-- Donald Miller, author
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Blue Like Jazz
My most recent faith struggle is not one of intellect. I don't really do that anymore. Sooner or later you just figure out there are some guys who don't believe in God and they can prove He doesn't exist, and some other guys who do believe in God and they can prove He does exist, and the argument stopped being about God a long time ago and now it's about who is smarter, and honestly I don't care.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Food Chain of Command
I am now fully convinced that of my three children (ages 4, 5, and 9), my 4-year old is the most powerful human being in my household, at least when it comes to matters of food. I have come to this conclusion based on various observances. I will share just a few of these with you.
*We have some sort of pasta dish once a week. Now mind you, both of my sons and my husband are allergic to dairy products (not intolerant -- allergic). Because we cannot have the cheese-laced delicious likeness of lasagna and manicotti, said pasta dish consists of noodles and a ragu-bolognese sauce. To trick myself into believing we are not eating the same dish week after week, I sometimes use noodles other than spaghetti, such as ruote dicarro, fusilli, farfalle, cavatappi, or even Mickey-Mouse shaped pasta. I even once flirted with whole-wheat noodles until I found they resemble what I imagine cat vomit tastes like. Last week I used ruote di carro. Everyone was pleased with the dish. Everyone except the 4-year old. He took one bite, declared it "yucky", and refused to eat. This is after weeks of eating shaped noodles. We took the "well, you can sit there until you finish" route because the "you won't get dessert unless you eat" route is futile due to the 4-year old's lack of interest in dessert. The 4-year old sat at the table for 2.5 hours, unfazed by his immobility. We tried to stay strong, believing that if we could just wait him out, he would eventually eat at least a few bites and we would score a point in the grand power struggle. The third hour emerged and it became clear that he was not going to budge. He was excused and my husband and I retreated to regroup. Last night, pasta was served again. This time, however, traditional spaghetti noodles were served. The 4-year old cleaned his plate without incident. Conclusion: We serve spaghetti noodles or the 4-year old will refuse the dish. Never mind that all noodles basically taste the same or that I vary the dish to avoid unbearable ennui of pasta. Score one for the 4-year old.
*We have meatloaf a few times a month. I love meatloaf. It invokes happier childhood memories, which I have few of. My husband used to turn his nose at meatloaf -- until I made it for him. Now he shares my affection for the loaf of meat. The 4-year old also loves meatloaf and readily gobbles it down, often asking for second and third portions. A few weeks ago, I found a recipe for meatloaf that involves putting the meat mixture into muffin cups instead of forming it into a loaf. This new method has a multitude of benefits: shorter cooking time (30 minutes vs. 1 hour), individual portions, the ability to customize each portion (4-year old's brother eschews ketchup), and the fact that I can spoon the mixture into each cup without touching the meat (I absolutely refuse to touch raw ground beef). The night before last, the 4-year old ate the half piece of garlic toast on his plate, took a tiny nibble of the meatloaf, declared it "yucky", and refused another bite. He also refused his potatoes, meaning his dinner consisted of a half piece of garlic toast. We decided to be stronger this time; he sat at the table for 3 hours, again unfazed by his immobility. The 3.5 hour mark neared and it became apparent he was not going to budge. He was excused and we retreated yet again to regroup. Conclusion: No matter how easy or how advantageous the meatloaf cups are, if we serve meatloaf outside of its traditional loaf form, the 4-year will refuse the dish. Score another for the 4-year old. Current score: Parents -- 0, 4-year old -- 2.
*I make a steadfast attempt to serve a vegetable with most of our meals. These are not the usual vegetables shunned by children, such as broccoli, cauliflower, or carrots. I try to serve a vegetable that will appease each of my 3 children. This usually means baked sweet corn, fresh purple-hull peas (much milder than English peas or black-eyed peas), or green beans sprinkled with a dash of sugar. The other two children always eat their vegetables without incident, even though they receive double the portion of the 4-year old. The 5-year old sometimes even holds his nose if he is not particularly fond of the vegetable. The 4-year old is given a teaspoon of the vegetable, in the grand hope that he will at least try the vegetable. We don't require him to clean his plate; we ask him to try a bite of the vegetable since studies have shown that a child may try a food 20+ times before "liking" it. I find these studies to be bullshit, given that we have served him these foods for over 2 years. The 4-year old consistently refuses vegetables in every shape and form, whether they are fried, baked, steamed, boiled, drowned in butter, covered in sugar, or ground to a pulp and hid in the ragu-bolognese sauce. There are a few rare exceptions to this. Once in a while, on the third Monday of an odd-numbered year, when the sun and moon are at a right angle to one another and the temperature is exactly 65F with 78% humidity, the 4-year old will eat either all or part of the vegetable. Last Thursday, he ate all of his purple-hull peas. Other nights, he will try a bit. However, most nights, he refuses. My husband sympathizes with the 4-year old because he also hates vegetables, partially due to the fact that his family gave up on thepossibility that he would ever eat them when he was a child. My husband still encourages the 4-year old to try his vegetables and tells them they will make him grow "big and strong like daddy". This works sometimes.
