July 30, 2008

works of love

I am in a book club with some friends (very smart friends I might add) and we are working our way through Works of Love by Soren Kierkegaard. I say this just so I can sound smart. Or well educated/well read. Something that is very important to my self image, that I spend very little time working towards. With that being said, I really have loved this group. My favorite teacher / pastor / brilliant theologically mind facilitates the group of mostly women and contends with talk of coffee, tea, dessert, sugar with that, a new baby cooing...etc. In the midst of all that, we talk about love. And Kierkegaard's revolutionary, yet 150+ year old vision of this cornerstone of our faith and relationship with Jesus. Love is not an emotion. Love is an act. Love is a duty. Love is a response. But how do we love? What does it look like?

For me it usually looks like doing nice things for people that have already done nice things for me. Mostly a response to love. That feels safe. If you love me, and you have demonstrated it, I feel safe to love you back. But only if you continue to love me proportionately to how much I love you. And maybe even more than I love you. There has to be balance or I might....sometime....maybe....spiral into an insecure ball of sin and implode....or instance.

Coupled with Kierkegaard, I am reading a very different book (comments excluded out of respect for the author) with an equally intelligent group of women focusing on respecting our husbands (...so they will love us more.) Really it is pointing us towards obedience to God through Christ. We (love) respect b/c God first loved us.

But what does this mean? When I am changing (poopy swimmer...gross!) diapers and cleaning the house and working on Seva and making dinner? When I am talking to my mom and listening to my aunt? When I am frustrated (read: jealous) with a friend or angry (read: irrational) with my husband? There are a few concepts that I have seen through these discussions that have impacted (Lord...please impact my heart to change!) me. In my own words (certainly not in the words of Kierkegaard....that I barely understand).

Love the people we see...not the people we want to see. It is easy to love the lovely. To love your husband when he brings you flowers, buys you a diamond and writes you a love letter all on the same day. To love your child when they listen to everything you say....all day long....and smile and tell you how great a mom you are. (tell me now....will this happen before age 18? or not?) To love a friend who calls to tell you what an inspiration you are to them. Etc. It is more challenging to love these same people, when they act out of their sin nature and hurt you. When they are impatient. Angry. Or indifferent towards you. When maybe...they don't even love you (the way you want to be loved). But we are called to love these people for who they are. Sinners. That's the reality. We are to love them on their worst days. And on our worst days. We are to love them when they hurt us. And when they deceive us. And when they ignore us. We are to love them. Period. There is a great love song my husband sent me years ago with these words.

I don't want to fall into your face.
I don't want to fall into your family.
And I don't want to fall into your circumstance. I just want to fall into you.
I don't want to fall into your faith.
I don't want to fall into your mystery.
And I don't want to fall into nothing else to do. I just want to fall into you.
I don't want to your past.
I don't what to fall into what you're going to be someday.
I don't want to fall into your accomplishments. I just want to fall into you.
And I don't want to fall into your touch.
And I don't want to fall into being next to you.
And I don't want to fall into you in love with me. I just want to fall into you.

This post is getting way too long. I'll seperate this into a few different posts. I'm out of coffee and Ben is moments from waking. But for now: "Love believes all things"...because God is high above all things...and can do anything. And we are to "Remain in love's debt"...because Christ freed us from our debt. Praise be His name.

July 21, 2008

sleep strike?!?!

When Ben was born, I quickly put him on a schedule, routine, what ever you want to call it. I don't function too well when I don't know what we're doing, when we're doing it, what's next, at what time, and I"m assured it will all be done by 10 pm so I can go to bed. Sounds a bit controlling when I write it all out like that, but I don't like to leave anything to chance...especially my precious 8 hours of beauty sleep. From the beginning it appeared that Ben LOVED this safe, consistent world of love that I closely managed for him. He was thriving. Always happy. A joy to be around. And when bedtime came, anywhere between 7:00 and 7:05 pm....he was ready, willing and able to walk his cute little buns down the hall, saying "horse, horse, horse" and "night night" all the way as if he was looking forward to it. With help from me, he would get in his crib, put his pacifier in his mouth, roll over and go to sleep. Friends and baby sitters commented on how EASILY he went to sleep. The same held true for nap time. Were we blessed? Or was it just amazing parenting? I didn't care which one.

It should be noted at this point that my husband hates bed time. As a child he hated bed time and he still (at this age) hates bed time. He often refuses to go to bed, says "I don't have to if I don't want to" (in different words) and finds all sorts of things (I'm sure really important things that can only be done after midnight) to do, research, read, watch, listen to....etc at all hours of the night. He often comes to bed hours after I have settled in for my great 8, or even better 9 hours of sleep.

