Where's the beef?

Those of you that know me, know that for the last 8 or so years of my life, I've avoided red meat like the plague. Before that, I was a big beef/red meat eater. I never gave much thought to it. Growing up in my house, it wasn't a meal without meat. But in my freshman or sophomore year of college, I started to hear about the negative effects of red meat, saw a few gross pictures of the colon (thanks Mrs. P *wink*) and I decided I was all done with it.

Lately though, I've been rethinking my position. My change of heart began about the time I was being wheeled off for my emergency c-section.
In my effort to remain calm, I began doing what I do best. Talking.

I was chatting it up with my nurse and anesthesiologist, and though I had long ago asked them to stop updating me on my blood pressure readings, I must have inquired about the seriousness of my condition. That's when one of the nurses said something to the affect of, "Honey, we want to keep you from having a stroke."

Uh, excuse me? A stroke? OK, apparently you missed something. I do my best to eat well, I work out fairly regularly, and continued to do so when I found out I was pregnant; I'm not the type of person that needs to be concerned about a stroke.

Or so I thought.

Anyway, I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I think I'm shying away from the total avoidance mentality when it comes to red meat. In a weird way, I was using it as an insurance policy to guarantee a long healthy life, but let's face it. There are no guarantees. I could do all the "right things" as it relates to health, and still be gone tomorrow.

Now I don't plan to gorge myself on hamburgers and steak (truthfully, they still don't appeal to me), and I still intend to take precautions when it comes to my health, but I think the answer, like most things in my life, is that moderation is the key.

Now, where is that pepperoni pizza?

The night the lights went out

One of the fun things I like to do with Ian, is attempt to scare the crap out of him.
We'll be playing a game of chase, and once he is in a spot where he can't see me anymore, I'll double back, sneak up on him and yell something like "RAAAAAAR." In the old days this used to make him cry (yes, I'll take that mother of the year award now), but nowadays he enjoys it just as much as I do. He has even taken to sneaking upon me and scaring me, although his shout of terror is that high pitched screeching sound that seems to be limited to children age 4 and under.

Anyway, you can imagine how much fun we had when a few evenings ago the entire neighborhood lost electricity around sunset. It took the scare tactics to a whole Halloweenesqe level. Good times.

Here are a few pictures of the blackout. As expected, they are pretty dark, but I thought they would be kind of fun to post :)

Ian and Mommy

Ian and Daddy

Oooooohh, are you scared?

I am a liar

...Or at least that's what Ian would have you believe.

Like any delusional, first-time parent, I believe my child is the best, the smartest, and the funnest kid around. I think other people should feel the same way, so what do I do to accomplish this goal? I brag about him.

That's right, I brag on my kid, and each time I do he manages to make me look like a pathological liar.


I tell everyone about his increasing vocabulary:

Bragging Point 1: "Ian is becoming quite chatty these days. His latest words are: All Done, More, Duck, Door, Yes, and Go, go, go (taught to him by John Paul). Ian, can you say "All Done?"

Ian's Response: ***Silence ***

I tell people how affectionate he is:

Bragging Point 2: "Ian is so sweet. He just loves to give me kisses. Ian, give Mommy a kiss."

Ian's Response: He looks at me as if I have just spit on him.

I comment that he's always on the go:

Bragging Point 3: "Ian is so cute when he walks. Watch. Ian, walk to Momma."

Ian's Response: He begins crawling

I tell people about his infectious laugh:

Bragging Point 4: "When Ian laughs, you can't help but do the same. He has the cutest laugh you've ever heard (In my best funny voice as I prepare to tickle him) Ian, the tickle monster is going to get you."

Ian's response: Crying

Oh and what happens once we are alone?

Like clockwork he starts running, while screaming "Go, go, go", collapses on the floor in laughter, and finishes off by giving me a kiss on the cheek.

Why do I even bother? :)

Things aren't always what they seem

So a few months ago I came across a website that gave me a great idea about prayer. The site, which seems to have a Law of Attraction feel to it, talked about something they called "The Why Game". You are encouraged to play the game with another person, but I found that it was equally effective if you are by yourself.

