saving my life: play date edition

My sister-in-law says that her favorite baby stage is from 12-24 months. Here at nearly 15 months, I can see why she would feel that way. Our bright and active boy runs and smiles everywhere he goes. New words pop out of him every day. He is overcome with joy at the sight of books and balls and bubbles. He has learned a few signs and can express himself. He pretends to talk on the phone. He points out cars and waves goodnight to his dinosaur painting. Parents always say this, but it turns out it’s true: it is such a joy to watch him learn.

And yet. And yet. There are runny noses and mysterious fevers and temper tantrums. Sometimes he doesn’t sleep so well. He has a mind of his own. And how much are we supposed to start disciplining? And how do I keep from raising a whiny kid? And how do we teach him what’s important to us without feeling like we’re indoctrinating him? And why won’t he ever even try green beans? And you guys, I am just so tired.

Thankfully, I have some friends whose kids are close to Atticus’s age. Sometimes they send me nice emails and sometimes we text each other questions and commiseration and sometimes they have us over for pizza while the kiddos play in a wagon.

Being a parent has, so far, been more isolating and lonely than I expected. Play dates are no joke. It is fun to watch the little ones survey each other, but it is life-giving to spend time with people who are experiencing the same things, even if you don’t even really talk about it. Even if you don’t get much time to talk about anything. Even if you have to spend most of your time chasing after your very active little boy. Just being with your friends and their families is more restorative than I ever would have guessed before I got here. Before I got here, I didn’t understand how much play dates are actually for parents. Saving my life this week: other parents of toddlers. (You know who you are.)

What is saving your life this week?

Published:
3/23/2012 –
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By Kari
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progress.

I didn’t bond instantly with Atticus like some moms say they do, and I took our nursing relationship for granted as the easy way to build our closeness. Now that that is over, I am finding that I have to work a little bit harder to engage him and spend time with him.

Atticus is a daddy’s boy. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt my feelings a little bit that he’s always so excited to see his daddy, but then I remember that if I had the choice, I would rather spend time with Mike, too. He is definitely the more nurturing of the two of us. I had gotten used to Atticus having two daddies, but he has just started calling me Mama instead of Daddy. I will admit that I kind of loved telling people that Atticus has two daddies. It’s a stage I will be sad to leave behind.

I feel the normal amount of mom guilt over the fact that I am not as close to him as Mike seems to be, and now that the weather is so nice, I’ve been trying to spend lots of outside time with him in the afternoon and to read books with him while Mike works on dinner. We have made some good steps, to the point that he doesn’t choose Daddy every single time he wants a story read.

This morning, Atticus woke up and Mike brought him in our bathroom to eat breakfast. As we usually do. And, yes, I feel like a big jerk for all those times I was like, “BREASTFEED IN THE BATHROOM! WHY WOULD I WANT TO FEED MY BABY IN A BATHROOM?” Um, I guess because we all need to be out of the house by 7:30? Normally we let Atticus play while he eats his banana and drinks his milk, but this morning I took time out of getting ready to hold him in my lap while he ate. We snuggled and I talked to him. I tried not to worry about being late to work. After he finished I asked him if he wanted to get down. He shook his head no.

For my restless, running boy, this is definitely progress.

And I wasn’t even late for work.

Published:
3/22/2012 –
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By Kari
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good things in February and One Thousand Gifts

I am not a grateful person. For the past few years, I have written down good things. I sometimes miss weeks at a time, but the practice of writing them down has made it easier to remember what was good about each day.

For that reason, I was interested to read One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. I thought it was a good reminder to look for the ordinary graces of life, though perhaps her examples are more geared towards stay-at-home moms. In the book and on her blog, she recommends writing down things for which we are grateful. I can see why so many people are making gratitude lists, and I think that any practice like that would be helpful.

However, there were several things about the book that concerned me. First, Voskamp lists gratitude as the most important thing, the key to spiritual life. And it may be the key to her spiritual life, but that doesn’t mean it can make meaning out of everything (as she claims it does for her) for everyone. This article touches on what concerned me about her emphasis on gratitude. I agree with the article that she stretched the idea of gratitude so thin as to be almost meaningless. Additionally, Voskamp used verses from various Bible translations throughout the book, including two different translations on a single page. This felt as if she was trying too hard to prove her point.

I also had a problem with the idea that we should give thanks for everything, because “all is grace” and because our perspective is not enough to be able to tell blessings from curses so we must see it all as gifts from God. I do think it is possible, eventually, to give thanks for what we learn or experience from difficult situations. But I would stop short of saying that I am thankful for them, or that painful things like death and cancer are, themselves, the grace of God. In fact, Voskamp herself talked about this idea of radical thanksgiving for others including things like abuse and cancer and death but then neglected to explain how she herself was thankful for the death of her sister. I know that to some people that this is simply semantics, but I felt that this was a theological difference I had with her.