*We have some sort of pasta dish once a week. Now mind you, both of my sons and my husband are allergic to dairy products (not intolerant -- allergic). Because we cannot have the cheese-laced delicious likeness of lasagna and manicotti, said pasta dish consists of noodles and a ragu-bolognese sauce. To trick myself into believing we are not eating the same dish week after week, I sometimes use noodles other than spaghetti, such as ruote dicarro, fusilli, farfalle, cavatappi, or even Mickey-Mouse shaped pasta. I even once flirted with whole-wheat noodles until I found they resemble what I imagine cat vomit tastes like. Last week I used ruote di carro. Everyone was pleased with the dish. Everyone except the 4-year old. He took one bite, declared it "yucky", and refused to eat. This is after weeks of eating shaped noodles. We took the "well, you can sit there until you finish" route because the "you won't get dessert unless you eat" route is futile due to the 4-year old's lack of interest in dessert. The 4-year old sat at the table for 2.5 hours, unfazed by his immobility. We tried to stay strong, believing that if we could just wait him out, he would eventually eat at least a few bites and we would score a point in the grand power struggle. The third hour emerged and it became clear that he was not going to budge. He was excused and my husband and I retreated to regroup. Last night, pasta was served again. This time, however, traditional spaghetti noodles were served. The 4-year old cleaned his plate without incident. Conclusion: We serve spaghetti noodles or the 4-year old will refuse the dish. Never mind that all noodles basically taste the same or that I vary the dish to avoid unbearable ennui of pasta. Score one for the 4-year old.
*We have meatloaf a few times a month. I love meatloaf. It invokes happier childhood memories, which I have few of. My husband used to turn his nose at meatloaf -- until I made it for him. Now he shares my affection for the loaf of meat. The 4-year old also loves meatloaf and readily gobbles it down, often asking for second and third portions. A few weeks ago, I found a recipe for meatloaf that involves putting the meat mixture into muffin cups instead of forming it into a loaf. This new method has a multitude of benefits: shorter cooking time (30 minutes vs. 1 hour), individual portions, the ability to customize each portion (4-year old's brother eschews ketchup), and the fact that I can spoon the mixture into each cup without touching the meat (I absolutely refuse to touch raw ground beef). The night before last, the 4-year old ate the half piece of garlic toast on his plate, took a tiny nibble of the meatloaf, declared it "yucky", and refused another bite. He also refused his potatoes, meaning his dinner consisted of a half piece of garlic toast. We decided to be stronger this time; he sat at the table for 3 hours, again unfazed by his immobility. The 3.5 hour mark neared and it became apparent he was not going to budge. He was excused and we retreated yet again to regroup. Conclusion: No matter how easy or how advantageous the meatloaf cups are, if we serve meatloaf outside of its traditional loaf form, the 4-year will refuse the dish. Score another for the 4-year old. Current score: Parents -- 0, 4-year old -- 2.
