Tiny Dancer

Kensley has been dancing since she was 2; tap, ballet and jazz, adding lyrical, and hip-hop in later years. This year, as I helped her with hair and makeup, it hit me that she really is growing up. How many more recitals will I be blessed with? I can remember her first one like it was yesterday; apple juice dribbled onto the leotard, bobby-pins struggling to hold the hairpiece into her wispy strands, excitement bubbling up as she realizes she gets a dab of mama's lipstick before the performance. As the tiniest dancer, she gets to perform with her teacher in the closing act.....tears of joy just flowed from my eyes!

The tears haven't stopped. Every time I see my graceful, beautiful little girl on stage, I'm overwhelmed with thankfulness, gratefulness for the blessing of being her mother. Her adorable exterior pales in comparison to the shining soul she has inside. tonight, as we applied makeup, pulled hair into buns and searched for costume pieces, I realized I wouldn't trade what I have in life for anyone else's in the world. Tomorrow is the performance; I'll be taking a dishtowel, because mere Kleenex won't contain the flow of happiness from my eyes.

Thank you, Kensley, for the gifts you give me every day. I love you.

It's Mother's Day Eve!

Whooo - pee. Blah. Being the mother of a hormonal almost-teenager who would rather disintegrate than give you the satisfaction of eye-to-eye contact doesn't leave you with much of a loving maternal glow. Jon tried to rally some interest in my offspring to make one of those infrequent treks to 'the mall' and focus on buying something for someone other than themselves; maybe for the one in whose uterus they resided once upon a time. The kindergartener was excited, until he learned that mom probably doesn't have much use for a prom dress, camo underwear, or a Nerf gun. Then he just wanted to go jump from the foamy trees and mushrooms in the middle. You may as well try to get blood from a turnip than expect enthusiasm from any other participant. My high schooler would have tried, if he hadn't been at an all day crew meet. Bless his heart, he's finally turned the corner on his trip back from the dark hole of middle-schoolness. Apparently, it's a long, tough climb out. The mere fact that I can see some light gives me hope for those following in his attitude-filled footsteps.


Sometimes, I want to scream: "Is it too much to ask for a little enthusiasm? For crying out loud, fake it if you have to. This part of your life may not be where my parental gifts and talents lie, but I'm trying my best! Every night I pray for wisdom, guidance to be the mother YOU need me to be, and for patience..sweet Jesus, I need that more than anything. I know I'm not a walk in the park. I know my mere existence cramps your style and embarrasses you to no end. I know you are smarter, braver and even better looking than I am. But, c'mon, give me a break! "

Then, I want to whisper; "I also know that you know not what you do. There is absolutely no way that you can comprehend that your cold shoulder and avoidance cut me deeper than anything else ever could. I miss the times that I held you, carried you, cuddled and kissed you, and curse every time I asked you to give me some space, and longed for a night out without you. I love you. I love you more now, with your indifferent grunts and exasperated sighs, than I did then. Nothing will ever change that...not even if your eyes get stuck in the permanent upward roll. "

Happy Mother's Day!

What is a Doula?

The word doula is an ancient Greek word, meaning 'woman servant or slave'. In our modern culture, a doula is a woman with childbirth experience that offers emotional support and physical comfort measures to a family bringing a new member this side of the belly ~ in particularly, the mother.

I've been a doula for over a decade now, attending birth in four different hospitals, and many, many homes. To try to add a bit further of an explanation, I equate my responsibilities to those of a wedding planner ~ a birth planner! I help families formulate a birth plan specific to their educated, informed decisions (whether I agree with them or not :) ) Without good, independent perinatal education, it's difficult to even know all of the options available. With a good birth plan, approved by the caregiver during a prenatal appointment which I attend with my clients, everyone is on the same page. It's better to begin to discuss the aspects of birth that are most important earlier, rather than later. If a current caregiver doesn't support them, an expecting mama want to find one that will.

Birth plans are not legal documents, and childbirth is rarely textbook perfect. Each one is unique, requiring respect and understanding of the laboring mother. A couple will want to choose a birthing environment that makes them feels safe. Likewise, it is equally important to only allow a few supportive, caring people to attend the birth. Sometimes, extended family members work well in the birth setting; other situations, it's best to have them wait until the labor, birth, first feeding and babymoon are finished to visit. It is a doula's responsibility to ensure that the laboring woman/couple have the utmost happiness in their experience, with their wishes followed as closely as possible, in a loving, nurturing atmosphere.