I had two smaller concerns of very different natures: first, that from a mental health perspective, Voskamp mentions that at one time she took medicine for anxiety and wonders if she had just been more grateful if she would have had to take medicine. I feel like there is enough of a stigma against taking medicine for anxiety and depression, and while I do agree that the work of focusing on the positive in our lives is helpful, her thoughts smack of the idea that if we just try harder we can be more happy. And, finally, I thought it was a little bit tacky that, early on, she mentioned receiving a DaySpring card from her father-in-law. Voskamp writes for DaySpring’s blog, and there weren’t other brands mentioned in the book, so it felt like product placement (or Denise Hildreth mentioning her husband at the time, Jonathan Pierce).

Much has been said about Voskamp’s “poetic” style. I have never enjoyed reading her blog, so I knew that her book would be similarly challenging for me. I prefer a more straightforward style. The book read to me like an extended blog post, and I felt at times (the chapter on the moon, especially) that she was stretching things out to get an entire book’s worth of material.

The book challenged me to think about gratitude more in my life, but overall I think the same message could have been communicated more clearly and without overemphasizing the importance of gratitude in our daily lives.

With that said, how about good things for February? I had planned to get this up earlier, but it ties in well with a book about observing the things around us and being grateful, so let’s just pretend I planned it this way.

1-Wonderfully predictive comments about The Hunger Games from my book clubbers.
2-Lovely walk after school.
3-Friday night pizza.
4-Breakfast and then coffee with two different friends. Downton party at Alisa’s.
5-Atticus had fun with the animals at the Male Bakeoff.
6-Doctor’s appointment in Durham meant I got a Trader Joe’s run.
7-Tough day with my sick boy. Having Mike to help was my good thing.
8-Pizza with my book club boys.
9-Alisa brought us breakfast after Atticus’s surgery.
10-My mom came to stay while Mike was gone for the weekend.
11-Mom and I took Atticus to the Natural Science Center and to get smoothies, both of which he loved.
12-Atticus woke up early, which was terrible, but he was sweet and snuggly, which he isn’t usually.
13-Not having anything to do after school was great.
14-Fajitas! As one does on Valentine’s Day.
15-Really wonderful mac and cheese on the early release day.
16-Lovely walk in the neighborhood.
17-Mike and I had wine and pizza rolls for dinner while watching Downton Abbey.
18-Mom had Atticus, so Mike and I lounged. It was glorious.
19-Watched the snow fall.
20-Snow day! It wasn’t really a snow day because it all melted by like 10:00, but I had a productive day at work.
21-Yoga with Alisa.
22-Mike and I were able to go out to dinner after the Ash Wednesday service.
23-Finished The Hunger Games with my boys. On to Catching Fire!
24-Went to a birthday party at the Children’s Museum after work and Atticus loved it.
25-Alisa and I saw/stalked Lauren Winner.
26-Atticus played the piano at church with a friend of ours. He loved it. My plan to make him a piano player is working.
27-Work on our house is progressing. Meanwhile, we are enjoying running around the front room with no furniture in it.
28-Yoga was hard but good.
29-Had a reading group meeting and it was fun to see the girls get hooked by a book.

Published:
3/19/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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saving my life.

It has been a dark couple of weeks, hence the radio silence here. Not sleeping has really taken its toll, but things appear to be on the upswing.

I thought about telling you that what was saving my life was finally finding something that helps me sleep. Better living through chemistry and all that. It is, certainly, one thing that has helped our entire household and I am extremely grateful to have gotten some help.

Atticus at One

But over the weekend, I read a book that I didn’t care for. In the middle of ranting and raving about it to Mike, I realized that I was so thankful that I can still do that. I might not read as many books as I used to, but I can still engage with them and think about them. People said I wouldn’t have time to read anymore, but it turns out that I didn’t lose that part of myself when I had a kid. And though insomnia has been a huge challenge to my faith, the book showed me that I still want to fight for the idea of a loving and engaged God.

It is quite the irony that I would be thankful for a book that frustrated me as much as this one did, (especially when I finally get around to organizing my thoughts and tell you what it was). But the entire process of engaging with a book that wasn’t Goodnight Moon made me feel more like myself than I have in a while. It was a saving grace.

What is saving your life this week?

Published:
3/16/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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saving my life: toddler edition

When I take a walk, I walk. I don’t stop every few minutes to investigate. I don’t pick up rocks in the parking lot. I don’t examine every stick. I don’t discard one acorn for another, then discard them both for a pine cone. If I notice a rock, it is only to kick it. I generally keep moving while I look at trees (and maybe flowers if they are really showing off). If I am looking down while I am walking, it’s probably (let’s be honest) because I am texting.

But suddenly I am the parent of a toddler, one who has lots of energy to burn. When the weather cooperates as it has so kindly this week, we walk to the school where Daddy works and we run in our backyard and we explore the path behind our house. We hug trees, we hike with big sticks (I know he is too little to hike, but, oh, it looks like he is hiking and it is too funny for words), and we get dirty.