*I make a steadfast attempt to serve a vegetable with most of our meals. These are not the usual vegetables shunned by children, such as broccoli, cauliflower, or carrots. I try to serve a vegetable that will appease each of my 3 children. This usually means baked sweet corn, fresh purple-hull peas (much milder than English peas or black-eyed peas), or green beans sprinkled with a dash of sugar. The other two children always eat their vegetables without incident, even though they receive double the portion of the 4-year old. The 5-year old sometimes even holds his nose if he is not particularly fond of the vegetable. The 4-year old is given a teaspoon of the vegetable, in the grand hope that he will at least try the vegetable. We don't require him to clean his plate; we ask him to try a bite of the vegetable since studies have shown that a child may try a food 20+ times before "liking" it. I find these studies to be bullshit, given that we have served him these foods for over 2 years. The 4-year old consistently refuses vegetables in every shape and form, whether they are fried, baked, steamed, boiled, drowned in butter, covered in sugar, or ground to a pulp and hid in the ragu-bolognese sauce. There are a few rare exceptions to this. Once in a while, on the third Monday of an odd-numbered year, when the sun and moon are at a right angle to one another and the temperature is exactly 65F with 78% humidity, the 4-year old will eat either all or part of the vegetable. Last Thursday, he ate all of his purple-hull peas. Other nights, he will try a bit. However, most nights, he refuses. My husband sympathizes with the 4-year old because he also hates vegetables, partially due to the fact that his family gave up on thepossibility that he would ever eat them when he was a child. My husband still encourages the 4-year old to try his vegetables and tells them they will make him grow "big and strong like daddy". This works sometimes.
My quandary is multi-faceted. I am worried the 4-year old is not getting adequate nutrition. He takes a daily vitamin to try and replace some of the refused nutrients. Yet he still stays sick 90% of the time, either with a stomach virus or some other bacterial infection. Furthermore, the other two children always eat their vegetables without complaint. The 4-year old consistently escapes eating his food and enjoys the same privileges of the other two, outside of dessert (which we have already established means nothing to the 4-year old). Finally, it has become clear to us that the 4-year old uses food as a way to gain power. We ask him to do something and he refuses, knowing that we cannot force him to eat. This power struggle emerges in several other areas outside of food. This includes getting dressed, where he will refuse to get dressed until forced to, and drink choices, where he will demand a certain drink and when he do not cede to his demands, he repeats them (regardless of the fact that we never cede to the demand). There are various other areas of power struggle, but this post is already waaay too long. We keep thinking he will "grow out of it", but this has been going on for well over 2 years. I am not as interested in winning the power struggle as I am in making it clear to him that he is not in control of the decisions made in the house. I have no strategy in achieving this goal, as everything we have tried has failed.
Thoughts?
Monday, November 17, 2008
How do I be a good mother?
Because, you see, I am not like so many other lucky mothers who can call their moms or grandmothers and ask, "Hey, I did this when I was a kid, so what do I do now that my kid is doing this?".
I am alone in this because my mother was largely absent, due to either drugs, alcohol or just plain voluntary she didn't give a damn (she tries to make up for that now, but is another post for another time).
So now I raise my 9 year old child, who is quite brilliant, except she suffers from an extreme form of ADHD. And before any of you waste your breath with ADHD and its over-prescriptions and its implications --- understand. Google ADHD and whatever else you need to do to understand. It is a REAL disorder that affects REAL people in a REAL way.
We both have this disorder. And it cripples us from day to day. We cannot remember appointments, homework, assignments, etc. We are slowly sucking at life. I have invented various ways to deal with my own disorder, but it hurts me to watch her struggle on a day-to-day basis. It hurts me to watch her wade through her life through the lens of a disorder she could not being to understand.
I want to call my mother and ask her, "What did you do when I did this?". I want to call someone and ask them, "How can I help her do better in school?", "How do I help her remember her homeword?".
I feel alone with my child and I need help to get her through this. She is brilliant and shows promise that would baffle others -- but her teachers won't see it because she "talks excessively in class" and "doesn't follow direction well".
I invite those teachers to live a day in either of our lives and then see how they evaluate.
I am alone in this because my mother was largely absent, due to either drugs, alcohol or just plain voluntary she didn't give a damn (she tries to make up for that now, but is another post for another time).
So now I raise my 9 year old child, who is quite brilliant, except she suffers from an extreme form of ADHD. And before any of you waste your breath with ADHD and its over-prescriptions and its implications --- understand. Google ADHD and whatever else you need to do to understand. It is a REAL disorder that affects REAL people in a REAL way.
We both have this disorder. And it cripples us from day to day. We cannot remember appointments, homework, assignments, etc. We are slowly sucking at life. I have invented various ways to deal with my own disorder, but it hurts me to watch her struggle on a day-to-day basis. It hurts me to watch her wade through her life through the lens of a disorder she could not being to understand.
I want to call my mother and ask her, "What did you do when I did this?". I want to call someone and ask them, "How can I help her do better in school?", "How do I help her remember her homeword?".
