How Do You Measure

I was outside this crisp fall morning working on my stone retaining wall in front of our house, with the two boys playing in the yard, when Green Bean fell and hurt his finger. I picked him up and held him, stopping to soak in the feeling of holding his long slender body in my lap, dreading the day he outgrows that kind of treatment, when he reached down and picked up the tape measure I'd been using.

He stretched it out in front of my shoulders. "I measure you, Mommy."

"Oh. How wide am I?" Content that this is no actual measurement being taken.

"Um... 4 pounds."

"Okay, that's not so bad."

"I 4 pounded you."

You have to record conversations like this, because they don't stay in the memory forever, and they're impossible to recreate. I remember being a motivated colorer of coloring books as a child (my siblings and I were ever competing for who could stay in the lines best), as we got to get a new one only after we'd finished the one we currently owned. I'd developed into an expert colorer, so it was with fascination that my mom brought out a coloring book I had used as a toddler. I couldn't believe those scribbles were made by my very own hands, so long ago that no memory of them remained in my mind.

I think that will be Green Bean's feeling when he reads conversations he once had with me.

The Theology of Leisure

Sunday afternoon as I was cleaning up from lunch I had a hankering to listen to...something. Ever since we subscribed to high speed internet I've been enjoying the virtually endless choices of radio shows to listen to whenever it's convenient (except Rush Limbaugh...you have to pay to listen to his show on the internet, and while I think his radio show is entertaining and thought provoking, no way will I pay for the privilege of hearing his opinions.)

I especially make use of internet listening in the mornings as I'm working out. I've done my aerobics video often enough that I don't need to listen to Denise Austen's instructions and encouragements ("Shape that rear end...it's the last thing that leaves the room!") And the half hour goes by much more quickly when something else is helping me think about interesting topics unrelated to exercise.

Some of my favorite "listens":
Living on the Edge - Chip Ingram
The Dave Ramsey Show
Let my People Think - Ravi Zacharias
Focus on the Family - Dr. James Dobson

But on Sunday afternoon none of those ones appealed to me. I'd stumbled onto snippets of "The View" on the ABC website the day before, and I was more in the mood for tart, opinionated discussions. But I hesitated to turn it on, because the topics those ladies had covered were just... trite at best, unnecessarily crass and profane at worst. Then I thought of my beloved English and literature professor from Moody Bible Institute, Dr. de Rosset.

Months ago I googled "Dr. Rosalie de Rosset" because I just missed her and all her tart opinions but especially how she stretched my thinking and inspired me to go beyond my easy and comfortable reads and spend my reading time in great novels and classics, deepening my understanding and enlarging my perspectives.

I decided to go back and listen to one of her lectures that I'd found available online. And when I googled her name this time I found one I hadn't seen before. The Theology of Leisure, a discussion on Moody Broadcasting Network's "Midday Connection".

I thought it was ironic that on a Sunday afternoon, my "day of rest" in which I was trying to decide what to fill my time with, I came across a discussion of the right way to fill leisure time. I'm so glad I didn't turn to "The View".

While Dr. de Rosset goes on a small tirade about technology, I know it must come from personal experience. An imbalance that makes a person realize that the internet and e-mailing and blogging have certain addictive qualities, and anything out of balance decreases a person's quality of life. Especially when that addiction or compulsion pulls you away from God's amazing creation and interaction face to face with people He's put in your life. So while I've been discovering the wonder that is the world wide web for the past 6 months or so (in depth, I mean. I'd been on-line before. Just not nearly as often when it took 20 minutes to load my e-mail. No, I didn't do much surfing then.) I've also become acquainted with how easy it is to spend too much time delving for information at the expense of the happy moments spent reading to a hazel eyed, thoughtful lover of books and rolling on the floor with his chubby laughing blue eyed with blond curls younger brother.

Here's to thoughtful, intentional uses of leisure time.

Here I go!

I've decided to join the club. The 238 other club members who are posting reading goals for the fall. As a newbie to the blogging world, sometimes I just want to fit in.