It has been a long time since I paid attention to sticks and acorns and rocks. I had forgotten what fun it can be just to be outside. This week, what is saving my life is seeing the world through the eyes of a toddler. What a wild and wondrous world it is. There are so many things to see.

What is saving your life this week?

Published:
3/2/2012 –
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By Kari
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habits.

you wake at 2 a.m. thinking failure,
fool, unable to sleep, unable to sleep -Alicia Suskin Ostriker

My friend Brandi just wrote a terrific post about finding a holy moment in the midst of a rough day. It reminded me of what so many people say about new motherhood, that it is one of those thin places in life where we bump right up against the divine. I wrote about that myself last year.

I am still feeling stretched thin in the worst of ways. Atticus is now sleeping through the night, but a year of waking up at 4:00 am means that I am programmed to wake up then whether he is awake or not. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get more than six hours of sleep a night. There is a particular despair that surfaces when you wake before the baby. There is another despair that surfaces when the baby stays with your mom and you still can’t get more than seven hours of sleep. I dread going to bed.

I know it is boring to constantly talk about sleep, but the thing that most makes me feel like butter scraped over too much bread is not being able to sleep. Perhaps it should be one of those thin places that brings me closer to the holy things of life, but I don’t know how anyone can be an insomniac and reach for those holy things.

When we saw Lauren Winner on Saturday, she spoke a bit on the differences between Judaism and Christianity, and one of the things she spoke about was how Judaism is centered on practice (I quoted her on this idea many years ago here). She said that she had thought that, as a Christian, putting certain practices in place would help her when her faith wasn’t enough, when times came to her life like what she describes in Still. But the truth is that those practices failed her, too.

It was a relief to hear her say that even though she had made a habit of her faith practices, even though she thought those habits would sustain her, that it did not. I thought it was just me.

Our pastor calls Lent the “spring cleaning of the soul.” There are a few bad habits I am trying to let go of and a few good ones that I am trying to take up. I am also trying to address my physical well-being so that I can get out of the habit of being awake in the middle of the night. I have started to feel like addressing bad habits isn’t quite enough. My soul needs a spring cleaning overhaul.

But first I could use a nap.

Preferably without wearing a jacket.

Published:
2/29/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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Saturday shenanigans.

On Saturday, Alisa and I went to Chapel Hill to see Lauren Winner do a reading at Flyleaf Books. Did we discuss what time to leave to make sure we got good seats? Yes. What we were going to wear? Yes. A side stop at Trader Joe’s? Yes. I think the only thing we didn’t discuss was where we were going to have lunch. But because we were very very lucky, we managed to have lunch at the same place Lauren Winner was having a refreshing adult beverage before the reading.

There is certainly merit to the idea that we could have played it cool and asked her to sit with us, but Alisa and I are not very cool. We were, in the words of my friend Jeff, behaving more like tweens at our first Backstreet Boys concert. And she was on her phone. So we didn’t bother her.

Instead, we went on to Flyleaf where we had several conversations about how Greensboro has no independent bookstores and scored seats on the front row. Lauren Winner read from both Girl Meets God (an old favorite–part of this passage for Lent) and her new book, Still. And we got our books signed and she was very kind and Alisa and I managed not to show too much of our Bieber Fever. (I think. Maybe. Do we look like we are playing it cool here?)

Because I want to support independent bookstores, I planned to buy something when we were there. But I already had Still, so I decided on Why I Wake Early by Mary Oliver. (And, yes, I did feel a little bit pretentious about buying poetry at an independent bookstore. Go ahead and roll your eyes. I am busy feeling smug.) I have read a few of the poems already, and here is one I liked.

“Look and See” by Mary Oliver

This morning, at waterside, a sparrow flew
to a water rock and landed, by error, on the back
of an eider duck; lightly it fluttered off, amused.
The duck, too, was not provoked, but, you might say, was
laughing.

This afternoon a gull sailing over
our house was casually scratching
its stomach of white feathers with one
pink foot as it flew.

Oh Lord, how shining and festive is your gift to us, if we
only look, and see.

Did you do anything fun this weekend? What would you do if your favorite author sat down at the next table? (She was on her phone, people!)

ETA: I meant to add a link to this guide for reading Still during Lent, but somehow I forgot.

Published:
2/27/2012 –
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By Kari
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saving my life.