I feel alone with my child and I need help to get her through this. She is brilliant and shows promise that would baffle others -- but her teachers won't see it because she "talks excessively in class" and "doesn't follow direction well".
I invite those teachers to live a day in either of our lives and then see how they evaluate.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
A Three Fold Utopian Dream
You know, we have come a long way. A. Long. Way.
We started out with nothing. Literally ... nothing. Neither one of us had a vehicle. Neither one of us had a job (me ... by choice. you ... by circumstance). And we thought neither one of us had a chance at love.
But here we are, almost 2 years to the day that we met (September 01, 2006 ... I remember well and I know you do).
Look where we are now.
We have our lives together, brought together by sheer cirumstance of passing by.
We have our children, brought together by our union of sheer love and respect for one another.
We have us. And that is what I am most astonished by. That we overcame amazing obstacles. That we overcame everyone's objections. That we overcame the distance that haunted us with its many miles of seperation. That we overcame everything that threatened to tear us apart, but could not seperate a union that was destined to be.
You have crossed the barrier that some have tried to cross in the past ... a permanent union with me. Those before you have failed to make that union permanent because they did not possess what you did: Everything that I have needed. Everything that I have wanted.
And I guarantee you ... I promise you ... the union we entered into on the date of our marriage seals our fate for the rest of our lives.
The first year has been phenomenal. I cannot wait for the preceding years. You accept me as I am -- no questions, no judgements. And for that, you have given me the gift of acceptance.
So I give you my loyalty, my trust ... my respect. And in return, I ask only for you.
I love you Husband. I love you dearly. More than these silly words express.
I.Love.You.
(and the greatest part? i know that you feel the same as i do .. a three fold utopian dream.)
We started out with nothing. Literally ... nothing. Neither one of us had a vehicle. Neither one of us had a job (me ... by choice. you ... by circumstance). And we thought neither one of us had a chance at love.
But here we are, almost 2 years to the day that we met (September 01, 2006 ... I remember well and I know you do).
Look where we are now.
We have our lives together, brought together by sheer cirumstance of passing by.
We have our children, brought together by our union of sheer love and respect for one another.
We have us. And that is what I am most astonished by. That we overcame amazing obstacles. That we overcame everyone's objections. That we overcame the distance that haunted us with its many miles of seperation. That we overcame everything that threatened to tear us apart, but could not seperate a union that was destined to be.
You have crossed the barrier that some have tried to cross in the past ... a permanent union with me. Those before you have failed to make that union permanent because they did not possess what you did: Everything that I have needed. Everything that I have wanted.
And I guarantee you ... I promise you ... the union we entered into on the date of our marriage seals our fate for the rest of our lives.
The first year has been phenomenal. I cannot wait for the preceding years. You accept me as I am -- no questions, no judgements. And for that, you have given me the gift of acceptance.
So I give you my loyalty, my trust ... my respect. And in return, I ask only for you.
I love you Husband. I love you dearly. More than these silly words express.
I.Love.You.
(and the greatest part? i know that you feel the same as i do .. a three fold utopian dream.)
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Too Laate
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25921453
This makes my heart happy. For Congress to make this decision shows a progressive movement towards recognizing our nation was not built on just Jesus and the right to carry guns. This nation was built on the humiliation and degradation of thousands of people that, at the time, our nation considered a second-class. Our nation didn't value their effort and their contribution to making our economy prosperous. Without the efforts of the slaves, the economy of the United States would have been crippled.
And HUNDREDS of years later, our Congressional body decides its time to apologize for enslaving thousands. They apologize for forcing them to make our nation prosperous.
But at least, at some point, they decided to apologize.
I'm reminded of a song: "It's too laaate to 'pologize
This makes my heart happy. For Congress to make this decision shows a progressive movement towards recognizing our nation was not built on just Jesus and the right to carry guns. This nation was built on the humiliation and degradation of thousands of people that, at the time, our nation considered a second-class. Our nation didn't value their effort and their contribution to making our economy prosperous. Without the efforts of the slaves, the economy of the United States would have been crippled.
And HUNDREDS of years later, our Congressional body decides its time to apologize for enslaving thousands. They apologize for forcing them to make our nation prosperous.
But at least, at some point, they decided to apologize.