All this to say that SOMETHING happened to completely rock my sweet Ben out of this perfect sleep behavior last week. Starting Tuesday night, I laid him in his bed and quickly left the room (like I do every sleep time every day) and shut the door. He proceeded to stand up and throw his horse and pacifier out of the crib and cry for the next 2 hours. It was such a hysterical cry that I kept going in thinking something was really really wrong. This first night, turned into the next, then nap times....even mentioning "night night" sent him into hysterics. He resisted PJs. And wouldn't get out of the bath...knowing that was one step closer to bed time. Had he and "horse" gotten in a fight that I didn't know about? Was there a lost pea under the mattress? A horrible nightmare about all parks shutting down or a food shortage?....wait....did Greg tell him he didn't have to go to bed if he didn't want to?!?!?!?!?!

I do not know what caused this change in (person....a totally different child!) behavior. What I do know is that I've resorted to bottles, rocking, reading, singing, bribing....I'd nurse him now if I could to get him to sleep!

Fast forward a week...you will be happy (and I will be sane) to know that Ben has eased back into his old, healthy, easy to sleep habits. And a light bulb went off at bible study this morning that the whole ordeal was probably caused by the crazy child care schedule we've been keeping the last 6 weeks. Little Ben just needed a little love (and a routine!)

July 18, 2008

My Sweet Ben

I thought I'd share my favorite Ben pictures and a few Ben quotes....after all, my blog is named after and inspired by him!

First birthday










This was documentation for a work experiments....babies DO like Séva (sevastyle.com) hair products!








Swim lesson....he loves the pool!









And he thinks Greg is HILARIOUS!












My favorite Ben words / phrases
Za-pato ouside (Greg implemented a new no shoes in the house rule and Ben LOVES it)
Baket ball, baket ball, baket ball (said in constant repetition from months 12-14)
Shut de do (as the door slams in your face)

July 17, 2008

How did I forget the Drive thru liquor....errr....I mean dairy?

I can NOT believe I neglected to mention the drive-thru dairy in my last post!!! Before I write anything else...I must share. There is a drive-thru dairy conveniently located approximately 200 yards from my front door. For those locals....it's on Baker between Mendoza and Fairview. It's been there for years....or decades. And I'd driven by with out giving it much thought day after day for years before I had a milk guzzling toddler. (it breaks my heart to admit that he is a toddler, but let's face it, there is nothing baby about my walking, talking, running and screaming opinionated, currently sleep-striking boy).

Back to the dairy. Shortly after sweet Ben started drinking milk, and before I implemented the milk inventory management system (ie...always keep 2+ gallons in the fridge) came a late night with the last of the milk being poured into Ben's night time bottle. Too tired (lazy) to go to the market that night....I put it off until the morning...when I'm a little smarter, quicker, and all around generally happier. So come early morning (so early son....the sun is not up!) Ben and I got in the car for a milk field trip. On our way to Stater Bros....I see the drive-thru dairy....make a hard (slightly illegal) left and pull in. I'm wide eyed, thinking it's not so hard being a mom after all, there are little miracles like drive-thru dairies if you just look for them. I pull up and as I start scanning my options....Bud Lite, Miller Lite Miller MGD, Hineken, Corona, Corona Lite, 12 oz., 40 oz....12 pack, cases, bottles, cans, all sound good....did I miss something? Where's the milk? I keep searching, quickly realizing that there is no way this pusdo liquor store is going to have organic milk. At the end of the line I see three or four milk options (none organic) which is about 1/10th of the beer selection. I pull up, pick my gallon of non-organic milk and easy as pie, pay with out getting out of the car. Ben still in PJs in the back seat. Glorious! And I consider getting a beer, for later in the day of course, but resist. I can always come back later, and STILL not have to get out of the car!

Picture of Ben on a milk stake out in front of the fridge.

July 11, 2008

There's no place like home (a shout out to the west side)

I've gone through some phases...where I don't like my neighborhood so much. I don't know what it is. Well, it's a lot of things....but I won't go into it b/c it will all sound like I am a horrible, self-centered, high maintenance person. And I'd rather not show my cards like that. Anywho....the last couple weeks, the city of Costa Mesa has surprised me. Lots of happy, hilarious and slightly white trash (is that term offensive to anyone?) surprises. Here are a few...