Atticus at One

Many years ago now, when I was invited to speak at a church gathering, my host said, “Tell us what is saving your life now.” It was such a good question that I have made a practice of asking others to answer it even as I continue to answer it myself. Salvation is so much more than many of its proponents would have us believe. In the Bible human beings experience God’s salvation when peace ends war, when food follows famine, when health supplants sickness and freedom trumps oppression. Salvation is a word for the divine spaciousness that comes to human beings in all the tight places where their lives are at risk, regardless of how they got there or whether they know God’s name. Sometimes it comes as an extended human hand and sometimes as a bolt from the blue, but either way it opens a door in what looked for all the world like a wall. This is the way of life, and God alone knows how it works . . . Few of us can choose our circumstances, but we can choose how we respond to them. To be saved is not only to recognize an alternative to the deadliness pressing down upon us but also to be able to act upon it. -Barbara Brown Taylor, Leaving Church

I have aspirations to post here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but it has become clear to me that I need something to structure my thoughts for at least one of those days. After a few weeks of trying to think of something, I caught a glimpse of Leaving Church on my bedside table (I finished it weeks ago, don’t judge me for not putting it away) and realized that the above quote, from the end of the book, was perfect. In an effort to see how God is showing up in what is happening to me, Fridays are going to be about what is saving my life right now.

I was recently talking with a friend of mine about how difficult the past few weeks have been and how much I need a break from Atticus’s constant sickness (which leads to him being very needy) so that I can continue to like him. Rather than telling me that I am a bad mom, she affirmed my ability to express how I am feeling, said that asking for what I need makes me a better mom. And she offered me a glass of wine.

I am not good at being good, staying positive when things are hard. And I am not good at keeping those “bad” thoughts inside. My friends who listen to my bad thoughts without calling me bad are saving my life.

What is saving your life this week?

Published:
2/24/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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memento mori.

“There is always the memento mori, the realization that death is contagious; it is contracted the moment we are conceived.” –Madeleine L’Engle, A Circle of Quiet

Tonight the plan is for us to go to the Ash Wednesday service, and as the ashes are put on my forehead, I will be told: Remember your death.

I have been to churches where everything is happy all the time. And I believe in the joy of the Lord, but I also know that Jesus wept with his friends when it was the appropriate time. What I like most about Lent is that the church has set aside a time for us to be sad. We sing in the minor key, and we turn away from bad habits. Lent, like communion, is a time to remember and reflect. We recognize that death is part of life as we journey with Jesus to Jerusalem. We will celebrate the joy of the Resurrection in its own time. But not yet. First we will prepare our hearts.

I am especially glad to be given the gift of Ash Wednesday this week. Not only because I am worn out, but because it was my dad’s birthday on Sunday. When I am told to remember my death, what I will be remembering is his. I will feel the familiar sting in my eyes of missing him, of watching the life pass out of him. People say that the church is not good when it comes to difficult things like death and dying. In some ways that is true, but I think we are better at it when we practice it every year. When we acknowledge that it is a regular part of life.

On Easter Sunday, we will proclaim the message of the Resurrection: Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tomb bestowing life. But in order to know the Resurrection, we must first remember death.

Memento mori.

“In my church we observe, with considerable discipline, the season known as Lent. After its austerities, the brilliance of Easter will shine with greater joy.” -Madeleine L’Engle, A Circle of Quiet

Published:
2/22/2012 –
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By Kari
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present in the stories.

If the God you believe in as an idea doesn’t start showing up in what happens to you in your own life, you have as much cause for concern as if the God you don’t believe in as an idea does start showing up. It is absolutely crucial, therefore, to keep in constant touch with what is going on in your own life’s story and to pay close attention to what is going on in the stories of others’ lives. If God is present anywhere, it is in those stories that God is present. If God is not present in those stories, then they are scarcely worth telling. -Frederick Buechner

Atticus at One

The problem with this new life of mine is that it is wearing me out. I don’t sleep through the night even when I can because I am so used to being woken up. We were lucky in the fall, but Atticus has been sick constantly in January and February. He cries every morning when I drop him off, and while I know he’s okay, it’s kind of a downer. He’s fussy at night when we bring him home because he doesn’t feel well. Little by little, these things have chipped away at my remaining reserves.

I used to be conversant in the evangelical vocabulary of faith: blessings and prayer requests and identity in Christ and abundant life. There was a part of me that felt like a phony–at times I felt tenuously connected to those words, but I often felt as if I was on the outside looking in, not quite able to understand what everyone else was saying. They seemed to feel some connection to that language that I could imitate but never owned in my heart.

Over the past year, what little grasp I had on that vocabulary drifted away, and I recently realized that it’s become as impenetrable as a foreign language to me. This is part of a larger reimagining of my faith that is taking place, because the God I have believed in as an idea is not showing up. I think he is there, but not necessarily in the ways that I have always believed. I am in the beginnings of letting go of the old bad things with the hope that something new and healthy will grow in their place.

It is easier to hold on to those bad things, even though I know they aren’t working for me. Because I am afraid that if I let go of them, I will not have anything at all to hold on to. But I am tired, so tired. The thing about this new life is that I feel like I am creating it on my own. And that’s a feeling I am ready to let go of. I want to be living a story that is more worth talking about than the one that I am in the middle of right now.

Published:
2/20/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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5 Comments

new life.

