Noodles

Every day at breakfast, Yonah asks me a question. It's always the same.

"So, what's for dinner tonight?"

I'll think for a minute, weighing the ingredients we have against what I know the kids will eat, which is then weighed against what I'm willing to make (or eat). Then my answer is given.

Every single day, I hear something in response. It is not always worded the same, but the suggestion never changes. Today, this was the version I heard:

"Hmm. Well, I think we should have noodles instead. Noodles matches dinner better, don't you think?"

Noodles.

Over the past year, I have come to hate noodles.

Ask either of them what they want to eat, and you'll get the same answer.

Yonah's "How about some noodles?"

Or Arabelle's "Nunus!"

Sometimes I can convince them that macaroni and cheese or ravioli count as noodles. But those times are pretty rare. Most of the time, "noodles" just means spaghetti. Or ramen noodles.

On the plus side, at least there is something they will eat every time it's made.

ponytails

Today, Arabelle got a My Little Pony sort of toy with very long mane and tail, accompanied with a comb and two barrettes. Tonight she wanted my help combing the hair. After fashioning the mane according to her preferences, I handed the toy back to her.

She very delicately took it from me, mouth curved into a slight 'o' of excitement, and whispered . . .

"She has a ponytail."

I smiled. Then something occurred to me and I just had to mention it.

"Hey, Arabelle. Your pony has a ponytail."

She stared at me. And then her face lit up with a big smile. Her eyes sparkled as she laughed.

the little things

What better way to spend the afternoon than in the library's not-so-quiet corner for children, rocking in a chair with a baby snuggling on one's lap, idly supervising the older children as they play with toys and look at books.

the big picture

Last week I submitted a painting to my church's newest art exhibit, Overcome. All the accepted submissions were arranged in the hallway/gallery on Saturday. They will remain up for several months.

Songbird

I'd thought my painting brilliant. It is certainly my best so far. Not perfect in technique (something I'm still learning), but perfect to me. Beyond all the time I put into its creation; beyond all the care and effort it took from me; beyond all of that, it portrays my daily battle against depression in a very tangible way. It means something to me.

But seeing it among the other paintings submitted to the exhibit was humbling. Truly humbling. My work fades into everything else. It is simply a piece of a great collection. A smaller piece. In fact, I do not know if anyone would miss it if it were not there.

I didn't submit my painting for recognition or a blue ribbon, but even so I felt at a loss. It is so big to me that seeing it look any less big is a bizarre experience.

The painting is like my life.

I am so close to the stresses, dramas, and problems of my life that they seem huge. But if I take a step back I see that I am only an minuscule piece of the big picture. My problems are inconsequential. The world truly does not revolve around me.

My life is trivial in the grand scheme of things, yet at the same time it is also important. Humans are not isolated beings. Remove my minuscule piece and all the lives that I have touched, all the lives I will touch, will remain untouched. It may not be a devastating change, but it just might change the shape of the big picture.

lila

One year ago, I was in pretty hard labor. It was fast, much faster than my doula anticipated. She wanted to be born, now.

I remember sensing through the entire pregnancy that this baby would see her "due" date come and go, just so she could have an April birthday like her siblings. More than that, I had an idea of what day she was aiming for. And sure enough, she waited almost two weeks past "due", holding out for as long as she possibly could . . . 33 minutes earlier and she would have been a March baby.

But, she waited for midnight to pass. The third April baby. The April Fool's baby, who, like the first Joke in Narnia, would serve to enrich our lives.

I still cannot believe that tomorrow we celebrate her very first birthday. My, how time has flown.

It seems to go faster each time. She's toddling, months earlier than her siblings managed. She tries so hard to catch up to them. To be big enough to really play with them like she wants. To do all the things she sees them do.

It is exciting. But I've already been missing my baby for a few months. This little girl isn't much of one anymore.

Happy Birthday, my love.

what i thought i hated

Recently, my brother insisted that I go through Star Trek: Deep Space Nine on Netflix. I wasn't interested. My family gladly ditched DS9 for Voyager in the old days. I referred to it as The Soap Opera of Star Trek. In other words, a complete waste of time. But he started watching it, and kept talking about how great it ends up being. At last he convinced me to give it a try.

It took me a very long time to get through the first two seasons. I still cringe when I think of those episodes. Horrid writing, abominable acting, and oh so much melodrama. Something is seriously wrong when the background characters are better acted than the main characters. So many times I swore that I would never watch another episode.

But then the writing started getting better. The acting improved (or, as Kim suggests, I'm just desensitized). The amount of melodrama decreased. And I found myself falling in love with Star Trek all over again.

It's definitely a different experience than the other Star Trek series. Mainly, the space station doesn't travel all over the place. Not only does this require more emphasis on character growth (which is handled very well), but it also increases the sense of home in the station, as the characters have their adventures on different planets and then return to it. Which gives the crew a bigger sense of family.

Then there is also the bonus of actually seeing battles take place, instead of having them imminent but narrowly avoided due to politics.

payback

Tonight I caught Arabelle sneaking her dinner into the trashcan so she could have dessert.

Her brother, who is two years older, has never even considered the thought.

I'm certain this is the result of some idle wish on Mom's part that I would have a daughter just like me to deal with.

That sort of idle wish I think is just so natural to a parent dealing with a trying child. I honestly try not to think like that about my kids, even if it has no real effect on the future generation's personalities.

But then the next moment of pure frustration happens (why must these children be so stubborn?!), and inside my head I hear myself rant.

I hope you have a kid just like you when you're a parent. Then you'll see! And I'll be laughing at your payback. Laughing!