The purpose of The Why Game is to give you insight into why you want what you want. Essentially it works like this (my paraphrase): You identify what it is that you want, you identify what that want looks like in real life, and then you identify what experience you desire from what you want. Once you complete that cycle, you begin the exercise again, theoretically with more insight into what you want, and go through the process as many times as needed until you get to the heart of what it is you are really seeking.

It sounded interesting, so I decided to give it a go.

It had been over a year since Ian was born, and we were still having a difficult time with insurance paying for his hospital stay. It was stressing me out big time. My plan was to go through the game for this situation, and when I got down to the nitty gritty of what I wanted, I would make that the focus of my prayer.

My first couple of cycles of The Why Game looked like this (click to enlarge):


After a few more rounds of my little experiment, I found that my fundamental desire was to have a strong and healthy family unit, so I decided to change my prayers. Instead of praying for the insurance company to do right by me, as I saw it, my prayers were focused on developing strong bonds between Dan, Ian and myself.

An interesting thing began to happen when I decided to focus on what I truly wanted and allowed God to handle how it came to be. Slowly but surely we started getting insurance statements showing they covered Ian's medical bills.

Now you can take from this little experiment what you want, but one of the interesting things I learned, is that in many cases, the thing that I am completely fixated upon when I pray, is not what I truly desire.

Go figure.

Did you miss me?

So for the past two months I have been completely buried at work. I'm talking late nights until 9pm, working weekends, 12 hour days, etc. It was rough. Anyway, we ended up hitting our deadline, and now I'm free! Since I haven't been posting all that much (yes, I know you all miss my 5 posts per month) I figured I would give a summary of a few things that I've been thinking about over the past couple of months.

-----

I've decided that Costco is a gift from God. I hate shopping, especially grocery shopping. You go to the store, pick up all the stuff you need, use it all up and what's your prize? You get to do it all again the following week. Not fun. But then, God saw fit to give us Costco. Now, instead of silently cursing because you forgot to pick up pasta for the spaghetti you planned to make for dinner *SURPRISE* Not only do you have pasta for tonight, you have 12 additional packages sitting in your pantry for whenever you need it. If this doesn't convince people that God exists, I don't know what will.


I'm sick of videos on news websites. Are people not allowed to read anymore? There's nothing more irritating than seeing an interesting headline, clicking the link to read the article, only to have Windows Media Player launch and then display

....buffering....

Then you have to sit through some ridiculously loud 15 second advertisement before you even get to the report. I'd rather read plain text any day.


I'm finding it increasingly difficult to toe the party line when it comes to Christianity. I'm a seeker; always have been, and I assume I always will be. I ask weird questions, and often come to unconventional conclusions. That's who I am and I accept that, but I find myself getting frustrated that I'm expected to conform to what "traditional Christianity" teaches. What happens if I just don't agree?


Hurricanes suck. 'Nuff said


Snopes exists for a reason. Use it BEFORE you forward me a message telling me Bill Gates wants to give me a million dollars. Actually, he doesn't want to give me a million dollars. Trust me.
On a similar note, don't forward me a feel good message that at the end says "send this to 575 people, including the person who sent it to you." Umm, no. I'm not going to do it. It's very rare that I ever forward those messages on to anyone, but I'm definitely not going to send it back to whomever sent it to me. Why would I do that? If you decide you want to read the message again, why not just go back to your inbox and re-read it?


If I hear one more person question Sarah Palin's ability to be Vice-President and raise a family, I'm going to scream. You do realize she's not a single parent, right? Why doesn't anyone ask how Barack Obama plans to raise his two young children if he were to become President?


I was saddened when Bernie Mac died. Two things I really enjoy in life are good music, and lots of laughter, and Bernie Mac had a gift for making me laugh until I cried.
"When a kid gets one-years-old, I believe you got the right to hit him in either the throat or the stomach. If you grown enough to talk back, you grown enough to get ****** up!"
Bernie Mac, The Original Kings of Comedy(2000)
Sure, it's a bit crude, but it's also hilarious.