The question before me, now that I
am old, is not how to be dead,
which I know from enough practice,
but how to be alive, as these worn
hills still tell, and some paintings
of Paul Cezanne, and this mere
singing wren, who thinks he’s alive
forever, this instant, and may be. –Wendell Berry, from “Sabbaths 2001”

In many cultures there is an ancient custom of giving a tenth of each year’s income to some holy use. For Christians, to observe the forty days of Lent is do the same thing with roughly a tenth of each year’s days. After being baptized by John in the river Jordan, Jesus went off alone into the wilderness where he spent forty days asking himself the question what it meant to be Jesus. During Lent, Christians are supposed to ask one way or another what it means to be themselves. –Frederick Buechner

With Lent approaching, I have been pondering the idea of new life in conjunction with the idea of being myself. The old life of being a family of two has passed away, and now I am learning who I am as a wife-and-mother, as a member of this new family of three. Who I am when I am out of work more than I am there because of a sick little one. Who I am when a healing (but still cranky) baby has pushed me to my limits. Who I am at my new job, as I make new friends. Who I am as I start to attend a new church service to accommodate Atticus’s nap.


We live a lot of lives here on this earth. We carry them with us, just as Madeleine L’Engle says: you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been. During Lent, a time to turn away from distractions, I am hoping to focus on what this new life looks like.

Do you celebrate Lent? Are you giving anything up this year? Are you planning to focus on anything?

Published:
2/13/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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in it together.

“To eat this meal together is to meet at the level of our most basic humanness, which involves our need not just for food but for each other. I need you to help fill my emptiness just as you need me to fill yours. As for the emptiness that’s still left over, well, we’re in it together, or it in us. Maybe it’s most of what makes us human and makes us brothers and sisters.” -Frederick Buechner

When we went to Prince Edward Island two summers ago, we bought an unglazed wine glass. The potter claimed that the clay would absorb whatever it is in red wine that causes me to get headaches after drinking it. We decided that even if it wasn’t true, it was a pretty cup and would be a nice memento.

But it does appear to work. I can drink red wine from that cup and not have a dull, persistent ache across the top of my head. It also changes the flavor a bit, smoothing out the bite which is my least favorite part about drinking red wine.

It is impossible to drink from this cup and not be reminded of communion. That’s mostly when I have red wine, for one thing, and the shape of this cup, the way it is held, echo the cup of forgiveness. Despite its many similarities, there is no cup that takes the bite and sting out of the life we have here. The promise of new life does not mean that we won’t experience pain.

This is something I have thought about a lot this week. Atticus has had a virus, and his temperature was over 105 two days in a row. He had tubes put in his ears yesterday. I would have liked to give him something to fix that for him, something to take away his pain. In fact, I would have liked something for myself, for the scary moments of seeing him so sick and for the surgery, when he had to be away from me for longer than expected.

When he was dedicated over the summer, we prayed that he would be strengthened through injury and illness. If I hadn’t prayed that for many other children over the years, I doubt I would have been able to pray it for my own. During this long, difficult week, I took some (small) comfort in the idea that what he was going through would make him stronger, better able to fight off illness in the future. I cannot protect him from pain, but there is the grace to make it through. This week, it looked like two hands clasped in a waiting room, a sick little boy snuggling with his daddy, a Chick-fil-a breakfast delivery. And, yes, a cup of red wine. There is not much comfort in the idea of learning or growing from pain. But at least we can go through it together.

Published:
2/10/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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3 Comments

the lost sheep.

For the first time, I had to cut students from my Battle of the Books team. In the past, I have been lucky that the number dwindled down to the magic number of students I am allowed to take to the competition. But not this year. This year I had to choose.

There was one student in particular who didn’t make the team and it broke my heart. I ran the numbers and I tried to make it work, but I couldn’t swing it, not in a way that was fair to everybody else who had worked so hard. I told him that I was sorry, I wanted him to be on the team, I would take him to the competition next year. But he didn’t show up for practice yesterday.

I feel ill-equipped to handle these situations. I am the one who rejected him, and I doubt he wanted to see me. But I couldn’t shake the image that the other students gave me, that he was sitting in the cafeteria with his head down, refusing to come to the library for practice. And I couldn’t shake the idea that he was my lost sheep, that I needed to go and get him. So I left my ninety and nine quizzing each other and I went to the cafeteria (foreign lands for sure) to find the one.

It was as bad as they said. He was there at a table’s edge, head down, discarded chicken nuggets on a tray in front of him. I made him come with me, told him that he’s important to me, gave him the job of reading the questions. He was withdrawn. But he was there.

It was all I could do. It wasn’t enough, but it was all I could do.

I never coach winning teams. I don’t work the students hard enough. We don’t learn the books as well as we could. I want them to see the library as a place they are welcome. I want it to be fun more than I care about winning. And when it isn’t fun, I guess I want them to know that I care enough to come and find them.

Published:
2/8/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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most biblical.