I'm reminded of a song: "It's too laaate to 'pologize
Friday, August 10, 2007
As if it were the first day we met ....
By "The One", I don't necessarily mean that there is only a solitary person in the world meant for you and if you never meet them you will be doomed to a loveless life of loneliness and bitter gall.
I don't think it is that simple.
But do you believe that there is One Person that you will love in a way that no other person on earth could ever, will ever, approach? I'm referring to the kind of love where you could intellectually admit to yourself that you've loved people before The One, and you understand that you could love again after them, but you know deeply that all other loves would forever be different from the height and width and depth and scope of that One Love. I'm talking about a kind of love that transcends infatuation, lust, puppy love, or deep friendship; a love that encompasses all of those things but they are peripheral to it. It's the kind of love that fills you up so completely you can't contain it no matter how valiantly you try. It spills and leaks and stains your cheeks. It embarrasses you in its abundance and the way it makes you want to tell the man who sells you sandwiches at the deli all about it, and you don't even care when he cringes with the annoying, cloying sweetness of your speech and that he only cares if you want avocado on your turkey sandwich or not.
The deli man doesn't even know your name, but you want him to know every little thing about the One you Love.
And you know deep inside that this One ... the One ... you could never walk away from the person who "rearranges the jagged stars of your past and smiles at you with love letter eyes"
I don't think it is that simple.
But do you believe that there is One Person that you will love in a way that no other person on earth could ever, will ever, approach? I'm referring to the kind of love where you could intellectually admit to yourself that you've loved people before The One, and you understand that you could love again after them, but you know deeply that all other loves would forever be different from the height and width and depth and scope of that One Love. I'm talking about a kind of love that transcends infatuation, lust, puppy love, or deep friendship; a love that encompasses all of those things but they are peripheral to it. It's the kind of love that fills you up so completely you can't contain it no matter how valiantly you try. It spills and leaks and stains your cheeks. It embarrasses you in its abundance and the way it makes you want to tell the man who sells you sandwiches at the deli all about it, and you don't even care when he cringes with the annoying, cloying sweetness of your speech and that he only cares if you want avocado on your turkey sandwich or not.
The deli man doesn't even know your name, but you want him to know every little thing about the One you Love.
And you know deep inside that this One ... the One ... you could never walk away from the person who "rearranges the jagged stars of your past and smiles at you with love letter eyes"
Monday, February 19, 2007
Anatomy of a Stream of Consciousness
[begin]
warmth of a hug, light of a smile, passion of a kiss, ferocity of sex, fireworks, brilliant stars, shattering glass, goose feathers, cold water, moments of silence, bits of sunshine, shadows of moonlight, golden beams.
pause.
laughter of a child, crushing of a can, leaves crunching in the winter, crisp wind on a sunny day, clear blue sky.
pause
cat's soft fur, bird's sharp beak, dog's panting breath, the burn at the back of your throat when drinking a cold carbonated beverage first thing in the morning or when you are parched thirsty
[gasp]
pause --
(longer pause because that last stream exerted more energy)
[refocus]
tinny laugh of a sitcom track ..... clickity click clack of fingers tapping on a keyboard ..... gurgling of a fish tank ....
[stream slows down ... .my brain now is recovering ... it begins to notice its surroundings, I suppose]
[refocus]
the sound of my heartbeat, beating not for myself, but for you.
[you see, my thoughts begin and end with you. you are the bookend that holds me together]
warmth of a hug, light of a smile, passion of a kiss, ferocity of sex, fireworks, brilliant stars, shattering glass, goose feathers, cold water, moments of silence, bits of sunshine, shadows of moonlight, golden beams.
pause.
laughter of a child, crushing of a can, leaves crunching in the winter, crisp wind on a sunny day, clear blue sky.
pause
cat's soft fur, bird's sharp beak, dog's panting breath, the burn at the back of your throat when drinking a cold carbonated beverage first thing in the morning or when you are parched thirsty
[gasp]
pause --
(longer pause because that last stream exerted more energy)
[refocus]
tinny laugh of a sitcom track ..... clickity click clack of fingers tapping on a keyboard ..... gurgling of a fish tank ....
[stream slows down ... .my brain now is recovering ... it begins to notice its surroundings, I suppose]
[refocus]
the sound of my heartbeat, beating not for myself, but for you.
[you see, my thoughts begin and end with you. you are the bookend that holds me together]
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