45 years later

Last night, Dan, Ian*, and I watched, as Barack Obama accepted the Democratic nomination for President of the United States of America.

It was a touching moment.

For the first time in our country's history, a person that is identified** as an African-American, has been nominated for the highest political office of the land.

I fully planned on watching Obama speak, but what was very unexpected, was how emotional (in a good way) it was for me.

I was proud that my grandparents, who were born in the era of "Whites Only" restaurants and bathrooms, were able to witness this. I'm sure it is a day, that never thought they would live to see.
I was excited that my parents, who were students that experienced desegregation of public schools, experienced this.
I was excited for people of my generation, that have witnessed a plethora of firsts for African-Americans.

But most of all, I was excited for Ian.

See, I'm hoping that for his generation, seeing an African-American nominated as a presidential candidate, or any other office with high standing, will be something of the norm. I imagine Ian fully knowing the history of Black people in America, but not being able to even imagine a time where the color of one's skin determined their worth.

We may not all agree with Obama's political positions, but put that aside for just a moment. Last night, the 45th anniversary of MLK Jr.'s I Have a Dream speech, was a historic night not only for African-Americans, but all Americans. It was a night that said "we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood", and that, is change I can believe in.



*Ok, Ian was asleep, but he was in the room while Obama spoke :)
**Describing Obama as being "identified" as an African-America is not meant to be an insult. Obama has both a Black and White parent, and it doesn't seem fair (IMO) to have him choose between the two. However, when a person sees Obama, he is typically viewed as a Black man, and that is the point I was trying to get across.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Ian

You see this?


This is my living room.

It's nothing too fancy, just a couch, a couple of chairs, an ottoman, a ladder bookshelf, and a TV (not pictured). I show you this photo, not because I think my living room is wonderfully decorated (I'm working on it). I show you this because you will need it as reference for the rest of this story, so just take a good look and stash it in your memory box.

*****Picture it*****

It's a nice, sunny Saturday afternoon and Dan and I have been straightening up the house. As we tidy up each room and move on to the next, we make sure to close the door to the newly cleaned room. It's a precaution, you see. If we leave the doors open, Ian will crawl into the room, close the door, and then sit right in front of it so that we can't open door. As you can imagine, it's the perfect toddler game, but not so much fun for Mommy and Daddy.

Anyway, once all of the rooms were cleaned, Dan decided to watch some TV in the living room, Ian was playing basketball in the corner next to the TV, and I decided to head into to kitchen to make some lunch.

As I'm preparing lunch, and basking in the glow of our freshly cleaned home, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Ian was crawling away from his basketball game. I didn't give it much thought since I knew that we closed all of the doors in the house, which meant he had to stay in the common area. After a couple of minutes of silence from Ian, I decided to find out what he was doing.

"Pooh", I called out. "What are you doing?"

Silence.

Me: "Dan, is Ian playing basketball over there."
Hubby: "Nah, I think he's behind the couch playing with some of his other toys."

Thanking God for open floor plans, I peer over the counter to sneak a peek at the kid.

Hmm, no Ian.

I glanced down the main hallway to see if he was sitting there playing.

Nothing.

At this point, my heart starts racing a little bit. Where the heck is this kid? I'm nervous, but I'm steadily reassuring myself that it was silly to get worked up over this. Obviously he's in the house, and odds are he's fine.

So now I'm thinking maybe I didn't close one of the doors all the way, and he managed to get into one of the rooms. I checked 2 of the bedrooms, and when I still didn't see the master of hide and seek, I decided to ask Dan to help me find him. After another 15 seconds or so of searching I heard Dan exclaim "Boy! What are you doing there?", and then he proceeds to laugh quite loudly.

I hurriedly head back towards the living room where the noise was coming from, and this is what I saw.


Do you know where he is? Go ahead, refer back to the living room pic. I'll give you a minute.
.
.
.

Yep, that rascal crawled behind the ladder bookshelf and was quietly crouching behind it. Crouching, I say! He only stood up once Dan saw him. We thought this was so hilarious that, of course, we just had to take a picture.

When will I ever stop underestimating this kid?