Childbirth is a pivitol moment in each woman's life. When you visit with an elderly lady, she may not be able to tell you her name, or remember what she had for lunch. She will almost always tell you in, intimate detail, about the births of her children if you ask. It is my passionate hope that each woman's birth I attend results in a very happy memory, year after year. I give all of my energy, expertise and experience to make this happen.

Every new family member deserves a gentle beginning, full of love and happiness. Having a rewarding, positive first experience as a parent usually leads to the next step being successful, and the next, and the next, and so on. Peace on Earth begins with birth!

Processing and praying ~ running

I must have had my head in the sand all last night, because I didn't know about the Bin Laden news until Jon woke me at 6 to run. Emotions are crazy things...they send you here and back and here again. Personally, I struggle to keep mine under control ~ the passion inside wells up in every area, during the most inconvenient of events, and when most are least expecting it. Just last week, during variety show tryouts, I was just crying because each child was so beautiful, so talented, and trying so hard. Not wanting to freak them out, I held it to mere sniffles, and somehow held back the welled-up tears.

So, when Jon told me about Bin Laden being killed, I went for a run to process and pray. You can do anything when you run that you normally wouldn't, and no one notices, because you are going by them so fast. So you can cry, laugh, throw your arms up in praise, punch optical illusions of those you are angry with...the list goes on. The 6 am time frame helps, also; not many people out to notice you're acting like you forgot to take some very important pills.

Where am I now? Proud of our troops, and thankful that while I was living my busy life, full of blessings and fun, they were putting theirs on the line so that I could. Rocking babies in the church nursery, helping women have great births, voicing my opposition to circumcision, volunteering in Kindergarten on Thursdays and attending Harmar Rowing Club meetings where I pretend to be a secretary, and write some stuff down to send out in email as 'minutes'..all of these little freedoms are fought for. Someone died so that I can. I don't forget this for a second.

Running takes you places..it mostly just takes me to the fountain and back home, then back home again from walking Kensley to the middle school...but it helps with processing and praying, which bring me to peace. A great destination.

Things that make you go hmmm

• I am considering going into the placenta processing business, if for no other reason than to thoroughly gross my kids. Holly led me through the entire process earlier this week, from washing the raw organ, to steaming it, then dehydrating, pulverizing and encapsulating the powder. Most of you who know me well know that I don't deal with meat unless it's boneless, skinless and wrapped in cellophane. This adventure was a big deal!


• Watching a new life come into the world is definitely a great benefit to my job. Being bitten, squeeze-pinched, vomited on, and having your feet soaked by amniotic fluid are not. Women in truly natural-childbirth mode find their inner-animal, and react accordingly. Not far into the career, doulas learn to pack extra socks in their bag o' tricks ~ thinking of adding bite sticks, as well.


• Of the seven deadly sins, sloth is my biggest problem. I could just sit and do nothing if given an opportunity. Thankfully, life has arranged itself so that I am rarely given that opportunity. Right now, as I try to put my heart, soul and brain to paper, I've been interrupted by children 5 times...and counting.


• Reflecting this day, Good Friday, on what Mary must have felt, seeing her son tortured and killed. Putting myself into her place is a tough place to go in the mind.


• Not sure why I don't have people over for dinner more often. Last night was a blast, and I'm glad I have friends who organize things like Supper Club, which 'forces' me to entertain. It really is enjoyable, and a gift I seldom use.


• Since we had said event, my house was completely clean ~ every single room, all three floors. OK..maybe not the storage one in the attic, but all the rest. Thinking of keeping it this way. I like clean. I also like to be lazy, though, and the two don't mix well.


• That's all.

The World According to Caden

Returning from a lovely birth tonight, I went to Caden's bed to cuddle with him since he was still awake. Kensley popped in to ask about my night, and we discussed the benefits of low, moaning noises compared to high-pitched screams during contractions.

Apparently, Caden was drinking the conversation in. As I rubbed his back, kissed his curly head, and wondered how in the world I was going to get all that dirt out from under his fingernails (he'd made a gourmet specialty tonight ~ macaroni and mud), He asked if it were OK to laugh when you had a baby, if it happened to be a very funny baby inside, and told you a joke when it came out.

