Monday, November 22, 2004

My Inbox Runneth Over

When emails used to get returned to me with the message "Recipient's Inbox Full" I always assumed they had some large files in there. You know, big pictures someone sent or some other large attachment. Half the time I assumed they were harboring pictures that I had sent! I no longer believe that has to be the case! I am convinced that I can achieve a completely full inbox simply with normal email messages.

Right now there are 83 messages in there. These aren't just anything and everything messages. These are messages that have survived my scrutiny and elimination process. For example, if the subject line of the email has the letters FW or FWD in any form or fashion, it's deleted; unless I can establish by the rest of the subject it is necessary to my well being to read. This rule is also overthrown if I know the sender is another anti-forwarder like myself. That lets me know it must be important.

If the message contains the words get, now, sale, warning, or any more explicit words of offering, it's outta there. Almost all solicitations from online businesses I patron are tossed as well. It's essential to keep special offers from Oriental Trading Company though. And I delete replies to my emails I get from people that don't require a response or further correspondence.

So what's left? Well, 83 messages. Church bulletins that have something I want to tend to in them. Requests from family members about our Christmas gift giving list which I manage. Emails from when Will was born over two months ago that I want to keep and print for his baby book. Just lots of messages that need my attention.

My inbox was never this overwhelming when Trini was our only child. It never got so out of control. How can one little person do such drastic things to an electronic inbox?

Of course, when I sit there holding my son, looking into his still baby blue eyes, I don't think of inboxes or emails. I think how blessed I am to be the mother of not one but two precious babies. I ponder what I could have done so right in my life that God would entrust these two little people to me? Sometimes other things I need to be doing race through my mind. I've learned to push those thoughts aside and take in the joys of motherhood.

I'm still an over achiever and somewhat of a perfectionist but I'm learning and understanding what the important things in life really are. I'm learning ... after all, He's still working on me. -

"You can give without loving, but you can not love without giving." - Amy Carmichael

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Food Turkey

It's funny how a simple childhood song can raise all sorts of questions in the mind of a wee one ... or not. I wish I could really probe my 3 1/2 going on 13 year old's brain and figure out exactly what she's thinking on the subject of turkey this week.

The only Thanksgiving song I remember from elementary school goes something like this: "A turkey sat on a back yard fence as he sang a sad, sad tune. Thanksgiving Day is coming gobble gobble gobble gobble and I know I'll be eaten soon. Gobble gobble ... I would like to run away ... Gobble gobble ... I don't like Thanksgiving Day. (Left out some gobbles for the sake of brevity there.)

First question out of her mouth, "Why was the turkey sad?"

I explained it was because we ate turkey on Thanksgiving.

After much thought she piped up with, "Silly turkey!"

I inquired why the sad turkey was silly?

"Because, Mommy, doesn't he know that real turkeys aren't food turkeys ... and that we only eat food turkeys?"

She amazes me with her thought processes. I agreed he was indeed a "silly turkey" and we went on with our singing.

Everyone is always saying/complaining that kids are growing up too fast these days. I don't get the complaint. As parents we are the keepers of the childhood. Other than events beyond our control, we can keep this tragedy from happening! This is a prime example.

I'm sure some experts would have had me sit down and look Trini square in the eye and explain that the only differences between these turkeys were feathers and an oven. Oh yeah, and life. I don't see how pointing this out to my 3 year old would have made her a better human being down the road.

She was happy to have logically worked through what she concluded was the silliness of this song. She's a happy girl and now we won't have to say goodbyes to the turkeys at Old McDonald's Farm the next time we visit. Nor will we have tears and confusion and probably a broken little heart at the dinner table this week! I'm okay with that.

Experts schmexperts ... I'll take my chances with this one. What's the worst that can happen? I'll raise a child with an exceptionally happy childhood? I can live with that. And if I'm wrong, I'll figure it out later! After all, He's still working on me! - Lesa

P.S. This had turned into a rant and rave session about PG movies for kids and the decline in the quality of television programs. Specifically how it relates to the loss of childhood. I've since deleted that from this page and am saving it for another FUN entry! Can't wait huh?