Angel's playground - the playground by our house has been under construction for the last 6 months and it re-opened last week and is larger than life! It's huge and clean and new and amazing. And I have only identified 6 potential head injury/broken bone sites for Ben. I am praying against them all. It is full of kids and moms at all hours and I love it!

Back yard pool - with the aforementioned park, I would have LOVED a community pool. But it doesn't exist and as far as I can tell on the City of Costa Mesa website (www.ci.costa-mesa.ca.us/)....there are no plans for one. As summer was approaching, I was bummed by this fact and searched my little mind for a remedy. Enter, the "inflatable" 3' wide, 6" deep back yard miracle. I bought the inflatable pool last summer, but with Ben not able to sit up, it was not much fun for anyone. But this summer is a whole new world. A few bath toys, a hat and some (LOTS of sunscreen GREG!) sunscreen and we're good to go for HOURS! The best part is I can actually "lay out" (a past time I thought was lost for years to come) while Ben plays happily in the pool. And another bonus....as discovered last weekend, if "happy" turns into "cranky and hysterical," we can change venue (go inside for a diaper and nap time) and hopefully attitude in 30 seconds...or less. Yea!

So we're cruising through summer, when the 4th of July approaches and low and behold, we live in the only city in Orange County that allows fire works! Holy white trash war zone. See "Holiday Curse" post for more information.

Cattle drive - I still have more information to gather on this one...but as far as I can tell...there is a legit CATTLE DRIVE through Costa Mesa, including down Harbor Blvd. in July as part of the fair festivities. Oh....I need a whole other post to talk about the fair. I'll leave that one alone for now.

Old Vine Restaurant - this is just a shout out to our favorite local dinner spot, turned breakfast spot, turned "buy all our wine and cheese" spot, which might turn into our vegetable co-op spot next. We're talking about it. I highly recommend the 4 course dinner with wine paring and a cab to get home.

July 9, 2008

I can do that...

This post is both a tribute to my "I can do that" friend Jenn Osler, and a warning against at home hair removal.

Jenn was my college roommate for one semester in college. My last semester. My "I only need to take 3 units of English and 3 units of intro to dance for non-majors to gradudate" semester (some how I neglected to take any electives my first few years in college and had to catch up near the end). It was my last horah in Austin, knowing that life was moving me some where new very soon. And I was determined to go out with a bang. Or a head ache. Jenn was dating a tennis pro, which conveniently opened up all sorts of doors for us, and run ins with other tennis pros. And free diet coke at "the club." We played tennis. And drank beer after tennis. And ran the Capital 10,000 race, and drove to Waco one night to pick up a back pack from a friend. And went to Skishores on Lake Austin for the best burger ever. And we went skiing for spring break. And that is maybe where I heard Jenn's famous line....or some variation there of. "I can do that." I can ski a double black. I can fix your boot. I can hail a cab. I can drive the Caddi.

After college, Jenn moved to Newport Beach where I was living and we worked together for several years. The motto grew. I can make that picture frame. I can re-glaze my sink. I can run a marathon. And another marathon....faster. And another marathon. I can go to Mammoth this weekend. And Hawaii the next. And the beauty is that she did. She did it all. With such confidence and energy. I loved it. And I miss it. (move back to California Jenn). No...she's happy, b/c she said "I can get into Law school" and she did. And she's 2/3 done!!!

So the other night....I was looking at my unruly eyebrows and thought of my sweet friend Jenn. :) I thought....I can wax my own eye brows....and save a little casheshe. I can draw a straight line. How hard can it be?

The directions say, "Microwave the wax for no more than 1 minute." Of course it's not soft after one minute....I'll try two. Boiling. Too hot. Blow.....blow....stir. Sticky. How do I get this off the stick. Oh...it's on my fingers....can't get it off. It's on all my fingers. Sticky. Stir, stir. Cool enough. I try to apply to a safe area (between the eye brows...don't have to be so precise there)....swipe on. Too much. How do I get this out of my hair? I only want those ones gone, not those ones. Forget it....one....two.....OUCH! It does hurt just as bad when you do it to yourself. I'll spare you the rest of the details. But I only successfully removed about 4 unwanted hairs on my face, and lost all feeling in my finger tips. Still trying to get the wax off. I can do lots of things other than 1)run as fast as Jenn, and 2)wax my eyebrows.

July 5, 2008

Holiday curse? (ie....holy vomit!)