Yes, I'll keep this kid around, if for no other reason, the sheer entertainment of his presence. The problem is, you are never allowed to laugh. Ever. His conversations are very serious..unless he's talking about gas, poop, or other bathroom functions. Then it's OK, and he'll tell you that you probably should laugh. It's not OK, however, to laugh when he asks why in the world you'd go running out to an ice cream truck when you have perfectly good Chunky Monkey in the freezer, or tells you your birth scrubs look like 'A Japanese Death Suit' (?? yeah, I was lost, too).

Just Some Stuff That Made Me Smile This Week.

• A pooptext (received, not sent)


• Lunch on the front porch of the Buckley house with my handsome husband


• Lunch inside the Buckley house with my sweet friend, Holly


• Discussing the story of David with my same sweet friend. You think YOUR family is dysfunctional? Check out David's story in 2nd Samuel. Still, he was a man after God's own heart. It gives me hope that my crazy efforts at serving Him are good, and thankful that His grace covers me when they go awry.


• Buying ice cream for everyone who forgot their money in Mrs. Haught's kindergarten class.


• Realizing how fortunate I am that even my big kids still like for me to 'tuck them in'.


• Driving with Alex, and realizing that I didn't have to remind or correct anything he was doing.


• Walking Kensley to dance class, and watching her eat a drippy ice cream cone on the way.


• The gift of a chest freezer from a friend who didn't want it any more. We were planning to buy one, but free is so awesome!


• Sun! Sun! Sun! a few rainshowers in the mix, but still, a lot of SUN!!


• Watching Caden ride his bike ~ he's so much stronger and better at it than last year!


• Seas of purple violets, with occasional dandelion islands.


• Bidding on and winning the most perfect of perfect potluck pots at an auction


• Walking Kensley to school, picking Holly and Andre up on our way. Kensley, sweet girl that she is, doesn't complain that she has two moms walking her to school


• The anticipation of a birth any day.


• Feeling God's message to my heart..and sharing it. Hope I remember to share it on Facebook tomorrow ~ it's good !


• Dinner and a movie with two of my favorite men. Rio rocked. I highly recommend it.

Praying

When someone you love is hurting, you may feel there is nothing you can do to ease the pain. Especially for far away friends, family, or even someone you haven't met, but felt led to pray for, there is a way to take a bit of their misery onto your own shoulders. By sending the love of Our Father via prayer, the comfort that he will afford them will ease their suffering; they will feel your love, and His.

I know from personal experience that you can feel prayer as tangibly as you can feel a hug, see it as if you've seen a friend walk into the room. There comes a time at the bottom of your dismal pit that you experience peace, rest, comfort. There is no other explanation for it but that the prayers of others have come to you, wrapped around you and begun the healing process when you did not have the strength to begin on your own.

Who is on your mind today? Who needs to feel your prayer?

Reading to my Child

"Mama, will you read this to me?" Hoping against hope that it's a Little Critter book, or even better, a book about Jesus, I take a look at his offering ~ USKids History: Book of the American Civil War. Great. This child has accomplished what several teachers in my lifetime were never able to: Reading about and discussing history. Mr. Lachapelle would be proud. Reading to my children has been a joy to me for as long as I could remember. To this day I have every single letter's poem in the Dr. Seuss's ABC book memorized because it was Alex's favorite book for so long. Test me. Throw a letter at me the next time you see me. I'll recite! I remember hearing him use the word 'actually' at the mere age of two while reading a book that called a piece of machinery a 'snort'. My mind still echoes with the sweet little voice saying 'Actually, dat's a back-o (backhoe)'. I was thrilled when Kensley allowed me to read every single 'Little House' chapter book to her. Sharing my favorite childhood series with my daughter was a treasure! Even better, the following year we were blessed with a cross-country trip, which included a stop in Minnesota, at one of the Ingall's homeplaces. Never mind the subject of the book; what really matters is that for quite a while, that little boy will be cuddled close to me. In my arms, he will fold his long, thin body parts to accomodate my short frame. I know, more now than ever, to cherish these moments. I know he will grow older, would rather read his own books than to have my voice stumble along the general's names and battle's sites. I know it will soon be way too uncool to cuddle this close to me, even though he may want to still. I know that these moments are blessings, that God has given to me more than I could ever hope to ask.

