A Frozen Memory from God

Lent has begun, and I'm feeling uninspired and lazy. I find myself mostly praying for Jason as he is truly fasting this time, and I know what a physically demanding job he has, and how hungry he gets. Since I'm growing a baby I'm not fasting, just giving up meat, which really isn't a huge sacrifice for me. Dairy products would be much more challenging. And if it weren't for them I'd be failing miserably at getting the protein that is recommended in the Brewer's Diet, a diet that I learned about in the Bradley Method class Jason and I are taking. I've been reading Schmemmen's Great Lent as well as Husband Coached Childbirth by Dr. Bradley. With both I find myself reading with wonder. I feel like I'm desperately trying to grasp everthing and make it my own. I'm the type of person who has to learn slowly, with extra help, but I pretend like I get everything whip-fast. I'm scared to admit that I don't get it, and haven't fully processed it, and would like another example and some more time. Foolish pride!

Today I was thinking about Orthodoxy and Natural Chilbirth, my two subjects of constant research and interest, and my mind diverted back to my memories of learning how to snowboard. I learned going to Mammoth Mountain several times in a year several years ago. (That feels weird to type several years ago - it doesn't seem like it was that long ago.) The first time I hated every minute of it. I wanted someone to come and rescue me off the mountain. How dare my friends take me up such a steep slope, are they trying to kill me!? I remember pain, anger, embarassment, impatient teachers that I was even more impatient with and the thought that I would never do it again. Any instruction I was given made no sense and I seemed to do the opposite, and with people around me watching me, I felt like I would never be able to do it. Somehow, I ended up going again and it was a fridgid Mammoth day. It was snowing and the visibility was poor. I went up the lift and I'm sure I took out a good 12 people getting off of it, but decided I'd like to snowboard by myself for the day to learn on my own. I was given well wishes and a walky talky, just in case I managed to slide off the trail and ended up trapped in a snow bank, behind the trees. I found myself frustrated at first, exhausted in the freezing cold snow, panting, but finally letting go of all the confusing instructions and my own awkwardness. I was able to "feel" the snow beneath me, and I surrendered. The terrain was bumpy but powder soft and I learned to carve and take each bump with grace. I was all alone, able to celebrate my small victory.

Perhaps the Lord Himself sent me that memory. It reminded me that I don't have to understand everything right now. I don't even have to pretend that I do. It would be better if I don't. And that in time, on my own, I will get it, at least some of it. More than I do now. But I should persevere. I've got lot of work to do.

The Lenten Prayer of St. Ephram the Syrian
O Lord and Master of my life!
Take me from the spirit of sloth,
faint-heartedness, lust of power, and idle talk.
But give rather the spirit of chastity,
humility, patience and love to Thy servant.
Yea, O Lord and King!
Grant me to see my own errors
and not to judge my brother;
For Thou art blessed unto ages of ages. Amen.

I wouldn't trade these people for anything...

One morning I heard Hannah talking to sweetly to someone in the bathroom. I could tell by the way she was speaking she was pretending to be a mommy and was giving encouraging instructions to some thing on how to use the potty. I snuck up on her and found her with her big bear on the toilet. She kept saying, "You can do it! You a big girl! Goo job!"
For Hannah's birthday, my grandma gave her a fairy book with pages that are puzzles. Every evening Hannah and Jason do one. It's their thing. I love watching them, and Hannah is getting pretty good at puzzles now.

Right now, Hannah is asleep and I'm steeling myself a moment with some crackers and an orange and berry smoothie I made. I'm also taking a brake from cleaning my disaster of a closet. So far I've filled up two large bags of clothes. I couldn't help but laugh at some of the things I've been holding on to for years. As if parting with a size 2 dress I haven't worn in years is the equivalent of forfeiting my identity. So I did some encouraging "self-talk."

"Now, Lauren, be brave. You don't need these teensy tiny pants anymore. Go ahead...Stick them in the bag. What a good girl! You did it!" (See where Hannah get's it?)

One thing I did do was, keep some smallish sized pants that I did fit in after I had Hannah. I bought them when I was at my most thin, after I had nursed for just over a year, started working out, and somehow stopped eating ice cream for a period of time. But I put them in the droor at the very bottom. The droor is strategically layered like this: On the bottom, the skinny jeans, next some normal jeans that I wore right before I got pregnant this time, then more loose jeans, getting bigger as I reached the top of the droor, with my post partum "mom jeans" that I can't stand but are oh so practical. And then, of course, my maternity jeans and pants are right at the top. I though this would be the least depressing way to ease back in to my regular clothes after I have this baby. If I never get to those "skinny jeans" I may never even know.

So, I'm almost done with my closet, and have to finish and get to the rest of the house decent. This closet project has been something I have been dreading, but I think it will be a kind of Valentine's Day gift to Jason. He loves it when I do that kind of stuff much better than any kind of present I could buy him. Well, back to work!