When Mike and I first got together, I didn’t know much of anything about football. I knew how many points a touchdown is worth, but only because of a lucky guess related to being on the Quiz Bowl team many years ago. Such a nerdy reason should hardly count as football knowledge. And so, for many years, Mike patiently answered my football questions just as I patiently trained him in the importance of college basketball. When he would yell, “FIRST DOWN!” I was always confused, so he finally started saying that they reset the downs. Once at a party, someone overheard him say this to me, and they were horrified by the entire conversation. By the time we watched Friday Night Lights, I could tell, just by watching the plays, what the call should be. I am not sure which one of us was more proud.

Because of my excellent teacher, I feel confident in telling you that we punted this year when it came to the Male Bakeoff. Yes, Mike did win a trophy, and, yes, his dessert was delicious, but this year was different. There were not weeks of anxious planning, and there was a marked lack of intensity at our house. Not to mention the fact that Atticus’s nap is right in the middle of the day, so he and I were late, missing most of the festivities.

I left the photography up to Mike, who didn’t manage to take a single photo of the brownie mosaic cheesecake that he made. He named it Tessera, which is also the name of our early service. The benediction in that service often has to do with us being God’s work of art, and I am told that the word tessera indicates individual tiles used to make a larger mosaic. (It is not to be confused with a term from The Hunger Games.) This blatant pandering worked, and Mike’s Tessera mosaic cheesecake won the Most Biblical award.

This is the third time Mike has won Most Biblical. What I like best about that award is that it acknowledges the silliness of designating things “biblical.” Because, yes, Mike’s Tessera cheesecake was supposed to remind you of Ephesians 2:10, but that doesn’t really make it more biblical than the other desserts. It’s just another way to win a trophy. I’m just glad that the church didn’t retire the Most Biblical category when they had to give it to a Lord of the Rings cake one year for want of other possible entries. Or after The Hill of Foreskins Cheesecake, because . . . what is more biblical than that?

A good time was had by all, Mike’s dessert was wiped clean, and Atticus managed to break his dad’s trophy into three parts before we even got out of the fellowship hall. I super glued it back together once we got home. Perhaps the trophy, like regular human beings, is a bit more beautiful with its cracks and flaws. Perhaps this even makes it more “biblical.”

Previous Male Bakeoff posts: 2005: Chocolate Irish Cream Cake, 2006: Hill of Foreskins Cheesecake, 2007: Whore of Babylon Red Velvet Cake, 2008: Peanut Butter Cup Pie, 2009: Best of Show, 2010: Goliath’s Birthday Party, 2011 Best of Show.

Published:
2/6/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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1 Comment

called to be more than we are.

We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are, to see through plastic sham to living, breathing reality, and to break down our defenses of self-protection in order to be free to receive and give love. – Madeleine L’Engle

I have given two years of my body to Atticus, nine months of growing him and thirteen months of breastfeeding. We’re going to round those extra two months and call it an even two years, okay? While I was growing a person, both in and out of my body, I felt a marked lack of creativity. I expected it; I was told that it’s not possible to grow more than one thing at a time. But I didn’t know how draining it would be. Now that I am feeling more like myself (an extra tired version of myself), I pulled out one of my favorites to remind me what creativity feels and sounds like again.

When it comes to Madeleine L’Engle, I am the worst kind of hipster. I don’t get excited that you have also started reading her. I get mad because she is mine and, to be honest, I would rather not share her. Please go away and find someone else. There are so many other authors for you to choose from. I have seen a lot of people mention Walking on Water in the past year, and it made me squinch up my nose, because that is a book that meant a lot to me when I read it almost 15 years ago. A book that, eventually, helped me decide that I did want to open myself to parenthood. I don’t know how to share it, or to put into words my feelings about it. I simply know that it helps remind me what it means to be human, how so much of this dance of life is about co-creation with God.

So I re-read it, and I can’t point out any deep revelations. Instead, it simply reflected back to me so many truths I believe deep down that I needed to hear again. If I weren’t such a hipster, I’d tell you to read it yourself. Instead, I want you to know that it was part of me before all the cool kids were talking about it. Oh, and by the way, I listen to bands that don’t even exist yet.

My impression is that I tend to read a lot of non-fiction in January, but I went and looked at my reading lists, and it’s not true. I did read a lot of non-fiction last January, out of desperation: Now I have a baby and I don’t know what one does with a baby. But I didn’t write down what I read last year, so I can’t prove that to you all. This January, I have already read three non-fiction books, and I’m in the middle of another one (with several on my bedside table). Perhaps this will be the year of non-fiction.

Published:
2/3/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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12 Comments

Good things in January

I cannot overstate how much more energy I suddenly have. That means one thing: good things are back! Did you write down good things this month? If so, link to them in the comments. As always, good things are better when they are shared.