Sick

For the past two days, I've been sick. That's one of the hardest things for me to admit, to give in to. I religiously take Sambuca, Vit. D, Vit C, Fish oil and a natural mulit-vitamin. Hundreds of dollars pass between my wallet and All Pro. Yet, something wasn't right. I had felt tired, very very tired for the past couple of weeks..maybe longer if I admit it. It's no wonder, with all of the late nights and early mornings, I told myself. It's nothing. Nothing? What if it *was* something? So, I gave in and visited my medicine man (aka Dr. Eric). A few labworks later, I found out I was on the road to diabetes and a heart attack. Thankfully, I've been granted a detour. My own death scares me, but not for myself. I am confident in the knowlege that to be absent from my body is to be present with my Lord. The rest would be heavenly..literally! However, I don't want my sweet children to finish growing up with no mama. I know that my older two would probably have to go live with their biological father, and be ripped from all of the friends and 'family' we've built into our lives in the past eight years. Caden would not only lose a parent, but siblings as well. Unless some miracle came through, Jon would be left to deal with the loss of a wife, children he loves as his own, and one lonely little boy. The mere thought of it makes me cry. Writing those words made tears stream down my cheeks. SO..it's on to a new game plan. With God's help, and the help of some great friends and encouragement from my family, I'll be eating much healthier and excersizing even more. I thought I was doing a good enough job most of the time, but, apparently, I was giving into my addiction to cake and french fries a little more often than I remembered....

Spring

Oh, spring, why must you be such a tease? Beautiful sun, breezy and warm this morning is followed by damaging winds and the possibility of snow? Really? Spring, you are bipolar. Maybe if we throw some psych drugs into this windstorm, you will calm down, and begin to behave.

My body longs to be sundressed and flipflopped, with sunglasses holding back the hair that gently blows in the breeze, tickling my face. The turtlenecks are tired...the blue jeans need a rest. This house grows tired of our neverending presence, due to your pathetic weather conditions. My soul grows weary of the dark and dreary sky.

Enough is enough. The sunshine in my heart is being squelched.

Getting older

Turning 40 last year was a milestone, and caused an inventory-taking look at body, mind, soul. Here's what I came up with so far: 1. Doing the job you were put on this planet to do is important. How do you know what it might be? Try reading the bible, spending time *alone* with God, and asking him to speak with you about said path. It's still not crystal clear, but I'm a little dense. Still, I'm beginning to see a light here and there. 2. My children are my heart. I love them more than I love anyone else on this Earth; I love every single thing about them, right down to the mole on their second toe, their crazy shenanigans or their gentle, caring spirit. Every day is spent taking care of them, not as a chore, but in such a way that they know that they know that the know how much I love them. Parenting with intent and purpose ~ it's a good thing! 3. My dear, sweet, funny husband got let off the hook this year. He rescued me when I was a single mom with two babies, looking at a subsidized apartment, along with other government assistance, all while working a full time job and being a full time student. Missing those early years of my childrens lives would have been devastating to me. I held him to the standards of a savior, a God even; he *did* save me, after all. This year, I decided to let him down from the pedestal, and join the human race. Happily married doesn't even begin to cover it. 4. Move more, eat less, or you will turn into the tiny, round Italian meatball all of your dad's family has either had to fight or become. This doesn't mean a casual stroll downtown to have lunch. It's pavement pounding, sweating-til-you-smell running, every day. Every . Single . Day. 5. Look at everyone through eyes that see their soul, seeing past any rough exterior or pretend personality. Love them all, even the bad ones, for they are the most desperate for it. That covers the basics, I've also learned that asparagus and broccoli are ok (it only took me 40 years to come to that conclusion), but I still have to fight my carboholic tendencies.

Jeepers, Creepers!

Kensley has always had uh-MAZ-ing eyes. From the moment she was born, they peered back at everyone in milky blue perfection. Alex nicknamed her Fishy-eyes the day they met, and her father worried about the fact that I'd let him bring a little tree frog in to play with a few days earlier. He thougth it had 'marked' the baby, and she was destined to look like an amphibian. This kid had some remarkably large peepers, set into a teeny little face; a few months later, she grew the most lovely dark, long, brown lashes to frame them.