Personality Test - Hmmm

I've been wanting to do one of these tests because years ago I tested as an ENFP, and I thought for certain I had a drastic change in my personality since then. I feel much more reserved these days, and more like an introvert, but I guess the change wasn't as significant as I thought...Well at least not to a little personality test. What personality are you?

You Are An ENFP

The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends.You are also unconventional, irreverant, and unimpressed by authority and rules.Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives.You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're qutie the storyteller! You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist.

What's" Your Personality Type?

A Haiku

Last Saturday we went to some friend's for a poetry reading/sharing night. We were supposed to each bring a poem about hobbies. At about noon that day, Jason said he didn't think he wanted to go. It was about the poem. He didn't want to write one. I told him I would write two poems so he wouldn't have to, which was a stretch for me, since I have poetry skills of a 4th grader. I won't share what I wrote. But later that afternoon Jason sat down and started on a Haiku about a true even that happened when Hannah was a little baby. As you can see, my husband is brilliant. He finished off the masterpiece with an illustration that Napoleon Dynamite would say is "sweet". It's pretty much his best drawing ever.

The haiku and illustration is about a day that Jason took Hannah to a park by my parents house. I wasn't there so I missed all the excitement. As you can see, he took Hannah out of her stroller to get a closer look at a waterfall over the large pond at this picturesque park. But once down the terraces, a goose the size of a pterodactyl went on attack mode and chased Jason and Hannah back up the terrace. If you can imagine, a grown man running for his and his daughter's life from a mad goose, doing "high knees" to get up the terraces holding on to his baby which made him look like he had a straight jacket on. And he lived to tell us about it.

Three Blondies

The other night Jason and I went to our new medical center to have an ultrasound (I already had one at my old doctor, but you know how hospitals like to have all their own stuff to cover their butts) and we left Hannah with my friend who lives on the way there, and has two little girls. She sent me this picture of them playing, and said they played with bows for their hair for at least half an hour. The youngest one is a tiny peanut, she's only a month younger than Hannah.

The utlrasound was good, we saw boy parts again, so that was fun. I'm glad Jason got to go this time too. When I went to go pick Hannah up, she looked at me like, "What are you doing here, already? Can't you see I'm playing with other people's toys." I'm not posting the ultra sound pics, because they really weren't as good or clear as the previous ones.

Is my face getting smaller....

Or is my mole getting bigger?

I have a mole on my face that sits on my cheek precisely where my smile line is so when I grin it gets lost in the crack. The mole has never really bothered me before. In fact, I used to lovingly call it my "Marilyn" or "Cindy Crawford". But lately I've been obsessivly staring at in the mirror, contorting my face, frowning at it, poking it, and wondering if it's just me, or is it becoming a monster.

You know how it is when you gain pounds gradually, you don't really notice until you try to get your favorite jeans on, and say, "Oh dang, I better lay off the cheesecake." It's the boiling frog phenomenon. So I asked Jason a while back if he thought Marilyn was getting bigger. He just shook his head and probably lied like any good husband would do and said no, I don't think so. But I keep asking him, because I'm insecure like that, and he now he teases me about it. It's now an ongoing joke between us that people from church come up to him and ask him if he's married to the girl with giant mole on her face.

As if I don't obsess enough over myself, one night, I was sitting on our bed reading some books to Hannah and he smacked my butt, an indication that my butt crack was exposed again. I said, "Dangit, I'm telling you my butt crack was made too long." I really think it is. And I know, it's totally disgusting to be that girl. I really try to prevent it, but those jeans relax after wearing them a few hours, and don't do their job.

He looked at me and said, "Do you just sit around and make this stuff up?"

But seriously. First of all, there are no pants that are high wasted, well there are, I just haven't worn any of them since 6th grade. I hear that waste lines are going back up, but it's been over a decade since I've had pants that came within an inch of my belly button. And that's really something, because if you can remember from some other post, I'm sure I've shared about my freakishly short torso.

My point is, and I think I have one to bring this all together, yesterday I went to Motherhood Maternity and found this band that wraps around your waste for a multitude of good deeds. It can be used in early pregnancy for when you are in the "in-between" stage and the maternity pants are too big, but you're busting out of your regular pants. Kind of missed that boat since I'm already six months but it's great for my maternity pants that I foolishly bought a size to small. But I realized while wearing it today that it serves an even more noble purpose, it stops my crack from being exposed. So I was just thinking I'd buy a couple more of these things and wear them even after the baby is born. It will be my trademark. Instead of seeing my crack when I squat or bend over, you will see my glorious belly band made of a lycra/spandex blend. So, needless to say, I am elated because, now I will have one less thing to be neurotic and vain about. I can focus my precious time on my growing, throbbing mole.