1- My mom got Atticus a bubble machine for his birthday. It is the awesomest thing he has ever seen.
2- Mike spent the day with us instead of going to his classroom.
3- Workday! Got to see some of my friends at a workshop.
4- A friend came over to return some baby stuff and finally our babies are big enough to play together.
5- A challenging student told me that he likes me. Victory!
6- New friends over for dinner.
7- Birthday party for some friends’ kids. It was very fun to feel like this is our new life.
8- I was really cranky, and Mike was really really patient with me. God bless him.
9- I stayed home with a sick Atticus and he and I had a really good day. He is very pitiful when he is sick.
10- Still AND The Fault in Our Stars in the mail.
11- I took a meal to a mom on her first week back at work. It made me feel like a superhero.
12- I was sick when I got home from work. Mike took good care of me.
13- Decorating for Alisa’s birthday brunch with two of my funnest friends.
14- Alisa’s birthday brunch was beautiful.
15- Sick day. Good things: leftover cough medicine and hot toddies.
16- I can’t overstate the importance of people like Mike and Alisa and my mom on days like today.
17- I had a really good hair day.
18- Took dinner to Brian and Sarah on Sarah’s first day back at work. I am a superhero AGAIN!
19- Workshop talking about books with colleagues who are also friends. What’s not to like?
20- Workday! I had lunch from Iron Hen and we had friends over for dinner.
21- Atticus slept awesome and we all got much-needed rest.
22- I went to church by myself, which made me sad, but it was a good thing in the end.
23- Dinner with Brandy and Alisa!
24- It’s nerdy, but I love watching The State of the Union address along with Twitter.
25- My boys’ book club started. They loved the first two chapters of The Hunger Games.
26- There was drama and I was not involved in it.
27- Friday night pizza was delicious.
28- Breakfast at our favorite diner, dinner at a birthday party, dessert and Downton with Alisa and Jason.
29- Mike and I had a great morning sans Atticus, who was at my mom’s.
30- Mike loves me even though I am not gracious.
31- Workshop after school ended early.

Published:
2/1/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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5 Comments

Still by Lauren Winner and some thoughts on the middle.

Atticus has been sick constantly over the past month, fighting ear and sinus infections. I am not the first to note the desperation that comes with being the parent of a sick child, when you have tried everything you can do and still he cries out with pain and discomfort.

It was on one of these days that Still by Lauren Winner arrived in my mailbox (via my friend Kristen, through my friend Katey). It is a book about the middle life of Christianity, when things are no longer fresh and hopeful. What is it that keeps us still here, still tied to these ideas of faith? What do we do when all we hear is the stillness, and no voice answers us?

While Girl Meets God is one of my favorite books, I relate more to the middle than to Winner’s story of conversion. I don’t remember falling in love with Jesus. My story of faith has been about finding meaning here, in the difficult and ordinary part of the journey. Winner’s mid-faith crisis was brought about by her mother’s death and her unhappy marriage and subsequent divorce, but Christians in the middle of faith know that the ordinary wearing down of life can cause these same feelings of crisis. What I believed is not working, and I do not know where I have found myself.

Still is structured into three parts: the Wall, Movement, and Presence. At first, God seems absent, then there are heart stirrings, and finally, there is a reconciliation of sorts. It is those heart stirrings that have interested me lately. The people who would quote Exodus and say that the Lord will fight and that you need only to be still are not talking about the still void that Lauren Winner means here. How do you make the first move into that void? It would be nice to imagine that the movement will all be in your direction, but in my experience you must at least make space for God to move in your life. And sometimes that is quite a lot to ask. The heartbreak and joy of the middle is that things will have to change. For better or for worse, you will lose the faith you had. But there is the hope of something new and alive that could take its place.

In an interview in the back of the book, Lauren Winner points out that coming through this crisis doesn’t mean that she’s reached the end of her faith journey. Instead, these same cycles will likely play out again and again in similar ways. We live our lives in the middle, and it is an idea that I hope that more authors will wrestle with in the coming years.

I have started to wonder if I am drawn to something about the transition of the middle. What I like about working in a middle school is that these are such formative years. The students are staking claim to who they want to be. And the middle-of-the-middle, 7th grade, is by far the hardest on them. I love to see 8th graders who have come through it all with clear eyes and a sense of self. They are still in the middle, but they know they are going to make it. Middle school is an apt metaphor for the stages that Winner goes through in this book.

One night, Atticus could not be calmed, so Mike brought him in to me and I nursed him. For an hour, he tossed and turned, crying out with discomfort from his sinuses. I held his ankle and prayed, not that he would get better, but simply that his body would find some peace. Finally, he propped himself up on Mike and we all got a couple of hours of sleep. I was relieved by the eventual stillness of his body and the idea that if he would only stop fighting, we could offer him some comfort. It is too simplistic to spout stillness as a catch-all answer for the middle times. It is work to say prayers into a void when you are not sure anyone is listening. It is work to go to church when your heart is broken. And sometimes, it is work to still yourself in the silence.

I recommend Still to anyone who knows the dark and quiet time of the middle.

Published:
1/30/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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4 Comments

margins.

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I see people talking about margin a lot these days. Leave margin in life so you have room to breathe. Scribble in life’s metaphorical margins. Be mindful of the people in the margins.