I've always taken such great delight in her sparkling, beautiful eyes. Having everyone make the most wonderful compliments to her made it difficult to remain humble. I had been the manufacturer, after all. Then...it happened.

She perfected 'the eyeroll'.

Now, anytime I look at her sweet face, I stand the chance of seeing them roll skyward. These beautiful eyes, the ones anyone could get lost in, have turned into the ultimate mom-weapon. My deep, relaxing breathing has improved significantly since she learned her new trick, and I go to my happy place so often, I bought my own condo there. It's pink....

Vision Therapy

Hearing me sing the praises of vision therapy isn't anything new; those months spent travelling to Columbus with my homeschooling girl and preschool boy were the best investment I've made in Caden so far, and I'm sure you're tired of hearing about the miracle that I know it was. Every time I see him enjoy something that he previously was too afraid to detach from my body to even try to experience, I get a little emotional. This year brought his first ride on a kiddie roller coaster, and other bigger-kiddy rides (before now, he was even afraid of most of the baby ones). He played on his first real soccer team, and is trying really hard to control those scissors and crayons!

Most importantly, this kid learned to jump off of and climb up on things. Never in his 5+ years did he jump down..from anything. Climbing was limited to how far I could reach to hold on to him, because he wasn't going solo. Being evaluated by the vision therapist made us realize that the kid had little to no depth perception, and didn't see 'in 3-D'. His world was flat, and he was having trouble navigating the round one the rest of us lived in. No wonder he just sat with his mama when everyone else was playing. Our family doc was convinced that he has Asperger's Syndrome, or was 'somewhere on the spectrum', because of his lack of interaction with his peers. I knew he really enjoyed playing quietly with other kids, when he could find one that would stand still long enough to play with him. We had him evaluated for autism at Children's in Columbus, just to but that worry to rest once and for all.

On our trip to Old Man's Cave this past weekend, this wild man of mine climbed trees, rocks and his dad, just to jump off again. He ran into the dark crevices of the rock structures, balanced on fallen logs, and gave me heart attacks from running too close to the edge of the cliffs. Drawing in dirt with sticks, and sliding down muddy trails to try to be one with the 6 year old indian kids of long ago (because they didn't have real playgrounds) were all on his agenda.

Had we not discovered, and believed in vision therapy enough to take a major chunk out of our lives to make it happen, I am positive he would have spent yesterday clinging to my body, freaking out in fear and resorting to spending the day playing quietly in the car while we waited for everyone else to finish hiking. So, when you see me witha goofy grin on my face, and a tear rolling down my cheek when my kid is in the crazy-zone, it's probably because I'm 'having a moment'; a moment of thankfulness and gratitude for my son who has turned 'all boy'.

Just some thoughts...

I just paid my son's crew fees. For those of you who don't know, it's several hundreds of dollars, not counting the extra clothing, travel expenses, etc. We are, most definitely, a middle-class family, owning a house (home ownership is overrated. We'd rather rent a condo), cars (again, I'm wondering if leasing is a better option), and being able to pay for our clothing (even if it does come from a thrift shop occasionally), utilities and food without government assistance. Besides those claims to fame, we have to be very careful with where the rest of it goes. We are not a family of 4 ~ double that. Our output could easily exceed our income if we were not careful. Crew is not a 'wow, that's steep' kind of expense for us. It's a 'let's start planning, because we'll have crew fees in a few months' frame of mind.

I'm not begrudging the kid his crew fees. Being a part of this team, a 6-day a week, 3 hour a day commitment, has done wonders for increasing his maturity level and reducing the shenanigan-type behaviors. The coach, though young, seems to have a genuine heart for these boys, and a desire to see them succeed. For this reason, crew fees = bargain of the century, to me.

Row on, Buddy, Row on!

Stay off the sidewalks!

After one previously unsuccessful attempt, the luck o' the Irish was with Alex today. When he pushed his chair back and smiled, I knew he'd made it to 30 correct questions without missing more than 6. It really does pay to actually read that little booklet they hand out. Consider this your warning; stay off the sidewalks and keep your children indoors. Almost 16-year-old-boy is at the wheel.