"To avoid stress: Rule #1 - Don't sweat the small stuff. Rule #2 - It's all small stuff. If you can't fight and you can't flee, flow."
- Robert Eliot

Thursday, November 18, 2004

Home Fires Burning

I really like to cook. I love baking and if my little girl is by my side then oh so much the better; a little slice of Heaven I believe.

I've always had a good handle on things in the kitchen. Sure, I've had my mishaps and my funny moments. But for the most part, I run a pretty tight ship and create mini masterpieces now and then.

Since the birth of my son two months ago, or really since his conception, my brain has not been functioning at full capacity. I start a load of clothes washing. Then, two days later I'll start it washing again. If I'm lucky, the next day they'll get dried. I walk from one side of the house to the other three times before I remember why I started the long journey in the first place. I forget to pick up things at stores. Things that are on my shopping list. That would be the shopping list I HAVE WITH ME!

Well, tonight the condition oozed its way into my kitchen. This is where I draw the line. I set the timer on the oven. I set it for the wrong time, but I set it none the less. The cookies for Mark's Thanksgiving celebration at work tomorrow are Cajun style. For all of you non-Louisianans, that's blackened. I could have cried.

One catapulted to the floor as I tried to pry it out of its little muffin cup. Luckily the mess was minimized as our peke-a-poo did her thing. Our personal little vacuum with instincts she is! I was happy to not have that mess to clean up. When I heard her gagging as she was "woofing" it down, my happiness faded. And Mark's still taking them to work tomorrow.

Gourmet chef I'm not ... but He's still working on me! - Lesa

"Experience is a wonderful thing; it enables us to recognize a mistake every time we repeat it." - Author Unknown

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Cooking Something Up

This is a bit of a blast from the past. I originally wrote it as an email to all those who know and love my husband. It was written in September 2003. It makes me laugh even now. It makes me a little hungry too.


I had my Weigh Down Workshop class last night so I had prepared a casserole for Mark to bake for supper. He actually remembered to get the oven heated up! He also remembered to cook it. He grabbed the casserole dish off the top of the stove and popped it in.

40 minutes later he lifted up the foil and didn't see anything so he pulled the dish out. As he removed the foil he found BLACKENED Hello Dolly cookie remnants and a shriveled, shrank and melted spatula!

Standing near the incriminating evidence, I was recovering from the painful laughter that overcame me! All of a sudden his face lit up like a child on Christmas morning and he moved to the sink to show me an empty dish there.

(Let me preface this next part by saying that we concluded on Sunday that something has died in our refrigerator and gone into hiding as we can not find the offending item. Bad, bad smell only when the fridge is opened.)

He said, "I messed up dinner but I found our culprit from the fridge. These nasty looking potatoes had to have been in there for months! Don't worry ... I threw them all out!"

I took a step back ... so that he wouldn't be within arm's reach of me. I then informed him that those "nasty, old potatoes" had been the ones I had spent over an hour and half making earlier that afternoon!!!!!!

Normally, I might have found a way to be amused at this as well, but these potatoes were significant to me. You see, the devil-incarnate, my orthodontist, put new torture devices on last week. (Evil creations called buttons on the backsides of my lower teeth.) I haven't been able to chew much since last Wednesday and I had finally found the time to make me some mushy scalloped potatoes.

In 8 years of marriage, my husband has NEVER EVER thrown something away from in the fridge. Poor Mark ... he couldn't win for losing last night. I ended up laughing about it later ... with a growling stomach.

Guess He's still working on Mark, and me! - Lesa

"What a sad thing it is when you have to blow out other's candles to make your own shine brighter." - Author Unknown

Friday, November 12, 2004

What's in a Sound?

