. You can't see it. You can't measure it. You can't control it. Period. That's why I could not do it before. It wasn't Waylon. He did everything right, bless his little heart. It was me. I think this last bout with mastitis came at the perfect time, if there is one - at the end of the second week of the fast. I have grown over the last 5 months into an increasingly more laid-back mom. No choice. And, I have discovered the importance, no necessity, of trusting God in ALL things, not just the things that I can't control. It takes a lot of trust for OCD-me to nurse Waylon. But it's good. It's great. God knew.... Duh.
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