Thinking it was good enough to stop behind the car at the stop sign, and not actually again when it was your turn at the intersection was probably his only major mistake, but he has a lead foot. My dad would say 'just like his mama', but I quit driving that fast years ago when I strapped my first baby-bucket car seat into the middle rear of my Caymen Green Topaz.

That car seat held the most precious being I'd ever had the privilege of knowing so far, and he was all mine ~ all six pounds of him. The thought of driving him around, that there might be a teenage boy driving along and not paying attention, who might cause harm to one of the brown peach-fuzzy hairs on his head, made me stay home. A lot. Now he IS a teenage boy who I hope and pray will be paying full attention as we learn that *each* car has to stop at the stop sign, not just the one in front. How did we get here already? I can still remember wondering how I would ever be able to allow him out of my sight, deciding that it really wasn't so weird to be a 40 year old man living with your mama (as long as it was Alex), and that public schools were probably overrated and homeschooling him would be a much better idea.

If you ever thought you might want to talk to God a lot more often, I would highly suggest giving a huge part of your heart to a kid like Alex. He's been stitched, stapled, steri-stripped, glued, slung and casted back together more times than I care to list. Climbing up bookshelves, running headlong into things (was the kid running with his eyes closed?!), dancing jigs in the bathtub, rolling from a couch into the corner of a coffee table (at the age of 7, years ~ not months), flying from speeding bikes, stepping on rusty nails, jumping down a flight of stairs, and slamming his hand into car doors; these are just the highlights.

Now...he's going to be driving alone soon. I'll blink again, and he'll be driving alone ~ off to college.

Things You Learn When Your Dad Answers Your Mom's Cell Phone

I'm still laughing....

I quote:

~ Your mom is down there at the far (fire) department, shaking her ass with that floozie and all those fat women. (She's taking a Zumba class).

~ The never-ending fence building (he owns 200+ acres) has commenced after a long winter's break. No, I don't need any help. Since I started building fence, it helps me stay out of trouble. It's like therapy. I haven't been to a bar or a whorehouse since I started again! (He's the most devout of Catholic worshipers I've ever met in my life)

~ Crew costs WHAT??!! I hope to everything holy they are giving him a gold-lined boat to row in!

~ I don't know why I don't buy a new tractor, they just don't make them like the MFer I've got any more. Some new gaskets and a coat of paint is all she needs. (Massey Ferguson, not the other MF word)

~ I'm sure glad you decided to let Jon hang around. He's a good guy. I'm glad he didn't take me serious when I said I'd kill him. He didn't think I meant it, right?

~ You be safe, Baby, and drive smart. I want to see you when I come down to watch Alex row in one of those damn gold-plated boats.

::sigh:: I'm homesick.

Prejudice is Alive and Well

Maybe I'm oblivious, but I don't see a lot of prejudicial behaviors in public, except for one sector: Teenage boys. I've been out without my own, and watched store owners and patrons, pedestrians and other general-public-types take closer looks, become 'alert' , and raise eyebrows in a "I've got my eye on you" kind of way. They are being pre-judged based on age/gender.

Now, granted, this particular group of humans does have its downfalls. They are, every one of them, experiencing surging hormones along with the infamous frontal lobe regression. Some have driven their parents to the brink of insanity, and then left the house to see whom they could deliver there next. Some were never taught to respect other people and their possessions. Some have been hurt beyond anything we are capable of comprehending, and don't have what it takes to control their outlashes at a society that failed them.

But, in the grand scheme, most of them are good boys. I've spent hours at cross-country meets, crew meets, field trips all over the MOV and beyond, volunteering in classrooms, with smaller groups of them in my attic, in my kitchen, and my back yard. There's really only one that I've banned from the house, and that was because he had had way more than three strikes, and seemed to show no remorse for breaking rule after rule after rule. (and I'm not talking about small infractions. This kid was out for destruction of anything my family held in esteem or guarded as holy, and laughed like a demon when he accomplished it). All in all, these are good kids. They are bigger, smellier, louder and roudier than the cute little boys you once dressed in baby blue and cooed over, but they are the same being, and, inside, still want to be smiled at and loved.