My house cleaning mad dash is on. Time is running out. Company is due tomorrow or maybe tonight. Little truths about myself are coming out in ways I find remarkable. For instance, my newborn is living, crying proof of what a poor housekeeper I have been. Allow me to elaborate.

It's a well known fact that babies can hear while in utero. We sang to our son and talked to him. He heard the world around him. He's used to the singing at church and his sister's girlie screeches. He's even used to all three of our dogs barking, even if one is right beside him. None of these things startle him, scare him, or even wake him.

So why when his mother tries to vacuum does he totally flip his lid? What exactly does that say about my pre-natal efforts in tidying up?

In my defense I was on bedrest for several weeks prior to his arrival. And I must say that I really do feel a stronger need to stay on top of things in the house now. Guess I'm growing up. Of course, now I don't have time to do the things I want and need to do in the house. I'm always tied up with one or more children. The mind is a funny thing that way.

Oh well! He's still working on me! - Lesa

"You can't turn back the clock, but you can wind it up again." - Bonnie Prudden

Doing Nothing So I Can Do Something

I've been wanting to start my own blogspot for at least a couple of weeks now. I've "postponed" doing it because I've always had something else that really took precedence over it and needed to be done first. Of course, I didn't always get to the something else, but at least I did nothing with what I truly wanted to do so if it struck my fancy I could do the less desirable something I needed to do.

Will all of my posts ramble on so? To be honest it's quite possible. I'm blessed to be a Christian, wife of one, mother of two humans and three canines, daughter of six, granddaughter of eleven, sister of nine, and an aunt of nine (soon to be ten)! (I included in-laws and out-laws and steps in all of that!) Add that to my glorious occupation of domestic engineer (yes, housewife and homemaker) and I stay pretty ... well ... loopy ... I mean ... busy!

My son will be two months old in two days. For some reason, being the mother of two has made me feel like more of a grown up than I did with just one child. I mean, getting the minivan in 2002 packed its punch. And although turning 30 last year wasn't so bad, I felt the realness of adulthood when I hit 31 last week. But a second child ... that was the real clincher. I'm the driver, the chaperone, the leader, the caretaker, the parent ... I'm all grown up!

So, I started writing this an hour ago. I've been interrupted by a hungry child that my daughter and I have fondly named the piranha. (Yes, I'm nursing; or rather he is.) And I'm not sure if I'm getting to my point or even if I have one.

I did have the intention of bringing up the leg bounce I've acquired since the birth of my son. Whether standing, sitting, or sometimes even laying in bed, if my son is in my arms, my legs bounce. He can be crying, smiling, screaming, silent. They bounce. The louder he cries the deeper and faster the bounces get. (Sure sign of desperation.) Today he started crying in another room and I got the bounce going before I ever even picked him up!

I noticed the ailment affects other new moms as well. My friend Deana had her bounce on with her daughter last night in Bible class. Get us together and you've got an aerobics class ... we're way too active for yoga. Deana, incidentally, has inspired me to become a writer or at least a "blogspotter". Her baby is 3 weeks older than mine. If she can fine time to decompress on-line then I can too by golly.

My only other unmentionable today, that I'll be so bold as to mention, was my first shot at mopping since my son has arrived. Yeah, he's 2 months old. I do have the excuse of having had a c-section, but let's face it; I'm not an avid mopper. (Is anyone?) Except when I'm having company, which I am this weekend. I had to go in search of the mop, that's how long it had been.

I mopped right before I started writing here. Late at night ... that's the time to do it. No one to distract you. No dogs to go pee, no child wanting milk or fruit chews or goldfish, no husband wanting you to find something he can't find because his x-ray vision isn't working and things don't move out of the way on their own for him to look behind them for what he's in search of. Oh, but that's another story.

Thanks for sharing your time with me ... all two of you that may read this. I promise it'll get better. Well, I promise it will probably get better. After all, He's still working on me. - Lesa

"Your state of mind is your state of life." - Peter C. Siegel