I should have seen is coming! It's Wednesday night....two days before the 4th of July. I can taste the morning donuts, hear the parade, smell the bbq's, and feel the sun on my skin at the pool! I look forward to all holidays. 4th of July being no exception. Greg is going to be off work for three days. It's an excuse to "parade" sweet Ben around the neighborhood dressed in new patriotic clothes sent by "Gama" (Grandma Nance). And just feels like something you should celebrate with kids...and streamers.

In light of those expectations....we had planned on having a few friends and their kids over for donuts Friday (the 4th) morning, then participating in our neighborhood parade. Then home for nap time, and on to another friend's pool for an afternoon BBQ and party with several families. My idea of a fabulous day! I'm sure my poor 16 month old boy was overwhelmed just thinking about it. Maybe I shared too much information with him too early in the week. Because.....

Back up to Wednesday night. Ben is sound asleep...Greg and I are done with dinner, tidying up the house...and I hear a cough, then cry from Ben's room. I slowly open the door, as to not wake him if he's asleep, and the smell hits me like a kick in the gut, like a tidal wave...a North Shore in the winter tidal wave....ugh.....vomit! I am afraid to turn on the light, but clearly have to. I illuminate the room only to find Ben, the crib, and the carpet COVERED in blueberry, grape, turkey puke! Oh my goodness...where do I start? The baby? The carpet? Ewwwww! I holler for Greg, we tag team a baby bath, several rounds of carpet cleaning and a unanimous decision that Ben can NOT sleep anywhere near his room b/c the smell is horrible! In fact that entire end of the house now smells. We set up the pack n play in the guest room and get him settled and back to sleep. Then....cough, cry....vomit. More carpet cleaning. The cycle repeats. And repeats. Fortunately we were smart enough to put towels down in the guest room so he didn't actually puke on any more carpet...the cleaning was still focused in his room. He eventually fell asleep and stayed asleep until 7 am.

Thursday (T-minus 24 hours until parade day!) I had a baby sitter coming and questioned my parent decision making skills in deciding to actually leave him with a sitter....but I HAD to go to work that day so I left. I get a text at 10:30 saying that he puked, but just a little apple sauce...and on the tile. After Wednesday night...not a big deal. Not we're at a little less than 24 hours and I sadly cancel the donut breakfast and parade party for Friday morning, but plan for Greg, Ben and I to still participate. BUT I had FULL intentions of partying like a rock star (mom) at the pool Friday afternoon. As long as there was no more puke.

Friday - PARADE DAY! Happy 4th of July! We ate, we paraded, we played at the park...that's odd....Ben "I never stop talking" Thorburn hasn't said a word since breakfast. How about some lunch? Hmmmm....not hungry? He's probably just hot and tired from all the 4th of July fun. Nap time. I hope it's a good one b/c we have a SUPER fun party at 4:00! Minutes later....cough...cry....you know it's coming. Puke. Seriously? Poor little guy. Clean up. Nap strike. It's hours before it occurs to me that we can not in fact take poor little Ben to the 4th of July party at the pool....in the sun....fun in the sun....and burgers. So sad.

But we did decide to take him to Ikea thinking he was feeling better only to have him puke down the back of Greg's shirt and into a pile on the floor. We must be morons.

So Ben went to be at 7:00. Greg and I opened a nice bottle of wine, had a make shift 4th of July dinner with potato salad, chicken and corn on the cob. And enjoyed one of the best dinners (minus the food) in a long time.

I can't complete this post with out mentioning the insanity that ensued after the sun went down. I hadn't really thought about the fact that we've never spent the 4th of July in Costa Mesa. Holy illegal fire works! EVERY house on every street has make shift "fireworks" platforms fashioned out of ladders and plywood, and audience of 10-15 people in lawn chairs and endless amounts of legal fireworks, and a few smuggled in from TJ. Serious business. Our neighborhood (the only one in Orange County that allows fire works) was a white trash war zone. Hilarious. And a little scary. And I am already planning next year's festivities, but will not tell Ben about it so it's doesn't upset his stomach!

And just so you know...after resisting the (totally rational!) urge to call Empire Carpet....call today, deliver tomorrow...you know the annoying commercial...b/c Ben's room still smelled SO bad. We pulled up the carpet in his room and sprayed a 2/3 C to 1 gallon mix of bleach and water on the carpet pad and back side of the carpet, let it dry, then followed it up with a sprinkling (LIBERAL sprinkling) of baking soda and a few more runs of the vacuum. I am happy to report that the smell is (mostly) gone and Ben is back in his room. With a permanent towel under his crib to (cover the stain from the blueberry vomit....what? i didn't say the evidence was gone, just the smell) and just in case he EVER pukes again. Surely he won't ever puke again?!?!