The next time a teenage boy walks into a place of business, passes you on the sidewalk or rides his bike past your lawn, give him a smile and a wave...it might be the first one he's had all day. Remember, your adorable little tykes are going to grow into these awkward, finding-myself creatures one day. How do you want people to respond to them?

*IF* I had been on Facebook at all...

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon is *really* looking forward to being sundressed and flip-flopped. C'mon, sun, shine harder!

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon is really getting tired of hearing people say 'WINNING' all the time.

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon visited the Small Business Administration today, and walked out with a handful of information, and signed up for some free classes. The exploration has begun.

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon has a freshly bathed and brushed Shih Tzu.

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon and Jon should have given up the *same* thing for Lent. If I have a glass of wine with dinner, he retaliates by updating his status on Facebook.

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon is REALLY enjoying the Beth Moore study of David. Really.

5 year old seatmate

As I settled in with a good magazine in the charter bus on its way to a kid's retreat, I felt someone staring at me. When I saw the most adorable, blue-eyed five year old's face looking at mine, I didn't imagine I'd get much reading accomplished, as I asked if she would like to sit beside me, and she pushed past into the window seat.

You learn interesting things when a five year old becomes your seatmate. Her favorite topic of discussion was her phlegm dilema ~ too much of it. She took great delight in describing each detail of how it felt when it came up her throat, the taste of it in her mouth, the color, the voluminous amount that she managed to cough out last night and the cause: having a piece of her mother's birthday cake. Apparently, she needs to be on a gluten-free diet.

The pleasure was also mine of being introduced to 'Cutie', who happened to be a stuffed kitten along for the trip. Cutie loved to lick people, and demonstrated this several times. I was rewarded by being shown all of Cutie's tricks, including some dance moves and yoga positions. Just when you thought there wasn't anything more, you discovered that the cat wasn't an ordinary one. Oh no! This cat could TALK, and talk it did. When Little Miss Seatmate wasn't talking, Cutie was.

I had the pants beaten off of me in tic-tac-toe, and learned the names of each of LMS's immediate and extended family. I was shown the special lunch packed just for her (smart girl! the bagged lunch I was rewarded with later that day was dismal at best. Thank God it contained Oreos and an apple, or I would have starved), and allowed the privilege of carrying her jacket. Once we got there, I learned that I had not only shared a seat, but earned myself a close companion for the day. She never left my side, and was usually on my lap or hip.

At the end of the day, on the way home, she fell asleep on my shoulder. As much as my ear were ringing from the incessant chatter, I missed it. My own little girl is almost a teenager, and not nearly as enthralled with my attention as this little one was today...but she used to be. She used to release so many words from her little mouth that I could almost see them weaving through the air. Sometimes, she would ask; Am I talking too much, Mommy? I hope I always said 'no'.

Day 3 of No Facebook.

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon doesn't come home with the run-of-the-mill library books. Among our new and exciting titles are: Learn to speak Spanish, Civil War Spies, United States Government for kids: The Presidency and Patriotism. At least we aren't reading Spongebob and Barnacle Boy.

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon could think of many more fun ways to blow a thousand bucks than paying property tax.

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon is beginning to hope her house has some bouyancy....

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon is happy that her dear friends are actually texting their Facebook statuses to her phone. It's kind of pathetic, but it's also awesome.

In other news...

From the *AWKWARD* department ~

My son informed me that he was giving up soda for Lent ~ Alex, not Caden. Because his friends think it's funny to follow me on Twitter, I follow them as well. As a result, I know that soda is *not* what they are giving up for Lent. I also know that I won't have to worry about interrupting anything when I go into his bedroom at night to be sure he is A) breathing, B) covered up from the drafts and C) hasn't jumped from the balcony to TP the middle school. Awkward doesn't even begin to cover it.

Said son turns 16 this month. The mixed emotions of less drop-em-off-pick-em-up time (kind of a wooohooo feeling), and sheer terror of letting this maniac of a boy behind the wheel of a car are something I have to come to terms with in the next 6 months. I will probably be back on Facebook by then, and will warn you of when to stay off of the sidewalks.

All in all, Alex is becoming quite the fine young canibal..err..I mean man. His dedication to crew, his ability to use his frontal lobe from time to time and his passionate, caring heart beating under it all are just a few of my favorite things, just a few of the things that make me smile, squeeze his shoulder, and give thanks to God for allowing me to be his mama.