Do you remember being in middle school? It was awful for everybody. So awful that burly men look at me with respect, all five-feet-two-inches of me, when they hear I work at a middle school. Knowing that now, it’s easy to see through the students who seem like they are having a good time. I have been here, I think, and I know that you are not having a good time. That you are as sad and lonely and confused as I was. As everyone is, in middle school. I keep a playful tone with students and try to speak respectfully. Because I remember.

I felt marginalized in middle school, relegated to the edge. I started to learn how to speak up for myself, but it was a slow beginning and I still need a lot of practice. My very narrow perspective prevented me from realizing that I was not the only one who was viewing things from the margins. It was a good way to learn about being a grown-up. In the past year, my own margin has been this working mom thing, specifically working with a baby. I could not figure out how to squeeze life into the hour a day I get to myself. I did not know who to talk to about what I was going through. I was tired and sad and lonely. We hunkered down for a year. I couldn’t see myself that clearly, but I saw the people who reached out to me. The margins are clarifying in that way.

Things are better now, in ways I can’t completely define. I have more energy. Everything’s not weighing me down so much. It’s easier for me to look up and see other people. I am trying to use that energy to look out for those who are going through the same things I have been through this year.

All of us are relegated to one margin or another. Nobody can be in the middle of everything, and everyone feels forgotten sometimes. I have a tendency to wallow in that feeling. The past few weeks, I have taken the opportunity to pass on some of the kindnesses that were shown to me in the hopes of making the margins a little less lonely. I could tuck my heart up tight, but it is better to look for the other people in the margins and make my own middle of everything with them.

Published:
1/19/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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2 Comments

epiphany.

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Every day, Atticus would stand in front of the tree and we would count down 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 and turn it on. His smile was as bright as the lights.

I am not exactly sure when our tree was taken down last year. Our tradition has been to take it down on New Year’s Day, but we were somewhat busy that day. I vaguely recall a meltdown at some point. It’s all still up and we are never going to get it down and how can we manage everything and I am so tired. So Mike took it down for us.

This year, putting up the tree was relatively easy because Atticus was just barely walking. Taking it down, though, was a whole different ball game. Again, I watched Atticus while Mike did the hard work. Does that make it a new tradition?

For the first time, we intentionally took the tree down after Epiphany. I don’t know if that’s what we will do in the future or not. I love the idea, but I also like putting Christmas away with the old year and moving on to the new. This year, we turned on our Christmas lights every night of Christmastide, though everyone else’s trees were already at the curb. It felt right to me, a coda to the season. Our small lights, shining into the darkness. Reminding us of the arrival of the light of the world.

Do you leave your tree up until Epiphany? How do you celebrate Epiphany with your family?

Published:
1/9/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
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2 Comments

on life being over.

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Another one of those things that “everybody says” is that when your baby learns to walk, it’s all over.

I am sure it will surprise no one to find out that I find this a gross oversimplification. For one thing, if it’s “over” when your baby can get into things, then we were out of luck the minute Atticus learned to crawl. And while Atticus was happy to be able to scoot around, crawling frustrated him to no end. He wanted to be walking with the rest of us. His body buzzed with pent-up energy that he could not exhaust no matter how many times we held his hands and walked him around the house. He woke every two or three hours at night, unable to calm his body down enough to sleep for long periods. I frequently battle insomnia and recognized his distress. Sometimes my mind won’t stop racing. Sometimes my body will not stop humming. Sometimes it makes me want to cry into the dark.

Now that he can walk, he is so much happier. He doesn’t beat on things or seem as uncomfortable in his own skin. Even though he’s teething, his sleep has been better. He walks, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He circles the house, finally able to breathe in his surroundings. He goes where he wants instead of depending on us. The biggest surprise of all is that he is more content to sit on my lap, to give me hugs, and to let me hold him. He will lie on the floor and play with his toys and babble to himself. The peace that radiates from him is a joy to observe.

We have ourselves a wild, independent little boy. People often express pity when they see how all over the place he is. I know that this pity often comes from moms who are, themselves, overwhelmed by their active children, but those are conversations in which I prefer not to participate. While I sometimes feel overwhelmed by Atticus’s energy, I reject the idea that anyone should feel sorry for me because of who my child is. I don’t want to talk about him as if my life is over now that he’s here.

While I do, at times, wonder why we didn’t get ourselves a calm, quiet, lap-sitting baby, I know that we invited another person into our house, our lives, our family. Instead of expecting him to conform to my ideals, I try to get to know him for who he is. Together, we are learning to walk, and it is far from over.

sacked out

Bonus picture from one of those nights when he couldn’t stay asleep. I stayed up with him from 4-6 and then Mike took over so I could sleep. Atticus passed out on the floor around 6:45. I think this picture speaks for itself.

Published:
1/6/2012 –
Author:
By Kari
Categories:
Comments:
5 Comments