And I like the challenge. Although I'm not sure being a member of a fall reading club will actually give me more minutes in a day to read. I feel like I read as often as I can find spare minutes as it is...

But the truth is, I am kind of stuck in the slowing sticky muddiness of informative reading right now. Postmodernism 101 by Heath White. The topic fascinates me, and my best friend, who loaned me the book, is teaching a high school Bible class on Christianity in the postmodern world. I have the additional fire under my seat because I know she'll need the books back soon that she loaned me. But still, an informational book doesn't call out to me from the bedside or the coffee table or wherever I last set it down like a story with a plotline does. So my reading becomes limited to the actual time I plan it in, instead of being picked up any spare minute I find in order to see what happens next to the gripping character in my novel.

Maybe having goals will spur me on to pick this book up a little more often. (= It's good, it really is.

Here's my list:

Postmodernism 101 by Heath White: "A first course for the curious Christian." The idea that our culture is undergoing a major shift in the way it approaches life is deeply interesting to me. And what I'm reading rings true. I love that embracing mystery and acknowledging that God is beyond simple formulas and easy steps is part of the transformation of our approach to Him.

Post-Modern Pilgrims by Leonard Sweet: "First century passion for the 21st century world." Another informative book. But it looks excellent. I can't wait to get to it. "Casting ahead the anchor of ancient tradition."

Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki: My Hero wants me to read this one, and I told him I would long ago, and I finally started it a few months ago, and got sidetracked by other books. I enjoyed what I've read so far, but Kiyosaki's approach to life and wealth doesn't entirely ring true to me. Still, it has broadened my perspective on the potential money has to make more money if you educate yourself to really be an expert about a given field. If you really know real estate, for example, or anitques, you can spot bargains and turn them around to make money fairly easily. I'm about half way through, so I ought to be able to finish. Which will reassure my husband that I really do love him and value his opinion and have interest in what interests him.

Saint Ben, a novel by John Fischer: My Hero gave me this book for my birthday because it was on my wish list. Someone recommended it somewhere online. I can't remember who or why. I ought to make notes of those things when I add a book to my wishlist. But I expect it will be a good read. Although I'm learning I'm a sucker for recommendations. Advertisments? Don't trust them. But someone else saying they LOVE a product? I'm sold. At least until I try it myself.

Flabbergasted by Ray Blackston: another birthday gift from My Hero, from my wishlist, of which I don't remember who recommended it or why. It looks like a fun read, although I'm skeptical now, looking at the cover and reading the back, about how worth my time it will be. Still, a fun, easy read may be just the thing after I'm through with the THREE informative books on my list.

And that's all. I hope I'll read many more, but it's my first time keeping track, and I like actually accomplishing goals I set for myself. If I do this again, I'll have a better idea what's realistic, but this fall I'll start with just five, two of which I'm already at least halfway through. Go, me!

Pronoun Conundrum

Green Bean figured out the pronoun "me" long ago, that when he uses it, it refers to himself. All his sentences were "Me weally wuv my bunny," "Me want to do it!" "Me have some," etc.

Just yesterday and today he has begun to use "I". And now that he realizes he's been using "me" incorrectly, it sounds wrong to him in every sentence. He now says, "Hey! Let I do it!" "Give I one cookie, please," "You let I turn the water on?"

I wonder how many other nuances of language he's picked up on consciously and changed without me noticing.

Peanut Butter, on the other hand, uses very few words. He communicates nonverbally, through his tone of voice. He's the LOUDEST little boy I've ever met. My ears are hypersensitive, and loud noises tend to cause me pain, but I think he's working on dulling my hearing for me. In a year or two no baby's cry will bother me again. I'll be blissfully unaware of anyone's needs unless they write it out and stick it in front of me.