Things I Wanted to Post on Facebook

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon wishes she hadn't brought the industrial-sized tub o' cookie dough into the house.

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon's little boy is one smart cookie. His first venture into the 'hot lunch' world left him wondering what the fuss was about. Apparently, mechanically-seperated-chicken isn't his thing!

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon would rather have snow than the cold, wet sludge on the ground now.

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon and Jon Michael Bourdon celebrated Empty House Afternoon with a rainy-day nap :) (yes, *just* a nap)

Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon must have been on some pretty strong drugs to decide to give up Facebook for Lent.

I would have taken a picture of the Muskingum across the street, now edging its way up the parking lot under the bridge, and made some quippy quote about building an ark.

I would have taken a picture of Caden skipping to school in his fire fighter rainboots, and professed some love :)

Yes, Crysta Venettozzi Bourdon misses her some Facebook time!

What I wanted to say was.....

Facebook is blogging for those of us with ADHD. I have yet to have anyone professionally diagnose me as such, but I'm sure if there is a test, I'll pass with flying colors. I have quick, fleeting thougths, and have a Droid with an app to record them. It might be fun to get a compilation of all of my posts to Facebook ~ I may have already written a book, and not even know it.

Life here at the bungalow is just funny. The 20somethings that come and go, searching for life's path, the teens that think they know it all and can't believe they have to live under our rule of lesser intelligence, the 6-year-old ~ cute, quirky and always cracking a line or two to make you pee your pants trying *not* to laugh at him, and Jon and Myself, strapped in tight and enjoying the loop-de-loops of life. Yes, it's a sit-com waiting to be played out by taller, made-up, liposuctioned movie stars.

The little blurbs I post each day when something strikes me as noteworthy are glimpses into our life, and a peek into my soul. You can easily guess what my passions are and where my treasure lies; I don't wear my heart on my sleeve ~ I post it on Facebook.

Day one, not so bad.

Today, my children had a two hour delay, so I stayed in bed longer than usual. I always like a good morning to sleep in, but there was also an alterior motive. Facebook is usually my ten minute wake up call, my chance to get both eyes open and some caffeinated Vitamin Water in and running before I have to kick it into high gear. This morning, I stayed in bed until the last possible moment, avoiding the siren's call to log in.

Then, there's the problem of the smart phone. My ancient Droid has the Facebook app, and, at least 10 times today, I hit the damn F icon. Good grief, is the addiction that strong? Not many people think I'll be able to make it the entire Lenten season. They may be right. But, for today, I've kept my resolution. I didn't really have time to do anything significant with my usual time I would dedicate to 'checking Facebook', but surely that will come after several days.

I miss it. Immensely.

I'm giving up Facebook for Lent ~ am I NUTS?!

In my ever-forward-moving attempt at understanding and relating to the God that created me, the God to whom I owe everything, down to the breath I just exhaled, deciding what to give up for Lent this year became a different experience; more significant.

Rather recently, I've discovered that I have developed a distaste for religions and the rule followers within them. Not that I don't try to follow them myself, but, if that's your main goal, you're really missing the point. God wants us to believe in His son, everything He taught us, and to passionately persue a relationship with Him. Without the flesh and bones I've grown to know and love as a human, it's been difficult for me. I've felt holy presences surrounding me, very strongly, several times in my life, but wished for something more concrete. The struggle is still there, but I'm learning to work around it.

Giving up Facebook for Lent is a HUGE leap of faith. I still have not formulated a plan for dealing with my withdrawl. I know that I must replace it with something positive, and have faith that it will happen. There is a birth scheduled somewhere within those 40 days, and I'll fill in the rest with good things.

Playing the 'villes, the 'burgs or the 'wars was never something I was into. People are my passion. Being in the presence of another human makes my soul sing! Learning more about the people I love, and interacting with them daily, no matter how far away they may be are the drugs that keep me addicted to Facebook. Oh, how I will miss this...

So, my friends, stay in touch! Call, text or stop by; and, if you really want to know what I'm up to, I'll be blogging here . I will make my final post tonight, after what promises to be a fun Fat Tuesday party, on Facebook. Then, for 40 days, we'll see where the Spirit leads!