Christmas Card Plan B

All I want for Christmas is one good picture of my family...all four of us facing the camera with eyes open, preferably smiling; hair that isn't sticking straight up (David) or covering our eyes (Lida); color-coordinated clothing (or at least something that doesn't clash)...is that too much to ask?  


Apparently it is.  We've tried to arrange a photo shoot with Christy a couple different times, but so far it hasn't worked out.  December 25 is quickly approaching, so I'm creating a Christmas card back-up plan just in case my beautiful family photo doesn't materialize.  What do you think?

Bright Blooming Tree Christmas Card

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Jake's Hat...Take Two

After learning to knit last winter, I attempted my first gift-able project.  I planned to make a hat to give to Jake for his birthday in February.  It was my first try at "knitting in the round," and it went surprisingly well.  I was so proud of myself for figuring out how to do this complicated-looking thing with four needles and a mess of yarn.  I even used two colors of yarn to make stripes and did something called a "jogless jog."  I was officially a master knitter who had made a wonderfully cozy hat that my brother would adore...if he were a midget.

It turns out that the pattern I found online (that I'm absolutely sure was listed under the heading of adult hats) was actually a child-sized hat.  A delightful little child-sized hat that was not going to fit onto Jake's head.  So, happy early February, David - I made you a hat!

Unfortunately, Jake's Hat: Take Two was also a flop.  I could not find an adult hat pattern that I liked, so I attempted to adjust the child-sized hat pattern.  This was a bad idea...especially because I was too impatient to actually do any of the math that might have allowed the hat to turn out nicely.  So, for his birthday Jake received a sort of overgrown, giant-sized hat that I'm sure will keep his head toasty warm...if he ever decides to wear it out in public (and I won't hold it against him if he manages to misplace it before he gets the chance).

But don't worry, brother...you'll have another birthday next year!  And I've got this book on hold at the library:

there's sure to be something in here that will fit a normal-sized adult head like yours.

Quote of the Day

"We'll have to binge on the cartoons to get the happiness back in our heads."


-Niki, on the prospect of going to see The Last Airbender after reading Roger Ebert's review (scroll down a bit to find it).

Missing Grandpa Betz

After a long wait on the holds list, I was finally able to stop at the library yesterday to check out a copy of Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life.

I've only read the first three or so chapters, and already I'm loving it. Of course, Kingsolver has a wonderful way with words that makes reading about genetic modification seem like poetry, but even more than that, her words and experiences inspire and motivate me.

Already, I want to plant a garden from heirloom seeds, shop at farm markets (and even get to know local farmers), learn to eat foods in season, avoid the Walmart produce section at all costs, plant asparagus that I'll eat three years from now, make green veggies an enjoyable part of my family's meals, and more.

Right now, however, the thing that I'm wanting to do most of all is turn back time. I'd like to have read this book and thought about these ideas, and felt these motivations three or four years ago. You see, as much as I want to grow my own food and understand the art and skill involved in such a task, I really have no clue. Already, I've learned quite a bit from this book, and I'm sure there are loads of great how-to garden books that I can (and will) borrow from the library to help me get started, but this seems like the sort of thing one learns best by doing.

I'd like to work alongside a farmer who has been feeding his family from the land all his life (and his father before him). I'm wishing I could spend a summer, or even a day, on a farm in Michigan...with my Grandpa. Oh the things I could learn from him! Really, I have learned a lot from him (how to make "real" popcorn, for example), but I'm just now realizing how much I could have gleaned from his life experience if I'd only taken the time to ask. And he would have loved to teach me, I'm sure.

So, if I actually follow through with my lofty ideas to grow some food this summer (or at least shop the farm markets more often), I'll struggle through on my own, or with the help of friends, but all the while, I'll be doing it with Grandpa in mind.

how does that song go again?

Since David is down for his third nap today, and I've already done the dishes, cleaned the bathroom, bought and put away groceries, and uploaded photos to WalMart (which I forgot to pick up - ugghh), I thought I'd take advantage of the abundance of free time to do something really important - look up song lyrics.

Anyone who knows me could probably guess that I sing to David almost non-stop throughout the day, and of course we've hit upon a few songs that are our favorites. The problem is that I don't know all the lyrics to some of our favorites. And by all I mean more than a couple lines. I've tried improvising, but my spontaneous rhyming ability is pretty lame, so off to the web I went to do some searching.

I stumbled upon KIDiddles, which is a site I've seen before, but had forgotten about. They have about a million kid's songs indexed with complete lyrics (and midi files for some), and I was pleased to find the words to Mr. Sun here. Wouldn't you know - I've only been missing a few words in this one...now if I could just figure out the tune.

My next stop was a google search for the song that I faithfully sing to David every morning. In my mind, it's always Sharon, Lois and Bram of Elephant Show fame singing Good Mornin', and I like to change the first verse from "we talked the whole night through" to "you slept the whole night through," in hopes that David will take the hint. So far it hasn't worked.

Finally, I searched for a song that my mom used to sing, and of which I really only remember a few random phrases. Now that I know all the words to A Bushel and a Peck, I'll most certainly sing it to David more often. This verse pretty much sums up how I feel about him:

I love you a bushel and peck
A bushel and peck
Though you make my heart a wreck
Make my heart a wreck
And you make my life a mess
Make my life a mess, yes
A mess of happiness
About you, about you
Cause I love you a bushel . . . .

The Lanyard

The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the pale blue walls of this room,
bouncing from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one more suddenly into the past
--a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sickroom,
lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,
set cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift--not the archaic truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hands,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

--Billy Collins

Lullaby and goodnight

For as long as I can remember, music has been a key ingredient in my bedtime routine. I can remember my mom singing me to sleep when I was young. On the good ship lollipop... Summertime and the livin' is easy... Maybe not the traditional lullabies you'd expect, but these are the songs that still make my eyelids droopy.

Then came a time when I would sing from my top bunk to my little sister below. Her favorite song at bedtime was a little tune we performed at a school music program, Goodbye dear friends, it's time to be moving along...

As a high schooler, I started a bedtime singing habit that I continue to this day. If I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep because my mind just won't slow down, I sing the Cares Chorus (based on 1 Peter 5:7) as I make a mental list of all my worries. I guess it's just my way of laying my burdens at Jesus' feet and allowing myself to get some rest.

Now that I'm a mom, I am realizing once again how important music is in the bedtime routine. Over the past three weeks, I've enjoyed singing my little David to sleep, but I've also realized something. As much as I think I am singing for him, I am also singing for me.

I sing to calm myself down...to keep my frustrations at bay...to put things in perspective...to remind myself of the truths that escape me in the middle of the night when my hormone-crazed brain begins to rely on my emotions and believe in lies.

One of our favorite "lullabies" so far has been Great is Thy Faithfulness, and while I hope that the sound of my voice will soothe David to sleep, it's easy to admit that I sing this song mostly for myself. Living with a newborn is stressful. Being responsible for another life is scary. Most of the time I don't really know what I'm doing. Half the time I probably do the wrong thing. Sometimes I just want to give up and do nothing at all.

In the middle of the night, when I'm exhausted, and I have no idea why my boy is wailing, and I'm sure that I cannot "do this" anymore, I have to remind myself that God is faithful. His mercies are new every morning, whether or not I have the energy to get out of bed. His compassion never fails, even when I'm losing my patience. He provides everything I need, even when I don't know what I need. Every night, Keith prays that I will have peace. Every day I ask God for strength. Every moment, He is doing this new-mom-thing right along side me. And to think that on top of His faithfulness, I get the amazing blessing of this beautiful little boy. God is faithful, and for that I am so thankful.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine with ten thousand beside.