Really, my nonverbal son is pretty much intelligable just by the expression he uses and his tone of voice. We give him something and it sounds like he told us, "thank you!" even though no words came out. I begin preparing supper and he heads over to his high chair, stretches his arms up as if he's trying pull himself up, and makes, "Please notice me, I'm hungry and I want food" noises. I ask him if he wants some milk, and he makes a pleased /satisfied squeal and heads for the fridge where I hand him his sippy cup. I think he could get by indefinitely with what he's mastered so far, but here's one mama who hopes that learning to speak words will significantly decrease the number of times he howls at the top of his lungs each day.

The Love of Money

Green Bean earned his first commission two days ago. My Hero is leading Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University this fall, and last week Dave Ramsey talked about teaching your kids to handle money with wisdom. He recommends giving 3-5 year olds a clear container and as they earn dollars for doing small tasks, wadding up the bills and stuffing them in the jar so they can see the money pile up. Then taking an occasional trip to "Toys 'R' Them" to spend it.

Well, My Hero and I don't feel like our budget could sqeeze dollar bills out right now to support a new toy fund, and we want it to be a consistent, daily habit of cleaning up toys before bed and earning some money, so Green Bean earns a nickel each time he helps me clean up the toys before bed. I cleaned and took the label off a small glass spice jar, so it will fill up in a month or two. And we'll probably just take Green Bean to the $.88 isle in Wal-Mart now and then to choose his toy. Or the DOLLAR STORE...that would be so much better...a whole store to choose from! Start small, and we can always up his pay as he grows. We have lots of big dreams for My Hero's next big raise. (=

We explained the idea to Green Bean on Saturday morning and gave him the jar. He really wanted a nickel to put in it, but I told him he'd get one later. Then in the evening I reminded him of the jar for the nickel, and told him it was time to pick up the toys in his bedroom so he could earn that little silver disc. He helped, and when I gave him the nickel he was PROUD. He put it in the jar and shook it and took the top on and off and played with it, and really seemed to value it more because he'd earned it.

We did the same thing last evening, and he earned his second nickel. He held his jar with his two nickels and said, "Me weally wuv my nickels." I warned him that the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil, purely for My Hero's benefit, so he could look at me and shake his head and roll his eyes. Since at this point Green Bean has no idea that his two nickels could buy him... um, what could $.10 buy, anyway? I can't come up with one thing. We'll introduce the idea of spending the money once he's saved up a little more.

1,000 Gifts

15. Sending Green Bean, barely three, out to the garden to find a tomato for our lunch.

16. The eagerness and gladness on his face as he turns to fulfill my request. The purpose in his steps as he picks his way through tangled pumpkin vines to the tomato plants.

17. His thoughtful, careful selection. Pick one...no, it has a hole. Discard. Pick another, no, again, rot has eaten it away on one side. Pick a third...okay, this one is whole. He makes his way out of the garden towards the house. "Is it a good one?" I call through the open kitchen window. "It's squishy," he says. "Oh. Could you find me one that isn't squishy?" I ask, knowing it's a difficult task in my mostly gone by garden. He turns around, picks his way back to the plants, and resumes his search. This time he picks one, examines it, and confidently heads for the house. "Did you find a good one?" I call. "Yes," he smiles. He brings it in to me, and it is indeed a good tomato.

18. The pride I feel welling up every time a son learns to do something new.

Misguided Ideas of Childhood

I read this post from Raising Butterflies and it reminded me of some of my own misguided ideas from childhood. But the one that sticks out most clearly in my memory actually belongs to my little brother, who is 17 years younger than I.

He was sick with a fever and vomiting one night...one of those viruses that make you feel utterly miserable, and my mom was awake with him, caring for him, helping him through. "Mom, isn't there any medicine you can give me to help me get better?" he asked desperately. Mom shook her head, "No, honey, I'm sorry. This is a virus, and there's no medicine that can just make it go away."

In the morning he felt much much better, and he seemed dileriously happy. "Mom, I'm feeling better!" He couldn't seem to get over the fact that he was no longer sick, and eventually it began to dawn on Mom that my little brother had been under the impression that he was incurably ill and would be for the rest of his life. While she had meant that with a virus you just have to stick it out and let the sickness pass on its own, he had understood her to mean that he would be in pain and misery for the rest of his life. What a long night that must have been.